Composing Amelia (4 page)

He saw the look he’d been dreading start to form on her face. “How little?”

“Well, there’s a college campus there, so during the school year there are a lot more people. Like twenty thousand.”

Her eyes narrowed. “At the school?”

“In the town.”

She slumped back against the wall. “How many are at the church?”

“I don’t know, the letter just said ‘small.’”

She groaned. “Are you really considering it?”

He could practically see the wall going up between them. He started in on all the positive angles he’d come up with. “Well, here’s the thing. They’re offering me a head pastorship. I’m only twenty-six and I could be a senior pastor. That’s a tremendous opportunity.”

She gave him a sidelong glance. “You don’t think it’s a little sketchy that they’d offer a position like that to a guy fresh out of school with only an MDiv to his name?”

He tried not to look as hurt as he felt. He was well aware how rare an offer like this was for a new graduate, but did she really not think he was worthy of the responsibility? Did she really not think him capable? He always pointed out how talented she was—why couldn’t she return the favor?

“They want someone young who can lead the church in a new direction. They want to focus on community outreach, on addressing the town’s social issues. It’s the kind of thing we want to do, but just in a smaller venue than we’d expected. And it’s totally possible that nothing will come of it. They didn’t offer me the job. I still have to interview. But I’ve been trying to let go of this and I just can’t. I think God wants me to at least give it a shot. I keep thinking of the verse in Luke that says ‘nothing is impossible with God.’ Sure it’s unusual and the chances are slim. But God does the unexpected all the time. Why can’t He do it with me?”

She stared at him, lips thin and eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the vibe he was getting from her.

“Amelia, look—”

“We need to pray about it.” Her tone issued a challenge, as though he hadn’t been doing that already.

“Yes. Absolutely.” He pretended she’d been gentler in the suggestion, hoping she’d come around if he acted as if she wasn’t as upset as he knew she was. “Let’s pray right now. Do you want to or should I?”

“You.”

He cleared his throat and took her hands. He prayed aloud for wisdom and guidance. He tried not to think too much about the fact that Amelia’s hands were limp in his own.

When he said “Amen,” she pulled away, turned off her lamp, and rolled to her side beneath the covers. “I need to sleep.”

He squeezed her shoulder and kissed the back of her head, receiving a prim pat on the hand in return. It hadn’t gone as badly as it could have—she could have said a flat-out “no”—but she wasn’t exactly supportive. He turned off his light and stared into the black, letting the words of the letter come back to him. He knew Amelia was nowhere near being onboard, but he couldn’t help being excited. And if this job was meant to be, then God would bring her around eventually.

C
HAPTER 2

Amelia slipped into the booth across from Jill and let out a sigh. “So sorry I’m late. Stupid city buses between here and the community center are never anywhere on time.”

Jill nodded. “Tell me about it. What’s Marcus up to tonight?”

Amelia made a face. “I don’t know. Working, as usual. He took on another tutoring student, although he must have petitioned God for another hour in the day because I don’t know where in his schedule he could possibly stick another one.”

Jill arched a brow as she handed Amelia one of the menus from beneath the napkin dispenser. “Bitter, party of one?”

Amelia flipped over the menu to make sure her favorite salad was still there, then slouched back in the seat. “Yeah, but not about that, really. He got an interview.”

“But that’s fanta—”

“In Nebraska.”

“Oh.” Jill sobered. The waitress appeared and took their order, leaving them with their drinks. Jill stirred her water with her straw as she resumed the conversation. “So, why did he apply out there in the first place?”

“He didn’t. Apparently someone passed his résumé on to this church. The town is so small it only hits twenty thousand when the local college is in session.”

Jill winced. “Yikes. Well, so what? There’s no law that says he has to interview there, right?”

“Right. But he wants to anyway.”

“Why?”

Amelia leaned in. “It’s for a senior pastorship.”

“But he’s only—”

“I know.”

“Wow.” Jill’s head tipped side to side. “Now I understand why he wants to interview though.”

“Yeah, but
I
don’t want to go out there.” Jill smiled gently and Amelia’s heart sank, knowing what was coming. She held up a hand to stop Jill from continuing. “Look, I know, God’s will, blah blah blah. But if this is His will, wouldn’t He make me more excited about it?”

“I’m not saying it
is
God’s will, Ames. I was just going to say that you have no idea where this might lead, or what role this might play in the grand scheme of things, and that you shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe you could let it play out, see what happens?”

“But what do we do if he gets the job and I still don’t want to go?”

“Cross that bridge when you get to it. Until then, don’t borrow trouble.”

Amelia smirked. “Any more where those came from, Queen Cliché?”

“Girl, you have no idea.” She winked. “So, any word on that audition?”

Amelia smacked her forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. I got the callback!”

Jill gave a little squeal. “That’s awesome! When do you audition?”

“Friday.”

“Break a leg. What are you going to play?”

“They asked for two pieces in differing styles, so I’m doing ‘Hot Honey Rag’ from
Chicago
and a Gershwin prelude.”

“Nice.”

“But that’s the other thing that has me so frustrated. What if I get this and Marcus gets his job too? Who has to quit?”

“Seriously, Ames, don’t dwell on this.”

