She didn't know how she could tell all of that by looking at him, but it was that feeling that she got, one of safety and security when he stood there in front of her. She didn't even know she wanted that, but she had been drawn to it immediately.
She fingered the card that she had stuck in her pocket. She had put it on her nightstand the night before, and then on a whim that morning, she'd picked it up and stuck it back in her pocket. She'd been touching it all day. It was almost as though touching the card brought back the memory of Noah more clearly and distinctly, and she could feel the warmth and security that she'd felt while he stood in front of her.
Another student carrying an instrument case, most likely a violin, walked into Noah's store, passing a student on their way out.
That was the third or fourth student she'd seen that day heading into Noah's store. There had been several over lunch as well. Like he taught an ensemble at that time.
He must give individual instruction. She thought he would be a great teacher. That he would push students, but not so hard that they got discouraged.
Suddenly, thinking that the kitchen had a window with a slightly different angle of the music store, Grace hurried from the living room and walked down the hall into the kitchen.
She didn't stop to question herself about why she was so interested in what Noah was doing, but instead, went to the window and angled herself over the counter so she could see the music store.
Sure enough, she could see the window of the back room, and the student setting their instrument case down and getting it out, and Noah saying something, causing the student to laugh.
He seemed like he was so good with them.
As she stood there, the lesson began, and the student did well at first, but then came to a passage they struggled with. Noah seemed encouraging, considerate, even getting down on one knee at one point and pointing to the music, and then picking up his own violin and playing. Then, in a gesture she easily understood, he encouraged the student to try again.
He was so good with kids. So kind.
She blew out a breath and pushed away from the counter, knowing that she would be embarrassed if her aunt walked in at that moment. She would want to know exactly why Grace was stretched out over the counter, craning her neck around so she could see something. Her aunt would think it would be something exceptionally interesting. Not a music teacher giving lessons.
Grace glanced at the clock. Another hour until her aunt got home and the book club met.
She remembered she was supposed to make brownies and hurried to get the ingredients out and throw them in the oven. She'd been so distracted by Noah that she'd totally forgotten.
She couldn't do that. Noah was just a man like any other, one of thousands she'd met over the years. She knew that a lot of times the best musicians made the worst teachers. But, Noah was obviously a good musician, and he played at least two instruments quite well.
She made a mental note to ask her Aunt Vivian about him if she could. Although, she didn't want to bring any attention to her interest in him, since she knew her interest was slightly more than normal.
Not in a bad way, not in a romantic way, just... an interested way.
She had no other words other than that.
At five o'clock on the dot, Nellie McBride and Kate Henderson were at the door. Aunt Vivian had gotten home thirty minutes prior and they were ready for their company and the book club discussion. Cassie, the medical clinic receptionist, came in slightly later.
The five of them settled down in the living roomwith a tray of brownies and several other finger foods the ladies had brought. Each of them held a copy of a book,Heartland Joy, by an author that Grace had never heard of.
She hadn't read the book, so she listened to the conversation as her aunt gently guided it.
"I thought the most powerful moment in the book was not the romance, but was when Shaun knelt by the coffee table and prayed with a child that wasn't even his." Aunt Vivian opened the conversation.
Nellie nodded. "That was powerful. Especially because I think as a parent, my first instinct is to defend my child and to attack anyone who attacks them. I definitely don't automatically go to the biblical passage where we're supposed to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. I might think of that for myself, but not for my children."
"Exactly. But how are our children supposed to learn if we don't guide them in that direction? If we hold them to a different standard than what we hold ourselves?" Kate asked.
"Sometimes I think we hold our children to too high of a standard. But in this case, it's a biblical standard, and biblical standards are not too high." Cassie weighed in.
"It's funny how we want all the best for our children, and a lot of times we feel like that means veering away from the Bible and giving them material things." Aunt Vivian sounded wise.
"I agree with that, although that reminds me that the music teacher at the school quit just a week ago, and now there's no band concert, and I know children at the school are bitterly disappointed. I mean, you practice all year, and you think you're going to enjoy getting to play for an audience, and then it doesn't happen." Kate sounded dismayed.
Grace kept her mouth closed tightly. She had benefited immensely from playing in orchestra when she was younger. Perhaps she would not have been a concert pianist if she had not had those opportunities. They had given her a taste of something sheloved and made her realize that it could be something that she could do with her life, although she knew that she would have a lot of work to put into it. Perhaps she wouldn't have worked as hard if she hadn't known that. And then she wouldn't have made it.
Guilt stirred in her heart. Those kids needed someone, and she had the ability to step in. Maybe she couldn't be hired as their teacher, but she could at least volunteer to help them get music together for a concert.
She noticed her aunt giving her a look, and she noticed the look being shared among the other women.