Christian Ways
by Cheryl N. Warner
Chapter One
Christian found herself humming an old Diabolic Gutter Trash tune and became angry. I must really be stressed over this Christmas musical, she rationalized, quickening her pace across the St. Edmunds church courtyard and hurrying through the heavy wooden door. Although filled with the usual pre-show jitters, she felt especially excited about this year’s program, in spite of the fact that Reverend Hart put up quite a protest about the music and choreography that she had chosen. He possessed the unmovable, traditional mentality so typical of a North Carolina clergyman, yet she could usually persuade him into accepting her unconventional methods. Since he’d asked that she come to his office at five-thirty that wintry evening without providing a reason for the meeting, she was armed with her usual arguments and trusty soapbox, just in case. Both tools had successfully served to bridge their vast generation gap on numerous occasions.
“Come in, Chrissie,” Reverend Hart said warmly, rising to meet her.
“How are you?” she asked, hugging him then taking a seat facing his large desk.
“I’m fine, just fine, my child. I’m so glad you had time to see me today. Lately, we don’t seem to have the opportunity to talk like we used to.”
“Yeah, I miss those talks, too. But I sure don’t miss the days leading up to them.”
“Just thank God those days are over. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, but I’m so proud of you.”
“Well, I never get tired of hearing it. And as I’ve said a thousand times, I can never repay you for all the help you’ve given me.”
“Just seeing you mature into a fine young woman and having you as the leader of our children’s outreach program is more than enough to repay me. How are things going in that department?”
“Great. I think the Christmas musical’s going to blow the community away this year.”
“Well, I’m not sure we want the community blown away,” he said with a chuckle, “but I’m sure you’ll do the same fantastic job you’ve done for the last five years. Now, I know you have your hands full with the large number of children in your group, so I hope you don’t mind that we’ve found an assistant for you.”
“Really? That’s awesome! I didn’t think there was anybody in the whole state of North Carolina willing to work with me, much less somebody right here in Valhalla. Who is it?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s Zachary Mitchell.”
“Zachary Mitchell. Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Well... He’s pretty well known around town. He prefers to be called Zack.”
Instant recognition wrinkled her brow, and she stood quickly to her feet. “Zack Mitchell? Whoa, wait a minute! I remember him now. No way, Reverend Hart!”
“Now, Chrissie, have you actually met this young man?”
“No, but I sure have heard of him! They say he was in and out of juvenile court all the time and none of his foster parents kept him for more than a week. Has he actually volunteered to work with me? You know I don’t want anybody forced into the outreach program, students or workers.”
“Well, no, he hasn’t made a definite commitment just yet. You see, he’s twenty-two now, and he’s been trying to get his life together. He has a job at the body shop in town and lives in the apartment over the garage. Mrs. Freeman, his former caseworker, has been working diligently on her own time to keep this young man out of prison. She thought if he were involved in the outreach program, it would help to keep him off the streets and out of trouble.”
“But why the outreach program?” she asked defensively, her hands on her hips.
“Mrs. Freeman found out, quite by accident, that Zack is a very talented musician. She saw him in the park one Sunday afternoon, playing a guitar and singing. He’s not much of a conversationalist, but she managed to find out that he writes music as well. When she told me about his abilities, I immediately thought of the musicals your children perform and how we could put this young man’s talents to work for a good cause. He could also help control your unruly students.”
“Yeah, but who’s going to control him? I have twenty-two kids in my class this year! I sure don’t have time to baby-sit a full-grown man.”
“As I said, he’s been making an effort to get his life together. Shouldn’t we at least give him a chance? I never thought that you, of all people, would hold someone’s past against them.”
Christian humbly sat back down. “No, I’d never hold anyone’s past against them, especially if they’re really trying to change. But I need to know if he wants to work in this program. I don’t think it’d do anybody any good for him to be forced into being there.”
“You’re right, Chrissie. But sometimes it takes a while for someone to realize what they do want, especially someone like Zack. Mrs. Freeman and I have already discussed this matter and decided we’ll have him come to your rehearsals on a trial basis. He can observe your class a few times, and then the two of you can decide to what extent he’ll be involved in the program. It’s our hope that, in the end, his participation will be beneficial to all involved. God works in mysterious ways, as you well know.”
“You would bring God into it, wouldn’t you?” she said, laughing. “Well, as long as it is going to be on a trial basis, then okay. Let’s see what happens. I could really use the help.”
“Great! We’ll tell Zack to be here this evening, seven o’clock sharp.”
