Having experienced a bitter divorce and a crisis of faith, the last thing on Shannon Matthewâs mind is love. A mother and full-time teacher, she keeps her life busy in hopes of protecting her heart from the possibility of disappointment and rejection. That is until one day when she finds a mysterious stranger reading to her daughter at church. Eric Michaels quickly captures her daughter's heart and slowly captivates hers as well.
A gifted singer with a magical ability to connect with children, Eric seems the perfect soulmate. It is only a matter of time, however, before his past demons come back to haunt him, threatening to sabotage the relationship. Still reeling from the wounds of her divorce, can Shannon trust God to guide her through these complicated emotions and decisions she must face?
What You Meant To Me is a story of finding our voice and following through with our convictions with those we love. A warm, vulnerable, tragic, and at times humorous tale, the novel takes the reader on a journey that ultimately helps us recognize and embrace the impact we all have on each otherâs lives.
Having experienced a bitter divorce and a crisis of faith, the last thing on Shannon Matthewâs mind is love. A mother and full-time teacher, she keeps her life busy in hopes of protecting her heart from the possibility of disappointment and rejection. That is until one day when she finds a mysterious stranger reading to her daughter at church. Eric Michaels quickly captures her daughter's heart and slowly captivates hers as well.
A gifted singer with a magical ability to connect with children, Eric seems the perfect soulmate. It is only a matter of time, however, before his past demons come back to haunt him, threatening to sabotage the relationship. Still reeling from the wounds of her divorce, can Shannon trust God to guide her through these complicated emotions and decisions she must face?
What You Meant To Me is a story of finding our voice and following through with our convictions with those we love. A warm, vulnerable, tragic, and at times humorous tale, the novel takes the reader on a journey that ultimately helps us recognize and embrace the impact we all have on each otherâs lives.
âDear Lord, we thank Thee for the beautiful city of Redding that we live in,â brother Nathaniel prayed as the congregation waited to eat. âWe ask that you bless the drug addicts, the homeless, the mentally ill. We ask that they come to know You, our Father, as their personal Lord and Savior. We pray for our president and the vice president as they navigate the serious issues that affect our nation and ourselves as a wholeâŚâ
I looked over at Gianna, and it took everything in us to keep from laughing. âAh great, there he goes again giving another sermon,â she whispered into my ear.
âFrankly, we can have flowery, lengthy conversations with God at any time,â I said, âbut God doesnât need to eat. Iâm starving.â Several members standing around us laughed.
The large, fluorescent lights brightly lit the gymnasium at First Community Baptist Church. It was Wednesday evening, and a long line formed of church members waiting to eat. Kids screamed and chased each other on the basketball court, their sounds echoing off the floor. The aroma of lasagna and casseroles wafted through the air.
âWhereâs Scott?â I asked.
âI havenât seen much of him this week. Heâs getting home sometimes around eight at night,â Gianna said, placing a slice of lasagna on her plate. âTheyâre just finishing up the quarter at his job, and heâs staying late doing reports and whatever else accountants do.â
âOh, thatâs right,â I said. âI remember you guys mentioning that during Sunday school.â I set my plate down, placing a piece of lasagna on it for my daughter. âWell, at least like me, weâre on summer break, and you have more time to watch Matthew.â
âMore time,â Gianna looked at me and laughed, her long, auburn hair brushing against her shoulder. âWith all the responsibilities at home, and a 10-year-old boy who seems to think his lifeâs purpose is to badger his mother, when do I have free time? Besides, we still have a lot of preparation to do for Vacation Bible School in less than two months.â
âAh, donât remind me,â I said with a half-smile.
The atmosphere in the room quieted as people sat down to eat. I could hear the clanking of dishes the volunteers washed in the kitchen. The air-conditioning kicked to life, giving a monotonous humming sound as it cooled the room from the hot, dry 115 degrees outside.
âWhereâs Emily?â I asked, scanning the room. âI swear, when kids start playing, they completely forget their appetite.â
âSheâs over there,â Gianna said, pointing to a corner of the gymnasium with stacked chairs that the kids used to hide from one another.
