| |
Wilma (Earl and Wilma) Wednesday, 2:00 p.m.
Wednesday afternoon choir practice is one of my favorite times of the week. Rehearsal is relaxed, with people joking around and laughing a lot. I have to admit that it’s nice to be noticed too. I’m often told what a nice voice I have, and though all the glory goes to God, I like that my voice pleases listeners. I don’t think the Lord minds a person enjoying a compliment, as long as she doesn’t get all big-headed about it.
Ronda, the choir director, handed out a number that had a soprano/tenor duet, and she put me and Del Hanna on it. She had it slated for March, so we ran through it a couple of times to get a feel for how it should go and then went on to other pieces.
When practice was over Del approached me, his handsome face friendly for once. “Can you stay a few minutes and go through the new duet?” That surprised me. Usually Del gets all huffy when he isn’t the one and only star, and I’d half-expected him to suggest the selection would work better with only one voice, his.
Though I’ve never had much use for Del, he’s one of God’s children, so I was polite and said I could.
He asked our elderly pianist, Anita, to play the piece, and we sang it through once. “You and I have a very good blend,” Del said when we finished. “It’s going to be very effective.”
That was the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. Though I try not to judge others, I’d chalked his kind of frosty attitude down to jealousy, since I’m asked to solo as often as he is. I wondered what had happened to change Del’s attitude.
We sang the section through again, figuring out where we should breathe and when we should increase or decrease the volume. After that, Anita said she had to go.
When she’d packed up her music and left, Del sat down at the piano. “Would you like to hear your part all by itself?” he asked.
Though I never had any formal training, I’m pretty good at reading music, having played in the band at school as a kid. I know the notes, and I’ve got a good ear. Still, since Del was being nice, I said, “Sure.”
He played the tune with one finger while I sang. Then he did it again, playing both parts and singing along. Finally he played the accompaniment, which surprised me. “I didn’t realize you were such a good pianist,” I said when we finished.
“I had a band, back in the day.” He shrugged. “I don’t mention it, because if people know you can play, they stick you with being the accompanist all the time. I much prefer singing to sitting behind the piano and being ignored.”
I pictured Del in a ’60s band. He’d probably been popular, since he looked a little like Mark Lindsay from Paul Revere and the Raiders. “Did you grow your hair long and wear fancy costumes?”
“I had a Fu Manchu and really long sideburns.” He grinned. “We were awesome, at least in our own minds.”
I wondered if Del formed his ideas about women during those days. The term ladies’ man might have been invented for him, as long as the definition didn’t include respect for the ladies’ intelligence.
That reminded me, and I asked politely, “How does...Shawna like living at B-Bird?”
“Not much.” His tone closed the topic like the lid of a feed bin slapping down. “Shall we go through the song again?”
“I think I’ve got it.”
His gaze met mine. “You certainly do, Wilma.”
I felt my face warm, which meant my cheeks were turning bright red. “Um, thanks.” Gathering my music I said, “I should be going. Earl worries if I don’t get home soon after practice ends.”
Del’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Is he afraid someone’s going to steal you away from him?”
“Oh, no,” I responded. “We’ve been married too long to worry about that happening.”
“Sometimes after years with the same man, a woman starts to wonder what she’s missed.” He paused. “She might get interested in experimenting a little.”
“Not if she’s a good person.” Grabbing my purse from the chair I hurried outside, where the sun was hot but the situation was cooler.
