Say Jesus and Come to Me by Ann Allen Shockley

Author:Ann Allen Shockley [Shockley, Ann Allen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480468092
Amazon: B00HZ9Q90Y
Goodreads: 20695311
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-02-11T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

AT CENTENNIAL PARK THEY had fun mingling with the tourists visiting the Parthenon, then stopped to feed Donald and his proud-necked companions.

Leaving the park, they explored other sights, ending up at Opryland where they gleefully rode the train like fun-seeking children, eating pink cotton candy and viewing the sweep of the park. Afterward, Myrtle treated Travis to a champagne dinner at the Old Hickory restaurant.

It was almost dark when they returned home exhausted, filled with rich food and in a lighthearted mood. Right away, Travis got out of her clothes to put on a loose-fitting robe that she said would let it all hang out.

Myrtle donned a pair of slacks and tank top, and slipped into house shoes to relieve her tired feet. Closing the drapes, she blotted out the lights of the darkening skyline.

“Want something to drink?” Myrtle asked. “Iced tea, coffee, wine?”

“Wine!” Travis sighed wearily, half reclining on the couch with bare feet drawn up beneath her. “You don’t think I’m becoming a wino, do you?” she joked.

“Not hardly,” Myrtle laughed. “Frankly, I would like some myself.” She went to get the bottle kept chilled in the refrigerator. “I want to thank you again for that generous church contribution,” she said, making space on the coffee table for the tray.

“It was nothing. I wanted you to have what you deserve.”

“One of these days, I hope to work up to a fantastic new building,” she murmured wishfully, gazing into her glass as if the vision were there.

“You will, I’m sure of that.” Travis sniffed the tangy aroma of the chablis. She had only drunk wine with dinner before meeting Myrtle, or the red sweet kind when puffing on a weed with Rudy to send them on imaginary downy heights of euphoria.

“Would you like the TV or radio on?” Myrtle asked.

“Radio. Some nice, soothing music.”

Myrtle turned the dial to an FM station that continuously aired easy sounds. An old Wes Montgomery filled the room, a combination of jazz guitar, strings, and harp enmeshed in melodic smoothness.

“Being here has been good for me,” Travis said thoughtfully.

“I am glad to hear that.” Myrtle settled beside her on the far end of the couch. “I love having you here.”

Travis’s eyes rested vacantly on the African wall prints, as though seeking security from what was bothering her. After a while, she said solemnly, “I really got carried away this morning, didn’t I?”

“We all did,” Myrtle replied gently, mollifying whatever was plaguing her. Was she remembering the time in her arms?

“You can really preach. People join your church in droves. You have the power of persuasion.”

“So do you, through your music.”

“Perhaps I do, but it’s not as important as what you do.”

“Indeed it is! Just think of what your music does to people. How it moved them this morning. Music and sermons go hand-in-hand. Music sets the tone and holds the mood.” She smiled over her glass. “Spirituals and gospel music have aided many an itinerant black preacher along to set the good old spirit in motion.

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