âEmily, get over here. Itâs time to eat,â I shouted across the room. My daughter kept playing with her friends, seemingly oblivious to my command.
âWhat is it with her? She hasnât been listening to me that much the last few months. I know her dad hasnât been around, but Iâm spending as much time as I can with her. We watch movies together, and we even have play dates. Even my kids at school are much easier to deal with, and theyâre fifth-graders.â
âItâs okay,â Gianna said, swallowing a bite of her salad. âItâs just a phase. Matthew does the same thing. Itâs just harder when youâre a single parent. If things get too difficult for me, I can just tell him to wait until his Dad gets home,â she said laughing. âHe never spanks him or anything, but it always seems to work as a last resort.â
Emily ran up to the table, her face flushed red with exhaustion. âYeah, mommy?â
âYeah, mommy?â I said, drawing out the last word. âDidnât you hear me five minutes ago?â I looked into her eyes, lightly placing my hand on her shoulder. âYou know, you havenât been listening to me lately, and that makes me sad.â
Emily looked at the ground as if thinking of what to say. âIâm sorry, I just was havinâ so much fun playing hide-and-go-seek, and Iâm not really hungry.â
âThatâs what you always say until we get home, and suddenly all you want to do is eat. Look, if you donât start listening to me, youâre going to have some quiet time and not be able to play with your friends. Is that what you want?â
âNo, mommy,â she said, remorse coloring her tone. âIâm sorry.â
I was just getting ready to give Emily a hug when my friend Linda approached. âWatch out,â she said, a few drops of lemonade from her cup spilling to the ground. âWord is Martha isnât happy with you. Sheâs wanting to talk to you and Gianna.â
âMe too?â Gianna said. âI swear, sheâs the only person on planet earth who still doesnât have a cell phone. Doesnât she realize weâre in the 21âst century? It would be so easy just to send a text.â
âWell, some people are just stuck in their ways,â Linda responded with a wink. âJust thought Iâd give you heads up.â
Gianna and I looked at each other, shaking our heads. âThanks, Linda,â I said. âI canât wait.â
I still hadnât touched my lasagna and was getting ready to eat when out of the corner of my eye I saw Martha Rogers approach.
Martha was a confident woman, to say the least. I had known her since my parents started attending this church. You were always reminded that she and her husband were at the top of their class at U of L in the school of engineering. With her husband starting his own lucrative business, she had the luxury of staying at home and raising her two sons, Michael and Sean, who also graduated from the same school with the same degree as their parents.
When her children moved out of home and she no longer had anyoneâs life to control other than her husbandâs, she compensated by becoming more active in the church, leading the kidâs ministry and Vacation Bible School.
Years earlier a young mother who had recently joined the church dared to challenge Marthaâs theology in one of her Sunday school lessons. Martha was so condescending and curt with the woman, that the lady left the church in tears and never returned.
âHello Gianna and Shannon,â Martha said, her glasses resting low on her nose as she peered above them at us. âMay I talk to the two of you in private for a moment?â
âSure,â I said, exchanging a knowing glance with my friend. âHey Emily,â I said, walking to my daughter. âGianna and I will be talking to Mrs. Rogers for a moment. I expect to see you reading when I come back and your plate to be empty. Do you understand?â
âYes, mommy,â she said, setting her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands.
We walked with Martha to an office down the hallway. She entered and turned on the lights, and Gianna and I sat down on the couch.
âI hear thereâs been some confusion about who will do the music for Vacation Bible School,â she said, her voice repressed as if holding back anger. âSome of the ladies mentioned the two of you are in favor of music tracks. I thought I had told everyone that I would be playing the piano.â She paced back and forth as if readying herself for a sermon. âI already picked out all the music and worked hard on learning the pieces.â She was silent, a look of astonishment on her face, as if not fully understanding how anyone could see the situation differently from herself.
