Chapter Eight
FROM: Pastor Charles Littleton
Sent: Tuesday, April 28 1:06 PM
To: Candi Canaberry
CC: Shade Blackledge
Subject: Music Festival at the College
Candi:
I just got an email blast reminder about the Sounds of Texas Music Festival next month at the college. I’m assuming the band will go. Can you get us on the program or does Ms. Mattie have to fill out all this paperwork and submit it? Let me know. I’ll have the guy who makes our banners make some new ones about the youth service. This is a great opportunity for promotion.
Charles
Candi blew through the sanctuary before practice and dropped her music in a pew. She headed for the church office in hopes she could catch Pastor Charles before he left.
She spotted him through the glass doors of the main office. When he saw her, he made a comical frightened face and pretended to run away like some sort of spastic mime.
She pulled open the door and let it fall against her shoulder. “Very funny. Is your clown car running out back so you can just jump in and let the bear in a tutu drive you home?”
“No, but that would be cool.”
“I only need a minute.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” He extended his arm toward his office. “But c’mon in.”
She went in first and waited for him to enter to close the door.
He paused before he sat down. “Looks serious.” He motioned toward her usual chair. “What’s on your mind?”
His tender question was enough to bring fresh tears to her eyes. “My father’s getting out of jail.”
Pastor Charles wilted into his seat. “When?”
“Not sure.” She leaned forward to take a tissue off his desk. “His lawyer sent a courtesy letter-bomb via snail mail saying a release was in the works and my dad is selling the house. I don’t know what all the procedures are, but this means he and his lawyer know where I am. I guess he could walk right up to my front door at any time.”
“And you’ve had no contact with him since he went to prison.”
“Humph. I’ve had no contact with him since he first came under suspicion for felony fraud.”
“Let me ask you a question, Candi.” He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers across his stomach. “You said your father took care of you and your mother when she was dying, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve said in the past you’d never seen someone more grief-stricken and distraught than he was when she died.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m wondering. I realize your dad committed a crime, but I think it’s odd you bailed on him as soon as trouble came knocking.”
“What do you mean?”
“By your own admission, you left home as soon as there was a suspicion of criminal wrongdoing. There hadn’t been an arrest yet, and you’d already decided he was guilty.”
“He was guilty.”
“But you didn’t know that then. You severed a relationship with the only person you had left in this world based only on accusations. What if he’d been innocent?”
“He wasn’t.”
“He could have been.”
“But he wasn’t.” She squeezed the tissue into a tiny ball. “Look, Pastor, I know he was guilty. I may have been young, but I knew things didn’t add up. He had money, but he didn’t have regular successful clients. He spent a lot of time haunting clubs for talent, but none of those bands ever achieved what I heard him promise them in our living room. He lied to first one hopeful musician then another. They never had a chance. He used his clients against each other in competition for work and recording contracts. One time he bought studio time for one band and sold it to another at twice the price. What kind of person does that? It’s like stealing from the food bank or a toy drive or something. There are no depths to his money-grubbing cruelty.”
Pastor Charles leaned forward. “I know you can’t change the past, but my point is, you’re holding in a lot of anger over something you never discussed with him. Perhaps he could have made some things right with you.”
She left her chair, grabbed another tissue, and headed for the window. “In what universe could he have ever made any of what he did right? There’s nothing he could say that could explain away his crimes.”
“Of course not, but you’ve put yourself through a lot of misery trying to deny he even exists. That man is the only father you’ve got, and your relationship wasn’t all bad. You owe it to yourself to at least find a peaceful coexistence.”
“All I know is, the minute my mother was in the ground, the truth about his business practices started to come to light. I didn’t care to stick around and cheer him on in some courtroom. My whole life with my parents was about music. Everything good and beautiful I know about it is because of my mother. And everything he had to do with it turned to garbage. I don’t want to coexist with that.”
Pastor Charles picked up a blue and green ball from his desk and gave it a squeeze. “What if prison changed him? What if he’s, as they say, a new man?”
“Leopards don’t change their spots.”
He continued to work the ball in his hands. “That’s the theory you’re going to stick with?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Candi, our entire faith journey is based on the principal that God sent his only son to die for our sins. The ultimate price was paid so our spots could not only change, but be completely obliterated by the blood of Christ, and so we could be reborn without spot or blemish and live a redeemed life. Are you saying God did not extend that courtesy to your father and that you are not obligated to offer forgiveness as Christ did for you?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure there’s not a tiny red car full of firefighting clowns out back waiting for you?”