“Okay. But I want it understood right now that if he gives me one bit of trouble, I will not hesitate to give it right back to him and kick him out of here!”
Reverend Hart grinned widely. “I’d expect nothing less from you, of course.”
“So, what type of music does he write?”
“The same type you and your kids like so well,” Reverend Hart stated, unable to mask his disdain.
“Well, I’m surprised you’d want to add another young rebel to the staff.”
Reverend Hart removed his glasses and smiled. “Chrissie, my dear, I’ve given up trying to convert you to the traditions of the church, although I do enjoy a good debate with you every now and again. You’re a valiant warrior when it comes to your convictions. I may not always agree with your methods or particularly enjoy your choice of music, but the fruits of your labor are very evident. I’d be sorely misguided if I attempted to undermine the great works our Heavenly Father performs through you.”
“Thanks,” she said, amazed at his confession. “I’ll wait and thank you for the help after I meet this Zachary Mitchell.”
That evening the children seemed to sense that a stranger would be in their midst. The choir room was filled with an edgy excitement that animated voices and antsy feet loudly proclaimed. As Christian struggled to maintain order, sixteen-year-old Miguel made his usual grand entrance then greeted his favorite music teacher with an overextended hug. "You're looking as hot as ever, Ms. C," he said, stepping back and admiring the view.
“Thanks, but what have I told you about disrespecting women?”
“Hey, I totally respect hot!” he explained, easing his arm around her shoulder.
Little Amanda grinned widely, tugging on Christian’s sleeve. “Miguel likes you, Ms. Chrissie.”
“Well, I like him, too, but I’m afraid it can’t work out,” Christian said, wiggling out from under his touch. “On top of the thirteen year age difference, I just wouldn’t feel right dating one of my students.”
“I’ll quit the program then,” Miguel said suavely, placing his arm around her shoulder again.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” she insisted, removing his arm from her shoulder with merely a look. “You’re my lead vocalist. What would a Nativity be without Joseph?”
“Aw, Joseph is no big deal. He’s just like every father in my neighborhood. All they do is stand around the house asking where the new kid came from and wondering how they’re going to feed it.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” she promised, frowning at her watch. Clapping her hands loudly in an attempt to begin rehearsal, she was unaware that her visitor had arrived. Had he not made a loud huffing noise as he turned to leave, he would’ve remained unnoticed and been falsely accused of never showing up at all.
“Hey, are you Zachary Mitchell?” Christian called out, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder.
Turning back toward the noisy throng, Zack appeared surprised to find her sizing him up with her stunningly green eyes. “I’m Zack Mitchell,” he corrected her coldly. “You must be Crustacean.”
“Crustacean? That’s cute. And a pretty big word coming from what appears to be a very small person.”
“Small person? I’m six foot two!” Zack retorted, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
“No, I meant small as in small-minded,” she informed him, also crossing her arms.
“Hey look, lady, don’t stand there pretending you know me, because you don’t!”
“I know you’re late!” she announced very loudly.
Suddenly the room filled with gasps of horror then total silence as every student in the room turned to look at Zack with sincere empathy. “So, I’m late. What’s the big deal?”
Miguel shook his head. “Oh, man! You are so busted, dude. Ms. C hates tardiness worse than murder.”
“Is that so, Chico? I always thought the church going types loved everybody, even the evil tardy people of the world. Well, don’t sweat it, kid. I was just leaving anyway. Will that make you happy, Crustacean?”
Christian marched toward the door, speaking through gritted teeth. “Miguel, please do me a favor. Lead the class in the opening song. I need to walk Mr. Mitchell to his car or horse or whatever he rode in here on today.”
Zack followed her into the hallway as she stomped toward the exit. “So, what’s with the attitude?” he asked innocently.
“Hey, I get attitude; I give attitude! I was going to ask you the same question. I was told that you were willingly coming here today.”
“Yeah, well, Mrs. Freeman told me there’d be music. I didn’t hear no music. All I saw was a bunch of out of control brats running wild. It’s like being in juvy hall again.”
Christian came to a dead stop and quickly turned around to face her shadow. “Zack, you need to understand that this program isn’t just about music. It’s about getting these kids involved in something that’ll keep them out of trouble. Most nights, it takes thirty minutes or more to get them settled down enough to start practice. None of them are criminals. They just seem to have a knack for finding trouble. They’re all looking for somebody to love them, and that’s what I do first and foremost. I know it sounds crazy, but there are some weeks we never get around to practicing at all. It just comes with the territory. That’s why we start learning our Christmas music at the end of August.”
