Jenny

Jenny could sing like a canary. She loved singing especially in the choir at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church down on Bowlus. She had to do a little smooth talking to get into the choir but it didn’t take much. It was a heck of a lot easier than getting into the Baptist Church choir, that’s for sure. Of course, it was her reputation that followed her around. From hanging out at Wild Willie’s and from being associated with Stephen Darjeeling, but she had gotten immune to the constant comment. The gossip and stories generated at Wild Willie’s Tavern she could handle all right. It was the other ones that really bothered her. That’s why she came to Jetmore in the first place, but it seems that he, Darjeeling, was everywhere and there was no escaping the fact that she had been romantically involved with a notorious past. Tainted past? She didn’t think so, but there were those that did. Anyway, she let it all out when she sang and man could she ever sing. She recalled her interview with Pastor Jack. She thought of him as a modern circuit rider preacher that came around every two weeks unless the weather caught him off guard. He drove an old hoopty car that he referred to as “hoss” and this amused her and kept her interested in him. He was a lot easier to talk to than the other town preachers.
“Ever sing church music before?”
“Oh sure, lots of times,” Jenny looked down at her fingernails and back up at the young Lutheran pastor. She flipped her red hair to one side. She could tell by his eyes that she had him. “Are you married?” she looked right into his eyes and watched the white clerical collar bulge as he swallowed hard.
“No, I’m not. Where did you sing church music?” Pastor Jack reminded himself that that’s what he was, a Lutheran pastor. He conjured up images of Luther throwing his inkwell at the Devil and thought about crossing himself. He got up out of his chair so he could break her enigmatic gaze. Did everyone who came in contact with Jenny Linn fall in love with her immediately on their first meeting? He caught sight of her in the mirror as he reached for the stack of choir music. He scoped out her tank top. “Is it cold in here, or is she excited?” he wondered. “Get behind me Satan!” he almost said it out loud. But then hadn’t Luther himself given up the priesthood for marriage? This was his own personal pillory that he dealt with. “Time for sack cloth and ashes,” he thought as he brought down the sheet music. “Here, try this one,” Pastor Jack shoved the papers at her, his palms clammy, sweat beads popping out on his forehead, and the sheet music rattled, his hand shook so hard.
Jenny found herself having a déjà vu experience. She watched the scene unfold and tried to remember Ken Kesey’s rap in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test about how it couldn’t possibly happen. That it was something like a movie reel speeding up or something like that. She let that go and watched the scene unfold, the pastor’s hand shaking. She could see his skeleton hand holding the shaking white papers out to her. Suddenly a name popped into her consciousness: Fabre d’Olivet. “Oh no,” she winced at the name, “Here we go again.”
“Is everything ok, Ms. Linn?”
She jerked back into reality, the déjà vu and the name disappearing but leaving her a bit apprehensive and embarrassed.
“Yeah, I’m ok, just a little light headed all of a sudden,” she felt a cool breeze on the back of her neck, “What were you saying?”
“Like, where have you sung before?”
“Oh, lots of places, I even sang back-up vocals for some rock groups.”
“That’s great, what about religious music?” Pastor Jack was getting hot under the collar for a different reason now. He had to hoof it on over to Kinsley for a meeting and was running close on time.
“It’s all religious to me,” Jenny said smiling.
“Miss Linn, I have a meeting in 30 minutes in Kinsley, can we please hear you sing?” He shoved the sheets of music to within an inch of her neck, like he was trying to stab her.
Jenny took the music, looked at the pastor, looked at the music and started singing. Notes and words flowed like liquid sunshine out and around the room, wrapping the two into a web of silken light and sound. When she finished the short piece the pastor was nearly unable to speak.
“Brahms Motet, Create In Me A Clean Heart, I last sang that song in Kansas City about a year ago. What do you all do, send each other music?”
“As a matter of fact, we do,” Pastor Jack kind of drooled out the words, so taken was he with what he had just witnessed which was nothing less than a spiritual awakening.
“I want to go with you,” Jenny laid the music sheet down and started toward the door.