The Turning (17 page)

“I have never had such a nice time,” Trent replied.

“You don’t mind the silence?”

“Why should I? It’s the first quiet moment I’ve had in a week.”

“You’re very gallant.”

“That’s a new one. But thank you.”

“You are.” She swept a hand over the table, taking in the setting and the meal and the evening. “I promised myself this. I feared it might never come.”

“I know what you mean.”

She studied him over the rim of her cup. “Yes, you do, don’t you?”

“Will you tell me something about yourself?”

“Why, haven’t you had your detectives work up a file on me?”

“I started to,” he confessed. “Then I decided I would be better off knowing only what you wanted me to know.”

“Gallant, just as I said.” She nodded her thanks as the waiter refilled her cup. When he moved off, she said, “My father teaches at a state college in West Virginia. My mother is a nurse practitioner. My sister is a dental hygienist. Her husband is a horticulturist. Once each winter they all pile into my parents’ camper and vacation in Florida. Kids too. All three generations. They don’t understand why I won’t come along.” She sipped her coffee. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore.”

“All right. Fine.”

But she turned to the fire and continued, “Already in junior high school I knew I had to escape. My classmates called me a snob. But I knew I had what it took to be different, to be—”

He said it for her. “Better. More.”

“I had to cut myself off. I
had
to. I studied and I planned and I worked three part-time jobs. In the summer I studied acting and voice and drama at my father’s college. I won the scholarship.”

“You modeled.”

“I hated the work, but the money was good. When I graduated I landed a management trainee job, but working my way up the corporate ladder never appealed to me.”

“I understand. All too well.”

“I met Barry and Edlyn together at a charity event. Barry knew instantly I was after something more. He pays me as much as his assistant managers. I love my work. Everything except the way Barry’s visitors treat me like potential prey.” Her gaze tightened. “Do you have any idea how many offers I have received?”

“Hundreds.”

“More. Some days they fall like rain. But I don’t want to be someone’s prize ornament. Nor am I interested in being a rich man’s paramour, no matter how large the gifts. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Something about the words, or the way she spoke, caused his heart to race. He was amazed that his voice remained steady. “You want a partner.”

She watched him, her cat’s eyes glowing in the firelight.

“You want to claim a future and work for it. Enjoy it because the prize is earned. Together.”

The moment crystallized, a time apart from the night and the elegant rooftop restaurant. It was only the unspoken bond that Trent felt growing between them. Then the waiter approached their table, and broke the spell by asking if they wanted anything more.

Trent paid the bill, fearing the moment was lost to the night. But as they rose from the table, Gayle slipped her arm through his and moved in so close he felt they were joined from shoulder to thigh. When they were alone in the elevator, she said, “It’s so good to know we understand one another. So very, very good.”

But neither the sentiment nor the happiness lasted beyond the first ten minutes of their limo ride back to the hotel. The car had just swung onto the highway when Gayle’s phone rang. Trent wanted to protest when she drew it from her purse, saying how even top aides needed Sunday evening off. Then he was glad he remained silent when Gayle said, “It’s Edlyn.”

“Does she normally phone on a Sunday night?”

“No.” She keyed the phone and said, “Yes, Edlyn?” She handed it to Trent.

“I’m here.”

“Two of our major sponsors have been rattled to the point that they’re talking about withdrawing their airtime commitments.”

“Can they do that?”

“It’s not a question Barry wants to raise. Is that clear?”

“Totally.”

“We’re moving ahead with your planned attack. And I want something more.”

“Any ideas?”

“That’s your department. Have it ready by nine tomorrow. Make it bloody.”

WASHINGTON DC

J
ohn and the group arrived at the Kennedy Center at four-thirty, two hours before the curtain time. Ruth and Heather suggested he change into the suit. The male dressing rooms were crammed with men and boys of all ages, fitting into rented tuxes and testing their voices. He emerged backstage to find Alisha waiting by the dressing room entrance, attired in a floor-length silk frock of crimson and gold. “Wow. You look great.”

