Composing Amelia (14 page)

C
HAPTER 5

The furnished apartment Marcus now lived in was easily more than twice the size of the studio back in LA, and the extra space was driving him crazy. He kept the door to the second bedroom closed and had rearranged the furniture twice since arriving yesterday, trying to get things to take up more room, but still he felt uncomfortable.

It was his own fault. When he’d talked to Ed about the move, Ed had offered to get a short-term apartment lined up for them so they didn’t have to commit long-term to something sight unseen. At the time Marcus had still been sure Amelia would eventually come around, so he’d asked Ed to find a two-bedroom unit, knowing how much Amelia hated the cramped quarters of their studio. When they’d decided on their three-month compromise, he’d already forgotten about the apartment, since he’d only been planning on staying in it for a month or two at the most while they looked for something else.

He was contemplating the layout of the living room once again when his cell rang. “Welcome to Nebraska,” boomed Ed’s friendly voice. “Would have called yesterday but wanted to give you two a chance to settle in. How was the drive out?”

It took Marcus a moment to answer. He was stuck on the fact that he’d somehow managed to neglect telling Ed that Amelia wasn’t coming. “Um—fine, yes, the drive was fine.”

“And the apartment, is it all right?”

“It’s great, Ed, thank you.”

“Glad to hear it. So, Lucy and I would love to take you two out for dinner tonight. Would that be all right or do you already have plans?”

Marcus rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No plans, no. Where should we meet?”

Marcus recorded the address and directions in his notebook and hung up with a lump in his stomach. How could he have forgotten to bring this up?
Please don’t let this be a big deal
, he prayed as he lugged a love seat to a new spot. The last thing he wanted to do was get off on the wrong foot with the church.

Pete’s Bar and Grill was a pub-like restaurant that bustled with a middle-aged crowd taking advantage of the happy hour. Ed and Lucy already had a table, and when he reached it both their faces registered concern. “Is Amelia feeling poorly?” Lucy asked after giving him a warm embrace in welcome.

“No, she’s fine—she’s just not in Nebraska yet.” He took a seat and dived in, wanting to get the explanation out of the way. “She’s ‘on tour’ in a sense—she got a job with a local theater group right before I interviewed with New Hope, and she’s going to stay there through the end of their first production.”

“Oh my,” said Lucy. “I imagine that must be difficult for you both, being separated for such a long time.”

“When will she be coming out?” Ed asked.

“Well, the show ends right before Easter.” It wasn’t the whole answer, but it was a truthful statement, and Marcus wasn’t about to get into the nuances of his and Amelia’s agreement.

“Three months! And you two are newlyweds.” Lucy tsk’d
.
“What an unfortunate situation.”

“We knew going into our marriage that this might eventually happen. Amelia is a very talented musician; with a little more experience under her belt she’ll likely get offers to tour with all sorts of productions.” He felt like a shyster advocating for the opposite team. He’d only been gone two days and he was already certain he never wanted Amelia to tour anywhere. “So this is good practice, really. She’s rooming with close friends of ours, and once I’ve got a rhythm down here I’ll go back to LA to visit her. She works two other jobs besides the theater group, so it’s hard for her to get time off.”

Ed pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “And I’m sure you’ll find that rhythm quickly. Are you still prepared to start tomorrow?”

“Absolutely.” He couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Excellent. Why don’t you come by around nine, and I’ll introduce you to Lillian, our secretary, and we’ll sort out when you’ll start preaching.”

The thought of finally standing behind that pulpit in the center of the church’s sanctuary platform made his blood pump harder. “Sounds good,” he said, toasting them with his ice water.

They began to discuss the menu, but in the back of his mind Marcus was imagining himself preaching, his leather-bound ESV Bible in hand, and his father in the audience. Smiling.

The next morning Marcus emerged from the apartment unprepared for the weather. The previous two days had been far warmer than when he’d visited in December, and he’d assumed the worst was over and the spring thaw was coming. Instead, the night had brought three inches of snow and encased his car in a thin layer of ice and a thick layer of snow.

He went back to the apartment, pulled on a second sweater and his earmuffs and gloves, and went back out to chip his way into his hatchback.

He’d succeeded in brushing the snow off when he heard a voice behind him say, “Need a hand?” A young woman in a black wool trench coat held up a small can. “De-icer. Let me get your locks for you.” She sprayed the can’s contents over the lock as Marcus fought embarrassment over having a car so old there were no power locks. “There you go,” she said. “Open it quick before it ices back up. It’s got to be twenty degrees out here.”

He turned the key and pulled hard on the handle, shattering the ice that had filled in the space around the door as it swung open with a creak. He slid in with a prayer that was rewarded when the car started on the first try, then got out to thank the Good Samaritan. “Marcus Sheffield,” he said, then nodded to the back license plate of his car. “New to Wheatridge, as you can see.”

She smiled, revealing chattering teeth, and shook his hand. “Karis Bloom. Welcome to Wheatridge. Make sure you let your car run for a good five minutes before you go. Older models like that don’t take well to the cold in the morning. Ask me how I know.” She nodded to her own car, a boxy Volvo from the eighties. “I’m going back in to wait, and I’ve got coffee—want to join me?”

