Regardless of the history between them, Rachelle had to give Troy his propers. The boy was on fire.
He thanked the congregation for the warm welcome and assured them he was not only joining the staff but would soon become a member of the church.
“I’m looking forward to being a part of St. Peter’s ministry and mission,” Troy said, to a swell of applause from members. “The Bible contains numerous references to music and its significance in ministering to God’s leaders and his people. We can’t underestimate the power of a God-inspired hymn or gospel song to lift someone’s spirit, help him or her connect with the heavenly Father, or give him or her answers to questions they’ve been wrestling with.
“I’m praying that we can take St. Peter’s awesome choirs to a new level of excellence, to the glory of God,” Troy said. “Let’s work together to make it happen.”
Troy turned toward the church’s pianist, drummer, and saxophonist, and they began playing the opening strains of an upbeat song. He raised the microphone to his lips, reared back his head, and uttered, “The presence of the Lord is here . . .”
By the time the song wound to an end, after several encores, there wasn’t a dry eye in the church. Troy gave the microphone back to Pastor Taylor and left the pulpit to sit on one of the front pews. He bowed his head, as if in prayer, while the men and women who sat nearby reached over to pat his shoulder.
The song touched Rachelle, not only because she was hearing Troy’s moving tenor again, but also because she still had Jillian’s counsel on her mind. Be happy. Live fully. Love God. The lyrics expressed joy over God’s willingness to dwell among and bless people who love him. This song was the musical equivalent of Jillian’s message.
With the way she had been feeling—and behaving—over the past month, the song left her out of sorts. Going through the motions at home had been frustrating. Searching for answers this past weekend had been unsettling. And now, sitting here in church, she felt hollow.
The blank Ten Things to Do list in her purse served as a searing reminder of how little she knew about herself when, by all appearances, she led a picture-perfect life.
As Pastor Taylor encouraged adults and children in the congregation to give God a try, Rachelle contemplated how to ease out of the sanctuary without Troy seeing her.
“It’s not about coming here and sitting in the pews on Sunday, really it’s not,” Pastor Taylor said. “It’s about using this place as a vehicle to form a relationship with the one who gives you life and breath, the one who gives you new chances every day.”
After his plea, ushers approached each pew with offering plates and Rachelle gave up on slipping out of the service. She didn’t want to embarrass her aunt and uncle by leaving at an inappropriate juncture or by appearing stingy.
Pastor Taylor prayed over the offering, then invited Troy to share a few more words before the service ended.
Rachelle hadn’t noticed a young girl sitting next to him until she stood and went forward with him. He clutched her hand and the two of them faced the congregation.
“Everyone, this is Chaundra,” he said.
“Hi, Chaundra!” the congregation bellowed.
The girl, who appeared to be about thirteen, looked at Troy and smiled before waving and tucking her head down. With a short bob, wire-rimmed glasses, thin legs, and a dusting of freckles across her fair skin, she didn’t resemble him, but she was cute.
Rachelle held her breath, waiting for him to introduce a wife. I can handle it, I can handle it.
Instead, he hugged the girl and blessed everyone with a megawatt smile. “The two of us are thankful to be embraced by this church family. We don’t take your cheers of support or the graciousness you’ve shown since we arrived here last week from Milwaukee for granted. As we settle in, please keep us in your prayers. And for you other little ladies out there, feel free to help Chaundra out. She’ll have a better time learning about her new city and new school if you girls teach her, instead of her having to rely on me.”
Pastor Taylor walked to the lectern and motioned for the congregation to rise for the benediction. Before he could speak, his wife waved at him and mouthed instructions. Rachelle’s heart sank. She knew what was coming.
“Oh, yes,” Pastor Taylor said, acknowledging his forgetfulness. “In all of our excitement over Troy, we didn’t welcome our visitors! Does anyone have a special guest today?”
Aunt Irene looked at Rachelle. When Rachelle shook her head, Aunt Irene sat back in the pew. But Yasmin tugged at her arm.
“You haven’t visited in a long time, Cousin Rachelle,” Yasmin said. “You’re a friend. Stand up. Say something.”
“Not today.” Rachelle spoke softly because a couple behind her were introducing themselves.
