Level 2 (Memory Chronicles) by Lenore Appelhans Read Free Book Online

beat upon them, nor any scorching heat.’ Folks, that means there is no more suffering in heaven. We can lay down our burdens at the foot of the Lord.”
    Pastor Joe goes on with his sermon, but I let my mind wander, catching only bits and pieces: “. . . where moth and rust do not destroy—God’s city is adorned with jewels and its streets are paved in gold—for I go to prepare a place for you . . .”
    He speaks for a good forty minutes, so long that even Savannah’s attention wanes. She’s doodling hearts in the church bulletin around the notes she’s taken on the sermon.
    Finally Pastor Joe leads us in the final prayer and dismisses us.
    Savannah folds her papers into her Bible and gathers up her jacket and mittens. We both stand, and Savannah pulls me into the aisle.
    “Doesn’t Neil have the best voice?” she says as we join the crowd making its way to the front exit. “We keep telling him he needs to try out for one of those talent shows on TV.”
    “He does.” I unfold my coat and put it on, debating whether I should ask Savannah to tell me more about Neil. I know she must have the scoop.
    But before I can decide what, if anything, to ask, Savannah does a scan of the sanctuary and breaks out in a flurry of spastic waving. She touches my arm. “It was such a pleasure to chat with you!” And then she rushes off, pushing through the few people behind us, back toward the pulpit, where her friends stand.
    I continue my slow march toward the doors and shake my head at Savannah’s use of the word “chat.” “Monologue” is more like it. And though I’m relieved to be released from her constant barrage of information, I can’t deny that it was nice to have someone treat me like I’m a normal human being rather than a social pariah.
    There’s a tap on my shoulder. It’s Neil.
    “Felicia?” There is a note of uncertainty in his voice, though I instantly thrill at the way he says my name. It has never sounded so beautiful.
    “Neil?” I phrase it as a question, though obviously I know it’s him.
    He relaxes and smiles warmly. “I see my reputation precedes me! Excellent.”
    “You’re only the shining star of the world-class Central Christian Worship Band,” I say.
    “You liked it?” He seems surprised but pleased. “Your grandmother tells me you play piano. You might have noticed we can use some fresh blood.” He’s right about that.No one in the band other than Neil looks a day under fifty.
    “You want me to try out?” I purse my lips, a pound irritated but a pinch grateful that Grammy has apparently been talking me up.
    “You wouldn’t have to try out.” His tone is casual, inviting. “I’ve heard some of your recordings, and someone with your talent is welcome to join anytime. Mrs. Fogarty and her arthritic fingers would thank you.”
    “It’s nice of you to think of me.” I look down and busy myself by buttoning up my coat. I fiddle with the top button that always gives me trouble. “But I don’t play anymore.” I can’t even look at the piano without thinking about how horribly I let down my father.
    Neil doesn’t say anything, but I see a flash of concern play across his features. “I don’t know if I should say anything, but—”
    “You shouldn’t,” I blurt, cutting him off.
    Neil seems to consider this a minute, and then pats my shoulder carefully, as if I might shatter and spread my shards all over the holy house of God. “It was great to finally meet you.”
    Grammy calls my name. I nod curtly at Neil and trudge over to where Grammy is standing with Mr. Eaton. As I guide Grammy back out the door toward her old Crown Victoria station wagon, I risk a peek over my shoulder and see Neil through the open door, still in the same spot, watching me with a bemused smile. And I have to smile too.
    I surface from the memory and am met by Julian’s stare. He’s standing on the stair outside my chamber.
    “Time to go.” He says it softly, as if he regrets waking