Gianna broke the silence. âMartha, if you remember, our Music Director, Jeff, was originally going to play guitar, but you turned down that idea resolutely.â
Martha briefly closed her eyes, letting out an emphatic âhum.â
Ignoring her, Gianna continued, âThen some of the women suggested that we do music tracks that corresponded to the theme of gold mining in the old west. If you remember, everyone unanimously agreed to that suggestion.â
Martha took in a deep breath, slowly exhaling. You could practically hear Gianna and I rolling our eyes at each other.
âYes, I remember that quite well. But I have been in charge of the childrenâs department since you two were girls, and I know what Iâm doing.â Her face turned a light shade of pink as she spoke. âAnd I have led music for the last seven years.
âYou know,â she said, continuing to pace back and forth in the office, âfirst you turned down the theme of Pharaoh and the plagues, which has always been a hit, and now the music?â She looked on the verge of crying.
âMartha,â I said, keeping my voice an even-keel. âNobodyâs trying to challenge your authority. Youâve done an excellent job as a leader in the childrenâs ministry. But weâre just asking that you take into account other volunteersâ ideas and opinions. Weâre dealing with a new generation, and we need to change our music accordingly. We need to keep the kids and their parents excited so they come back to church after VBS. Churches around the US are dying, and we need to adapt.â
âAre you saying that Iâm out of touch with todayâs culture?â She crossed her arms, pressing her lips tightly together.
I took another deep breath. âOf course not,â I said, trying to calm the situation. âWeâve talked about this before. Itâs just good to get feedback from others so we reach out to as many kids as possible. Thatâs what this is all about, right? Encouraging kids and their families to come to the Lord?â
Martha looked at us silently as if in an internal battle with how to respond. âAlright,â she said, sighing. âIâll take what you say into consideration. I just donât like you going behind my back and challenging my authority, thatâs all.â Her voice choked.
âThatâs not our intention,â Gianna said, reaching out to touch Marthaâs arm.
We sat in silence a few moments before I said, âCan we maybe talk about this another time? I need to see how Emilyâs doing and then get ready for choir practice.â
As I exited the office, I noticed most families were leaving the gymnasium to head to their Bible study classes or choir practice. I was curious to see if Emily had obeyed me or if she was playing with her friends. What I was not expecting was to see a man I had never seen before sitting across the table reading a book to her!
Iâm not sure why I reacted this way, but I couldnât at first get anything out of my mouth. It reminded me of the time as a little girl when I walked into the kitchen to see the cabinets on fire. My sister had been cooking with grease but went to the bathroom to fix her hair before she finished preparing her breakfast. In shock, all I could do was whisper âburningâ as I rushed down the hall and banged on my motherâs door.
I stood transfixed at the sight of a stranger reading a story to my daughter. I still couldnât talk, just standing like a mute at the sight before me. I was just regaining my composure, wanting to ask why he felt he could just go up and read to Emily, when I noticed her begin to laugh.
I couldnât believe it. I tried for several years to get her interested in reading, even making up stories at bedtime, but she would never engage with me. She struggled and was always placed in the lower-reading group in her class. She had trouble pronouncing words, and the other kids would often make fun of her.
I had several speech therapists work with her, but nothing helped. Even with all my education and teaching experience, I felt powerless. Yet here was this man, whom my daughter had just met, actively getting her involved in the story.
âAnd the fat frog jumped out of the girlâs hands, landing on a lily pad in the pond,â he said, altering his voice to sound like an old man. âAnd when the girl tried to catch the frog, it swam deep into the water where the girl couldnât reach it.â
âHow sad,â he said, sticking his lips out and sucking in air through his nose as if crying.
âYouâre silly,â Emily said, reaching out to touch his arm.
In the same voice, he replied, âYes, I know. Iâm sooooooooooo silly.â
âNow why donât you read with me?â he said, turning the book around so she could see it.
As he pointed at the words, they read in unison, âAnd the little girl got down on her knees and stuck her hand in the water. Something tugged at her arm, and she fell into the pond. When her head went under the water, she was magically transported into the world of the frogsâŚâ
Emily suddenly stopped what she was doing when she looked up and saw me. âMommy, Iâm reading!â she said, unable to contain her excitement, jumping up and down.
âI see that honey. I see!â I said, looking at the stranger.