She thought she was safe when several other churchgoers made comments and took their seats, but Pastor Taylor clearly didn’t miss a thing.
“Sister Irene, I see you’ve got someone with you. Care to introduce her?”
Aunt Irene coughed and stood. “Well, Pastor, just a relative visiting from Houston. She went to college here in Everson and has come to service before with our family, so she’s more of a friend than a visitor . . . and she’s shy.”
I love you, Aunt Irene.
Rachelle hoped the message reached her aunt telepathically and that Pastor Taylor could read through the lines—she didn’t want to get up and speak.
It didn’t work.
“We won’t bite,” he said to Rachelle. “Stand up, ma’am!”
All eyes were on Rachelle as she peeled herself from the pew and smoothed her slacks. She took a deep breath and focused on Pastor Taylor, since he was the one intent on unwittingly humiliating her.
“Good afternoon, church. My name is Rachelle Covington. I bring you greetings from Houston, Texas . . .” Her voice trailed off. One usually inserted the name of his or her church and pastor at this point. Since she had an affiliation with neither, she was at a loss. “Ah . . . it’s always a pleasure to worship here with my Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles, and I pray that the rest of this week will be blessed for each of you.”
Rachelle sat down quickly, but couldn’t help glancing at Troy. He had turned around in his seat, and his mouth was hanging open.
While Pastor Taylor closed the service, Troy’s eyes remained fixed on Rachelle. Rather than animosity or longing, she detected an emotion she couldn’t decipher.
Years ago, she knew what his every twitch or facial tic meant. Now, although the face and voice hadn’t changed much, she didn’t know him at all.
She wondered why his wife wasn’t with him today. He hadn’t even mentioned her, and there wasn’t a band on his ring finger. Maybe he was a single father. The more she mused, the more her curiosity mushroomed.
Before he decided to move in her direction and ask her similar questions about her personal life, Rachelle grabbed her purse. She turned to Aunt Irene and hugged her.
“Mind if I leave now and head over to your place?”
Aunt Irene pulled her key ring from her purse, twisted off a key, and handed it over. “I understand,” she said and looked toward Troy, who had been swamped by well-wishers. “You’re staying over, aren’t you? Take Reuben’s bedroom. He was supposed to come home this weekend, but with him, there’s no telling. College has driven him temporarily insane. He calls when he needs money and comes home when every stitch of clothing needs to be washed.”
Aunt Irene and Rachelle laughed.
Rachelle didn’t think her cousin Reuben had the same issues, but when she had left Philadelphia for Jubilant, she remembered being grateful to have some freedom for the first time. Mom had still called several times a week to make sure she was studying and staying out of trouble at Everson, but at least she hadn’t been able to hover and tell her what to wear or whom to hang out with.
“Yasmin, coming with me?”
The girl looked at Rachelle, and then over her shoulder, toward a group of girls her age. They waved her over.
Rachelle laughed. “I see—I’m not going to win the popularity contest today,” she told Yasmin. “Go on—be with your friends. I’ll see you at the house.”
Yasmin dashed off and Aunt Irene shook her head.
“That girl is something else,” she said. “Busy as a bee, but a sweetheart. You can tell me later how your babies are doing.”
Rachelle promised to give her an update on Tate and Taryn just as one of Aunt Irene’s friends approached and hugged her from behind.
“We missed you the other night at the women’s tea! Where were you, Irene?”
Rachelle seized the opportunity to escape and waved goodbye to Aunt Irene. She scanned the crowd on her way out of the sanctuary. Uncle Charles had disappeared. He must be in the church office with the other deacons, counting the offering. She snaked her way through the socializing parishioners and paused once she reached the foyer. Before she stepped outside the church, she looked back and caught a glimpse of Troy approaching Aunt Irene with open arms so he could envelop her in a hug.
Rachelle rummaged through her purse for her car keys and fought the surging anger. Aunt Irene and Uncle Charles were church leaders; they had to have known for a while that Troy was under consideration for the position at St. Peter’s. Why hadn’t one of them said something?
She felt like she was in college again, when everyone was deciding what was best for her, without including her in the process. This time around, she wasn’t going to be so easy to manipulate. She had an agenda of her own.