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KATRINA HURRIED HOME a few minutes before six, terrified she’d find Greg at the parsonage waiting, wondering what she and her teacher had been doing for the past three hours.
Thankfully, he was late, just like he’d warned her. She threw a meatloaf together, prayed it would stick, and while it cooked in the oven she sprinted around the house, tidying up with the speed and energy of Rimsky-Korsakov’s iconic Bumblebee.
Greg still wasn’t home by the time dinner was ready, which was probably a blessing. The meatloaf was charred, and the veggies were limp and bland. He wasn’t missing out on much. She ate alone in silence, her appetite fueled by her mad dash around the house as well as her excited nerves about recording with Miles in his studio.
She’d have to talk to her husband, make sure he felt it would be appropriate, but she couldn’t imagine him denying her request. Besides, with as distracted as he’d been, she could probably ask him for permission to visit the White House, and he’d mumble his assent without even thinking through her question.
At least that’s what she was hoping for.
She’d never seen anyone as eager and enthusiastic as Miles had been. As soon as she told him she’d try to lay down his new song with him, he rambled on so long about the different plans he had for their recording. She believed him when he said he hadn’t thought about anything else in days. He already had ideas for a music video, knew a guy who could handle the editing, and was even talking about ways they could get their song onto some of the paying platforms.
And he wanted it all done in time for Christmas.
His enthusiasm was catching, and it wasn’t until he left for home to make some final arrangements for their recording session that she felt the first pang or two of trepidation. What if Greg thought it was a waste of time?
What would the members of the church say? Would they find it odd that their pastor’s wife was recording a secular song with another man? At least it wasn’t a typical love song. Miles’ lyrics had far more depth than a cheesy chorus and repeated lines about love and kisses and beauty. But there were undertones, nuances in the lyrics that certainly spoke of longing and intimacy if you listened carefully.
While she ate her mediocre dinner alone, she tried to think of the best way to present it to her husband. He could use a little help on vocals and asked if I’d be willing to try it out. He really wants to record it but needs a female singer. It’s a small way I can repay him for giving me all those voice lessons for free.
Recalling how budget-conscious Greg had become of late, she figured she would make this last point her sticking one.
When she heard the front door open, she jumped to her feet. “Hi, honey,” she called as cheerfully as she could. “I made some meatloaf. It’s not even cold yet.”
Greg was in the entrance, kicking off his boots and tossing his coat onto the hanger.
She strained her eyes, searching for signs of tension or anger that might warn her about her husband’s mood.
“How’d your afternoon go?” She hated the way she sounded so small. Maybe one day she’d ask Miles if he could do for her speaking voice what he’d done for her singing. The key to that sort of confidence must be there somewhere. She could find it if she tried hard enough.
Or if she had the right teacher to show her where to look.
Greg still hadn’t said anything. Was that a bad sign? “You all right?”
He nodded. “Just tired.” He pecked her on the cheek. “Mmm. Smells good. What’d you make?”
“Just some meatloaf and veggies. I can fix some mashed potatoes or something too if you want.”
He shook his head. “I ate already.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I ran into Nancy Higgins at Walmart, and she had a few questions about the budget, so we grabbed burgers at the food court.”
If Greg’s mind had been on the budget all afternoon, she definitely didn’t want to bring up anything that might upset him even more. “Is everything ok? With the budget, I mean?”
“Oh, yeah. There were just a few things I marked down in different spots than she’s used to, so we went over that and it was fine.”
“Ok.” Well, if her husband could go out for dinner with a female member of the church without it turning into a big, major deal, there was no reason she shouldn’t go to the recording studio with Miles. She smiled at her husband, realizing how thankful she was to have him home, how quiet the parsonage had been since she got back from practicing at the church.
“Tell me about your day,” he said then glanced around the living room. “The house looks really good, by the way. I can tell you’ve worked hard. Is that what you’ve been up to all afternoon?”
“Mostly.” She headed back toward the dining room, but he took her hand and pulled her toward him. After giving her a much more proper kiss, he pulled back but still held her hand. “Well, that was a nice hello.”
She smiled back and giggled when he wouldn’t let her go back to the table to finish her food. So her husband had met with the church treasurer and come home in a good mood.
Who said there were no such things as Christmas miracles?