Down from the Cross (19 page)

She changed out of her costume and hurried to the gymnasium to help the other counselors, trying to put her crazy suspicions out of her mind. But when she pushed her way through the huge foyer, there was Keene, all smiles, standing with the man in avid conversation, nearly ignoring the many thronged around him seeking his autograph. She wanted to run off to some private place and cry. One more night. Just one more night.
God! Please!

By the time the last person had left the gymnasium and Jane and some of the other women had helped the men straighten the chairs for the Sunday evening performance, the sanctuary was deserted. She cut through the semidarkened auditorium on her way toward the side door, but when she passed by the altar, she felt led to fall to her knees and pray for Keene.

Assuming she was alone, she folded her hands and lifted her eyes to the beautiful stained-glass window that graced the front of the church. She stared at the image of Christ knocking at the door, her heart clenching within her, and she began to pray aloud. She thanked God for bringing them through the past seven performances, for all those who had come forward to accept Him, and for touching Keene’s throat. She thanked Him that her mother had felt well enough to stay alone in the apartment each evening. She praised Him for the way He led the church board into asking Keene to sing in Jim’s place.

“Keene.” Just saying his name sent a tingling flood of emotions wafting through her. “Lord, I’m so in love with this man it hurts, and I’m confused,” she added. “At first, I thought I was in awe of him and his beautiful voice, but now I know that’s not the reason. While I love his voice, it’s not what drew me to him. It’s the man, Father. Keene himself. Why did You let him come into my life? Didn’t You know I’d fall in love with him?”

She pulled a tissue from her purse and blotted her eyes. “I don’t care that he’s famous. I don’t care that he has fashionable apartments in both New York and London or a fancy car. I–I just wish he could love me the way I love him. But, Father, the thing I long for most is that he would yield himself to You. God, I only want what’s best for Keene.”

Hearing a voice, Keene held his breath when he returned to the church to retrieve the briefcase he had forgotten. Someone was kneeling at the altar! He pressed himself into the shadows of the dimly lit sanctuary, remaining motionless, not wanting to interrupt. Not even intending to listen until he heard his name mentioned by the person who was kneeling in prayer just yards from where he stood. It was Jane!

What? What did she say? She loves me?
He took a cautious step forward, cradling his hand to his ear.
And she wants only the best for me?

He continued to listen, barely moving a muscle, until she finally rose and moved slowly across the floor’s carpeted surface toward the side door, dabbing a tissue at her eyes. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen him. He lingered a few more minutes, his gaze locking on the stained-glass window of Christ standing at the door knocking. She had explained its meaning to him that first Sunday he attended the morning service and how it symbolized Christ standing at the door of our hearts. She told him how we have to open that door ourselves, from the inside, since there is no handle or knob on the outside. Sometimes, since he had been singing the part of Jesus, he had even felt that knock on his heart’s door. But how? How could that be? He didn’t believe in Jesus!

Sleep eluded him that night, no matter how many sheep he counted. The words of
Down from the Cross
filtered through his mind, mingled with the conversation he’d had with the New York editor, Jane’s lovely face, and the scripture verses he’d read in the Bible she placed on his nightstand the first week she came to work for him. Before he came to Providence, he’d never thought of himself as a sinner, much less felt the need to confess those sins to God. A God he did not believe in. But being around Jane and the people of Randlewood Community Church made him wonder.
What if they are right? What if there really is a God, and I am turning my back on Him? Maybe I should consider this confession thing. I might even talk to Pastor Congdon about it sometime.

But why? His time in Providence was about to come to an end. In a few weeks, he would be going back to New York City. Back to his old life of exciting performances, extravagant parties, lavish social events, and… and… boredom. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit he’d had more fun working with Jane, listening to her tinkling laughter and sharing deli sandwiches and pizza for lunch, than he ever had at one of those stuffy parties. It did not make sense! Jane had so little to offer compared to the wealthy, high-society women who frequented those parties. Why, when he was with her, did he feel like a teenager on his first date?

Maybe once this pageant is over, Jane and I can get better acquainted. So far, we have been on her turf. Maybe that is the reason I find her so alluring.
Flipping onto his side, he pulled the covers about his neck with a smile of satisfaction.
If she were on my turf, perhaps I would not find her quite so attractive.

Then he remembered something Jane had said. “I could never have a permanent relationship with a man who doesn’t share my faith.”

At seven the next morning, Jane phoned Keene’s apartment to check on his throat. When he answered on the fourth ring with a sleepy “Hello,” she thought about hanging up.

“I’m concerned about you. How’s the throat?” She could almost see him running his fingers through his hair, squinting at the clock to check the time.

“Still sore, but improved slightly.”

“I… I take it you’re not going to church this morning?”

A big yawn sounded on the other end of the line. “Naw, I thought I’d sleep in. It’s been a pretty grueling week, and I had a hard time getting to sleep last night.”

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

Another exaggerated yawn. “Why don’t I pick you up? It’s right on my way.”

“I hate to impose.”

“No imposition. You know better than that. I’ll pick you up at six. Okay?”

“Sure. I’ll see you at six. And, Keene…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing.”

She was already waiting by the curb when he arrived a few minutes before six. He gave her a pleasant smile as he leaned across the seat and pushed her door open. “Hey, you’re looking nice tonight.”

“Thanks.” She glanced down at her new jacket. She rarely wore anything this flamboyant, but she liked it and hoped he would, too.

“Looks good on you.” She felt herself blushing.

On the way to the church, they talked about everything but what was uppermost on her mind.