Her cheeks crimped into deep dimples, though the effort brought no easing of the strain in her gaze. “I did what you asked. My sister said she’d think about it. Which means she won’t come.”

“But you called her. That’s what matters.”

She might have nodded, before gesturing to an approaching couple. “I want you to meet Celeste and her husband, Pastor Terry Reeves. This is John Jacobs.”

“We watched you speak to the world about what matters.” Pastor Terry was a man whose smile showered warmth on all concerned. “It was inspiring and challenging.”

His wife did her best to smile agreement despite her evident tension. Then she went back to scanning the crowd. “Ruth Barrett is part of this?”

“She and Heather already went out to their seats,” Alisha replied, then asked John, “Will you stay back here?”

“Long as you need me,” John said.

The pastor smiled warm approval, then said to his wife, “’Bout time you got your folks in line, right?”

Alisha watched them walk away, her face still tight. John reached for her hand and stood holding it, just letting the woman know she was not alone.

The Kennedy Center held a number of different venues. The largest was the Concert Hall, reserved for events like tonight’s. Crowds spilled down the enormous outer chambers, decorated with flags and vintage bunting from all fifty states. Tickets had been sold out for weeks. All proceeds went toward some charity John had never heard of. The eleven choirs appearing this evening were kept in some sort of frenetic order by a phalanx of grey-jacketed ushers. They all stretched midway down the rear entrance hall, a carpeted expanse as vast as many main concert chambers. Alisha’s choir was scheduled to sing second and occupied the angle where the main staircase connected with the hall. The children were from seven to mid-teens. Dressed in unaccustomed finery, many of them were awed into stillness by their surroundings. Alisha surveyed them with a flat, empty gaze. “Look at those children.”

“What about them?”

“They’re scared to death. Celeste needs to do something. She needs to do it
now
.”

He thought the kids looked fine. But what did he know? “So go tell her.”

“Those are
her
children. I don’t have any right—”

“Alisha? There you are!” A slender woman with a dancer’s frame stepped swiftly through the throng, followed by a tall white man in a jacket and no tie. The jacket had leather elbow patches. John had always disliked that look and normally felt uncomfortable around men who wore them. He stepped back a pace and watched as the two women embraced.

Alisha’s face was a remarkable combination of shock and delight. “What are you doing here, Tabatha?”

“Girl, you’re the one who left the tickets at the office.”

“I know, but…” She turned to the hovering guy. “Hello, Kenneth.”

His voice was as stiffly formal as his smile. “Alisha, how nice of you to invite us.”

“Can I introduce a friend of mine? This is John Jacobs.”

The younger woman gave him a swift up and down. John could see the questions in her gaze, as in, were he and Alisha an item? John said, “Good to meet you, both. Alisha, you really need to speak with Celeste.”

“I told you, tonight this is not my choir.”

“You’re the one with experience,” John persisted. He had no idea why he felt so certain about inserting himself into this. Only knowing he had to speak. “Do you see her anywhere?”

“She’s over there talking to the program director.”

John looked over the heads of the gathered choirs to the woman speaking with a man whose headset was lowered around his neck. Celeste’s eyes looked tight with fear. Her husband stood beside her, surveying the choir with a worried look. “Do this for the children,” he urged softly.

Alisha looked at him. “Hold on. These are the children I didn’t want here.”

“Then go for the choir.
Your
choir.”

She bit her lip. “Will you come?”

“Of course I will.”

Her sister asked, “Alisha, what is going on?”

“You go find your seats. We’ll talk later. Come on, John. If we’re doing it, we got to do it now.”

John let her forge a way through the crowd. Alisha stopped on the carpeted floor below the stairs where the pastor’s wife stood, and said, “Celeste, can I ask you something?”

The woman might have been frightened, but John also had the impression that the lady was cross by habit. “I’m busy, Alisha.”

“I know that. And I’m sorry to bother you. But I need to ask you something.”

Reluctantly the pastor’s wife stepped away from the official. “What?”