The waitress reappeared and set their salads before them. Jill prayed briefly for their meal, then poured dressing on her salad and continued. “You’re freaking out about something totally far-fetched and miles away from certain. You have far more interesting things to dwell on, like your audition and my delicate condition.”

Amelia froze, her forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “Your what?”

A conspiratorial grin spread over Jill’s face. “I’m pregnant.”

Amelia let out a shriek that turned heads around the diner. “Oh my gosh! That’s awesome, Jill! Right? Is that awesome? I mean, it happened awfully fast, huh?”

“Yes, six months was indeed a little quicker than we’d planned. But even so,
I
think it’s awesome. Dane, not so much.”

Amelia frowned, recapturing the salad that had dropped back to the bowl with a stab of her fork. “Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“He’s worried—no, actually, he’s panicking that our marriage is doomed because of it, as though every couple that has a baby this soon divorces. And the money, of course.” She sipped her water. “I feel bad. I feel like it’s my fault. I know Dane is trying not to be mad, but I can tell he is.”

“That’s stupid. It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I know, but still … We dated such a short time, and now we have less than a year to get settled as a couple before we become a family. Kids were supposed to come five years down the road. What if this
does
damage our marriage?”

Amelia squeezed Jill’s hand. “You guys are going to be fine. You love each other like crazy. That’s really all you need, right? Listen to the Beatles, they know what they’re talking about.”

Jill nodded, eyes on her salad, then gave Amelia a wicked smirk. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

Amelia gave her a pointed look. “Ahem. Moving on. I’m very happy for you. And, no offense, but I’m so glad it’s you and not me.”

Jill chuckled. “Still not big on kids, huh?”

Amelia snorted. “Um, no. Not with how my … No, there’s just no way.” She didn’t want to delve too far into why and risk ruining the night with that toxicity; Jill knew enough to draw the right conclusions. “Besides, with my wonky body I doubt I could get pregnant if I wanted to. I haven’t had a real cycle since August.”

“Still dealing with that anovulatory stuff, hm?”

“Yes, still. But at least it means we don’t have to budget for birth control. That stuff’s expensive.”

Jill let out an unladylike snort. “Don’t I know it. If we’d had a little extra cash one night about, oh, three months ago, I might not be in this situation.”

Jill raised a single eyebrow to punctuate her statement as Amelia giggled. “But in this situation you are. Let’s think of baby names.”

By the time they finished dinner Amelia was in better spirits. She decided on the way home not to even acknowledge this ridiculous job interview. Marcus would eventually come to his senses and realize that it was not only a long shot, it was a terrible idea. Taking a job so far ahead of his experience level could only be setting up himself—and the church—for disaster. He’d realize that soon enough. Until then she’d concentrate on winning this audition. Her fingers itched to play, and she ran them through the audition piece on her knees as the bus bounced over potholes on its way back toward her neighborhood.
Just focus on the audition,
she told herself.
Marcus will come around eventually.

Relishing the fact that she didn’t have to be at the sandwich shop at the crack of dawn, Amelia slept in Friday morning and woke feeling better than she had in weeks. Marcus had already left for his morning surf-instructing job, so she cranked up the stereo with a Tori Amos mix to psyche herself up for her audition and treated herself to a serious breakfast. She remembered while she ate that she’d dreamed about the audition. She’d won it, and the director for
Les Misérables
happened to come to the first show. He hired her right out of the orchestra pit for the next tour.
If only.

She finished breakfast and then showered, remembering to avoid the mirror until her hair was pulled back, and ran through her audition pieces a few more times before deciding she couldn’t play the arrangements anymore without jinxing them. But she had an hour left before she even had to leave. How to kill the time?

Inspiration hit like lightning. She grabbed her jacket and nearly ran down the street to the strip mall that housed a cheap hair salon. “I just want a cut, but I’m short on time. Can I be out of here in less than an hour?” she asked the woman behind the counter.

“Oh sure, honey.” The woman popped her gum as she entered Amelia’s information into the computer and then ushered her back to the sinks. “So what are we doing for you today?”

Amelia freed her hair from its ponytail and shook it loose. It fell halfway down her back. She studied herself in the mirror, doing mental battle with the resemblance she saw to her mother, then held up her hand at her shoulder. “Cut it to here.”

The woman’s heavily lined eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of length you’re losing. Sure you wanna do that?”

Amelia smiled as the woman draped a plastic cape over her chest. “As long as I can still pull it back to a ponytail, I’ll be happy. And … maybe some bangs.”

“Alrighty, honey. You’ve got it.” The stylist began to spray down her hair and engaged Amelia in chitchat, but Amelia was only half listening. The rest of her concentration was focused on the transformation taking place in the mirror. With every snip of the scissors she felt a little more relief, hoping she wouldn’t have any more run-ins with her mother’s likeness.

When they were done, Amelia felt as though she’d had a full makeover. She walked to the bus stop with her head high, checking her appearance in every reflective surface she passed. She arrived twenty minutes early at the theater where they were holding auditions, but her bubble of happiness burst when she saw three other people waiting in the green room. “Auditioning?” she asked in general. All three heads nodded. “On piano?”