“Sure, thanks.” He followed her back into the building and down the hall to her first-floor unit. The smell of coffee when she opened the door was heavenly. “Let me call my boss and let him know I’ll be late,” he said and stepped back out into the hall.

Ed had a good laugh over Marcus’s predicament. “Should have warned you about that last night. My apologies. Get here when you can, and be careful in the parking lot; the gentleman from the congregation that plows it for us hasn’t come through yet.”

Karis met him at the door with a steaming mug. “Milk or sugar?”

“Normally both, but I think I need it straight this morning.” He smiled. “Thanks again for your help. Guess I need to pay closer attention to the weather forecast, hm?”

She nodded, looking mirthful. “That would be wise. Probably not a lot of use for that in California.”

“That’s the truth.” He took a long sip, relishing the heat in his throat. “Guess the alarm clock will have to get set back ten minutes.”

“Even more when there’s more snow. The management here is awful about plowing. It’s usually done by the time I get home, but that doesn’t help when I have ten minutes to get to work in the morning.”

“And where do you work?”

“The library—I’m the children’s librarian. You?”

“I’m the new pastor at New Hope Church.”

Her eyes gave a glimmer of recognition. “That’s the one on First and Cherry, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm.”

She sipped her coffee but said nothing more. Marcus gave her a cautious smile. “Do you know anything about them?”

“A little, yes.” She studied her coffee, then gave him a frank look. “Let’s just say I’m glad to know they’re under new management.”

“Really … so you’ve been there?”

“Tried to go when I first moved here, about a year and a half ago. They didn’t like that I was a single mother.” She glanced to the corner of the living room where a basket of toys sat along with a stack of picture books. “I have a four-year-old. Harriet Miles up in 3B watches her for me. I got the impression it might have been okay if I’d admitted that my husband had left me or something, but the fact that I’d never even married didn’t go over very well.”

Marcus shook his head. “That’s really unfortunate. I’m so sorry that happened.”

She smiled tightly and shrugged. “Not your fault.”

“No, but still. I can assure you it won’t be like that now. The pastor they had was … Well, let’s just say there’s a good reason he’s not there anymore. They know they were off course, and they want to change.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

He grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “Well, then I’m even more glad to welcome you to Wheatridge.”

There was a subtle change in her tone that told Marcus it might not be appropriate to stay any longer. He took a long sip from the coffee, then handed her the mug with a smile. “This is supposed to be my first day on the job. I should probably attempt to actually get there.”

She laughed and set both their mugs on the dining room table. “I’ll follow you out.”

When they reached their cars, Karis gave him a plastic scraper. “For the windshield. It’s my extra; you can keep it.”

“Thanks,” he said, attacking the glass in front of the driver’s seat. “I’ll pick one up today and bring this back down.”

The heat that had started to kick in inside the cabin warmed the windshield and made scraping easier. He finished his car and helped Karis finish hers after a brief pause to consider whether or not he should. Unless he was mistaken, she’d started flirting with him, and he didn’t want to encourage her. But neither did he want to pull out while she was still hard at work. When they finished he handed back the scraper, insisting he’d be better prepared that evening, and said good-bye.

“Feel free to stop on over if you’re looking for company at dinner,” she said. “Audry and I always have plenty to share.”

Friendly offer or flirting? He couldn’t tell. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.” He hoped that was noncommittal enough, and as he pulled slowly out of the snowy parking lot he marveled at her gall—until he realized he’d never removed his gloves. He groaned. She had no way of knowing he was married. He’d have to explain that the next time he saw her.
But definitely not over dinner.

Day fifteen. Amelia had figured by this point she’d be used to Marcus’s absence, that she wouldn’t get weepy whenever she thought of how long he’d been gone or still fall into bouts of self-doubt for putting them both through this. But unfortunately that morning brought instances of both, and she found it particularly difficult to drag herself out of bed and down to the bus station in time.

Even when she wasn’t feeling morose, she wasn’t feeling great. It was as though the gloomy January clouds that had rolled in off the Pacific had taken up residence directly above her head. The only time she didn’t notice it was at rehearsal, which she had three nights a week, but even then the emotional high she experienced only lasted as long as it took to get home. By the time she was in bed, the gloom returned.

Tonight wasn’t a rehearsal night, but it was a social night. The troupe had gelled well at their first couple rehearsals, and after the first week they decided to institute a bonding night for whoever was free to attend. The first had been at a karaoke bar; tonight’s was at the guitarist’s flat, twenty minutes by bus from her new home. Amelia was grateful for the activity; she felt like she might just sit in bed and cry all night otherwise.

Even though she was looking forward to the evening, it took her a while to get out the door. By the time she arrived, with a shopping bag of chips and salsa as her contribution, everyone else was already there. Ross answered the door when she rang the bell, and before she was halfway in the room he’d thrust a glass of wine in her hand. “Lousy weather again, isn’t it?” he said. “This will warm you up.”

“Thanks.” She was about to give it back, since she abstained from alcohol as a general rule, but a recently developed bout of apathy toward her personal protocols made her hold on to it instead. The taste made her pucker, but Ross was right: It was warm going down. She held up the shopping bag. “Where should I put this?”

“There’s a table over there.” He pointed toward the living room, where she could see everyone gathered around a Rock Band drum kit. “Here, let me take it for you. You can put your coat in the bedroom; door’s over there.”