“No way! You’re telling me you’ve been practicing the same stuff since August? What a bunch of losers!”
“Losers? Tell me, Zack. What big accomplishment had you made at their age? Grand theft auto, maybe?”
Zack’s haughty smile quickly faded. “Look, I don’t know nothing about dealing with a bunch of brats. All I know is music.”
“But you do know where these kids are coming from. You’ve been there yourself. Sometimes that’s all they need to hear.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not much of a touchy-feely, sharing kind of guy. I think I majorly screwed up by agreeing to this.”
“Okay, then,” she said, shrugging and walking back toward the choir room. “Have a nice life, Zachary Mitchell.”
“That’s it, Crusty? You’re not going to try and talk me into staying? Mrs. Freeman and Reverend what’s-his-name said you really needed help. It sure looked like you do.”
Making an immediate U-turn, she walked right up to her insulter. “Look, I’m not going to stand here and play these games with you. You can stay or you can go. It really doesn’t matter to me. I’m sure the good Lord will see me through another day whether you’re here or not. I have twenty-two kids in there. Maybe fewer now, depending on how many have killed each other since I’ve been out here wasting precious minutes with you. I sure don’t have time to beg a sarcastic jerk with a hellacious attitude to please join us!”
Zack’s face mirrored his surprise. “Whoa! I had no idea church folks talked like that! Does Reverend what’s-his-name know about this?”
“It’s Reverend Hart. And yes. He knows all about me,” she said over her shoulder walking away. Entering the choir room, she was pleasantly surprised to find the kids singing with gusto, Miguel waving his arms wildly, as he led them in the opening number. At the completion of the song, she applauded and nodded approvingly while moving Kara in place for her solo. Just as the shy, young soprano hit her first note, Christian held up her hand and brought the music to a halt. “So, Mr. Mitchell,” she said, feeling the weight of his eyes upon her from the doorway, “would you care to take a seat or do you want to watch from the hallway?”
Silently, Zack walked to the back of the choir room and plopped down on the last row, slouching in his chair and working very hard to look completely bored. Ooh, Ms. C, you are so good, Christian thought, trying not to smile too widely. Zack remained for the entire practice, but while Christian bid each child goodnight, he quietly slipped out the door without speaking to anyone.
When Christian arrived home that evening, she found her mongrel of a dog waiting anxiously by the door. He jumped onto the back of the sofa, wagging his tail and greeting her with a wet kiss on the ear. Weighing in at a whopping eight pounds, the black and white mixed breed was her faithful companion and fearless protector. She adopted him six years prior from the local animal shelter just hours before he was to be destroyed. He seemed to sense that she’d snatched him from the jaws of death, and he showed his eternal gratitude with great vigor.
“I guess I’d better let you out, huh, little guy?” she asked, glancing through the junk mail she received that day. As she raced Samson to the back door, her phone rang. “How much you want to bet that’s Angela?” she asked her pet, watching him dart into the small backyard. “Hello, Christian’s House of Pain. Oh, hi, Cameron. Sorry about that. I figured this was Angela, and I was in the mood to mess with her. What’s up?”
As she listened to the details of his parent’s oh-so-thrilling dinner party she missed that evening, she looked in her freezer for ice cream. I knew I should’ve stopped by the store on the way home. “Uh-huh, that sounds nice, Cameron.” Opening the door to let Samson back in, she flipped on the TV, kicked off her shoes and sat on the sofa. “You know I would’ve been there if it hadn’t been on the night of my rehearsal. Although I’m sure your mother planned it that way.” As her boyfriend retorted, she looked at Samson and rolled her eyes. “Cameron, we’ve been through this a thousand times. She doesn’t like me, and I’ve accepted it. I’m sorry she feels that way, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” Flipping through the channels, she stopped on a strange music video playing on MTV. Frowning, she pointed at the screen and shrugged at Samson. “Well maybe your mother and I will work it out one of these days.” As she mouthed the words “not in a million years”, Cameron wished her a good night. “Good night, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Huh? Yep, rehearsal went just fine. There was a little conflict that had to be dealt with but nothing too serious. Bye, now. Yeah, you, too.”
She lifted Samson onto her lap as she continued to flip through the channels, rolling her eyes when her phone rang again. “Sheesh, Cameron, get a life. Hello? Oh, hey, Angela, how’s it going?”
Christian quickly turned off the television set. "Yeah, I'm fine, but rehearsal was crazy tonight. Just wait until you hear about the jerk Revernd Hart sent to be my assistant."
