Read Online The Christmas Cantata (The Liturgical Mysteries) by Mark Schweizer - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Schweizer
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to complain about the previous Sunday. He kept a notebook and gave it to me before he retired. Three hundred pages."
"Only five years?" said Meg. "Why'd she stop?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she just wore out. Maybe Father Tony told her to lay off."
"Maybe she decided that you weren't going to get any better," suggested Pete.
"She had a stroke," said Pauli Girl. "In 1992. It was in her chart. She recovered pretty well."
"I've never seen her in church," said Meg. "At least I don't think so. I certainly don't know her."
"Hey," I said. "I just had a thought. If Bessie Baker was living in St. Germaine at the time, maybe she used to sing in the choir. Even if she didn't, she might shed some light on what happened on Christmas Eve in 1942. Wynette didn't know much, but remembered that the cantata was cancelled at the last minute. They may have even cancelled the midnight service."
"Are you talking about that music that Cynthia found?" Pete said.
"Yep," I said. "We're singing it on Christmas Eve. The note Nancy found in the score said that it was premiered at St. Barnabas that Christmas, but now it seems that it never happened. Maybe Bessie Baker knows something." I turned to Pauli Girl. "How old is she?"
"She's in her nineties."
"She might have been what...late twenties? Early thirties?"
"Probably," agreed Pauli Girl.
"So, she might have been in the choir," I said, then had another thought. "How's her memory?"
"Her short term memory isn't good," admitted Pauli Girl, "but you know what? She's good at remembering stuff that happened a long time ago."
"She was a helluva teacher," said Pete. "We hated her when we were in school, but she was one of those teachers that, you know, when you're out in the world, you realize that, wow, you really actually learned something."
"I had a few like that," admitted Meg. "You should send her a card or something and tell her what she meant to you."
"Nah," said Pete. "Too touchy-feely. But you know, a bunch of us from the high school always get together after Christmas. Sort of a reunion. Maybe I'll suggest that a few of the girls go over to see the old bat. That should do it for my seasonal benevolence."
"No, I don't think so," said Meg. "Your seasonal benevolence is just beginning. It's payback time. Remember when I did your taxes last year and saved you a pot-load of money and you said if there was anything I ever wanted..."
"I do not remember that," said Pete, going pale. "I definitely do not remember that."
"I remember it quite well," I said.
"Anyway," said Meg, "I'm the president of the choir, and you and Cynthia are going to come and sing on Christmas Eve. Not only that, you're coming to all the rehearsals and singing on Sunday mornings as well."
Now it was my turn to go pale. I had heard Pete sing. Cynthia was fine, but Pete?
"Wait a minute," I said. "Pete's extremely busy."
"I am busy," said Pete. "Anyway, when I said that, I meant that I'd give you a pie or something. I have things to do. Important things. Like..." he struggled, panic evident in his eyes. "Like, I've got to go visit that old lady in the nursing home."
Pauli Girl laughed out loud and headed for another table, coffee pot at the ready. "Nice try, Pete," she said.
"No way out," said Meg. "You promised. I've already asked Cynthia and she said she's happy to come. Rehearsal is tonight at seven."
* * *
"I heard all y'all were looking for singers," said a voice from the top of the choir stairs. I looked up from where I was seated on the organ bench and saw Goldi Fawn Birtwhistle filling the doorway.
"We're always glad to welcome new choir members," said Meg. "Are y'all a soprano or an alto?" Meg was using the singular y'all , as opposed to the collective all y'all . Y'all is also permissible as a collective pronoun, but once all y'all has been introduced into the conversation, it is simply good manners to follow suit.
"I'm a soprano, I guess," said Goldi Fawn, maneuvering her heft past the
"Only five years?" said Meg. "Why'd she stop?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she just wore out. Maybe Father Tony told her to lay off."
"Maybe she decided that you weren't going to get any better," suggested Pete.
"She had a stroke," said Pauli Girl. "In 1992. It was in her chart. She recovered pretty well."
"I've never seen her in church," said Meg. "At least I don't think so. I certainly don't know her."
"Hey," I said. "I just had a thought. If Bessie Baker was living in St. Germaine at the time, maybe she used to sing in the choir. Even if she didn't, she might shed some light on what happened on Christmas Eve in 1942. Wynette didn't know much, but remembered that the cantata was cancelled at the last minute. They may have even cancelled the midnight service."
"Are you talking about that music that Cynthia found?" Pete said.
"Yep," I said. "We're singing it on Christmas Eve. The note Nancy found in the score said that it was premiered at St. Barnabas that Christmas, but now it seems that it never happened. Maybe Bessie Baker knows something." I turned to Pauli Girl. "How old is she?"
"She's in her nineties."
"She might have been what...late twenties? Early thirties?"
"Probably," agreed Pauli Girl.
"So, she might have been in the choir," I said, then had another thought. "How's her memory?"
"Her short term memory isn't good," admitted Pauli Girl, "but you know what? She's good at remembering stuff that happened a long time ago."
"She was a helluva teacher," said Pete. "We hated her when we were in school, but she was one of those teachers that, you know, when you're out in the world, you realize that, wow, you really actually learned something."
"I had a few like that," admitted Meg. "You should send her a card or something and tell her what she meant to you."
"Nah," said Pete. "Too touchy-feely. But you know, a bunch of us from the high school always get together after Christmas. Sort of a reunion. Maybe I'll suggest that a few of the girls go over to see the old bat. That should do it for my seasonal benevolence."
"No, I don't think so," said Meg. "Your seasonal benevolence is just beginning. It's payback time. Remember when I did your taxes last year and saved you a pot-load of money and you said if there was anything I ever wanted..."
"I do not remember that," said Pete, going pale. "I definitely do not remember that."
"I remember it quite well," I said.
"Anyway," said Meg, "I'm the president of the choir, and you and Cynthia are going to come and sing on Christmas Eve. Not only that, you're coming to all the rehearsals and singing on Sunday mornings as well."
Now it was my turn to go pale. I had heard Pete sing. Cynthia was fine, but Pete?
"Wait a minute," I said. "Pete's extremely busy."
"I am busy," said Pete. "Anyway, when I said that, I meant that I'd give you a pie or something. I have things to do. Important things. Like..." he struggled, panic evident in his eyes. "Like, I've got to go visit that old lady in the nursing home."
Pauli Girl laughed out loud and headed for another table, coffee pot at the ready. "Nice try, Pete," she said.
"No way out," said Meg. "You promised. I've already asked Cynthia and she said she's happy to come. Rehearsal is tonight at seven."
* * *
"I heard all y'all were looking for singers," said a voice from the top of the choir stairs. I looked up from where I was seated on the organ bench and saw Goldi Fawn Birtwhistle filling the doorway.
"We're always glad to welcome new choir members," said Meg. "Are y'all a soprano or an alto?" Meg was using the singular y'all , as opposed to the collective all y'all . Y'all is also permissible as a collective pronoun, but once all y'all has been introduced into the conversation, it is simply good manners to follow suit.
"I'm a soprano, I guess," said Goldi Fawn, maneuvering her heft past the
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