Cicada Song Page 6

  Chapter 5

  June 2004

  It had been almost three years since he last stepped foot in a church, and he couldn’t help but feel hypocritical doing so now. Ellis approached the decorative doors of Holy Faith Pentecostal but quickly turned and began inspecting the porch that ran alongside the outer perimeter of the building. He told himself that he was just having a look around; but, in reality, he was stalling.

  What was he thinking? He didn’t like churches and vowed never to let a woman be his reason for attending one, yet here he was at the request of two. He tried to convince himself that he had come for the exposure, but he knew it was a lie. Leaning against the rail, Ellis was attempting to gather his thoughts when he noticed something etched into the wood.

  SC + JR 4-Ever was faded but prominent and there were other carvings less recognizable. Maybe he should carve his own engraving: A hypocrite was here.

  He was tapping the rail nervously, debating on whether to leave or not, when laughter suddenly rang out from behind the church. He followed the porch to the back of the building and found an opened window. He quietly peeked inside. To his surprise he found Sara and Ms. Beverly standing with an elderly man in front of a small stage. His reservations faded as he took in the image of Sara, her white dress enveloping her modestly, her hair and makeup subtle but effective. There was just something about the way she smiled that drained all fear from his mind. He decided not to eavesdrop and turned to go but bumped into someone while turning the corner.

  “Oh! Well, excuse me, handsome,” Melba Acres said playfully.

  Ellis smiled as he steadied the elderly woman and thoroughly apologized.

  “Exploring the church, are you?” she asked rhetorically. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Did you see the pond back there? We have picnics around it in the spring and when the leaves are falling.”

  “I didn’t notice, but I do love the building. It reminds me of a chalet I stayed in while visiting Gatlinburg once.”

  “Oh, I love Gatlinburg. And I’m so happy you’ve decided to come visit us. Have you found a seat yet?”

  “Well, no, actually…”

  “Well, come on then, Mr. Barnes,” she said, cutting him off.

  Before he knew it, he was sitting uncomfortably close to the stage, feeling much too vulnerable.

  “I like sitting up close; far too many distractions back there,” she said. “I don’t understand why people like sitting in the back anyways. It’s like I always say…”

  As Melba continued her monologue, Ellis diverted his eyes to the front of the church where Sara and her mother stood. Sara waved eventually but showed no intention of rescuing him, so he sighed and offered Melba his full attention. He just hoped that Sara or Ms. Beverly planned on saving him before the service began.

  “And over there,” Melba continued, “that’s Jackson Bennett. He runs the gas station and keeps a little box under the counter where people can drop off prayer requests. He mentions the needs without bringing up names, but we usually know who he’s talking about.” She smiled, but then someone else caught her eye. “And that lady heading up to the stage is Thelma Thornton. I don’t much care for her, but I guess I need to work on that because she says she’s a Christian woman, and I should probably take her at her word, but…”

  Ellis nodded at the opportune times but found his attention drifting toward the stage again where Sara and her mother were joining a small group of people with microphones. The elderly man approached a podium and introduced himself as Pastor Edgar Woolsey—the shepherd of these people—and opened the service with a joke that wasn’t particularly funny. Ellis found himself grateful for this man, however, for when Pastor Woolsey began speaking, Melba stopped.

  “If there are any here for the first time, would you please stand and introduce yourselves.”

  And there it was. Ellis’ heart sank into his shoes, and his cheeks began to burn. Sara and Ms. Beverly looked at him with large smiles. Melba’s elbow was digging into his ribs, and the pastor signaled for him to speak with a subtle encouraging nod. Ellis groaned and ignored his unsteady legs as he began to stand.

  “Hello, I’m Bill Holmes,” said a black man standing directly behind Ellis. “I’m here for the festival and thought I’d stop in since I couldn’t be at my home church this evening.”

  “And we’re pleased to have you,” Pastor Woolsey said before turning toward Sara and the others. “Take it away!”

  They began singing, though Sara and Ms. Beverly were slightly delayed due to their laughing, and Ellis hid snugly in the uncomfortable confines of the pew. The singing lasted longer than Ellis would have liked but the irritation he felt faded when Sara and Ms. Beverly nuzzled beside him once they had finished singing. Ms. Beverly offered his knee a friendly pat.