My face mustâve betrayed how I felt because the manâs demeanor suddenly changed. Clearing his throat, he stood up to face me, a light blush coloring his face.
âUh, Iâm â Iâm sorry. Uh,â he said, rubbing his hands against his unshaven face. âI just noticed your daughter trying to read and thought Iâd help.â
He continued to face me, alternately looking at me and then to the ground. He stood over six feet, with dirty-blond hair. He dressed like a painter with white jeans and a beat-up-looking shirt and paint caked on his fingers.
Finally gaining control of my senses, I asked, âExcuse me, who are you?â I was a bit taken aback by the intensity of my voice, but my motherly instincts to protect my daughter overrode any feelings of self-consciousness.
âMy nameâs Eric, uh, Eric Michaels. This is my second week at church. I went to Sunday school last week and was invited to come here tonight. Just wanted to get to know the church community a little better. Sorry,â he said, running his hand through his hair. âI didnât know your daughter and shouldnât have read to her. I should have waited...â
âWell, maybe you should have,â I interrupted, realizing my tone was still too harsh.
I felt my jaw clench, and I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice steady. âHey, Emily,â I said, holding her hand. âWhy donât you go play?â
âBut mommy, he was just tryinâ...â
âEmily,â I again said, agitation seeping through my stare.
Turning back toward the stranger, I said, âUm, Eric, is it? Sorry if we got off the wrong foot.â I cleared my throat, giving myself a moment to think. âThatâs really kind of you to read to my daughter, but I have this thing as a mom where I need to meet people who hang out with my kids, especially adults Iâve never seen before. Maybe just talk to me first next time?â I tried to sound casual, even pleasant, but I mustâve failed dismally.
His eyes met mine with the faintest lift of the eyebrows, an apologetic expression washing over his face. âOf courseâŚum thanks for letting me know.'' The words practically gushed from his mouth before he turned in silence and headed toward the hallway. I couldnât help but feel a tinge of guilt as I watched him walk out the room, not expecting our conversation to abruptly end that way.
Moments later as Emily and I headed toward the sanctuary, she said, âI donât know why you seemed so angry, mommy. He was just readinâ to me. Heâs so funny.â
âI know he was just reading to you, honey,â I said, slightly annoyed she wasn't able to let go of the topic. âLook, it was a bit upsetting when I saw a man Iâd never met spending time with you.â Seeing incomprehension covering her face, I added, âLook, when you have kids one day, youâll understand.â I always hated it when my parents said this to me as a child, but it was the only thing I could think to say. âAnd, I know itâs church and all, but Iâve told you many times that I donât like you talking to strangers.â
Moments later as we entered the sanctuary, I said, âI want you to come to choir practice with me tonight. You can work on your reading in the front pew while I rehearse, okay.â
âOkay,â was all she could say, her hand limply holding unto mine as we headed to the sanctuary.
***
âAlright, yâall,â Jeff called out in his southern accent. âI need everyoneâs attention. I want you guys to go to page six in your folder. Weâll be starting on the second verse of âGo Tell It on the Mountainâ at the line, When I was a seeker.â
Noticing the choir members continuing to talk amongst themselves, he said, âNow everyone, please pay attention.â The voices slowly died down. âWe only have a week and a half to get this song down and only one more rehearsal after tonight. We need to stay focused.â
Jeff Hickam was a nice-looking man in his late 20s with wavy, dark hair and glasses that lit his dazzling blue eyes. He was a favorite in the church, except for Martha Rogers, but that came as no surprise after he discreetly suggested she sing in the choir instead of playing the piano.
He had a talent for reimagining hymns the choir had grown up listening to in ways that were fresh and exciting. It was his sixth year as music director, and the choir grew in number under his tutelage.
I was just singing the words, I sought both night and day when I noticed the man who read to my daughter enter the sanctuary. He sat in the back, looking ahead as if it were Sunday service. Whatâs he doing here? Doesnât he realize itâs choir practice? I glanced at Emily, who sat looking at her book, oblivious to her surroundings.
