Sunday mornings were always busy for our family. We had Sunday school before church, and half the time, Mom or Jacob would get roped into helping out in children's church or doing some other duty that needed to be performed.
Our church had a pipe organ. I knew a little bit about it, and could get by for a funeral, but I usually stuck to the piano since I was more comfortable there. There were a few women who switched off playing piano and organ, and they were all happy to volunteer to take a few weeks off when I came home for summer.
We played four songs—classic hymns sang by a choir that was led by Mr. Dixon. He had been the choir director at the church since long before my dad ever took over as pastor (which was twenty years ago). We played the songs, and then we all left the stage before my dad came up to preach.
I was taking my seat when I noticed Michael Bishop in the back row. I stared at him with a perplexed expression as I tried to decide whether or not he was sitting there, or if I was just seeing things. I must have been gawking at him because he smiled and wiggled his fingers at me in a discreet wave. A whole rush of emotions hit me, and it was all I could do to make it to my seat in the third row without tripping over my own feet.
I sat on the wooden pew, staring at my dad but not hearing a single word he was saying. He gestured at me and smiled, and I realized he was telling the congregation how nice it was to have me back for the summer. I smiled and tried to seem like I had been paying attention by nodding.
My heart raced like crazy for the next five minutes. I didn't look back to confirm that Michael was sitting behind me, but I knew it was him. I waited until about fifteen minutes later before I decided to quietly get up and use the restroom. I figured if it really was Michael sitting back there he would get up follow me.
I went to the restroom. I really did need to use it, so I took care of that before washing my hands and checking myself in the mirror. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had hoped Michael would show up to this church service, so I had worn one of my best Sunday dresses—a navy dress with white eyelet trim. I tightened my ponytail and straightened myself up, preparing to see him before making my way into the hallway again.
I could hear the muffled sound of my dad's deep voice coming from the sanctuary. I scanned the long hallway, looking for Michael. "Pssst," I said, thinking he might be behind one of the partitions.
Nothing. I crossed to the nearest door that led to the sanctuary, and peered through the small window. There sat Michael—right there in the back row, in the same exact spot where he was earlier.
Nobody was paying attention to me so I took a second to stare at Michael through the window just to make sure it was him. I tried to tell myself it could be someone else, but I knew that wasn't true. It would be more likely that I was seeing things than there actually being someone else who looked so much like Michael.
I took a moment to work up the nerve to go back inside before opening the door. I quickly found my place on the third row. Alice was sitting a little ways down, and she leaned over to regard me with a questioning expression. My brother did the same thing, and I just smiled like I hadn't noticed them and stared toward the stage.
My dad wrapped up the service about an hour later. I joined him on stage so I could play the piano during the invitation and dismissal. I lost sight of Michael when my dad dismissed service, and by the time I made my way back to where he was sitting, he was gone.
Alice had followed me toward the back of the church, and she had caught up to me by the time I saw that he wasn't there.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I could have sworn that guy was here," I said, still looking around. "The guy from last night. Michael."
"You think he came to church?" Alice asked.
"I know he did," I said. "I saw him. He was sitting right here."
"Hey Ivy." The voice came like a frail whisper somewhere in the midst of all of the other talking in the sanctuary. I glanced down the pew to see the person who had said my name. It was an old man in a wheel chair named Mr. Harris.
"Hi, Mr. Harris," I said, smiling and waving and trying to be nice even though I was anxious to catch Michael. The man waved me over. He motioned with his hand for me to come that direction. The gesture was unmistakable.
"Hello!" I said, waving and pretending not to notice his invitation.
"Come here," he said weakly as he continued to gesture. I could barely hear him but I knew what he was saying. I glanced at Alice before making my way over to Mr. Harris. I leaned over to hug him as soon as I came near. "Hello Mr. Harris! It's good to see you this morning."
"It's good to see you too," he said.
He spoke so slowly that it felt like it took a full minute for him to say the six simple words. My blood pressure rose as I stood there, staring at him and trying my best to remain patient.
"I hope you have a good week!" I said, touching his bony arm. I was about to take off, but he put his hand over mine to trap it in place.
"Are you looking for the young man?" he asked. Again, the words came so slowly that I thought of about five things he was going to ask me before he said 'young man'.
The question took me by surprise. I had to think about what he was saying for a second as I stared blankly at his wrinkly face. "That young man?" I asked, sharply coming to attention once I realized what he was saying. I pointed at the spot where Michael had been sitting and regarded Mr. Harris with an intense expression.
He smiled. "His name's Michael," he said (slowly). "He owns a motorcycle shop over on 70. Mr. Morrow's old place."
"Yes sir. Do you know where he went?"
Mr. Harris shook his head. "He gets up and leaves before anybody has the chance to talk to him. I always sit right back here on the same row, and it took me a few weeks to catch him long enough to shake his hand and get his name."
"Weeks?" I asked.
The old man nodded.
"Of coming to this church?"
He nodded again.
"Are you talking about the guy who was sitting right here today?"
Another nod.
"Has he been here before?"
"A few weeks, I guess. He sits back here by the door and leaves the minute service is over—like he did today."
Mr. Harris took absolutely forever to say what he was trying to say, but I just stood and listened to him. I couldn't believe my ears. I stared at Mr. Harris while I processed what he was saying. Silly as it may be, the thing that crossed my mind was that I knew my dad had noticed him if he had indeed been coming to the church for weeks. I wondered why my dad neglected to tell me when I mentioned his name. I only took a few seconds to think about that, though, because I had to focus on catching Michael before he left.
