Free Rumors and Promises by Kathleen Rouser Page B

his throat.
    “Of course.” He dropped the chamois into the bucket. “I thought that we would start with a Fanny Crosby hymn, “Rescue the Perishing.” Ian raked his hand through his wavy, black hair.
    Sophie searched the pages of the worn music book. “Ah, here it is.” She perused the words as she began playing. “One of my favorites.” She couldn’t keep from forming a slight smile.
    “
Rescue the perishing, care for the dying, snatch them in pity from sin and the grave …”
    Were they only dying souls the hymn spoke of? Or perishing hearts, as well? The pain twisted deep inside her—the hurt of betrayal and sting of rejection. Weren’t these things murdering her slowly? Was there hope for healing? God still seemed so far away.
    However, the music was a balm to her, purging her sadness. Sophie’s cheeks felt wet. When she finished the song, she found Ian pressing a clean handkerchief into her hand.
    “That was truly moving. I can see you feel the message of the lyrics, Sophie, assuming there’s nothing else troubling you.”
    His closeness and the warmth of his touch had made her want to stay right there at the piano in the sanctuary, to play for him the whole afternoon. What was wrong with her? Her emotions were like a sailboat bobbing on the Detroit River during a storm.
    “Well, I think I understand how it feels to be perishing, in a way.”
How can I let him see me cry like this again?
“It doesn’t seem to take much to move me to tears these days.” She tried to deny the comfort his closeness brought. She smoothed her skirt and sat up straighter. Perhaps if she appeared more poised and matter-of-fact, they could get back to the business of making music for the next Sunday service.
    “What’s the next piece on the list?” She spoke more abruptly than she intended. “I can’t be interrupted continually when I’m practicing.” The way he said just the right thing in such a perfectly soothing way annoyed her. She could get through this by herself, even if God felt far away. Sophie didn’t need a patronizing pastor always rescuing her, but for the time being she needed the job he offered.
    Ian nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work then.” The tension in his voice told her that even ministers could be hurt by sharp words.
    The door flew open. “Here we are! Hot tea and cookies for a hardworking musician!” Maggie carried a tray and bared a glowing smile as she looked from Sophie to Ian.
    Did she notice the hint of a knowing gleam in Maggie’s eyes? She was being sensitive, of course, probably her imagination.
    “What about me?” Philip piped up.
    “And I suppose for custodians, too.” She winked at her son.
    She set the tray on a front row pew.
    “Thank you, Maggie.” Sophie took a deep breath filled with relief.
    “You’re welcome. Are you sure Esther is feeding you enough? You’re positively too thin. Or is rationing a part of the conditions of working for her?”
    Sophie chuckled. “Oh no, there’s enough to eat for all of us.” She thought of the plump widow who employed her. “I’m just so busy that I forget to stop and eat sometimes.”
    “Well, I don’t think she ate enough this morning, Maggie. She positively fainted away at the thought of performing in the church.”
    “You don’t say?”
    How aggravating that the brother and sister spoke to each other as though she wasn’t even there!
    Maggie grabbed her hand. “Then let me get some bread and cheese for you, too!”
    But Sophie was feeling much better with another adult present. “No, thank you, these cookies will do the trick, I’m sure. I really am quite well now.”
    After she nibbled on Maggie’s spicy snicker doodles, and the strong, black tea warmed her suddenly parched throat, she returned to practicing each hymn a few times.
    Maggie listened while sitting nearby and knitting. She occasionally tapped her foot in time to the hymn or hummed a bit.
    As Sophie put the music away and wrapped up in her