Whispers of the Heart (13 page)

David welcomed everyone, then after an opening prayer, he began. “Y'know, we've been talking about how God cares for everyone, but someone
asked me this week how He could pick her out from the multitude….”

Autumn glanced up. Someone picked from the multitude? Was that like being plucked from a mob of people? The image of such an ordeal sent streaks of fear up her spine. She'd never let herself be anywhere near a multitude, not in a million years, never mind being plucked from one.

Beside her, Ashley opened her Bible to the correct scripture, and offered to share it with her. Autumn held the corner of the book tentatively, hoping her cowardice didn't show on her face.

But David didn't talk of multitudes again; he began to talk about individuals. He used the parables of the misplaced coin and the lost sheep. Autumn didn't remember much about them, and listened intently while letting the baby hold her finger tight.

“A shepherd…” David spoke as he had before, directly to them, engaging their attention one by one as he told about the shepherd. “…and this man went searching everywhere to find that one sheep that was missing. I'm convinced he knew exactly which one it was. He wasn't satisfied until he found it and brought it back to safety. Now, we're told we're His sheep, and that sheep know their shepherd's voice. When we are His, we'll hear the Lord when He calls. And we have nothing to fear. Nothing at all. He calls us by name.”

The baby whimpered, and Autumn took the Bible while Ashley lifted little Emily to her shoulder to soothe her.

Little Emily…did the Lord already know of her? Did He know Timmy?

“In the Psalms,” David continued, “we have these words…‘when I called, You answered me; You made me bold and stouthearted…'”

“That was said to David the first,” the pastor said with a grin, “but I can tell you, that I take them as my own. You can, too. They're meant for all of us. And remember Joshua? When Joshua was ready to march into the promised land, God said, “‘I'll never leave nor forsake you.'”

“Now when I have occasion to walk some of our more, um, troublesome streets, or when I'm called to help out in a dicey situation, I assure you, ladies—that's a promise I take with me.”

“I should
hope!
” Wendy's voice was fervent. Beside her, Ashley nodded.

David grinned, then directed his gaze toward the woman on the end of the first row. “And I'm assured that the Lord knows just who I am, and not only knows me by name, but He knows exactly which David out of the thousands in this world is calling on Him. He knows you, too, Cordy. He knows your name.”

“Thank ya, Pastor,” the old woman returned, her lined face losing its sadness. “That eases my heart considerably.”

David nodded, his eyes softening. “Finally, we have the best of promises from Jesus' own lips. Jesus promised to be with us always.”

Thirty minutes later, Autumn knelt in her corridor, putting away her containers of paint. She heard someone come down the connecting hall, then heard
Timmy's voice. She'd slipped out of the sanctuary, letting a smile and nod suffice as greeting.

“Hi, Autumn. Can I come over the gate?”

“Hi there, Tim,” she answered, her gaze rising warily to his grandmother. David and Wendy came along behind them. “I didn't know you were here.”

“I was playing with Kyle,” he told her as he opened the gate, “down in the kids' room.”

“I hope you don't mind, Autumn,” Catherine spoke. “But Timmy insisted he come see you before we leave, and I confess I wanted to see the mural. Brent and Timmy have both spoken of it.”

Of all the things that gave Autumn doubts, her talent and her expression of it wasn't one that made her shy. She felt confident others would like it, and when someone didn't, she simply shrugged. Yet she was very curious to see Brent's mother's response to it. Catherine had expressed a desire to see more of her work.

“It isn't near finished yet, but you're welcome to come see it.”

“Hey, Autumn. I was glad to have you join us again,” David remarked, opening the gate and following the women.

“Yeah, Autumn. And Ashley said the same. She went to feed Emily, but we want you to join us for lunch today,” Wendy said.

“Oh, I…”

“You can sit with me,” Timmy said, his smile sweet. His eyes shone with bright invitation and a proprietary air. Her heart knocked in her chest.

