Page 76 of A Twist of Faith
Haus tilted his head with a look as if he knew a whole lot more than a dog should. .
“What? I could have texted it. That would have been worse.” She stood and walked to the fireplace, arranging new logs into place. “Something I need to work on if I’m going to have people take notice of my work, I guess. I’ve never been all that good at self-promotion.”
Haus yawned. Dee chuckled. “Or interesting conversation with a dog, I guess.”
The fire bloomed to life, embers from the morning catching new flame. Gold flickered across the darkening room, highlighting the cherry hues of the dulcimer’s grain. It waited in its usual spot, taking her mind back to a time when Appalachia held a sense of wonder and fascination … and good memories. Her smile bloomed. Kind of like now. Old sparks and new life.
She lifted the dulcimer from the mantel. A pale cloud of dust scattered in various directions, confirming the instrument as underused as her skill. The scent of cherry and wood stain breathed from the flower-carved tone holes. She cradled the dulcimer’s long, teardrop-shaped body, smoothing her fingers over each turning peg to the tip of the peg head. Silence waited in anticipation, but could she fill the quiet room? Years and forgetfulness filled the space of time since she played it last. Would she remember?
She shifted the dulcimer in her arms and took the almond-colored pick from the mantel. It was a finer instrument than her granny’s. Smoother, with a polished elegance. Her fingers trembled as she sat back on the couch. Haus’ head popped up from its resting position, curious and maybe aware of the magic this instrument possessed. A sound as mysterious and old as the mountains. A sound to draw a hidden piece of her life to the surface.
She rested it onto her lap and strummed a line across the four strings on the stringboard. Someone must have replaced the strings before she moved into the house, because they shone with new silver. An awed touch of her Granny’s presence filled her movements as she adjusted the turning pegs until the strings blended in tune. The simple strum soothed a lifelong ache and urged her to continue, a simple thrill rolling down her spine. Here was something wholesome and good from her past. Something beautiful, even. What tune did her fingers remember? A rusty hinge of notes pieced together, crowding in various refrains of chorus or verse, until one tune broke free of the rest.
She chuckled at the irony. “Amazing Grace.” Her Granny’s favorite song and a reflection of her personality. How had her father gone from the tender instruction of Granny Roseland’s faith to the hardcore pressure of a truth built on an unattainable to-do list? What situations and circumstances curled his teaching into a knot of self-determination and righteousness?
Amazing Grace? Grace Mitchell’s face inspired a smile—a woman of grace? What made this grace so amazing—that made forgiveness a possibility? The limited visits to Reese’s church offered insights into the God she’d blamed for years—insights which roused unsettling results.
She started slowly, the melody unfolding in scattered halts and misfingered strums, until on the third time, it flowed. The words to the song remained lost in time, but the melody rang all around and through her, painful and healing.
The magical strain held her in such captivity she didn’t hear the knock at her door until Haus jumped to his feet in response. In her defense, it was a little knock. When she opened the door, Lou peered up at her, basket in hand.
“Hey Dee, was that you playin’ music?”
She opened the door wider, welcoming the little girl. “I was trying.”
Her eye grew wide. “Well, it sounded a whole lot better than Daddy tryin’.” She offered the basket. “I can’t stay. Granny’s in the car waiting on me.”
Dee followed her gesture to the gray car in the drive. Mrs. Mitchell gave her signature wave, rosy smile intact.
“We gotta go pick up Emma from the restaurant cause her car’s in the shop, but Granny wanted you to have some yummy leftovers from lunch.” Lou stepped closer, dark brows wiggling. “And an extra strawberry pie just for you.”
Dee shot a grateful grin to Mrs. Mitchell and took the offering. “Now what did I do to deserve such a present?”
Lou’s double dimples emerged with her smile. “You’re family.”
The impact of her simple statement brought the last few days to full circle.Home.
“Hey, Lou!”
The little girl turned on the step.
“Do you know the song Amazing Grace?”
She placed one hand on her hip and took a sassy pose. “Well, of course I do. We sing it nearlyeverySunday.”
Everymight have been a stretch, since Dee couldn’t remember hearing it once in the last month of her visits. “Do you remember the first line?”
Lou drew in a deep breath, like the effort wasn’t even worth the time. “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wrench like me. I once was lost but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.”
Dee replayed the words. “A wrench?”
Lou nodded, completely confident in her answer. “Yep. I ain’t never understood why God thinks we’re tools or something, but there are lots of words I ain’t too sure about in church. Last Sunday my teacher kept talkin’ about going fast.” She shrugged and dropped down a few steps. “I still can’t understand what’s wrong with going slow when you eat, but she was plum fixed on fast eatin’.”
Dee caught her laugh in her hand at Lou’s description of fasting. Combined with the idea of God saving a wrench, by the time she closed the door, she’d buckled over laughing, nearly dropping her pie on the floor. She sat the food on the counter and sliced a piece of pie, replaying the other words from Amazing Grace.
I once was lost, but now I’m found.
Found? The lost son. This lost daughter? Maybe there was much more to grace—and she wanted an answer.
