Amazing Love Read Free Page B

to win pageants.
    She had to look and sound perfect.
    Light glinted through the trees as the sun dipped toward the western skyline, reminding her the afternoon was winding down. Her chance to practice in the sanctuary was slipping away. Tomorrow morning’s solo would challenge her vocal range and she wanted one final sound check, so she headed toward the main auditorium.
    By design, every aspect of Abundant Harvest Church was contemporary. Shunning the traditional redbrick chapel with a long center aisle, the churchfounders had opted to invest their building funds in an economical and practical 70,000 square foot warehouse-style structure.
    The facility known as the worship center served as a sanctuary for weekend services. When the hundreds of folding chairs were stored away, the expansive room became a double-sized gymnasium for after-school activities. Each week visitors made notes on their welcome cards expressing approval of the spacious accommodations, including a stage with state-of-the-art audio/visual equipment.
    Familiar with the Saturday evening sound crew, Claire waved to the figures, barely visible through the darkened window of the control booth, and climbed six steps that led up the right side of the stage.
    â€œGood afternoon, Claire,” the pastor’s voice boomed from the speakers.
    She raised her hand, palm outward, against the glare of lights being set for the evening service.
    â€œHi, Pastor Ken.” She waved a response into the darkness.
    The band’s self-appointed stage manager, Dana Stabler, positioned a microphone before Claire. The petite brunette was a quirky teen who tried on personalities like other girls experimented with nail color. Today she was hip-hop, all decked out in baggy jeans and a football jersey.
    â€œReady?” she asked.
    â€œGive me a minute, Dana.” Claire turned her back to the mic. After practicing some warm-up scales, she dropped her chin and offered up a silent prayer. Then she turned toward the light and removed the microphone from its stand.
    She inhaled through her nose and opened her mouth to begin. Before the first note rushed across her vocal chords, a voice intruded.
    â€œOne moment, miss.” A polite command, not a suggestion.
    With her mouth gaping open in surprise she felt and probably looked like a hungry guppy. Her lips clamped together with a small “umph” as she waited for some cue to continue.
    â€œGo ahead, please,” the voice instructed.
    Claire closed her eyes to concentrate and recall the note to be sung a cappella, without accompaniment. Once again she filled her lungs, parted her lips and began to breathe the high C. The note started softly, low in her chest, then crescendoed over the course of several seconds into a force of sound that filled her head and resonated in the open hall.
    She’d tilted her head back from the mic allowing the sound to float heavenward. A high-pitched squeal pierced the moment. Her head and eyes snapped toward the source of the disturbance.
    â€œSorry about that,” was the curt response from the booth.
    â€œIs there a problem?” Claire asked, knowing hervoice held a hint of the annoyance she was feeling after the back-to-back interruptions.
    â€œThere’s a new guy in the sound booth.” Dana’s pierced eyebrows drew together apologetically.
    â€œI noticed.” Claire curved her lips into a wry smile.
    â€œTake it from the top,” the male voice suggested.
    â€œIf you’re sure.” She squinted against the lights.
    â€œI’m sure.” There was amusement in his otherwise brusque tone. “I’m also sure less vibrato will make your intro more powerful.”
    â€œExcuse me?” No one had criticized her skills since she’d fired her last vocal coach.
    â€œControl the vibrato, if you can, ” the man challenged.
    Five seconds into the opening note the voice once again interrupted, “Cutting that high C off