Rehearsal was scheduled to last an hour, but a few minutes before it was over, just before the children began to sing “Silent Night,” one of the deacons came into the sanctuary and pulled Mrs. Gregory aside. Her face went ashen, and she hastily nodded at him, looking at the children and then around the room. Her eyes fell on Melody.
“Melody, sweetheart, I hate to trouble you, but Mr. Gregory is not feeling well at all. Brother James just came to get me to take him home. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you please just get the kids started on “Silent Night”? Mrs. Watson will handle the music of course. And then… would you mind running Michael home?”
The second part of the request was no problem at all; it was the first part that had left her mortified. Was Mrs. Gregory actually asking her to lead a song? Melody felt her face turning red. How could she say no to a woman who was rushing out of the room to take care of her sick husband?
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked again, clearly in a rush.
“I, uh….” Melody began.
“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” Mrs. Gregory said, patting her shoulder. “You are a lifesaver. You really are.” Then, turning to address the two dozen little people who were beginning to grow restless as they waited on stage, she yelled, “All right, children. We have one more song. Now, Mrs. Gregory has to go take care of her husband who is sick, sick, sick. But Miss Melody is going to help get you started on “Silent Night.” Can you all tell her thank you?”
A chorus of thank yous in sweet, angelic voices filled the air, and Melody was to her feet and approaching the stage before she even realized what she was doing. Mrs. Gregory patted her on the shoulder one more time and then took off.
Melody stood a few feet in front of the stage where the children were in rows, all of them staring at her in anticipation. Glancing at Mrs. Watson, Melody got a nod and a smile, so she returned her attention to the children. “Okay, are you all ready?” Several said yes while others nodded, and Melody raised her hands the way she’d seen lots of choir directors motion over the years, and then Mrs. Watson played the introduction. She knew she’d have to let them know when to come in, and with a deep breath, she began to sing, “Silent night, holy night….” Once the children were singing along, she dropped out, keeping her hands up so they’d stay together as much as possible.
This was the first time she’d sang anything at all since her father had died. Not a tune in the shower, not a hum to the radio, not even a catchy jingle from a TV commercial. She’d decided there was no reason to sing anymore without her father in her life, and even though she still heard music everywhere she went, she would never make her own again. She hadn’t touched the keys to the piano or picked up a guitar—nothing. Now, standing there in front of so many smiling faces, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the few lines she had sung. While part of her felt the hole in her heart grow even wider, like the guilt of a child who’s taken the last cookie from the jar, another part of her felt the joy only singing from the soul can invoke. As the final bars reverberated around the sanctuary, she realized this hadn’t really changed anything. Just because she’d been forced to sing a few lines, that didn’t mean she was singing again. Unless and until there was truly another song in her heart, Melody would not let another lyric escape her lips.
The drive from the church to Michael’s house wasn’t that long, and Melody tried to concentrate on the road in front of her instead of the voice of the sweet child serenading her from the back seat. Apparently, “Silent Night” was permanently stuck in Michael’s head. While it was nice to hear him singing so joyfully, Melody was ready to have Christmas music off of her mind.
She’d had to text Reid for his address. Their house was only about a half-mile from her own, and she’d actually had a friend in high school who used to live there. She tried to think about how different the house might look now to keep her mind off of the tune radiating from the back seat.
“You wanna sing with me?” Michael asked once he’d finished a verse.
“No, thank you,” Melody said, forcing a smile and glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “Look how much the snow has melted. I bet a lot of snowmen aren’t around by the end of today.”
The distraction did not work. “You have a pretty voice, Miss Melody. I heard you sing at church.”
“I wasn’t really singing,” she insisted. “I was just getting you guys started.”
“Well, I still heard you. And it was pretty.”
Melody let out a sigh. “Thank you, Michael. This is your street, isn’t it?”
His only answer was to break into “Joy to the World,” and Melody was glad she hadn’t attempted to navigate to his house through Michael’s directions alone.
She pulled into the driveway, noticing that the formerly white house was now a nice gray color, and turned the ignition off. While she was excited to see Reid, she hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell how off she felt. Michael finished his verse and then began to fumble with the seatbelt. “I can’t get it,” he said. “Can you help me?”
“Of course,” Melody replied, hopping out of the car and turning to open Michael’s door. She unbuckled him and helped him down into the melty snow.
“Dad!” Michael shouted, and Melody turned to see Reid standing in the yard just in front of the porch, wearing a Seahawks jersey and jeans. Even though it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been the day before, she thought he must be freezing, though he didn’t look it. He bent to scoop Michael up and gave him a hug before Michael wiggled free and came flying back in Melody’s direction.
“You gotta see the tree,” he insisted, grabbing her hand.
“Oh, well, I don’t want to impose.”
“Hi, Mel,” Reid said, smiling at her as she walked over. “Thanks for bringing him home.”
“Sure,” she replied. “He’s a little excited.”
Reid laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s pretty much his usual disposition.”
“Come on, Miss Melody!” Michael was still yanking on her hand.
Melody wasn’t sure what to do, so she just stared at Reid, hoping he’d say something to either welcome her or explain why she shouldn’t stay. After a long pause, he said, “Would you like to come in? I mean, I’m sure you have other things to do today, but if you’ve got a minute to check out the Christmas tree—which isn’t even fully decorated yet—I think Michael would appreciate it.”
With a small giggle, Melody said, “I’d love to see your tree, Michael.”
He pulled her across the yard and up the wide porch into the living room. Melody had always loved the architecture of the Gothic Revival home, and she could tell even from the porch that Reid had done a lot of work on it. There had been sagging window sashes and missing spindles in the porch railing. Now, everything looked as new and polished as it must have over a hundred years ago when the house was built.