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“Oh. I saw the light on, so I thought…I didn’t know you were ready for bed.”
Joseph swung his feet to the floor, gesturing to the book. “I’ve been reading. I’m not sleepy yet.” He was, but he wouldn’t embarrass himself by admitting it. “Did you need me for something?”
“Jo…ach…nä.” Pa closed the door and crossed to the bed. He sat at the foot and smoothed his hand over the worn squares in the quilt. “But I wanted to ask you something.”
His father’s odd demeanor raised the fine hairs on the back of Joseph’s neck. Something was wrong. “What is it?”
“All that you said tonight at church…about Gil…” He lifted his head and met Joseph’s gaze. “Did you mean it?”
Unexpectedly, defensiveness swelled. Joseph bit back a snort. “I did.”
Pa stared directly into his eyes, and Joseph sat unmoving, staring directly back. Finally Pa looked down again andreleased a little chuckle. “It surprised your mother and me. I’ve heard good things from men in the band. And Earl”—another chuckle—“cannot speak highly enough of your cousin.”
Jealousy tried to take hold of him, but Joseph tamped it back. “Jo, well, Gil does a good job directing. He knows what he’s doing. And I think the competition would be a worthwhile experience for Earl. He’s never going to excel at sports, not like I did, but he’s good at music. He should have the chance to do what he’s good at, to be part of a team.”
“Not going to the competition wouldn’t mean he wasn’t part of a team,” Pa said, peeking at Joseph from the corners of his eyes. “The band would still play here in Falke.”
Joseph nodded. “I agree. But most teams don’t just play together. They play against other teams. When else will he have the experience of competing against another team?”
Pa fully faced Joseph. “Son, ever since Gil moved in with us, you and he competed against each other. On the sports field. In the school band. Even in getting good grades.”
Joseph broke out in a sweat. Would Pa mention their competition for Ava? Gil might have won those other contests, but Joseph intended to be the victor in winning Ava’s heart.
“All of a sudden, instead of being his rival, you seem to have joined his team.” Pa’s eyes narrowed. “What brought the change?”
“I…” Joseph swallowed. “He…” What could he say that would make sense? He blurted, “Earl. Earl likes him so much. Admires him so much. I guess it let me see him…differently than when we were boys.”
“I’m glad.” Pa clasped Joseph’s shoulder. “I’m glad.” He squeezed, then let go and stood. “I might need your help convincing your mother to let Earl go to McPherson if Gil decides to take the band. She was worried about having Earl play at all,but she agreed to it since it was only two evenings a week. If he has to practice every day and take a trip all the way to McPherson…” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and hung his head. “It might be too much worry for her to bear.”
“Well, she needs to do what is right for Earl instead of what is right for herself this time.” Conviction came through in his voice. He used more emphasis than he would if Ma were standing next to Pa. But maybe it would inspire Pa to be firm with her.
A slow smile grew on Pa’s face. “Thinking of someone else instead of ourselves is what Jesus would tell us to do, jo?” He moved to the door and opened it. “Good night, Joseph.” He left.
Joseph sagged against his pillows and stared after his father. Why did he feel like Pa had just tricked him?
Gil
On Friday evening,Gil whistled as he walked to the bank building with Timmy’s tuba under his arm. The boy, carrying Gil’s portfolio of music, scampered alongside him. Gil had been whistling all day, so full of wonder at how swiftly God answered his prayer. He’d never had such a quick response before, but then, he’d never been so bold with God before.
Wednesday evening when he was in the band room praying, for the first time in his life he’d laid out a fleece. He told God if he was meant to enter the boys in the band competition, he needed hours to spend with them. If God provided the time, he would get the boys ready to go to the End of Harvest celebration. Then he returned to Roald’s and discovered that while he was praying, Roald and Onkel Bernard had found another way to cover the mail routes, which gave Gil several hours eachday. Roald would still pay Gil a portion of his salary. Roald told him, “You’re going to be doing the household chores and seeing to my animals. That’s worth something to me, so I won’t accept no for an answer.” Gil had seen the offer as God’s providence.
Gil had insisted on finishing the week, though, and both Roald and Onkel Bernard agreed with him. But as of yesterday evening, he was done with mail routes and could put his whole focus on composing, directing, and getting the boys ready for the competition. Well, most of his focus. Roald, his house, and his animals would still require some attention. But he felt confident he could keep everything in balance.
What would the boys say when he told them he’d called the county clerk and registered them to compete in the End of Harvest band contest? He hoped their excitement would be greater than their nervousness. Too much nervousness could wreck a performance. Too much excitement could, too. But with enough practice and enough encouragement, Gil should be able to prepare them for the performance. Every band would play two songs, the man had told him—one piece while standing in front of the judges and another while marching in the parade, with each performance making up half their score.
His whistle momentarily faltered. He hadn’t anticipated marching. The boys had a lot of work to do. But Gil knew what songs they’d perform. For the parade, they’d play the original piece he’d already started teaching the boys. He hadn’t written it to be a marching song, but it had a peppy four-four beat and would work well for a marching band. As for the other…The tune leaving his puckered lips turned cheerful again. He’d stayed up half the night adding parts to the song he’d written for Ava before he left Falke.
Although Ava’s song was originally composed for violin,he’d always intended to make it an orchestral score. This newest version was only a variation, nothing an orchestra could play, but he hoped the horns would complement one another and give emotion and life to the melody. He wanted Ava to hear her song played by a band. For her to know he hadn’t forgotten it. To please her, the same way her many acts of kindness since his return had pleased him.
The whistled notes faded as images from the night he played the song for Ava flashed in his mind. Ava’s eyes, bright with tears, their tawny depths glowing with wonder. Ava’s face, pale beneath the moonlight, lifted to him in rapt attention. Ava’s hands, clasped as if in prayer, resting lightly against her lips. Ava’s lips, rosy and full, responding to his kiss in full surrender.
His feet slowed and he stopped, his mind so caught up in the past he hardly realized where he was. Until Timmy nudged his elbow and said, “Mr. Baty? What’s the matter? You feeling sick?”
Gil gave himself a little shake and turned his attention to the boy. “Nä, Timmy. I’m fine.”
Timmy blew out a breath. “That’s good. I thought for a minute there you had a bad bellyache.”
Gil laughed. If tender reflections made him appear sick to his stomach, he’d better not get caught up in thought in public. Timmy headed up the sidewalk, and Gil followed. They reached the bank building, and Gil pulled the key from his pocket. Unexpectedly, his hand was trembling. He didn’t think he’d be able to connect with the lock. He offered the key to Timmy. “Here. You open it for us.”