By the time they reached the church parking lot, it was already full, and Keene had to park on the street. “Looks like we’re going to have another capacity crowd tonight.” He took her hand as they walked toward the church. “I’ve got to get into makeup. Shirley is expecting me.”

“Yeah, I’d better hurry, too. I promised the wardrobe lady I’d help her again tonight. Maybe I’ll stop by your dressing room after I change into my costume.”

She watched him as they entered the doors, and he moved on down the hallway, whistling some unfamiliar tune while he walked.

Jane helped the busy woman by checking over the costumes and making sure they were in the proper order on the racks then changed into her own costume and waited her turn at the women’s makeup table. After she finished there, she headed for Keene’s dressing room. She had to talk to him. By the time she entered, he was in full makeup and wearing the soft beige robe and pair of sandals for his first scene, Jesus’ triumphal entry.

He slipped his arm about her waist. “I’m about ready to begin my warm-up. Are you here to check on my throat or to wish me good luck?”

With a heavy heart and a sigh, she forced a smile. “Actually, neither. I figured if your throat was still bothering you, you would have said something about it by now. And remember? I don’t believe in luck, good or bad.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot about that.” He gave her a grin and wiggled his brows. “So that means you came to hear me warm up?”

“I love hearing you warm up, but I had another purpose in coming, Keene.” Her heart pounding furiously, she gazed up into his eyes, hoping he would see her love for him and not be offended by what she was about to say.

“What is it, Jane? You’re trembling.” His voice was kind and filled with concern.

“I–I hardly know where to begin.”

With his free hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “Just say it. You know you can tell me anything.”

She gazed into the depths of his dark brown eyes, promising herself she would not get emotional on him. “First, I have to tell you how wonderful it’s been working for you these past few months. You’ve treated me with a kindness and gentleness I never expected.”

“You’ve been a terrific employee. No one could’ve done a better job or been more dedicated than you.”

“Then you stepped in, at great personal sacrifice, to sing Jim’s part when your life was already full, learning and preparing for a new opera.”

He bent and gently kissed her forehead. “No one twisted my arm. I did it willingly. For you.”

“And you’ll never know how much I appreciate it.”

“But that’s not what you want to talk about, right?”

“No, not exactly, but I’m leading up to it.” She ducked her head shyly. “Since the day I started working in your office and you told me you didn’t believe in God’s existence, I’ve been praying for you.” She lifted her gaze to his once again, feeling the need to look him directly in the eye when she bared her heart. “You are a fine man, Keene. Honorable. Respectable. And certainly talented. We have all been in awe of your breathtaking performances. Because of you and the way you have sung the part of Jesus the past seven nights, all of us have been drawn closer to our Lord. You’ve made us see how He suffered and bled and died for us.”

He planted a soft kiss on her cheek. “I’ve done my best. I’ve given it my all, Jane.”

“I–I know you have, but…”

“But what?”

“But if you don’t believe in God, that also means you don’t believe in Jesus. And if you don’t believe in Jesus, then you must not believe in Easter.” When he did not respond, she twined her hand in his, glad he had not seen fit to argue the point with her.

“The message of Easter isn’t simply a story filled with symbolism and interesting thoughts. Everything portrayed in our Easter presentation actually happened to real people. God
did
send His only Son to earth. Christ
did
die a cruel death on the cross, taking our sins upon Himself. He
did
rise again and ascend into heaven to take His rightful place at His Father’s right hand, and right now He’s preparing a place for His children as He said He would.”

“I never—”

“Let me finish, please. There’s so little time left, and I have to say these things to you.”

Giving her a weak smile, he remained silent.

“Each night, hundreds of people go to the front of the auditorium, Keene, to repent of their sins and accept Christ as their Savior because of seeing their need of God in their lives through your performance. I–I can’t understand how you can sing the words and portray the part of my Savior like you do without it affecting you.” She paused and caressed his cheek with her hand. “Is your heart so jaded and hardened by the world you can’t feel the emotions your singing evokes in others?”

“Is that what you think? That I’m jaded?”

“I honestly don’t know, but I’m so concerned about your soul. Promise me, tonight, as you sing each note, you will listen to the words with your heart. God loves you, Keene. I love you. Our pastor and choir director love you. The members of this church have learned to love you, and we’ve all been praying for you. Not for Keene Moray, the famous man who graciously bailed us out when our soloist became ill, but for Keene Moray, the caring man who has become our friend.”

“But you—”

“Shh.” She put a finger to his lips. “When you’re up there hanging on the cross tonight, I’ll be kneeling at your feet portraying the mother of Jesus, and I’ll be praying for you, Keene, as I’ve never prayed before. Begging God to make you come to the realization that you are a sinner and to melt your hardened heart. He wants you for His own. Remember the stained-glass window in the sanctuary? And how, though Jesus is knocking, He is unable to open the door because it has to be opened from the inside?”

He nodded. “I remember.”

“Only you can open that door, Keene. That decision is up to you alone. No one else can open it for you. Think hard before ignoring His knock.” After standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek, she withdrew her hand and backed away slowly, her eyes still fixed on his handsome face, now bronzed with makeup. “The Easter story isn’t just a pretty story filled with symbolism, lovely white Easter lilies, and beautiful music. It goes much deeper than that. It is the truest love story of all time. God loves you, Keene. I love you, too, and I want the very best for you. That best is Christ.”

Jane turned and moved out the door of his dressing room, knowing she had done all she could and God was the God of miracles. Surely, it would take a miracle to make Keene swallow his pride and admit he was a sinner.