  Pastor Woolsey gave a message about what it means to be born again, citing Nicodemus’ story from the Book of John, and closed with a call to prayer. Sara took the stage with a nervous countenance and began to sing as the pastor attended the spiritual needs of those who had come forward. There was a tremble in her voice as she subtly wept; and, for the first time, Ellis saw her bare. It was entirely Sara who poured forth through the song. She was more than a quick-witted girl with a pretty face; she was multifaceted but shattered, like a pebble-cracked windshield.

  Sara finished the song with a soft hum and Ellis found that he was unable to watch as she returned to the pew. There was something entirely too personal about that song, and he could see pain in Ms. Beverly’s face as well. Their subtle lament intrigued him.

  “Thank you, Sara. And thank you all for joining us tonight.”

  Pastor Woolsey closed the service ceremonially and dismissed the church with an encouragement to stay for fellowship. Ellis nodded at nothing in particular before turning to Ms. Beverly and Sara. They seemed to be their old selves again; Sara was speaking with a young boy from across the aisle and Ms. Beverly was reaching to shake Bill Holmes’ hand.

  “Not too bad, was it?” Ms. Beverly asked a moment later.

  “No,” Ellis said honestly. “It’s a nice church. Singing sucked, though.”

  Ms. Beverly offered an expression of mock insult before winking and heading off to visit others. Ellis was about to turn toward Sara when a group of elderly women, led by Melba Acres, suddenly flocked him.

  “Well, he is a handsome one, Melba.”

  “So where are you staying, young man?”

  “I hear you’re quite the hero.”

  “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter. Now where is she?”

  Ellis attempted to communicate with these women but their unsubtle approach caused for some disorientation, leading to a sense of being overwhelmed. He smiled, nodded, and spoke in half-sentences until a soft hand grabbed his arm and pulled him from the crowd.

  “Sorry, ladies,” Ms. Beverly said politely, “but Mr. Barnes and I have some planning to do for his book signing on Tuesday. Perhaps he can make time for each of you at a later date.”

  The women offered their enthusiastic farewells as Ms. Beverly semi-forcefully pulled Ellis through the room and out the front door. She released her grip once they were safely on the front porch, and then she offered a wide smile, laughing beneath her breath.

  “That was the welcoming committee. I thought I’d rescue you.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Ellis said, slightly out of breath but laughing all the same. “Do we really need to discuss the book signing?”

  “I don’t lie in church, so yes, but I never said it had to be tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She offered a warm smile and, with a sly glance sideways, turned and disappeared into the small parking lot. Ellis peered around the side of the church to where Ms. Beverly had glanced and saw Sara, casually hunched over the wooden railing with her arms crossed. She was gazing into the stars; and, for a moment, he saw the vulnerable woman who had sung before an entire congregation. He decided to join her.

  “Penny for your th
oughts?”

  “I’d have thought a writer could be more original than that.”

  Ellis shrugged. “What was good enough for my grandfather is good enough for me.”

  “That’s sweet of you. Were you close?”

  “No,” Ellis said while studying her features. “He died when I was young. I vaguely remember him saying that once.”

  “And what were your thoughts?”

  “I don’t know. Puppies or cartoons most likely.”

  “Wow!” Sara said sarcastically, coming out of her funk. “I hope you at least offered a refund.”

  “Old guy never paid up—the cheapskate.” She laughed softly and Ellis couldn’t help but smile. “You sounded beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The song seemed important to you.”

  She sighed and Ellis noted that distant look again, but it faded quickly. “It was about miracles, so yes. I’m not really in the mood to talk about it though, if that’s alright with you.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  He had crossed a conversational line that she didn’t want to discuss. It certainly made him curious, though. What miracle had this girl sung so passionately about?

  “So, Lilly,” Sara said turning toward him. “Does she sing?”

  “When we have a need to frighten cats or make children cry, yes.”

  Ellis noted how beautiful Sara’s laugh was. Especially in contrast to the sadness she seemed to be feeling.