I kept looking up to see what he was doing, and it surprised me to see he was following along with the choir. Apparently, he had heard the song before and had all the words memorized.
We were in the middle of the chorus when Jeff stopped us. In the momentary silence, the stranger kept singing: âGo tell it on the Mountain. Over the hills and everywhere...â Jeff looked back, wondering who was singing. It seemed the whole choir in unison stopped talking and looked at the guest. He had a beautiful baritone voice and was harmonizing with the song.
âOh hey, um, Eric, right?â Jeff called out.
âYeah,â Eric responded. âIâm sorry Iâm late. I just got off work and was one of the last people to eat.â As he spoke, he quickly glanced at me before looking back at the choir director.
âHey everyone,â Jeff said. âThis is Eric Michaels. Heâs new to church, and the Foresters told me heâd be interested in joining the choir.â
âAfter hearing him sing,â an older woman called out, âI think that was a good idea.â Members of the choir laughed.
âWell, come on up,â Jeff said. âHereâs a binder with the music. Why donât you sit here with the baritones.â
As Eric took his seat, I got Lindaâs attention. âHey, whoâs that man, and how does he know the Foresters?â
Linda quickly moved her eyes from side to side, processing my request. âI hear heâs new to church. This is only his second week, but he attended the Forestersâ Sunday school class and talked about his interest in singing. So Jean talked to Jeff who invited Eric to come tonight. Thatâs all I know.â
Everyone knew Jean and Frank Forester. They were an elderly couple in their late 70s who had attended the church for the last 50 years. They had recently started a class for people in their age bracket who were retired. Most didnât have family in the area, and it was an opportunity for many of them to connect with others. I thought it odd that Eric would attend their class.
âHey, Eric,â Jeff said. âYou have a pretty good voice. Iâm impressed.â
âThanks.â Ericâs face colored.
âWell, I know we just met, but Shannon has a solo in this song, and I was wondering if you might harmonize with her? What do you think, Shannon?â he said, looking at me.
Shannon is a loving mum to Emily and a committed Christian who has attended her church for many years. Sadly, her husband Ryan was unfaithful and is now starting a new life with his secretary who is pregnant. Her first encounter with Eric is when she finds him reading with Emily at church. At first, I thought Shannon's negative reaction was unmerited, however, it's a sad truth that not everyone in today's society can be trusted to interact with children. When Eric proves himself to be a willing help to elderly couple, Frank and Jean and a great addition to the choir, Shannon gets to know him better.
Unfortunately, a series of events make things difficult. When Eric appears at church smelling of drink, Shannon suspects there is another side to him. When she has an altercation with Ryan, Eric quickly comes to her defence, yet it is he who is blamed. The scene at the adult Sunday School was particularly well written with reference to relevant Bible verses. Eric quite rightly talked about our need to repent, but the reaction of the other church members made me uncomfortable. Clearly Seth was jealous of his relationship with Shannon and he cites how drinking problems also require repentance. I was surprised by Gianna's reaction. She should have supported her friend.
This book really resonated with me. People often assume that the life of a Christian is perfect and that in a church everyone loves each other and there is no conflict. However, in reality, we are all humans with flaws and I'm glad that the author highlights this. From the minor squabble about whether piano or guitar is most appropriate in the church to the more pressing issue of whether Eric should be allowed to continue to participate in the life of the church. Pastor Withers decision was unsettling. In Shannon's position, I would no longer have felt comfortable worshipping there.
As a single Christian female, I can only wish there were as many potential suitors in my church. Shannon has Seth, Eric and Mark. I was rooting for Eric throughout. Everyone deserves a second chance. He treated both Shannon and Emily well and put so much effort and thought into the surprise scavenger hunt. I really felt for him after Frank's death and when Shannon wrote the letter. What a tragic ending. I wanted Shannon and Eric to have the happy ever after ending they deserved.
The author's narrative flows easily and I was engaged enough to read in one sitting. The characters were well portrayed with just the right amount of backstory to help us get to know them. I felt completely invested in their journey and felt emotional when things turned out badly.
I look forward to reading more by this author in the future.