Was he writing this for Grace and him to play together?
Immediately he knew it was true, even while most of him wanted to deny it. He wasn't thinking about Grace the whole time, not consciously, although ever since he'd first seen her, she was in his subconscious all the time. But he hadn't intended to write this for them. The one time he'd asked her to play, she'd said a short no, and there was obviously something bothering her, plus, she was a famous musician at the top of her game, and he was an unknown in a tiny town in rural Virginia. There was no way she was going to play one of his compositions, and she certainly wasn't going to play with him.
He tried to put that out of his mind as he tidied up the music room, getting ready for lessons the next day. He did miss his siblings, because they'd helped with that. Almost always one of them would have the room swept and dusted while he finished up lessons. But he wasn't overwhelmed by the work.
With all the things going wrong, he still hadn't figured out a solution to the issue of the Christmas festival music, and he hadn't heard back from Jones, which he figured was not a good thing.
Plus, what Mr. Peterson had been saying to him about the music that used to be in town on a monthly basis had been on his mind. He was the music store owner. Was it his job to keep music alive in thetown? Of course it would benefit him, but maybe he'd just been too busy with his siblings and trying to keep the business going and the lessons that he did on the side to earn enough money to buy groceries, that he hadn't thought about it.
But yeah, he would be the logical one. Either him or the music teacher at school, who had left abruptly, and in a way he supposed she'd left him holding the bag. All of the music in the town was on his shoulders.
Maybe not, but it felt that way.
Lord, I feel overwhelmed. There's so much stuff coming at me. All of the music issues, plus the money issues, plus the offer I have on the store. It's tempting. It would take away a lot of my worries and allow me to do things I've always wanted to do, but haven't been able to, either because of money or because of raising my siblings, which I appreciate the opportunity to do, but... I gave up a lot. I didn't really see it as giving up anything though. I wanted to.
Help me figure it out. Help me do what you want me to do.
He needed wisdom and discretion. To know what to do.
Maybe he should just give up on the idea of music altogether. Because, after all, what he'd said to Mr. Peterson was correct—people carried their music around on their devices anymore. They didn't go see people perform live. Even churches were giving up on live music and playing canned stuff, or having a band on stage playing music that anyone who knew three chords and had fingers could play. He didn't disdain that type of music. It was simple for a reason, to make it accessible to every church anywhere, even if they didn't have accomplished musicians. But that was just the thing. His church did have an accomplished musician. Or at least a musician who could play whatever was set in front of him for the most part.
But that wasn't really the pressing problem. Not like the issue of whether or not he should accept Moondoe's offer, or even more pressing, what he should do about the Christmas festival and the music there.
An idea started to come to him, and he tossed it around. Maybe itwasn't a terrible idea. Maybe he could do something along those lines. It wouldn't cost any money. Or at least it shouldn't cost much. And that would be the best thing, since the finances of the festival committee were really low, thanks to the fact that they might not get their deposit back.
Maybe God had orchestrated that all along, because He had something else in mind.
Lord, help me to do what you want. Give me wisdom to know what that is.
Chapter 13
Grace strolled slowly down the street of Mistletoe Meadows. As had become their custom, while Aunt Vivian showered, she took a walk. It was funny how people settled into a routine, and it felt good and cozy and right.
Ben Tucker, the deputy sheriff, strolled by and tipped his hat at her, offering a "good evening" which she returned.
Funny how friendly small towns could be. Especially to someone who barely knew anyone.
As she walked by the clinic, Hannah glanced up from chatting with a patient and threw a hand up in a wave and a greeting.
Grace waved back, loving how people were friendly but not too intrusive. Sometimes small towns could be rather overbearing, or at least she'd heard that they could be. Her friends from small towns had complained about them at times in the city.
It was interesting. She didn't really miss her friends too much. Maybe she missed Katrina a little. She had been her best friend in the city. But she supposed she hadn't taken the time to cultivate a lot of friendships, since she'd been so busy practicing and working.
As she got to the music shop, she slowed, automatically drawn toit. It was the music, not Noah, she told herself as her feet came to a stop at the door. Remembering what had happened the last time she had been peeking in the window, she noted the time, that it was still open, and pulled the handle, walking in.
It was like walking into a place that felt very much like home. There were instruments on the walls, guitars and banjos, even a couple of violins and a viola. The place smelled like rosin and wood, with a faint hint of a man's aftershave, not too strong, and a perfect mix with the other music smells.
"So you're not going to watch from the window tonight?" Noah said, straightening up from behind the counter where he must've been kneeling.
It was a gentle teasing, and she smiled. "I'm sorry. I... I guess I'm drawn to the music, and... You were very good." She wanted to ask if it was an original composition, but she didn't.
"Let me show you around a bit. You're welcome to try out anything you'd like. And I'm not saying that as a salesman. I'm saying that out of respect for your great talent and ability."
He seemed sincere, but she didn't really want him to think of her as someone who he was a fan of. She wanted to be friends. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but the same way walking into the shop felt like home, being in Noah's presence felt like safety and protection, and she felt secure and unafraid in a way that she'd never felt around anyone else.
"You'll recognize the Fender guitars. These are used, which are actually more expensive than the new ones, because these were made before they started making a lot of things overseas."
"Yeah. There are some good quality things coming from the East, especially in keyboards and pianos, but guitars just aren't what they used to be." She wasn't an expert in guitars by any means, but she knew enough to know that a used guitar was definitely worth more than a new one. For now, anyway. She ran her finger gently over the cool wood as Noah watched with a half smile on his face.