"Thank you for telling me this," I said to Mr. Harris. I patted his arm before standing to focus on Alice. "I'm going to the parking lot to see if I can catch him," I said. I glanced over her shoulder at the congregation. They were talking in the sanctuary for now, but I knew they would soon be making their way outside.
"Go," she said.
Without argument, I ran outside, praying that I would find Michael in the parking lot. There were a set of stairs on the outside of the church, and I took my heels off before I ran down them. I had imagined that he would be waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, but he wasn't there. I held my shoes by the straps as I ran barefoot down the sidewalk that lined the gravel parking lot. I searched for a white car that looked like the one that had been following us the night before, but didn't see anything.
It was then that I heard a whistle from my left. I turned to find Michael. He was standing next to his motorcycle, which was parked under a big tree near the end of the sidewalk. I waved at him, and he waved back before switching his hand motion to call me over. I jogged toward him, feeling overjoyed that he waited for me.
He was sitting sideways on the seat of his bike, with his legs casually propped out in front of him, and he stood with a smile when I made it over there. He looked like James Dean only better.
"What are you doing way over here?" I asked breathlessly as I came to a stop about ten feet in front of him.
"It's pretty loud," he said, talking about his motorcycle. "So, I don't park anywhere near the building."
"Have you been to my dad's church before?" I asked, stepping a little closer.
He smiled and gave me a little nod. "I have."
"Why didn't you tell me that?"
"Because you didn't ask."
I felt short of breath just looking at him. I remembered being in his arms the night before and I wished I had an excuse to be there again. I felt the urge to hug him and I had to concentrate on keeping my feet firmly rooted in place to prevent myself from doing so.
"Why didn't you sing in church?" he asked. "You sounded good playing and everything, but I was really looking forward to hearing you sing."
I glanced toward the church doors, which were now open. People had spilled out onto the stairs and were making their way into the parking lot.
"I'm usually long gone by now," he said, seeing me look in that direction. He glanced at the commotion, and I could tell by the way he shifted on his seat that he was assuming we would soon be joined by some of them. He was right to assume that. There were several people who would be curious enough to come over there once they saw us—I could think of a few, starting with my brother.
"I understand if you need to go," I said.
"Should I?" he asked.
I stared into his light blue eyes, wondering how he could ever ask such a question. "No," I said seriously. "If you're leaving it up to me, then I most definitely want you to stay."
He licked his lips just before he smiled, and I stared at his mouth remembering kissing it. He nudged his chin in the direction of the church. "We've got company."
I turned just in time to see Jacob's long body lumbering toward us. I knew he would be the first one out here. He might be sixteen, but he was still a big kid, and he ran toward us wearing a huge grin aimed at Michael. I couldn’t help but smile.
"You came to our church?" he asked before he even came to a stop.
"I sure did," Michael said.
"Cool. Did you like it?" Jacob asked.
"Yep."
"Jacob, don't put him on the spot."
Jacob looked at me and then at Michael as if he was putting together for the first time that we may be standing out there because we wanted to be in each other's company.
"I can't believe you guys don't have Ivy up there singing. She would bring the house down in there."
Jacob laughed as if Michael was joking because he had no idea to what extent I loved to sing and perform.
"They don't, I don't, I usually just play the piano at church," I said. "I'm not really sure how Dad would react to me singing."
"Dad loves your singing," Jacob said. "I heard him complaining that Mr. Dixon didn't ask you to sing a solo."
"Have you never heard your sister sing soul music?" Michael asked, staring at Jacob. "Chuck Berry?"
"Chuck Berry?" Jacob asked, laughing. "She listens to Chuck Berry?"
"She does more than listen," Michael said. "She sings and plays." He was wearing a straight face and Jacob's smile faded into a serious expression.
"You tellin' me you saw my sister sing Chuck Berry?" he asked.
Michael looked me directly in the eyes. His expression said a thousand words. He told me without words that he could not believe my little brother hadn't heard me sing soul music, and that I was in real trouble for that. Jacob knew it, too, and he mumbled something about 'being left in the dark'. I grinned at Michael for giving me a hard time.
"Jacob, run and tell Alice and the others that I'll be there in just a minute."
"Are y'all going to Van's?" he asked.
I shook my head. "We're going to Maw-maw's. She's cooking."
Jacob nodded as he headed off, and just like that, I was left standing there with Michael. "You seriously need to share that talent with them, Ivy. It's silly for you not to sing gospel music with that voice."
"I don't know that my dad would like it coming from me."
"Your brother probably would," he said. I stared at him, and he smiled and shrugged. "I figured you had different moms."
"And dads. He was adopted," I said.
Michael shrugged. "He'll appreciate your gift, Ivy, and so will the rest of your family. You should share it."
"I do share it," I said. "I played piano this morning."
Michael gave me an easy grin. "It's not the same as what I saw last night, and you know it."
"It's no big deal," I said with a little shrug.
Michael squinted a little and tilted his head as he regarded me. "You're special, Ivy, you know that, right?"
Feeling shy, I used my toe to turn over a rock. "Thank you, but I don't know if those two worlds should collide. The people here don't know me as that Ivy. That's a persona I invented once I moved away to Nashville."
"The people last night at Jim-bo's got to see that other girl."
I looked around. "Yeah, but none of those people are here," I said.
Michael gave me a thoughtful expression as if he didn't quite see it my way, and I grinned at him before I looked toward the church. I knew as long as we were standing there, other people would make their way toward us, and I was already dreading the moment when Michael got antsy and had to leave.
I turned to face him again. "Would you like to have lunch with us?"