A Light in the Window (6 page)

Clipboard to the chest of her high-buttoned shirtwaist, Marcy stared wide-eyed at the church auditorium teeming with people, tongue gliding her teeth at the rate of four times a minute. She gulped, fingers digging into Julie’s arm as a group of rowdy street urchins almost knocked her down in an impromptu game of shadow tag while a ring of little girls played duck, duck, goose in the corner of the room. Despite windows thrust high along one side of the gym, the summer night was sticky and still, papers rustling as adults fanned themselves and chatted in endless rows of wooden folding chairs set up in front of the stage. From mothers patting babies over their shoulders to the tattered and curious homeless who wandered in from Evan’s soup kitchen next door, it seemed they had a full house. Expelling a shaky sigh, Marcy couldn’t help wonder if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. “I had no idea we would have such a turnout,” she whispered into Julie’s ear as her friend played a scale on a battered upright piano.

Julie chuckled, fingers carefully plunking to test each ivory while she glanced across the crowded, high-ceilinged room that shimmered like a sea of noisy humanity. Music and mayhem bounced off white-washed, wood-planked walls and a scuffed hardwood floor that creaked and moaned when children darted or adults shifted in chairs. She peeked up at Marcy with a bit of the devil in her eyes. “Just punishment, I’d say, for a woman who near wore off my feet handing out flyers to every house in the Southie neighborhood.”

Marcy nipped at her lip. “Do you think we went a wee bit too far?”

Julie rose to tweak the back of Marcy’s neck. “Not ‘we,’ my friend, you!” She gave her a quick hug. “But then nothing is too far when it comes to people or a cause you hold dear, which is one of the reasons I love you so much. Besides, between Sister Francine soliciting students to help and our very successful volunteer meeting at your house last week, we are more than amply endowed with the help we need.” She patted Marcy’s arm. “So rest easy, my friend.” Her smile turned devious. “About the auditions, that is, not about my brother. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he walked through that door.”

Marcy’s gaze flicked to where Sister Francine spoke with Sam and Patrick at the back of the stage, frantically motioning at the
proscenium arch with a pointer as if angels alighted there. A lump bobbed in her throat when Sam’s eyes met hers, his look as penetrating as if he were only two feet away. She fumbled the clipboard, causing it to drop to the floor with a clatter. Quickly ducking to pick it up, she wished she could hide behind the piano forever or at least until the fire died in her cheeks. Head high, she rose with as much grace as she could muster to glance at the clock, venting a grateful sigh when Sister Francine marched to the front of the stage and blew a loud whistle.

As if a billowing sheet had snapped into the air, silence fluttered and settled like a thick shroud, riveting all eyes on the rotund taskmaster whose legendary rap of the knuckles could make the most fearless of men tremble. She cleared her throat, the sound as threatening as it was practical, a squint of blue eyes almost disappearing into the heavy folds of soft, creamy skin dotted with two circles of pink. “I’d like to welcome you to the St. Mary’s auditions for this year’s Christmas fundraiser. Before we begin, if you did not receive a sheet to fill out at the door, please raise your hand and our volunteers will provide one. This sheet must be completely filled out with all pertinent information as well as the various positions for which you would like to audition, be it cast member, stagehand, scenery production, or various volunteer options.”

Chairs squeaked and clothing rustled as whispers rose and hummed into chatter.

Crack!
Sister Francine’s pointer lashed the podium with cool intent, stilling the room into submission as she lanced a group of particularly noisy boys with a deadly glare. “Might I remind you there are a limited number of positions available in all areas, so it would behoove those who truly wish to participate to be on their best behavior.” She pivoted to the side, waving Marcy forward with an impatient twitch of fingers.

With a quick glide of her teeth, Marcy hurried to the front of the stage to join Sister Francine, the
leg o' mutton
sleeves of her lavender blouse swooshing against her bodice while her heeled shoes clicked across the planked wooden floor. She was quite certain her corset had shrunk several sizes for she could barely draw a breath as she stood with a stiff smile, clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield.

Sister continued, tone taut. “Miss Murphy is our chairman this year, and I expect you to give her your fullest cooperation.” For apparent emphasis, she slapped the podium with her stick once again, causing Marcy to jump and the audience to titter. “Anyone who gives this young woman any problems whatsoever will answer directly to me, is that clear?” Sister nodded at Marcy and stepped away, hands clasped while her pointer rested on her formidable stomach.

Marcy cleared her throat. “I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to be here tonight. If you filled out a form, you should have a number that will be called when it’s your turn to audition. Those applying for volunteer positions will be asked to meet with Father Fitzgibbons in the rectory for a brief interview, and those wishing to audition for a part in the play or choir will remain in the auditorium. As you can see from the overview sheet you received at the door, we have roles for seven adults and eight children in the actual play itself, but we’ll need at least twenty people for the adult choir and twenty for the children’s choir, so please specify your preferences on the sheet.”

Marcy pointed to the right of the stage. “When your number is called, you will bring your completed sheet to Sister Francine and myself in the first row, then enter the stage from the steps on the left. Please advise Miss O’Rourke at the piano if you wish to audition for the choir, the play, or both, and she will provide you with the music and/or a script. You will have approximately twenty seconds to sing or read, and when the whistle sounds, we ask that you exit the stage on the right and quietly return to your seat.” She smiled at the crowd with a lift of brows. “Any questions?” A hand waved in the air from the second row, and Marcy nodded. “Yes?”

“When will we find out if we made it?” a young girl asked.