They were friends. How could she turn the child down?

“All right. I'll come if I can sit with you.”

A
nother dozen people wandered into the church for lunch. Most were painters and electricians working on the old sanctuary, but a handful came from the neighborhood.

They gathered in the huge multipurpose room, last updated in the sixties, Autumn thought. Several women bustled back and forth from the adjoining kitchen to place huge bowls of spaghetti, meat sauce and salad on three paper-covered tables.

Autumn paused just inside the doorway to view the open room, but she felt no alarm; the two dozen or so members of humanity appeared downright meager in the open space.

“The buffet style of serving is much easier, but I think the family style breeds more friendship,” Wendy explained what they were doing. “And bringing the community together again is our main goal. I hate to leave you on your own, Autumn, but I ought to help in the kitchen.”

“Don't worry about me,” Autumn replied. “I can help if you like.”

“Not this time, but don't be surprised if I call on you sometime in the future,” Wendy replied, tossing an irrepressible smile over her shoulder. “Save me a place at your table, okay? I want to talk to you about the possibility of painting a nursery mural.”

“Sure, all right.”

Autumn glanced around, noting the need for new paint and floor tiles. Timmy, who had held her hand on their way to the room, ran off to play with other preschoolers, leaving her to talk with Catherine and Ashley.

“I love this old church,” Catherine said as they found seats at one of the tables. “It's the church of my childhood and I'm thrilled to see it coming back.”

Ashley, cuddling her baby on one shoulder, remarked, “That's how my grandmother feels, too. She recalls when this church took a leading roll in bringing people to the Lord and service to the community. She no longer lives close enough to worship here, but she is praying the church returns to service.”

“Well, I still live close by,” Cordy remarked as she plunked down a basket of bread, “and I can tell ya I'm right happy the church has opened its doors again. I don't care how run-down the building is, I want this to be my home church. And there's more people'n you'd think wantin' the same, to my way of thinking.”

“That there's the reason we're working so hard on it, ma'am,” one of the electricians stated as he sat down at the next table. His dark face beamed as he
added, “If my wife Gloria wasn't working, she'd join you in this weekly daytime prayer and study.”

“In that case, I'll remind you we're starting regular Sunday evening services next week, Felix,” David said with a grin. He snatched a toddler out of harm's way as Cordy was about to step on him in her coming and going. “We'll expect you and Gloria. Seven sharp. And I can use another usher.”

Felix chuckled, his eyes showing delight at being asked. “Got yourself one, Rev'rend. We're aiming to bring Mama Bales, too, when the old sanctuary is dedicated.”

David called the small company to a prayer of thanks, and Timmy came running to Autumn's side. Catherine seated herself on Timmy's other side.

As they ate, Autumn listened to the discussions around her.

“We're taking one stage of refurbishing at a time,” Wendy told a woman across from her who asked questions. “But we can still use our kitchen as it is without too many problems, so it'll have to wait. Our weekly lunches are gaining in reputation, and we're hoping our daytime Bible study will grow along with it. But,” she added with a sigh, “there aren't too many people who are free during the day anymore.”

“Oh, now Mrs. Collier, don't you get discouraged,” Cordy said. “I think there's more who'll come along once they hear about it. We just got started, y'know. After the old building is open again, we'll get lots of attention.”

“That reminds me, David.” Wendy looked at her
husband, seated at the next table, giving him a mock scowl. “You've been keeping secrets.”

“Have I?” he returned, innocently teasing. “What secrets?”

“The musicians. Who are they?”

“What musicians?” His expression turned blank.

“The ones who have been practicing in the old auditorium. Autumn tells me their musical quality is awesome.”

David turned his gaze on Autumn in surprise. “You heard music playing from the old building?”

“Yes.”

At his stare, she added, “Oh, I'm sorry. Did I let the cat out of the bag? Were you saving them as a surprise?”

“Oh, that's terrific,” Ashley enthused. “Music again in the old building. Is it for our rededication? What kind of music?”