“Do those children look scared to you?”

“Well, of course they do.”

“I’m just wondering, do you think maybe they should have a chance to warm up?”

“What, here?”

“See, the thing is, they’re gonna walk out there on the stage, and they’re gonna see four thousand people watching them. And they got to hit that first note right.”

Celeste wrung her hands, a tight little gesture, then forced her arms down to her sides. “I’m well aware of that. But we can’t practice now.”

“Why not?”

“Girl, you see how crowded this place is.”

“What’s more important, you bothering these folks, or these children missing their cue?” Alisha gave that a beat, then went on, “You’re doing two songs, then leave and come back for the end when we all do the ‘Hallelujah’ together, isn’t that right? So have them sing the chorus.”

Her husband murmured, “She’s right, Celeste.”

Alisha held out her hand. “Come on, let’s do this together.”

John watched the two women proceed back through the crowd. The pastor stepped down beside him, nodded to the two, and said, “What you’re seeing there is a true miracle in the making.”

Celeste knelt before the children and gathered them forward with a sweep of her arms. In front of her young charges, her face underwent a remarkable transformation. Gone was the tight dissatisfaction, and in its place was a shimmering joy, a light that touched John as she stood and pulled a small tuning whistle from her pocket. She blew softly, then swept her hands through an exaggerated downbeat. And the children launched into song.

As Alisha had predicted, their start was ragged. But by the third note, the kids were in it together, and in tempo. Alisha and Celeste shared a smile as the antechamber gradually went silent.

And then, to the surprise of all, a great male voice boomed out in the distance. He was swiftly joined by another, and a third, and abruptly the entire antechamber was filled with hundreds of voices, all singing at that remarkable level just one notch below a shout.

“Hallelujah!” filled the back hallway, and John saw the children break out in magnificent grins, for they knew they were leading this crowd. They were not simply part of this mass of big people. They were
making it happen
.

John stood in the wings throughout the entire performance. When all the choirs had sung, they joined together onstage for the final event. The choirs spilled off the staggered bleachers and filled the periphery, right to the edge where the stage ended and the orchestra pit began. They had clearly practiced where they were to stand, but even so the littlest children looked on the verge of being lost to the throng. Then one of the baritones reached down and hefted the smallest of the children onto his right shoulder.

The kid’s smile was so huge it lit up the entire chamber. Suddenly the littlest ones were up on shoulders everywhere, one even clambering up onto a stool that the stage manager slipped out from his place behind the curtains. They were the stars this night, and their joy swept out over the choirs, the orchestra, the audience.

John had heard Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” all his life. But never had it sounded as fine as it did just then. When the number was finished, the listeners, on their feet, did not merely applaud. They shouted the joy back, hands raised in gratitude.

When it was all over, the lights had dimmed, and the audience departed, John was ready. He did not make anything happen. He simply made himself available.

The Barrett Ministry camera crew was led by Kevin Burnes, the producer. He directed the team with a soft voice and swift hand motions, ignoring everything but the next shot. They were joined by two local stations and the Gospel Music Channel, who had filmed the performance for a nationwide broadcast. John let some woman pat his face with powder and some young man station him over where the children clustered around Celeste and Alisha. John knelt on one knee on the backstage floor and spent almost an hour asking the children the same three questions. What was it like? How did it make you feel? What will you take away from this night? The children’s responses tugged at him. With little prodding, they told him how they had left behind very real hardship and families that didn’t work and struggles and dark hours. How for a brief time tonight they had seen what it meant to hope, to reach beyond, to live for the big dream.

When it was over, he did not rise. Nor did he ask the children to stop their happy chatter. Or try and write down the words. He simply let it come. Where from, he had no idea. But he knew the words needed to be said. Crouching on the raw plank floor, surrounded by happy faces, John said to the camera, “This is what we as the family of believers are called to do. Bring light to the dark hour. Show there is living hope. Tell others it is right to reach beyond where they are, and live for the big dream.”