He tossed the ball onto his desk. “I know your father let you down. I know he shattered the dreams of many people. I know he committed crimes. But because of your Christian walk and the strength of your faith, you rose above all that. So when your father comes looking for you—as I’m sure he will—try to find a way to make peace, because I’ll tell you something, God can’t fully use you when you’re carrying around a grudge that big.”
He stood and pushed his chair under his desk. “We can talk about this some more, but you better scram. You’ll be late for practice, and my clown car awaits.”
When he was right, he was right. She hated it when he was so right.
“I’m going,” she said. “By the way, got your email, and we’ll discuss the music festival tonight.”
He flipped off his desk lamp and followed her to the door. “How’s it going with Shade?”
Hmm... She could tell him about the heated click track discussion, or maybe the fishing hole. Perhaps he’d like to hear about the parking lot rumble.
“He’s doing well.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“I saw that,” he said and grinned.
“Saw what?”
“You almost smiled. I believe that scruffy rocker is growing on you,” he teased.
She ignored him and headed for the sanctuary. “‘Bye, Pastor.”
“Hey, how does that work, anyway?”
She knew she would regret it, but she stopped and turned. “How does what work?”
“Under the Leopard Spot Thesis in the Gospel According to Candi, how does that work for Shade? He appears to have made some changes for the better. Is it your belief those aren’t real? Are his true spots lurking just below the surface?”
This game was getting old. Especially since it was clear the pastor had always known a whole lot more about Shade than she did.
“On the contrary. I believe the Shade I’ve been getting to know is the original. The spots I see are the true ones.”
“Ahhh...” He rocked on his heels and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Nicely played.”
“I learned from the best. Can I go now? Or do you want to do this some more?”
“Aw, go on.”
She walked away with a satisfied grin. She never totally got the best of Pastor Charles in one of their debates, but that was pretty close.
Her celebration came to an abrupt halt when she entered the sanctuary. While the rest of the band readied themselves for practice, Kevin stood at her keyboard with his laptop perched precariously on his right forearm. He was wildly punching buttons with his left hand.
“Kevin!” She rushed toward the front. It had taken her months to set her keyboard exactly the way she wanted. There were soft effects for communion music, bright tones for the big openers, and an assortment of pre-programmed intros for various songs. She even kept a backup drive.
“Chillax, Candi.” He unhooked his computer. “I only downloaded a bundle of clips to one of your open spots. See?” He pointed to the selector and scrolled until he came to a digital number ten. “This was empty. Now it’s called Classic Clips. They’re about thirty seconds to a minute each and are assigned to the bass notes when you want to use them.”
“The suspense is killing me. What exactly do you consider a classic clip?”
“I know,” Max interjected. “The SpongeBob Squarepants theme song?”
The others, all who had all stopped what they were doing to listen to their conversation, laughed.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught Shade watching her. As he smiled and nodded, the butterfly wrecking ball that had pounded her insides last night picked up where it left off.
Kevin put his laptop on a chair and came back to explain further. “You know how Pastor Charles says he’d sometimes like to add some drama to his sermons?”
“Yeah, I think it will take more than a classic clip,” Kelly grumped and they all laughed again.
“Anyway,” Kevin continued. “Let’s say he’s preaching about Daniel in the lion’s den. You could play him this.” He touched the low F and the familiar strains of The Lion Sleeps Tonight filled the air. “Or this for a Jonah and the whale, or a Noah’s ark sermon.” This time when he pressed the C, the rousing Gilligan’s Island theme song came out.
Candi stepped back. “You surprise me, Kev. Some of those references are what you would call ancient . They would be lost on half the congregation.”
“Not in the first service,” he snapped back. “Those people are, well, ancient .”
She shooed him away. “Tell you what. You tell the pastor all about it. And if he wants to use them, you can put it together for him, OK?”
“Sure.”
“But, in the future, please don’t add anything to the keyboard without asking first. And make sure I’m at my original settings to start practice.”
“Sure thing, Candi. There’s also Law and Order and Breaking Bad music.
Candi rolled her eyes. “That might be a little much for church.”
“There are westerns. Something old called Bonanza , and one called Gunsmoke or something like that.”
