Breath of Heaven

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

“KATRINA, DEAR, THAT color goes absolutely stunning with your complexion,” exclaimed one of the women at the church. Several other ladies from the Missionary League voiced their agreement.

“You’re such a tiny little thing.” Rotund Mrs. Porter pouted and reached out a finger to stroke Katrina’s jawline. “And Pastor Greg, he must be a foot taller than you!”

Katrina forced a smile.

“You really should have saved that blouse for the Christmas Eve service.” Mrs. Porter rubbed the fabric of Katrina’s collar. “You’d look perfectly exquisite standing there with your violin in front of the tree.” She turned to the other women for confirmation. “Wouldn’t she look exquisite?”

Murmurs of agreement assaulted Katrina’s ears. She fidgeted with her wedding ring, twisting the plain band around her finger, wondering how to divert attention away from her size, her blouse, her music.

“We’ve been so excited to hear you play again.” Mrs. Porter gave her shoulder an uninvited rub. “It’s not right for you to make us wait so long. You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?” Her smile sent a cold shudder racing up Katrina’s spine.

Another woman wrapped her arm around Katrina’s waist. “How could she forget? Playing a violin is just like riding a bike, isn’t it, dear?”

Katrina stared longingly at the boxes of Christmas decorations stacked in neat rows in the foyer. She pictured herself walking up to the closest one, tearing off the tape, and emptying its contents but instead held perfectly still, as immobile as the gaudy Christmas tree in the sanctuary.

“What are you going to play for us Christmas Eve?” Mrs. Porter asked, and several women broadcasted their suggestions.

Nancy Higgins, the church treasurer, offered a soft smile. “A girl has the right to keep a secret or two around here, hasn’t she?”

If Katrina hadn’t been so keenly aware of the League women staring at her, she might have rolled her eyes. Secrets. At a place like Orchard Grove Bible Church? The thought was too absurd to be funny. Two months before the wedding, she and Greg flew from Long Beach to Washington to show the members of Orchard Grove Bible why he was the best pastoral candidate for their church. She had no idea the congregation would scrutinize her just as thoroughly. They seated Katrina and Greg in front of the sanctuary and barraged them with questions. When were they saved? Did either of them struggle with lust? Had they kept themselves pure during their entire engagement?

The fact that Katrina played violin with the Long Beach Symphony Orchestra caused a bigger stir than she would have expected if Greg confessed to being a drug addict. Of course you’ll lead worship, everyone assumed, even though both she and Greg explained more than once that she didn’t sing. And the questions. With music being such a big part of your life, could you adjust to our little rural town? Do you plan to teach lessons? You do realize there’s no orchestra here, don’t you? Won’t you die of boredom? It had been Nancy Higgins who asked that, and now looking back, Katrina wondered if the woman had been giving her a warning.

The first Sunday of Greg’s new job, Mrs. Porter had stared at Katrina while she walked the entire fifty feet from the front door of the parsonage to the church entrance. “And where is your violin?” she demanded. Katrina had no idea the congregation expected her to play her very first Sunday, but Mrs. Porter and a vocal number of others insisted until Greg asked her to run home and grab her case.

Now, with Mrs. Porter’s arm tucked stalwartly around her waist, Katrina couldn’t even remember what song she had performed that day. It had felt so forced. So crude. A violation was how she explained it to Greg when they were safe at home after the service. He’d stared at her incredulously for a full ten seconds before asking if she was overreacting.

Now Katrina managed to slip her way out of Mrs. Porter’s grasp so the old woman wouldn’t feel her whole body tremble. Secrets. Well, there was one she still held. Last fall, Katrina had begged her husband to explain to the church that she needed a break from playing her violin. She feigned weakness in her wrists, not an outright lie. Even so, Greg had only managed to appease the disappointed masses with the promise that Katrina would play again at the Christmas Eve service.

What had he been thinking? It was too soon. She couldn’t pick up her violin. Not after what happened.

Secrets.

Katrina tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Well now.” Mrs. Porter clapped her hands, and the women of the Missionary League followed her like a flock of geese as they swarmed around the Christmas boxes. “We have a church to decorate.”