“I don't know,” David said. “Ask Autumn.”

“Oh, strings and woodwinds,” she answered.

“No,” Ashley said on a laugh. “I meant, is it old hymns, or—”

“Contemporary stuff maybe?” Felix asked eagerly. “Maybe they need some help. I know what to do with a pair of sticks.”

“Uh, sorry, no, I don't think so. I'd call it more of a classical group. They play very softly, most of the time. I haven't recognized the compositions.”

“Autumn, when did you hear them?” David asked, his brow puckering in concentration. He didn't appear any too happy to hear her report.

“Oh, the first time was…” she began, laying her fork down while trying to recall when she'd first be
come aware of the music “…a couple of weeks ago, at least.”

Timmy squirmed from his seat, and Catherine half turned in hers, her gaze going beyond the seated company. From behind her, Autumn heard a low murmur of greetings. Brent's voice.

She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his. Her heart picked up a beat, and she couldn't prevent a happy smile from tugging at her mouth.

It wasn't as though she could do much to prevent it. The very sight of him sent her heart into a spin. She wondered if it mattered to him how he affected her.

But they'd last parted on less than perfect accord, and if she gave it close thought, his disapproval of her choices still rankled.

Then his smile flashed with genuine gladness at seeing her, and she thought her heart must betray her to even the most casual observer.

Then she realized it had.

Laureen Shore stood beside him. Her smile, when Autumn noticed, came and went all in a breath. And she wouldn't exactly call it pleasant.

Dressed in a royal-blue silk suit, the Realtor looked as much at home in the middle of the lunchers as a diamond among river pebbles. Beautiful, but without warmth.

Spotting Catherine, Laureen's second smile seemed more natural, Autumn thought. She left Brent's side and strolled over to their table, leaning down to whisper something into Catherine's ear. Once briefly, her glance flickered Autumn's way.

Catherine nodded, then gently chuckled.

“The first time?” David's voice took on an incredulous tone, bringing Autumn's gaze back around. “You've heard them more than once?”

Was he still concerned with the musicians she'd heard? She hadn't thought it so important.

“Yes. A few times, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Because I don't know who they are,” David replied. He brushed his mop of curls from his forehead with an open palm. “I haven't hired any musicians, no one has asked permission to use the sanctuary to practice and I've never heard them.”

Autumn felt a bit of shock run through her. If David hadn't given anyone permission to use the old sanctuary, then who were they? Was she in danger when she shared the building with unauthorized musicians?

“Oh, David, are you sure?” Wendy asked after a swift glance at Autumn's face. “Perhaps you've only forgotten?”

“Don't think I'd forget something like that,” David muttered. Then, “What time of day are they there?”

“Why…at different times, actually. I haven't thought about it all that much. I'm here very early in the mornings, and usually my concentration focuses on my work. But mornings are when I hear them the most.”

“Perhaps I should start showing up when you do,” David mumbled.

“But then—” Autumn paused, watching his eyes grow more incredulous as she explained “—I've heard them once or twice at other times, too.”

“Perhaps they're people who live in the neigh
borhood who simply have found a way to use the old auditorium for their own purposes,” Brent remarked. “If they're amateurs, maybe they've chosen the early-morning hours, as Autumn has, to get rehearsals in before they go off to work for the day.”

David nodded. “Could be that. Makes sense. But still… Hey, fellows?” David addressed the two painters finishing their spaghetti. “You've been working in the old building for over a week now. Have you run into any of these people?”

“Not I,” said one. The second one simply shook his head, his glance full of doubt.

“How about you, Felix?”

“No, I haven't seen them or heard them,” Felix answered as he polished off a slice of bread. “I'd remember.”

“Well, I have heard them,” Autumn insisted.

Felix's chocolate eyes challenged her. “Are you sure the music comes from the old building? Sounds travel, you know. Maybe they're from another part of the building group.”

