The Clarkl Soup Kitchens by Mary Carmen Page B

will applaud after something they like. We never hear this in a Texas Protestant church, but things are different in Clarkl. The Myllar was applauded politely, but the Saint-Saëns number was so well received that we repeated it immediately. This was a first for me. The Reverend Walters sat at the altar, beaming, while we presented it a second time.
    The staff came in their best clothes, half to each service. They carefully sat in the back so the Clarklians could have the best seats, but it didn’t much matter. The sanctuary was quite empty. After the service, many of the kitchen workers sought me out and told me how much they had enjoyed the music. That was reward enough for me for the weeks of rehearsals.
    The story of the resurrection is always stirring, and the Reverend Walters put more emotion into this sermon than any other I have heard. Of course, our faith is based on this event and its message of eternal life, but it is good to hear it each year.
    Those green robes even brought a compliment or two, despite my aversion to them.
    At the end of the day, I fell into my comfortable bed and slept soundly.
    April 7, 2144 – We had an easy day today, with two brief services with recorded choir music. I played both services at the piano, which is so much easier than the multi-manual, multi-pedal organ, and I felt as if I had had almost a vacation day.
    Another call from my friend the farmhand. We decided to go on a drive after the early service tomorrow.
    April 8, 2144 – A fine day today, with no rehearsals and a nice drive along the road to Gilsumo.
    As I suspected, my farmhand friend wants to earn more money. I spelled out for him exactly what he could do to earn $140, and he said he would think about it. A half hour later the deal was made, and I feel as good as I have felt since I left Texas . We agreed to meet about once a week, under the same conditions.
    The dining room manager received a beautiful letter from a Monarch. We had to call the American embassy in Gilsumo to have it translated. The letter expressed thanks for the meals on the prior Friday. No flowery language, no comments about the apple pie they cleaned us out of, and no thanks for the church service or its music.
    My mother is a good writer of letters. She has at least four letters on each spacecraft that lands, and each one discusses the plans that are moving forward for my admirer’s wedding. A dress has been selected, and this dress is the most beautiful garment anyone has ever seen. A florist has been engaged from Houston , and the estimate for his services has people near apoplexy. The local bakery is designing a cake for six hundred guests, the size of which has heretofore been unknown in my hometown.
    Who is paying for all this? I have a good idea.
    My brother has announced a dividend on the family’s stock, and my net worth has increased by about seven percent in the months I have been away. He has a better touch with running the factories profitably than even our father had.
    My sister is pregnant, again. This will be her fourth child, and my mother is all atwitter about the preparations for the birth, an event that is about four months away. One nurse has already been engaged to look after my sister, a woman who should know better than to conceive a child in her mid-forties.
    April 9, 2144 – We are back to daily rehearsals, after an easy few days.
    The experience during Holy Week has not been lost on us. We took notes of which numbers the Clarklians especially liked, and we are trying to find similar tunes and, especially, arrangements.
    We have decided to do a week of American Spirituals, starting in the next few days. We will record these and attempt to have about a dozen spirituals to send to the Deacon in Arizona within two weeks. Our prior submissions were distributed to the faithful, and some people are asking for more.
    Of course, the music is not the finest. The interest is only that it was recorded on Clarkl, the location of our