Glory Be!. Ron/Janet Benrey

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СКАЧАТЬ traffic light turned green; Emma turned left onto King Street. It was now raining quite heavily. She looked at the dashboard clock. Ten after seven.

      I’ll only be a little late.

      There was no other traffic in sight as she drove three blocks north then made a right turn into Glory Community’s parking lot.

      She stepped out of the dark red Volvo and almost collided with Reverend Daniel Hartman.

      “Good evening, Emma,” he said, as he pirouetted out of her path.

      “Oh! I didn’t see you.”

      “Let’s get out of the rain.” He tugged open the back door.

      Emma walked into a cacophony of heated words. The raised voices filling the corridor were angry—and easy for her to recognize.

      “Nonsense!” Lily Kirk bellowed. “Your bad behavior has nothing to do with worship. The young people in this church are ungrateful whelps, with no appreciation for tradition.”

      “Nobody says ‘whelp’ anymore,” Debbie shouted back. “You talk like you think—out of date.”

      “Oh, my!” Daniel said. “Our star sopranos are dueling.” He scooted around Emma and plunged into the practice room. She halted in the doorway and watched the fracas unfold.

      Lily and Debbie stood on opposite sides of Nina, who kept whacking her music stand with her conductor’s baton.

      “Where is the respect that my generation showed its elders?” Lily ranted. “We never would have stooped to committing spiteful practical jokes. Imagine tormenting a defenseless fish!”

      “If you want respect from me, earn it!” Debbie returned heatedly. “And for your information, we don’t do practical jokes. Because you have the media on your side, we’ve been forced to launch a campaign of harmless civil disobedience to get our position better known. The fish, by the way, seemed happier in his new home.”

      Nina whacked harder, flinging specks of white paint in all directions.

      Reverend Hartman tried to intervene. “Please, ladies! Please! This is neither the time nor place to argue about church business.”

      The sixtyish Lily, who had once sung on Broadway, ignored both pastor and director and upped the stakes. She spread her arms wide and belted out, “Spiteful! Spiteful! Spiteful!” Each crystal-clear word pitched higher than the one before.

      Debbie, a seventeen-year-old high school student, couldn’t match Lily’s colossal volume, but she did manage to hit an even more shrill high note when she sang, “Out of date! Out of date! Out of date!”

      Nina smashed her baton against the music stand in a mighty final whack that sent the baton’s red tip flying over Emma’s head and out the door.

      “Nooo!” Nina shrieked. She flung her broken symbol of musical authority against the back wall. “This is intolerable. Fifteen-minute break!”

      Emma stepped aside. Nina—hands trembling, tears in her eyes—ran past her and made for the ladies’ room.

      “Now see what you’ve done?” Lily leveled an accusing finger at Debbie, who seemed, Emma thought, to be genuinely dismayed by Nina’s abrupt departure.

      Before Debbie could reply, Tony Taylor, the choir’s lead baritone, a retired naval officer who owned the Glory at Sea marina, entered the fray. “That’s not fair, Lily! This is your doing. You started the ruckus by baiting Debbie—she merely defended herself.”

      Lily held her ground. “Of course you would take the girl’s side. You also sing at the contemporary service.” She hissed the word contemporary as if it was obscene.

      “I agree with Lily!” said Lane Johnson, the choir’s lead tenor and Glory’s postmaster. He threw back his broad shoulders and glared at Tony. “You’ve never liked the traditional hymns—probably because you sing a weak baritone.”

      “Who asked for your dumb opinion?” Tony growled at Lane.

      “Who made you king of the choir?” Lane barked back.

      Emma wasn’t sure whether Tony or Lane landed the first push, but a moment later the pair was wrestling on the floor, surrounded by fallen music stands and hymnals.

      Rafe Neilson, who had been standing in the back row with Sam Lange, the choir’s other baritone, raced forward to pull Tony and Lane apart, while Jacqueline Naismith, a retired schoolteacher who sang alto, used her considerable bulk to shield a small, vulnerable table that held several pitchers of iced tea and a tray of cookies. The other members of the choir watched the spectacle with grim determination. Emma noted that some of them were actually enjoying the brawl.

      BWANG!

      The raucous noise made Emma spin around. She saw Daniel Hartman standing next to the piano and realized that he had slammed both hands down on the keyboard to end the fight. Rafe yanked Tony to his feet in one powerful heave and then reached back down for Lane.

      “We will have an interlude of prayer!” Daniel roared, in a commanding voice that Emma concluded must have been perfected in the military.

      All extraneous movement in the choir ceased. Heads bowed instantly. Emma lowered her chin to her chest but kept her eyes wide open.

      “Lord,” Daniel began, “we ask for Your peace tonight. There’s a storm blowing through Glory Community and only You can help calm the waters. You know better than us that truly devoted believers often disagree about the best ways to advance the Kingdom of God. Well—give all of us the hearts to forgive our debtors. And help us to remember that we raise our voices in this building for one purpose only—to proclaim Your glory. In Jesus’s name we pray.”

      Emma joined in the rumbling group “Amen.” Daniel Hartman had spoken a fairly reasonable prayer—one she had no qualms affirming.

      Daniel continued, “Someone find Nina. Assure her that her choir will be prepared to sing rather than fight after the break.”

      Emma felt a touch on her arm. She turned and saw Rafe’s smiling face.

      “You look confused,” he said. “Don’t you know what’s going on at our church?”

      Emma fought to control her irritation at his remark. She scanned the practice room. The choir had broken into several small groups. No one was looking their way. She bent her head close to his.

      “If you had asked me this morning, Mr. Neilson, I would have gladly explained that I am not a member of Glory Community Church. I sing in your choir for three specific reasons. One, I have a good voice. Two, I enjoy choral singing. And three, Nina McEwen is a fabulous choral director.

      “Moving right along—I understand all too well how churches work. The chief reason I chose not to join Glory Community Church is that The Scottish Captain keeps me busy fifteen hours a day and I have no time left for church politics or taking sides in silly debates. I had intended to join Glory Community, but Nina was kind enough to warn me about the current fight, without giving me any details. I decided to bide my time. I saw no need to become part of a church in crisis.”

      Emma СКАЧАТЬ