Book three in the Elect Trilogy
 The buzz about A Sounding Brass "Bates (Pocketful of Pearls) sets this inspirational chick lit mystery in a small Washington town, in the middle of a sort of Christian cult. Amid myriad other strictures, the Elect only wear black and believe that only people who follow their very narrow Way will be saved. Claire Montoya grew up in the Elect, but her staid and quiet world is beginning to change, since the Shepherd (or pastor) of her church is on trial for rape. Luke Fisher, a new, dynamic (and conveniently young and single) evangelist steps in, modernizing things and raising lots of money. When Claire goes to work for Luke at a radio station, it seems things couldn't be better. But police investigator Ray Harper throws confusion into every area of Claire's life. Why is she so attracted to Ray, when he's clearly not saved or Elect? Why does he suspect someone in Hamilton Falls of committing fraud? And most importantly, why does he seem to better understand the ways of God, when Claire's been studying them all her life? Bates keeps this light story moving. The plot is somewhat predictable but enjoyable, and if there's a (compulsory) conversion, readers will appreciate that things are a little topsy-turvy, with spiritual insights coming from unexpected places." (June 14)
"Writing with compassion and gripping honesty, Shelley Bates is truly an advocate for those innocents who become victims. Keep writing, Shelley. We need your voice." "Shelley Bates has the rare ability to create characters that live and breathe and weave their way into our souls. Her poignant stories make me grapple with my own fears, my own doubts…my own healing. Most of all, they give me hope. She’s quickly becoming one of my favorites!" "Shelley Bates's A Sounding Brass grabbed me on page one. I loved her heroine, honest and clear-thinking, and her hero, a man who wouldn't let go till he nabbed the con man he'd been tracing for years. Most of all, I loved the way God allowed the Elect to implode but in the end loved them back into a relationship to Him. I couldn't put A Sounding Brass down. Great read for a rainy day--or any day."
Excerpt "Just as I am, without one plea."
Willie Nelson's voice filled the car and Claire Montoya gawked at the radio as if it had suddenly started speaking in tongues. The man in the farm truck ahead of her slammed on his brakes for one of the three traffic lights in Hamilton Falls, and Claire whipped her attention back to the road before she ran into him. Just As I Am? What on earth was Willie Nelson, a worldly entertainer, doing singing one of the hymns of the Elect of God? Had he run across one of their privately printed hymnbooks? Or was it bigger than that? Ever since KGHM had come under new management, its programming had changed from farm reports that nobody listened to to gospel music, call-in shows, bluegrass, and Christian pop. Everybody in the Elect--well, the young people, anyway, listened to KGHM even though technically listening to the radio was a sin. It filled the mind with worldly noise in which the still small voice of God was drowned out, or so said the Shepherds, the itinerant pastors who gave up all to minister to their souls and were the final authority on all things natural and spiritual. But how could Just As I Am fill the mind with noise when they had sung it just last week in Mission? At least Willie Nelson was easier on the ears than Alma Woods, who on a good day sounded like a raven with its tail caught in a gate. During that hymn last week, a woman had stood to her feet indicating her willingness to serve God with the Elect. Claire wasn't sure how valid the woman's profession of faith was, though. At the moment they had no Shepherds to oversee the flock, and a person couldn't enter the fold and win salvation without one. She turned into the parking lot of the mission hall and parked her little car, feeling very visible and solitary as she crossed the lot alone, went into the hall alone, and chose a seat halfway up on the right side, where the young people tended to sit together. Their numbers were dropping, though. A year ago she and Julia McNeill, her best friend, would have come in together after having spent the day together or with the gang. But Julia had gone and married outside. Since she hadn't actually been Silenced, people could still speak to and about her, but they tended not to. What point was there? Her soul was lost for all eternity, and besides, she and her husband lived in Seattle. Claire could have sat with Dinah Traynell, if she still lived in Hamilton Falls. But Elsie had sold the home place where people had been going to Gathering for a hundred years or more, and had bought a cozy rancher in Spokane. At the same time, Dinah had left town and gone to California. It hadn't taken long for the reason the whole Traynell family had moved away to leak out. That reason was currently spewing fire and brimstone in the county lockup at Pitchford while he waited for his trial, which was scheduled to begin tomorrow. Claire sighed and stared sightlessly at the open Bible in her lap while she waited for the service to begin. Dinah would be back to testify, but it wasn't likely she'd get much of a welcome. She'd gone Out, too, and was engaged to be married to her former hired man. They were going to Cornwall for their honeymoon. Claire had never been further from home than Seattle. Cornwall seemed like a magical place, full of Celtic ruins and brilliant light and flowers--at least, according to Matthew Nicholas, Dinah's intended, who had spent fifteen minutes on the phone the other night long-distance from California rhapsodizing about all the childhood haunts he was going to show his bride. By the time Dinah got there, she was going to need a good dose of light and flowers. Claire didn't see how Dinah was going to get through the next few weeks. Or how she herself was going to manage it, either. She hadn't been deposed yet, but there was no guarantee she wouldn't be called upon, or so said Investigator Raymond Harper of the Organized Crime Task Force. He was camped out in Hamilton Falls for the duration of the trial. As far as Claire was concerned, the less she saw of him, the better. Owen Blanchard left his seat and made his way to the microphone at the front of the auditorium. He was Elder of the church that met in his home--or had done. After the Traynells' departure, Sunday Gathering had been moved down here to the Hall because everyone wouldn't fit in his rec room. Gathering could only be held in the homes of one of the favored families, which was problematic now since there was only one, and Owen couldn't be expected to shoulder the burden