Page 98 of Intermission

“Brava!” He grins, adding a little snooty, half-handed, operatic applause. “Now that you have it hidden in your head, you can work at hiding it in your heart.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is somewhere between memorization and application. I mean, you had to memorize the Pledge of Allegiance as a kid, right?”

“Sure.”

Noah leans back in the metal chair and crosses his feet at the ankles. “We memorize stuff like that because our teachers—or in my case, my parents—make us, and it gets stuck in our brain. But I’d bet my great-grandfather, who volunteered to fight in World War II, had that pledge hidden in his heart. Its meaning sank through to the core of who he was and what he was willing to die for. He was willing to go down in a plane in the south Pacific to help provide liberty and justice for all.”

Nodding, I move to the chair beside him. “Okay, but—”

“Ah-ah-ah.” Noah waggles a finger at me. “Three feet, if you please, Miss Prescott.”

“Right.” I scoot over, leaving two chairs between us. “But how do you say, ‘Jesus wept’ in the same way? It’s too... simplistic, isn’t it? When I think of ‘liberty and justice for all’ it’s so majestic sounding. Saying ‘Jesus wept’ is like saying ‘Noah sang.’ It’s a proper noun and a verb. Not anything really descriptive.”

“But did you read it in context? Or did you just look up the verse?”

“I looked up the verse then went back and read the whole chapter. It’s about Lazarus dying and being raised from the dead.”

“Yeah.” Noah uncrosses his ankles and leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “But did you know Lazarus was Jesus’s very good friend? When Jesus saw that Lazarus was dead, he didn’t say, ‘Abracadabra, come back to life, Laz, ol’ buddy ol’ pal!’ did he?”

I laugh. “He most certainly did not.”

“No, Jesuswept.”

Excitement sparks in Noah’s eyes. “Jesus didn’t just shed a few tears, blow his nose, and get on with his day. Hegrieved. Jesus knew he was separated, albeit temporarily, from his good friend, and itbroke his heart.”

This is hitting a little too close to home, all things considered. But if Noah notices my sudden difficulty breathing, he doesn’t let it show.

“That little verse shows us that Jesus, and through his experience, the whole Trinity, understands grief and pain on our measly human level. For two little words, it’s pretty profound. And...” Noah pauses to clear his throat, “it’s kind of... comforting to know that when we’re grieving and—and lonely, we’re not abandoned.”

I nod through the tears gathering in my eyes and the fist clamped around my heart. “Got it.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Jesuswept.”

“Yeah.” Noah looks down at the floor and clears his throat. Again. When he looks up, his smile warms me to the core. “Jesus wept. But it was onlyafterhe acknowledged his grief that he reached beyond his humanness and into that giant God-ness of his to whip out a miracle and bring his buddy back.”

“Cool.” I stare at the carpet for a minute, tossing the two words around in my mind, grappling with the idea of the Creator of the Universe being saddened—no,grieved—enough by one person’s loss to weep.

“I really like that.” I meet Noah’s eyes. “It makes him more, you know,real.”

“Yeah. It does.” We’re quiet for several moments before he speaks again. “You have no idea how badly I want to come over there and hug you right now.”

“I might.”

The hinges on the choir room door squeak, announcing Mr. Barron’s return.

“You ready to go through it one more time before Alex gets here?” He raps his knuckles on the top of the piano. “Hello? Uh, guys? Yoo-hoo! Music, remember? Wedding this weekend? This is our last chance before it’s go-time.”

Noah flinches. I cringe at Mr. Barron’s choice of words.Our last chance.

A chill moves across my shoulders.Go-time.In a few days, Noah will board a plane for London.

“Music.” I swallow hard. “Music. Right.”

I take my place beside the piano. As Mr. Barron plays the introduction, I silently lay out my heart before a God who knows what it’s like to grieve a loss, to weep.I don’t know if I can do this, God. I’m not ready to say goodbye.

And then it’s time to sing.

Even though it hurts, I let the lyrics rip me open. I sing as if every word of this song is a statement of devotion, aimed at Noah’s heart.