“Yes, I'm certain,” she replied, dropping her gaze.

Brent pulled out the chair beside her, the one Timmy had occupied, and sat down. Timmy was off again, once more playing with his buddies in the far end of the room.

David turned back to Autumn. “Could it be a radio?”

Autumn thought a minute, then said, “It doesn't sound like one. It sounds like live music.”

“This really is a mystery. Have you ever met any of them, Autumn?”

She bit at her under lip, now sorry she'd ever mentioned the matter. It seemed to have started a furor, and one which had thrown her into the middle of it. None of the men working in the chapel could back her story, and she began to suspect they didn't believe it. After Felix's challenge, did David think she'd imagined the music? Did Brent?

Autumn shifted uncomfortably as she realized how many eyes stared at her. What else could she add?

“No. The door between the old sanctuary and my corridor is always closed and locked, remember?”

“That's so,” Brent said. “Wonder how they get in when no one's about? I don't think there are many keys out that we don't know about. Anyway, even if someone does have an unauthorized key, they're gone by the time the work crews come in. I suppose they're not hurting anything. You haven't found anything amiss, have you David?”

“No, no,” David answered, gesturing with his hand. “Haven't noticed anything misused or damaged. But I'll make a pass through over there this afternoon just to be sure. Doesn't hurt to do a check.”

“Well, Autumn,” Laureen leaned against the back of Brent's chair as she took up the quest. “Surely you have at least seen these people coming or going?”

Autumn merely shook her head.

“I suppose you wouldn't.” Laureen turned to question some of the others seated close by. “Hmm…I'm wondering…has
anybody
besides Autumn heard or seen these musicians?”

“Not me,” Felix assured as he rose to take his
plate to the kitchen. “Haven't seen hide nor hair of anything that looks like music cases or music makers.”

“No one at all?” Laureen turned back to Autumn and said with false sweetness, “Since no one else has noticed these musicians or heard them play, maybe you're just hearing things, my dear.”

“That's it. I bet that's what you heard,” said an unshaven man with rheumy eyes in a kindly tone. “That old building has some windows that need caulking. They used to whistle something fierce years back when we was using it. Maybe some air is still blowing through making the noise you hear.”

“It isn't noise,” Autumn murmured. “It's lovely…”

“Yep, that front door needed new weather stripping pretty bad too,” the old man continued as though talking to himself. “A brassy sound, sometimes even in a type of harmony. Other times it sounded like a train coming through. Or wailing banshees.”

“That might account for what you heard,” David said, nodding as though satisfied. His face filled with relief. “Filtered through the air in an empty auditorium and then through that heavy oak door, I suppose it could very well sound musical.”

The old man chuckled, nodding his head. Others murmured their agreement, as well.

“It didn't sound like that.” Autumn flashed a grateful gaze at the old man for his effort to help, then let her lashes drop. No one could know what she'd heard but herself, but they all thought she'd imagined it.

She couldn't look at Brent. He knew of her true disability; would he now think she was hearing things that didn't exist, as well? Had she let her imagination run away with her?

Yet what she'd heard held unusual sweetness in a true melody, and there wasn't a brass instrument in any of it. She only wished she could hum it, but with most eyes steadily on her, only a wisp of it came to mind.

But it
was real….

“No! I didn't imagine it and it wasn't the wind,” she said clearly.

“Hmm…” David seemed to reconsider.

“Are you sure, Autumn?” Brent murmured low.

She turned then, helpless to keep her frustrated feelings from showing, locking her gaze onto his compassionate one. She wanted to cry out for him to believe her, but felt it would sound hopelessly like a pitiful plea that held no truth.

“Well, how come it is only you who've ever heard this music?” Laureen persisted, breaking their concentration. “Why is it no one else knows a thing about it?”

Choosing not to answer, Autumn merely shrugged. An awkward silence ensued.

“Oh, really.” Laureen displayed her disgust. “I can't see how you can be so sure of what you heard.”