Marcy’s smile was warm. “Callbacks will be announced at the end of this evening, and those selected will return for a second audition next week. Final cast, choir, and crew will be chosen then and given a rehearsal packet with everything they need to know. Anything else?” She glanced to and fro throughout the auditorium, ignoring Sam and Patrick who grinned at her from where they stood in the back, slanted to the wall with arms folded. “Then, let’s begin.”

Two hours later, Marcy had a headache from off-key singing, slaughtered diction, and Sister’s Francine’s whistle, giving her pause as to her sanity in agreeing to the job as fundraiser chair. Kneading her temple, she glanced up to see a young boy who had auditioned for the cast pushing a small girl in a wheelchair to the front of the stage.

With a scrub of shaggy brown hair, he approached with a solemn smile and a nod of respect. “Sister, Miss Murphy, my name is Nate Phillips, and this here is my sister Holly.” He took another step forward, cap in hand and voice fading to a whisper. “She’s only seven, but Ma asked me to bring her ‘cause, well you see, Holly doesn’t get to do too much on account of she’s crippled, you know, so Ma thought …” His Adam’s apple wobbled several times. “Well, she hoped you’d consider letting Holly audition because of her name and all, seeing it has to do with Christmas and that’s her birthday too.” He leaned in, a glimmer of moisture in his eyes as he twisted his hat with his fingers, voice lowering all the more. “You don’t have to pick her, understand, just let her read and sing ‘cause she’s real good at both, you know, and Ma just thought that alone would be enough to make her happy.”

Marcy blinked, the boy’s face watering into a blur. She swallowed hard to fight a heave, but it was no use, it broke from her lips in a shuddering rasp.

Sister Francine patted her arm and spoke to the boy with a firm lift of her chin. “If your sister took the time to come and audition tonight, young man, then audition she will.” She glanced up at Julie. “Miss O’Rourke, will you please hand this young man both a script and music for his sister, please.”

The young boy, all of twelve, looked as if he might break down and cry himself, jaw aquiver while tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you, Sister,” he whispered, then grabbed Marcy’s hand, shaking it as if he were pumping water for a man dying of thirst.
Or maybe a sister …
 
“Bless you, Miss Murphy, and you too, Sister Francine—Holly ain’t never had nothing like this happen to her before, so bless you!” He whirled around and rushed to give Holly a hug, then took the papers that Julie gave him and handed them to her as well. With a squeeze of her shoulders, he stepped aside.

Marcy took a quick swipe at her eyes and leaned forward, awarding Holly the brightest smile she could muster. She noted the faded calico dress the little girl wore that appeared three sizes too big and a pale face that made her appear like a china doll with liquid-brown eyes. “Holly, are you ready to read from the script?”

The little girl nodded, chestnut hair trailing fragile shoulders as she gave Marcy a sweet smile. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered, her voice so soft and wispy, Marcy worried that no one would be able to hear.

“Start at the beginning, then, sweetheart, reading the script just like you’re that little girl in the play who’s excited about Christmas, all right?”

Holly nodded again and paused … right before she belted out the lines as if they were coming from an entirely different little girl.

“Excellent!” Marcy said with a grin when Holly had finished. “Are you ready to sing, and do you know the Christmas carol,
Oh, Holy Night
?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Perfect!” Marcy glanced up at the piano. “Julie, let’s try C major, all right?”

Whether it was the fact that it was late and everyone was tired or whether it was the sight of a frail little girl in a wheelchair who longed to be a part of the play, the room stilled to a hush. Marcy’s breath suspended as she waited, the pounding of her own pulse in her ears drowning out Julie’s musical intro. And then, in the sweet and soulful song of a little girl, a steamy and noisy auditorium became the gate of heaven itself as a sound so poignant rose in the room, Marcy had no power over the tears that slipped from her eyes.

For several thudding heartbeats after the last note was sung, the silence was almost painful, an ache in Marcy’s chest over the loss of a voice that had ushered them into the very presence of God. And then, in a blast of applause that swelled to the ceiling, the audience shot to their feet along with Marcy and Sister Francine, dewy-eyed over a delicate little girl who may not be able to walk, but whose voice could soar to the sky.

After a whisper in Sister Francine’s ear and Sister’s subsequent nod, Marcy hurried to give Holly a hug, kneeling to clasp the little girl’s hands in her own. “Holly, that was simply the most beautiful thing we have ever heard,” she said with a sheen in her eyes, “and we want you to know right now, young lady, that not only are we giving you a part in this play, but we want you to sing that very song as well. Would you like that?”

Brown eyes as glossy as Marcy’s blinked back when Holly nodded, her rosebud mouth quivering along with her jaw. “Oh, yes, ma’am,” she whispered, flinging herself into Marcy’s arms with a chuckle that broke into a sob.

Marcy squeezed the little sprite of a thing, eyes closed and heart rejoicing that even now, before this play came to pass, it was changing lives as Marcy had hoped and prayed. That it wouldn’t just be a mere fundraiser, but a spirit raiser as well, touching people with the grace of God. Jumping to her feet, she hurried to pull two rehearsal packets from Papa’s portfolio and handed them to Holly’s brother, who now stood by her side. “Nate, please give these to your mother so she knows the exact dates Holly and you will need to be here. There’s a full script inside each packet, so you need to practice both of your parts together. You will play the part of Daniel, and Holly will play the part of Sara—” She paused, her eyes softening as they lighted on his sister once again. “No, wait—Holly will play herself.” She glanced up and gave Nate a wink. “Since it is a Christmas play and all.”