Early comers already occupied the rest of the seats in the first row. In fact, the lower half of the main floor was practically full, as were the front-row seats in the balcony.
God, he was nervous. He would like something alcoholic to drink but in lieu of that would settle for another Seven-Up. The vending machines were just around the corner, but he never carried money.
He called Zubov again.
Still no sign of Jamie, Joe, and the baby.
He went back to the dressing room and played with Buck for a while then fed him a bottle and jiggled him to sleep. Then he stepped outside the room to call Zubov again. The Russian reported that Marcia Kimball and her camera crew were roaming around the sanctuary talking to worshippers. But there was still no sign of Jamie Long and her baby and boyfriend.
Doubt was beginning to nag at Gus. Had he read Jamie and Joe’s actions all wrong? Maybe they had some other reason for being in Dallas.
Except that Joe’s former girlfriend Marcia Kimball was out there waiting to capture the meeting of Amanda and Jamie on camera.
A meeting that was never going to happen.
The orchestra began playing. Gus pulled the curtain aside and looked out front once again, scanning the faces in the crowd.
Zubov called to tell him that Amanda had arrived.
Gus watched as the choir members filed in and took their seats in the tiered choir stalls on either side of the stage and a robed minister with hair that looked as though it were made of plastic stepped into the golden pulpit under the heroic-sized and agonizingly graphic floating crucifix.
The curtain began to open as the voices of the choir boomed forth:
Love divine, all loves excelling,
joy of heaven, to earth come down,
fix in us thy humble dwelling,
all thy faithful mercies crown.
A spotlight illuminated the pulpit as it rose and floated over the stage until it was hovering over the orchestra pit. People in the first rows tilted their heads back and were looking up at the minister. His voice boomed forth, “This is a day the Lord hath made.”
Gus kept scanning the faces in the audience while the minister welcomed everyone to the Temple of Praise and said what an honor it was for the temple to welcome one of God’s most eloquent and beloved messengers, Sister Amanda Tutt Hartmann. The man gave a brief overview of Amanda’s incredible lineage and ministry. Then he offered a prayer in which he asked the Lord to open the hearts of all assembled and help them accept the message they would hear today and leave the temple praising His holy name.
Gus was beginning to feel ill. Where were they, damn it!
The choir sang another hymn.
Come, Thou almighty King,
Help us Thy Name to sing,
Help us to praise!
Father all glorious,
O’er all victorious,
Come and reign over us, Ancient of Days!
Then suddenly Amanda was walking out onstage. And the audience rose as one. The ovation was thunderous and reverberated all around Gus. The floor trembled under his feet.
As was her way, Amanda was dressed in a flowing white gown. She wore no jewelry. Her hair was down and brushed smooth and shining. Gus glanced up at the close-up of her face on one of the huge overhead screens. So beautiful she looked. Like an angel. His heart swelled painfully with pride and love.
Amanda smiled for a few minutes, seeming to enjoy the audience’s response. Then she lifted her arms, and in just a few seconds a hush came over the vast sanctuary. It was as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting to hear the first words that came out of her mouth.
Amanda put her hands over her heart. “I love you,” she said.
And the applause began again. Wave after wave of it. The audience was overjoyed that Amanda loved them.
Once again she lifted a hand and quiet fell. “I have a baby,” she said with a broad smile, her voice girlishly breathless. “Everyone said that I was too old to have a baby. My physician told me I was too old to have a baby. My body told me that I was too old. But God granted me a miracle after my beloved son died. I thank God a hundred times a day for the gift of this child, and I want to share him with you today.”
Once again applause began to erupt, but Amanda lifted her hand to stop it. “Applause might frighten him,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “We named him Jason, which means ‘healer.’ We named him that because this beautiful child healed my broken heart and has taught me to live again, just as God intended.” Then Amanda gestured offstage to Randi, her arms outstretched, ready to receive her child. Gus was standing just behind Randi. Amanda’s eyebrows shot up in recognition and surprise.
Randi carried Buck to center stage amid a soft chorus of “ahhs” from the audience, placed the baby in Amanda’s arms, and backed away.
Gus watched as Amanda’s body seemed to stiffen just a bit. There was awkwardness in the way she held the child. She kissed the baby and offered a smile to the audience that was a bit too broad, a bit too dazzling. Gus held his breath as little Buck’s body tensed at the feel of unfamiliar arms-arms that were not as loving and tender as those to which he was accustomed.
Amanda held on to her forced smile as Buck began to wail, but her shoulders became rigid. The muscles in her neck grew taut as she lifted him to her shoulder and began to pat his back. But Buck’s back arched as his cry turned into a scream of protest.
Gus could see that his sister was beginning to panic. She was doing all the wrong things. Her disquiet was transferring itself to the baby. He wanted to rush out there and take Buck from her, or at least tell her to relax and talk soothingly to the child. And to jiggle him, for God’s sake. If Gus had learned one thing about babies in the last two months, it was the value of jiggling. And pacifiers helped. Amita didn’t respond to a pacifier, but Buck did. Buck could soothe himself if he had a pacifier. There was one dangling from a ribbon clipped to his shirt.
“Use the pacifier,” Gus called to her, but Amanda didn’t hear. Didn’t respond.
He was about to repeat his instructions in a louder voice when suddenly the voice of a lone, unaccompanied male singer filled the stage. Gus glanced toward the choir loft on the left side of the stage. The singer was standing-a bald man wearing a gray choir robe. The man grabbed the hands of the choir members on either side of him and pulled them along with him as he walked down the steps. The words he sang were familiar ones.
Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
As he sang, another voice joined in. A female voice. A heavy woman who had been sitting behind him stood and grabbed the hand of the woman on her left and followed the bald man and his companions, who were now singing along.
Red and yellow, black and white
They are precious in his sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world
When the young man reached Amanda’s side, he turned and gestured expansively to the other choir members, indicating that they, too, were to come forward and raise their voices with him. The choir members glanced at one another as though unsure of what they should do, then slowly began to come forward. Orderly, row by row, they came, drifting to the center of the stage, singing. Once the exodus was in progress, the bald man reached for the crying baby. It all seemed so rehearsed that Gus assumed it was an intended part of the proceedings.
Amanda hesitated then relinquished Buck to the man, who immediately began to jiggle him. Gus sighed with relief when the man put the pacifier in Buck’s mouth.
Dozens of the choir members were now gathered around Amanda, singing the familiar song remembered from their Sunday school days. With smiles they were singing. And the audience joined in. Each round of the song grew stronger and more triumphant.