Everyone milling around settled into the pews, and I noticed that Aunt Ruby put a protective hand on our hymnals when Mrs. Nash came scurrying by.
"Keep walking, Henrietta," Aunt Ruby told her. "Just keep walking."
The pastor's wife pasted a not-very-sincere smile on her face and continued up to her place at the front of the church, casting a slightly despairing glance back at me as she went.
I sighed. "Does everybody hate my singing that much? I can justnotsing. I'll stand here silently when everybody else sings."
"No, you will not," Aunt Ruby said sternly. "The Lord gave you that voice, and you will sing his praise."
The Howards, sitting next to us, scooted away, trying to be surreptitious about it, at least, but sweet little Amalie, age two, gave me a big gap-toothed smile. In front of us, Mr. Russell gave a deep sigh and took out his hearing aid.
I leaned forward. "So that's how we're going to play it, Mr. Russell?"
He pretended not to hear me.
Then Pastor Nash called for us to stand and sing, and I compromised by singing quietly. Sighs of relief were heard all around, but—frankly—I thought Mrs. Howard's "Praise the Lord" was a little over the top.
The service was one of my favorites, about loving thy neighbor, which made me think about Jack, which made me think about our date, which made me wonder what on earth I could wear, since he'd already seen The Dress, and, half-listening to Pastor Nash and half-daydreaming, plus quietly singing when the opportunity arose, I spent a lovely hour and a half and reminded myself, yet again, to be a more regular attendee.
Mr. Russell's handshake at the end of the service was just a little bit too vigorous, so I gave him a wicked smile.
"I noticed your hearing aid must not be working, since you took it out, Mr. Russell," I said loudly. "I'll have to turn up the volume on my singing next week."
He turned pale, and I grinned at him.
Aunt Ruby elbowed me.
"That wasn't nice," she hissed. "Funny, but not nice."
I just smiled.
When we finally made our way out of church, after chatting with everybody, Aunt Ruby headed for her office and I climbed in my car to go out to her place. I wasn't dressed to hang out in the barn, but I always kept a few spare pairs of jeans and some flannel shirts and T-shirts at their place, plus a pair of barn shoes. I'd shoveled out my share of stalls over the years and, as Uncle Mike liked to say, "Being a fancy business owner doesn't mean you're too good to get your hands dirty."
He wasn't wrong.
I cranked up the music and sang as loudly as I wanted all the way to their house.
Joyful noise, indeed.
5
After I'd changed into barn clothes, I headed out to find Uncle Mike and Bonnie Jo. They were out in the yard, and a quick glance at our old horse confirmed my fears. She looked like she'd lost thirty pounds since I'd seen her a few weeks before.
Uncle Mike didn't look great, either. He wore his usual "I left corporate America behind" uniform of flannel shirt and ancient blue jeans with his barn boots, but he looked tired and too thin. I reached out to give him a hug, but he held me off.
"No, honey, not too close. I've got that cold that's going around, and I don't want to give it to you."
"I never get sick," I told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Now, how is my favorite horse?"
I reached out to stroke Bonnie Jo's neck. She leaned toward me, but her entire body was slumped, and my fears turned into a lump in my throat.
"What's wrong with her?"
"I think it's just that she's old. She's not eating. Hasn't touched her food in a few days. Still drinking water like a champ and her temperature is good, so Doc Cahill isn't worried yet, but she's old, Tess. She's turning twenty-seven this year, like you. We knew we wouldn't have her forever."
My eyes started burning. "Maybe not, but I'm not ready to lose her now. I'm going to grab a couple of apples and some carrots and see if I can tempt her."
Uncle Mike gestured to a basket on the ground by the tree. "You were always good with her. Maybe you can get her to eat something. She wouldn't for me."
