AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I file into the pews at church. I’m not part of the choir, but for a lot of the songs, the congregation is expected to sing along. To help people, my mother always prints out a program of the songs scheduled each week, although sometimes the choir decides to leap into something a bit more spontaneous.
This week? There’s something unusual.
My father’s opening sermon as usual. A song from just the choir. One of the other preachers will come out to share some news about the community. There’s a congregation sing-along hymn.
Then the unusual thing is listed. What’s described as ‘a special solo performance’.
I raise an eyebrow. My mother didn’t say anything about something like this, and she usually can’t shut up when something special is about to happen at church. That she kept quiet about it all this time definitely surprises me.
My curiosity is strong, and I’m pondering it the entire time leading up to it. Enough that my sister has to jam her elbow into my side to get me to stand up for the sing-along hymn.
I follow along, then sit down, my anticipation growing.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” my father says at the lectern. “We have a special guest this morning. He’s from a family that doesn’t join us every week, but hey, we don’t hold that against them.”
There are some friendly laughs from the crowd.
“They’re still part of our community, and this young man wants to express something very important to him. So I’d like for all of us to give a big Burly welcome to Carter Rowdy.”
Carter?
He walks out on the stage, looking as proper as any other church-going guy. He looks right at me, nods, and smiles.
He looks so different dressed as he is. No cowboy hat, his button-down shirt looking so proper, not even a bolo tie or boots to go with it. He’s even wearing slacks instead of jeans. He makes them look good, but in my opinion, anything he wore would end up looking good.
“Thank you for having me. My family and I love this community,” he begins, “and I’ve asked them all here today to share a tribute to someone who was very dear to us. And dear to this church, too. My mother, Dolly Dean Rowdy.”
There’s applause in the church, and I follow where he gestured when he mentioned his family.
The Rowdy boys are there, two of them with their wives. They look nervous and out of place in a church like this, but they watch their brother curiously nonetheless. Their father is there too, nodding, his eyes closed. I’m guessing he’s remembering his wife and how much she meant to him and their family.
“I will share my rendition of her favorite church song with you all. While I can’t hope to sing it anywhere near as well as she could, I hope my spirit and love for her will carry me through.”
The organ player begins the opening notes of the song. Carter looks nervous on stage. This is way out of his wheelhouse.
He sings. His heart on full display, he lets it out. And as he does so, I watch him. I wonder if I got my idea of him wrong. I did see him as a bad boy, and I stereotyped him as that. But there’s more to him. Maybe he thought I didn’t see that, but I did. And now I realize he wasn’t playing games with me on our date. He came here to show me and the whole town that there’s more to him. To challenge me, find out if I really want the bad boy if he’s willing to be the choir boy too.
Carter’s song is beautiful. He’s clearly practiced it over and over, one so dear to his mother. All that effort is paying off, and I’m enraptured by his baritone voice as he shows his soul to the world.
I can’t help but look at the choir to see my mother absolutely beaming at her student finally sharing his talents.
The entire church gives him a standing ovation when he finishes. He still looks so conflicted, clearly coming out and singing in front of us has taken more courage than anything else he’s done in his life. Which is saying something given his constant bar fights, his motorcycle riding, and the rumors that he once wrestled a bull out of boredom.
After he’s done, he takes his seat with his family in the pews, and the rest of the service continues. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, itching for it to end.
I have to talk to Carter, and the sooner that happens, the better.
When it’s all over, everyone hangs around and talks. My father always told me that church is less about praising God and more about bringing everyone together and encouraging the community. He says that doing so spreads happiness, and God wants nothing more than for all of his children to live their lives in joy.
A lot of people bring food and socialize after the service is done, and today is no different. In the back of the church, there’s a huge potluck going on. The Rowdys are still about, and I’m thankful that Carter isn’t going to make it hard for me to find him.
He’s at the gazebo behind the church, and I approach him as he leans over the side of it, a red cup in hand.
“Carter,” I say, building up the courage to talk to him.
He faces me, a bittersweet look on his face.
“That was beautiful, what you did in there. I knew you were a good singer, but I never imagined you could nail it that hard.”