“Tell him about those,” Rocky insisted. “I know he likes old westerns. Oh! And make sure you have Yellowstone music.”
“Is the theme from the Olympics on there?” Carol Ann wanted to know. “Or that song they play at the beginning of an NFL game?”
Max snickered. “You mean the national anthem?”
Carol Ann playfully slapped him upside the head. “No, I don’t mean the national anthem, ya goof. I’m just saying he loves sports metaphors almost as much as he loves westerns.”
Bill came in the side door with a wave and headed for the sound booth.
“Hey, Bill,” Candi said. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Thought I’d better come by and check some levels. When I was here this morning for the men’s prayer breakfast, I noticed some of our settings had been moved. Kids must’ve messed with them.”
That happened all the time.
“No worries, Bill, and guess what? In the new building, your sound booth has a door. And it locks.”
“I know.” He rested his hand across his big belly as he laughed. “I designed it myself.”
“Since you’re here, c’mon up and pray with us.”
“Be right there.”
Candi turned her attention to the group to find the conversation had deteriorated into their weekly round of needling jokes.
“Hey, Max,” Kevin said. “What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?”
Rocky snorted. “I know this one. A drummer, right?”
Kevin howled like a howler monkey and tossed out another one. “How do you make a bass player’s eyes light up?”
“Oh, let me guess,” Carol Ann said with no interest whatsoever. “Shine a light in his ear?”
“I haven’t heard that one,” Max said.
Bill stepped up on the platform. “I have one.”
Candi shot him a disapproving look. “Not you too, Bill, please.”
He was not deterred. “What’s the difference between a drummer and a mutual fund?”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “One of them matures?”
Candi waved them in. “C’mon, guys, let’s get started.”
“One more,” Kevin begged. “What did the bass player get on his IQ test?”
Shade set his guitar in the stand and headed to the circle. “I believe it’s drool.”
The guys congratulated him on his answer and, as usual, the women did not see the humor.
Kelly scowled. “That’s gross and not one bit funny. And am I the only one who notices you tell the same jokes every week? Can you get some new material, please?”
Candi dashed back to her music stand to set down her pen. When someone touched her arm, she knew it was Shade.
“Hey, I need to ask you something.”
They hadn’t talked since the night before. She glanced at the band and stepped away. Not that she had any idea what was actually happening between her and Shade, but if the band caught one inkling of a personal relationship, there’d be no end to the chatter and speculation. They would be merciless. “Sure, but can we talk after? I’m about to lose them again.”
“Yeah, OK.” Disappointment crossed his face. She hated that, but it was necessary.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she announced to the group. “Some of you asked about the click tracks we were going to experiment with, well, that got put on the back burner with the advent of the children’s choir, the youth service, and other things. We’ll try again, soon.”
Kelly hitched up her chin. “Good. Wasn’t looking forward to that anyway.”
Shade gave her a nod of approval.
“As for the youth service practice,” Candi continued. “I know we don’t like this, but we’re gonna have to practice on Friday nights. We have no other choice right now, and the people involved need to get started.”
Rocky cleared his throat. “Am I supposed to do that?”
“Love to have you on bass, Rock,” Max said. “But it’s two more nights out of the week so it’s up to you.”
Rocky pulled out his phone. “What are the dates again?”
“The service starts in late July on Thursday nights, but we’ll start practicing here in a few weeks.”
“I’ll check my busy social calendar.”
“Next on our agenda is the Sounds of Texas Music Festival at the college on May sixteenth.”
Everyone groaned.
“I know it was bad last year, but they’ve taken all that into consideration and worked out the kinks.”
Carol Ann planted her hands on her hips. “Be grateful you weren’t here for that one, Shade. We had to tote our own equipment over there and had a horrible time slot.”
“No one advertised,” Bill added. “That meant attendance was light. It’s supposed to be some big summer send-off for students after finals, but no one cares. It’s a horrible time for it. No one cares to be on campus.”
Kelly shuddered as though having a flashback. “I got heat exhaustion and had to lie down in the open first-aid tent. I was so embarrassed.”
“OK, guys,” Candi interrupted. “This year will be better. The tents are bigger and have some sort of circulating air on the stage. Everyone gets their own tub of water bottles. They’re using the college’s sound system with the addition of some rented equipment, so all we have to do is walk up and plug in. We can bring our own sound guy to work the board.”
Max pointed across the circle. “You in, Wild Bill?”
“I’m in.”
