Page 28 of In Her Prayers

Guiding the lost, the brave, the meek.”

Jenna and her companions stood in the back of the Parish Hall, listening as the melody that had haunted her dreams filled the air.As the last verse faded into a delicate silence, Jenna turned her focus to David Cavanaugh.She had often found him a peculiar sort of fellow, though not in any threatening way.Right now, she thought he seemed to be playing not for an audience, but for something unseen, a presence only he could sense.

The nun and the organist repeated the hymn, then ended it.Sister Agnes, standing close to David Cavanaugh as he lifted his hands from the piano keys, let out a sigh that seemed laden with years of memories.

“Oh, how long it’s been since that hymn graced these walls!”she murmured.“What made you think to play it just now?”

David turned toward the elderly nun, his expression distant, as if he were recalling a memory.

“I’m not sure,” he said, his voice barely rising above the hush that had befallen the hall.“It’s as if it came to me like a whisper from the past.”

Jenna stepped forward.

“That’s a beautiful hymn,” she commented.“Where did it come from?”

For a moment, it appeared as though David might not answer.Then, with a slight nod as though acknowledging the hymn’s significance, he looked directly at Jenna.

“My father, George Cavanaugh, composed it many years ago,” he revealed, his voice holding a pride that seemed almost reluctant.

“George Cavanaugh was our organist back in his day,” Sister Agnes told them.“But he was also much more than that.He was a master engineer and inventor—the artist who crafted our carillon.Installed it himself in 1935.”

A spark of interest ignited within Jenna.She noted the date silently, mentally cataloging it alongside the timeline of their investigation.If the carillon played any part in the enigma within this church’s bones, George Cavanaugh had just become a significant figure.

“Was he from around here?”Jenna asked.

“Born and raised,” Sister Agnes replied, her smile one of remembrance.“And he gave so much of himself to this church...to his music.And he was a wonderful teacher, too—piano and voice.I was fortunate enough to be one of his students.He was patient, kind.His love for music was infectious.”

But as the words left her lips, they were chased by a cloud that crossed her face, dimming the warmth in her eyes.

“Yet, in his final years,” Sister Agnes said, the lightness fading from her tone, “he changed completely.It was after the carillon was automated, and then...after Rachel...”

David Cavanaugh stiffed at the mention of the name Rachel.He stood up abruptly, the bench screeching on the wooden floor, breaking the spell.

“I...I have things to do at home,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper but laced with an urgency that belied his calm demeanor.

Jenna watched him closely, noting the slight tremor in his hands as he gathered sheets of music, stuffing them into a leather-bound folder.

“David, I’m sorry,” Sister Agnes said.“I shouldn’t have mentioned her.”

“Think nothing of it, Sister Agnes,” David said in a tight voice.

He didn’t say another word as he hurried past them, his footsteps quick and deliberate, leaving behind a bewilderment that settled heavily upon the room.

Jake and Frank exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring Jenna’s own confusion.

Sister Agnes watched after David’s retreating figure, her face etched with concern.“Oh, dear,” she said, her voice tinged with regret.“I shouldn’t have mentioned Rachel.Poor David.”

Frank nodded sadly.“Rachel was David’s sister, wasn’t she?”

“That’s right.”

The nun’s eyes were distant, and Jenna sensed the layers of history that clung to St.Michael’s.

“Sister, please tell us everything you can,” Jenna replied, her tone gentle yet firm.“About both George Cavanaugh and Rachel.It might help us solve these murders.”

Sister Agnes nodded, the lines around her eyes deepening with the weight of years.She settled into a nearby chair and began to explain what had befallen the organist who had designed the carillon.

“George Cavanaugh was a remarkable man,” she began, her voice soft but clear.“But two tragedies haunted him late in life.Back in 1950, Kip Selves from the electronics shop took it upon himself to update our church carillon with an automated system.”Her slender hands lifted slightly, as if to hold back the years.“George was heartbroken.”

---