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YOU STILL THERE? HOW’S it going?
Katrina stared at her husband’s text.
“Everything all right?” Miles asked.
She was quick to nod. “Yeah, I ... Um, mind if I step out for a few minutes?”
He warmed her with the genuineness of his smile. “Take as long as you need. It’s probably time we rested your voice anyway. Make yourself comfortable.”
She took her phone and tried to be as unobtrusive as she could while exiting his small studio. She had to pass through his bedroom on the way to the living room, and she glanced around at the sparse furniture, the few piles of magazines, clothes, and books that made the room look comfortably lived in but not cluttered.
She called her husband and held the phone to her ear, wondering if Miles would mind if she got herself a cup of water.
“Hey, Mouse.” Greg’s voice startled her. She hadn’t expected him to answer on the first ring. “How’s my little recording diva?”
For the past three hours in Miles’ studio, she hadn’t realized how tight and strained her voice was, but every muscle in her throat now screamed with exhaustion.
“All right.”
“What’d you say? You’re talking really quiet.”
She tried to wet her vocal cords with a swallow. “It’s going all right.”
“Yeah, you almost done? I thought maybe we could go out for lunch or something.”
“That’s really sweet, but I think this is going to take us a while. We just got past the first verse and that’s all so far.”
“Really? How long does he expect you to stay there?”
She glanced down the hall to see if Miles had come out of his studio. “It’ll probably still be a while.”
“What are you going to do about food? It’s already past lunchtime.”
“I think he said something about grabbing a bite here soon before we get back to work.” Suddenly aware of how sweaty her hands had grown, she wiped her palm against her red sweater.
“He’s just expecting you to do this all day, and he’s not paying you anything?”
“We haven’t talked about that, really.” She kept her voice low, not just because it hurt to speak but because she didn’t feel now was the appropriate time for this conversation. Not while she was standing in the middle of Miles’ kitchen looking for the cupboard where he kept his cups.
“You need to get that sort of information up front, you know. If he’s going to be making any money off this song you’re helping with, you’re entitled to your fair share.”
She should be relieved that he was fixating on the finances and not on the fact that she’d been alone in a closet off some single guy’s bedroom all morning with no intentions of coming home soon. “We’ll talk about it, and I’ll let you know, ok?”
“Well, make sure to stand up for yourself. I know that’s not always the easiest thing for you to do, but if you don’t, nobody else is gonna do it for you.”
“Yeah, ok.” She hoped he’d end the call soon. She just needed five minutes. Five minutes without having to use her voice. Five minutes to herself, to collect her thoughts, process the past few hours. She’d had no idea when she agreed to record with Miles how long of an ordeal it was. She knew big-name artists could work this hard, but she figured a song that would only get a few hundred hits on YouTube if it was lucky would be far simpler.
Showed how much she knew.
“Call me when you’re done, all right? And I need you home by three because I have to take the car to go with the Higginses to deliver some of those meals they’ve been collecting. I guess that’s it.” He paused for a moment. “Are you having fun, Mouse?”
She nodded even though he obviously couldn’t see the gesture. “Yeah. It’s been good.”
“All right. Just come home by three. Don’t be late.”
She ended the call and pulled down one of Miles’ Hard Rock Café mugs.
“Everything all right?” His voice behind her made her jump in surprise. “Sorry. I thought you heard me coming out.”
She paused just a moment before turning around. Just a moment where she didn’t have to use her voice or think about music or recording or her husband or when she had to have the car back to the parsonage. Just long enough to catch her breath, and then she turned to face him.
“You look tired.” His stare was so intense, his expression so frank. It was that intuition of his that made him such a good teacher but also made her feel uncomfortable when they weren’t making music together.
“I am.” She did her best to smile, hoping he wouldn’t be upset that she’d rummaged through his kitchen cabinets.
“Well, you’re doing great, but I know it’s been a long morning.”
She didn’t mention it was already afternoon.
He opened the fridge. “I got us a special laying-out lunch ready.” He pulled out some grapes, carrot slices, avocado, and smoked salmon, explaining how each of the ingredients were supposed to soothe her throat or strengthen her voice. “And of course ...” He held up an empty pot. “Plenty of tea.”
After he refused to let her help the third time she offered, she sat down in the dining room and watched him set everything up. While he was chopping a lemon for their tea, he asked, “So, what’s it like being a pastor’s wife?”
Thankful his back was to her, she tried to figure out what she wanted to say.
“I imagine Orchard Grove isn’t the easiest of churches,” he went on. “Lots of people to try to keep happy, right?”
“Something like that.”
He turned to face her. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sure it’s a stressful position from time to time, and I really admire you for sticking with it. My aunt raves about you, by the way, talks about how everyone there just adores you.”
Katrina couldn’t pinpoint which was more surprising, that Mrs. Porter could be said to rave about anybody or that she’d had something kind to say about Katrina herself. Or maybe Miles was just being nice. Maybe he knew she was tired and frustrated after a long morning of recording and could use a confidence boost.
“Does your husband like what he does?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before adding the lemon slices to their tea.
Katrina bit her lip. “It has its ups and downs, but we’re really glad to be here.” Sadly, this partial truth was far more honest than anything she’d ever said to anyone at church. At least she’d admitted that the position wasn’t perfect.
Miles brought their plates over, reached out for their mugs, and sat down beside her. His table was so small their knees nearly touched. He didn’t seem to notice but spread some peanut butter on his banana. “Well, for what it’s worth, that church has had a whole string of lousy pastors. So as long as your husband doesn’t follow in any of their footsteps, I think you’re both going to do just fine.”
Katrina had already heard the rundown of several of her husband’s predecessors and their myriad faults. She wanted to find a way to change the subject but didn’t know where to begin. When they weren’t talking about the music they both loved, what was there between them?
“So tell me about growing up in California,” he said. “That’s where you’re from, right?”
Katrina took a sip of tea. It scalded her tongue, but the honey ran warm down her throat, relieving her strained vocal cords. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Tell me about your mom.”
She let out a small chuckle. “How much time do you have?”