  “What’s it like?” she asked. “Being with her, I mean”

  “It’s wonderful,” Ellis answered. “I thought I knew what love was before I met her, but she redefined it. Nothing else even comes close.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “And you? Do you have a Lilly, or a Dave, or a Clint?”

  Sara’s smile faded completely as she hesitantly considered his question.

  Ellis saw this hesitancy and, being a gentleman, opted to simply smile and give her a light shove. “Hey, thanks for laughing at me by the way.”

  Sara appeared slightly confused but then smiled. “You were pretty red when you thought Pastor Woolsey was going to make you speak.”

  “What can I say? I’m shy.”

  “You should work on that.”

  “I could use some help.”

  “In what way?”

  Ellis smiled. There were so many ways to answer that question, but he chose to keep it platonic. “My book signing isn’t until Tuesday, and it’d be nice to have someone to walk around with tomorrow. It might be difficult for me to talk to people otherwise.”

  “Is that so?” Sara said with a sarcastic grin. “I bring you to a big bad church and you still want to be my friend?”

  “I figure you can’t do much worse.”

  Sara offered a playfully insulted expression but quickly brushed it aside. She studied him inquisitively then slowly smiled. “Alright, I’ll be your tour guide. But only if you do everything I ask. While you’re with me, I’m in charge—no matter what.”

  “I might be able to live with that. Where should we meet?”

  “I’ll find you. See you tomorrow.” She turned to go, and he quickly matched her pace. She was apparently tickled by this. “I said I’ll see you tomorrow, slick.”

  “It’s dark out. Could be dangerous.”

  “If you’re so afraid, then find someone else to walk you home. I’m just a girl.”

  This last part was said with a severe sarcastic bite, and Ellis couldn’t help but laugh.

  “So much for chivalry,” he said to himself.

  He watched her go until she vanished behind a line of trees. She didn’t look back, but he envisioned a malicious grin of sarcastic pleasure plastered on her face. The thought made him laugh, and then he laughed again. He realized that he had been studying the way Sara’s body moved beneath the white dress while standing on the porch of a Pentecostal church. Surely, Melba Acres would have had something to say about that.

  “You’re playin’ with fire, man.”

  Ellis turned to find Phil Guthrie leaning against a tree just beyond the railing of the porch. He stared at Ellis but otherwise appeared unthreatening.

  “Should I run or roll up my sleeves?” Ellis asked defensively.

  “Nah,” Phil said. “I ain’t drunk. You’re fine.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  Phil chuckled under his breath. “Nothin’ from you. I heard she was singin’ tonight, so I came to listen. Didn’t feel right goin’ in.”

  “You mean Sara?”

  “Well, her mom’s not bad either, but yeah, Sara. Like I was sayin’, though, you’re playin’ with fire. She’s a broken toy, just like me, and she’s gonna break your heart like she did mine.”

  Ellis couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. He was obviously a jerk, and the fiddling in his pocket told Ellis that he was eager for his next drink, but Phil did seem broken. Could Sara have broken him? It was possible. She likely saw how Phil was and rejected him on principle. That would be a sure way to embitter a man.

  “Thanks for the warning.” He paused a moment, looking Phil over. “Do you need help, Phil—a place to stay? I could pay for…”

  Phil cursed as he pulled a small canteen from his pocket and swigged it back. Then he turned and vanished into the trees, leaving Ellis alone with the warning. Sara did seem to have relationship issues, and dating a mess like Phil could have easily caused that. So was he the problem? Ellis shrugged and let it go. He would be spending time with Sara tomorrow; maybe she would open up to him then.

  “Well, hello, handsome,” Melba Acres said, causing Ellis an immediate feeling of entrapment. “I thought you left with Ms. Beverly?”

  He turned and smiled kindly. “We’ve decided to wait until morning.”

  “Well then, does that make you free for a nice meal? It’s been lonely in the house since Stanley Jr. moved out, and now that Phillip’s gone, I could really use some company.”

  Ellis was reluctant but changed his tune at the mention of both Stan and Phil. You can always depend on an elderly church lady for some good gossip, and Melba Acres seemed to know a little bit about everybody.

  “Mrs. Acres,” he said with a smile, “I’d be delighted.”