CHAPTER 44
SHE WOULD NEVER PLAY in that stupid, cramped cry room again. She was so tired of being afraid of her own voice. She’d wasted enough time here in Orchard Grove feeling shy and inadequate and overlooked. Months trying to accommodate her music to fit others’ expectations, and in the end it sucked all of her creative energy dry. She wouldn’t let that happen anymore.
No matter what her husband said, no matter what anyone in this church thought, she was a musician. And a really good one. There was no more room for this false modesty, no reason for her to hide her talents or her voice. She was nobody’s little mouse.
Standing next to the sanctuary’s gaudy Christmas tree, which was covered in so much golden foil and maroon tinsel that it would have stood out in the middle of the Las V