“About the drums, Max, there will be a set there, but if you want to bring your own kit, we’ll help you. I’ll try to get more details.”
“Sweet.”
“I think we should do it,” Candi continued. “Just so you know, they are re-inventing the whole thing for the future. Bill’s right. Who does this in May? It was supposed to be more about just a music festival for the community, not necessarily for the students, but it’s the worst possible time. But for this year, we’ll have a team there to hand out information about the new youth service and minister to the crowd. The church is making banners and t-shirts. It’s a great opportunity to advertise Cornerstone and evangelize.”
Kevin raised his eyebrows and tapped his finger across his lips as if in deep thought. “And this year we have Shade.”
There was a chorus of oohs and aahs.
Carol Ann snapped her fingers. “That’s right. He’ll draw a crowd.”
Kelly waved her hand as if to get everyone’s attention. “Ooooo...they’ll be a mosh pit.”
“Yes,” Candi said with an edge. “That’s exactly what we need—for the Cornerstone Fellowship contemporary worship team to be on the front page of the newspaper with headlines about moshing and crowd surfing injuries.”
“It’ll get them in the gate.” Rocky shrugged. “All publicity is good.”
“Not to bring you down here,” Shade interjected. “But I’m not that big a deal.”
The band blew off his statement and continued their discussion.
“And,” he added. “This is not about me.”
“We appreciate that, Shade,” Candi said above the chatter. “But I think they’re right about you heightening the interest in our band.”
“Wait a minute.” Max held his arms out to hush the crowd as though he needed to say something of dire importance. “Is Brett bringing his worship team this year? ‘Cause they’ve got us outnumbered. It’s like a massive theatrical production when those guys take the stage.”
“I got it covered,” Candi assured them. “Let’s just say I have some clout from working at the college. I’m going to make sure we go on last in the Christian music block.”
“Sweeeeet. Nothin’ like closing the show.”
Kelly grinned from ear to ear. “Or having Brett’s band open for us.”
“I know you guys are enjoying this, but let’s make sure we keep the right attitude,” Candi warned. “Stay aware of the opportunity.”
“Got it.”
Candi captured Rocky’s hand from one side and Bill’s on the other. “Any requests or questions before we pray?”
“I have a question,” Shade said.
“Yes?”
“Will you go out with me Friday night?”
“Excuse me?”
“No way,” Rocky spoke up. “You can’t take her out Friday. That’s our Angelina Jolie film festival at your place, remember? Tomb Raider , Gone in Sixty Seconds , Mr. and Mrs. Smith... ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin jumped in. “My turn to bring pizza. You comin’, Wild Bill? It’s guys’ night.”
“Naw, I can’t keep up with you youngsters, but don’t forget Wanted and Salt .”
Candi’s cheeks flamed like hot lava and her heart thumped out of her chest as the conversation sailed on without her.
Carol Ann fanned herself, and Kelly dipped her head to snicker into her hoodie.
“OK, Saturday,” Shade said. “Will you go out with me Saturday?”
She was angry enough to pinch off his head. “Is there a reason this question is not happening in private?”
He shrugged. “I tried earlier. You were busy, and you did ask if anyone had any questions.”
“And I’m still a little busy here,” she snapped. “I said we’d talk after.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a yes,” Rocky answered for her. “Can we pray already? I’m tired of holding Kevin’s hand. It’s all wet and gooey. Not soft and warm like yours, Candi.”
There was no way she could pray. “Carol Ann, would you lead us, please?”
After the final amen, Candi headed for her keyboard.
“Pick you up at seven,” Shade called after her.
“Oh, she’s not going anywhere with you in that truck,” Kelly advised.
“Fair enough,” he answered. “She can pick me up.”
“Or you can borrow my old Tahoe,” Max offered. “I don’t have a date.”
Candi clutched the sides of her keyboard to steady herself. There was no end to this mortification. “Glad you’re having fun, guys, but that’s enough. Let’s warm up with a classic Pastor Charles wants to hear Sunday, How Great is Our God. ”
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.
Lord, help me...
She placed her left hand on the keys and pressed a G. The catchy, iconic, and addictive James Bond theme music blared through the main speakers.
She didn’t know who to glare at first.
“I’m killer on that guitar lick,” Shade offered.
She chose him.
He backed up. “I’m just sayin’”
She switched off her keyboard. Oh yeah, heads were gonna roll.