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Mr. Willems shook his head. “Nä, not always. Many people of Mennonite heritage have an inborn ability in music. Remember the story of the servants who were given talents? The ones who increased their talents for the master received praise. The one who buried his talent did not hear those wonderful words, ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant.’ The boys should grow their talents, let them shine for the glory of the One who gave them.” He wriggled a bit deeper into the back cushion. “Whatever works we do, if we do them for the glory of God, then the pride goes to Him. This is good.”
Papa leaned forward and fixed Ava with a steady look. “Were the parents in support of taking the boys?”
She considered all the prayers she’d heard. “They really didn’t say yes or no. They prayed for Gil to make the right decision, and they also prayed that somehow he would have the time needed to work with the boys. Right now he’s”—she cast a grimace in Mr. Willems’s direction—“a bit busy.”
The man blasted a laugh, proving she hadn’t offended him. “He’s more than a bit busy. He’s overwhelmed taking care of two bands, my house, my route, my pets, and my helpless hide.” He smacked the top of his plaster cast and glared at it. “If I didn’t have this thing tying me down, I could do the routes and Gil could spend every day working with those boys.”
Papa shifted his gaze from Ava to the wooden crutches. “Roald, are you able to get around pretty well with those things?”
“I make it all over the house and yard on my own.”
Papa tapped his bearded chin. “Then what if you and I swap jobs for the summer? You stay in the post office and see to customers. I’ll take the mail routes. The train trades our outgoing and incoming mail on Friday,” he went on in a musing tone, “when I could be in the office since there isn’t a Friday route. What do you think?”
Ava caught herself nodding. It was a reasonable solution.
A smile lit Mr. Willems’s face. “Why, that would give Gil the whole day to work with the boys if he wanted to.”
Happiness ignited in Ava’s chest. Clearly Papa and Mr. Willems wanted Gil to take the boys to McPherson. Of course, they didn’t have sons in the band. Would the parents of the band members work so hard to find a way for the boys to practice for the competition?
“I think we should tell Gil our idea when he gets back,” Mr. Willems said. “It will ease his mind to know the route is cared for.”
Ava wasn’t part of the mail-delivery solution, but she couldn’t stay quiet. “Papa, Mr. Willems, it’s good of you to explore ways to relieve some of Gil’s responsibilities. But I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves.”
They both turned frowns on her.
“We don’t know yet if Gil will choose to take the boys to McPherson. We don’t know how many of the parents will approve their boys going.” She disliked seeing their excitement dim, but the decision didn’t belong to them. It was Gil’s, as prompted by God. “It’s a fine idea you’ve come up with, and if Dr. Graves says it won’t be harmful to Mr. Willems, it’s good to have it ready to share with Gil.”
Mr. Willems huffed. “I wish that young man would get back here so we could talk to him. Find out what he’s thinking. I like the idea of our boys going to McPherson, getting to play for judges, letting people see this little town of Russian immigrants has something worthwhile happening in it.” He sighed. “Lots of folks look down at us. They call us Krauts and think we’redomm.But if the boys played in the competition, it would show people they’re just as smart and talented as anyone else.”
“If they do well, it could,” Ava said, thinking out loud.
Mr. Willems pointed at her. “I saidwould,notcould.They’d do well. They already know how to play, and Gil knows how to teach them to play well together. I’d wager no other boys’ band in the whole state has a conductor as talented and dedicated as our Gil.”
Our Gil.Was he Ava’s Gil, too?
“My opinion might not count because I don’t have a son in the band.” Mr. Willems face pinched as if a pain gripped him. “But if anyone asks, I’ll tell them I think it’s the right thing to do.”
Ava gentled her voice. “But first, we must let Gil listen to God’s leading about what is best for him and the boys, jo?”
The man stared at her for a few seconds, working his jaw back and forth. Then he sighed. “Jo.” He frowned toward thedoor. “I wish he’d get back here. I’d like to know what he’s thinking.”
As if Mr. Willems’s wish could make things come true, the doorknob turned and Gil entered the house. He came to a stop just inside the door and glanced across each of their faces, surprise registering in his eyes. “Onkel Bernard, Ava…what are you two doing here?”
Papa stood and put his hand on Gil’s shoulder. “Plotting your future. Come. Sit. Let’s talk.”
Chapter Twenty
Joseph
Joseph set his battered copyofThe Three Musketeersaside, rose, and stretched. The hands on the windup clock on his bureau showed it was almost nine o’clock. No wonder his neck was stiff. He’d been slouched in his bed reading for the better part of an hour. It was time for him to turn out his lamp and crawl under the covers.
He was glad he’d changed out of his Sunday clothes into a nightshirt when he returned from the Bible meeting at church, because he was almost too tired to do it now. He stood and groaned as he pulled back the rumpled quilt. All of his muscle stiffness wasn’t from reading. He’d put in a hard day in the woodshop. Tomorrow wouldn’t be any easier. He and Pa were filling an order for eight matching ladder-back chairs. The intricate work—turning the legs and giving the staves a gentle curve—wearied a man, but seeing the end result made it worthit.
He flopped onto the bed, and his shoulder landed on his book. With a grunt, he picked it up and reached to place it on the bedside table. But his hand stilled midway, and he stared at the title, memories sneaking from the far recesses of his mind. Onkel Ezra and Taunte Elizabeth, Gil’s parents, had given him the book for his tenth birthday. He’d always loved to read, andthe action-adventure novel about a young man determined to become a musketeer had kept him awake far past bedtime on many a night.
As much as he liked d’Artagnan, the hero of the story, he was most fascinated by the friendship between Aramis, Porthos, and Athos. How many times had he and Gil acted out scenes from the story, with him taking the role of Athos and Gil, Aramis? They always bemoaned being forced to imagine Porthos. By the time Earl was big enough to take the role, both Joseph and Gil had given up such pretend games. They were too busy competing in their pursuit of Ava.
With a sigh, he sat up and laid the book next to the lamp. As he leaned in to extinguish the wick, his door creaked open and Pa stepped in.