indefinitely. He had two children and the principalship of the local high school to think about. Face it, Claire thought, the Elect are in total disarray. Julia started it, Dinah finished it, and now we have to pick up the pieces. She hoped Owen had come up with some kind of solution. These stop-gap Gatherings couldn't go on forever. Owen announced a hymn, and after they had sung it in tolerable four-part harmony, he led them in prayer. Claire expected that testimony time would happen next, when all the men took turns speaking on a verse or confessing struggles or saying what their wives told them to. But Owen stayed at the microphone until everyone stopped wiggling in their seats and whispering. "You all know what's going to happen tomorrow," he said. The overhead lighting glinted on his hair, which had been a vibrant reddish gold until recently, but was now a sandy gray. "Phinehas's--I mean, Mr. Leslie's jury has been chosen and his trial is going to start. It's up to you folks whether you go or not. Some of us have been deposed to testify." He sighed, and went on, "Folks, we have to come to some kind of decision, here." Mark McNeill, Julia's father, whom Claire had hardly ever seen speak outside of his duties as former Elder, stood up. "I heard from Spokane this morning. Melchizedek is still at the Grotons' place. He had a nervous breakdown and is completely unfit to lead the flock. The family is on suicide watch." Melchizedek, the younger Shepherd over the congregation in Hamilton Falls, had practically worshipped the ground Phinehas walked on. At the news that Phinehas had been sexually abusing all the females in the Traynell family for thirty years, he had cracked and gone to his sister's place in Spokane. The other Shepherds, scattered throughout the State of Washington, were in as bad a state as the people in Hamilton Falls. Some believed the accusations, some did not. Some tried to carry on in their faith, some had gone Out and had not been heard from again. "Why is God punishing us?" Derrick Wilkinson, sitting on Claire's right, wanted to know. "Have our sins been so bad?" God isn't punishing us, Claire thought. He's punishing Phinehas, thank you very much. And just because you don't get to marry into a favored family and become Elder, let's not take this personally. "There is a solution," Owen said. "I'm putting it to you all tonight in hopes that we can take heart and move on in strength, particularly in view of the days ahead." "What's that?" Derrick asked, speaking for all of them. Probably for the first and last time. "I'd like to introduce a guest speaker." Owen waited for the murmuring to die down. Claire glanced at Rebecca Quinn, her landlady, on her left. Other than the Shepherds, who were anointed of God to speak, and the Elder, whose job it was to administer the flock in the Shepherds' periodic absences, guest speakers were unheard of. Who else could speak the word of God but the anointed ones? "Maybe the Shepherd from Richmond has come to help us," Rebecca whispered. "He's gone," Claire whispered back. "My folks got the word this morning. Left without a trace. They think he joined the army." Claire would have said more, but a man got up from the front row and bounded up to the microphone as if he owned the very earth he stepped on. Wow. Claire blinked and forgot the rest of what she had been going to say. He was tall and had the kind of presence that natural leaders possessed. His shoulders were broad and strong, in contrast to a trim waist and athletic grace. Chestnut hair glinted under the lights, and when he turned to face them, she saw his eyes were brown and long-lashed. He smiled, and a long dimple cut into his cheek. Claire heard a rustle as all the single women in the crowd sat up and took notice, including a few of the widows. "Now, that's a fine-looking man," Rebecca murmured. "If he's a new Shepherd, it won't matter," Claire said. The Shepherds were homeless and celibate, the better to go where the gospel led them. Free of natural ties, their lives were consecrated to God's will. "I'd like to present Mr. Luke Fisher," Owen said, "evangelist from our very own KGHM radio, right here in Hamilton Falls. What? People turned in their seats to stare at one another, and gaped at Owen as if they couldn't believe their ears. A worldly evangelist? To speak to them? Someone who wasn't even Elect? "Is he completely mad?" Rebecca said aloud, forgetting to whisper. No one heard her. Everyone was busy talking, speculating, wondering the same thing. "Please, folks, listen to me." Owen's voice rose above the noise, and out of habit, the congregation quieted enough that he could be heard. "We've all been praying without ceasing that God would save us in our hour of need. And I believe the reason He hasn't is because we've strayed away from him. We've put our trust in our leadership--in man, in human frailty--and the result has been disaster. We've looked inward to ourselves instead of looking outward at what God is doing in the world." People murmured, and Claire nibbled her lower lip, wondering where on earth this was going. "It's been revealed to me that perhaps God speaks to people outside the Elect, that maybe we might have something to learn from Mr. Fisher, who has led congregations two and three times this size and who, I'm convinced, has his heart right with God." Owen looked around at them all. "I'm not saying he's a Shepherd. I've only invited him to be a guest speaker. Our fundamental beliefs remain the same--but I think it would do the people of God good to embrace Him in others as well as ourselves." "That's going to be a little strange, since we've been asking people to embrace our ways for generations," Rebecca commented behind her hand. "Maybe our ways can be improved on," Claire said a little hesitantly. "I think Dinah might agree." That was the crux of the matter right there. The Elect put their leaders on a pedestal, to the point where perhaps they blocked the light that came from God. Some, such as the McNeills, catered to their every whim, bringing out the best china, the best food, making even a bowl of cereal or a cup of coffee an event. Others, like her parents, treated the Shepherds like visiting relatives whenever they came to stay. But a sacrifice, whether tied to the altar with scarlet cords or not, was still a sacrifice, and who was to say that God appreciated it more or less? "Folks," Owen said, "let's listen to Mr. Fisher's message and then do what Paul exhorted us to do--try the spirit and see if it's of God." He yielded the microphone to Luke Fisher and returned to his seat. Every eye in the auditorium was riveted to the front. Claire drew in a breath as Luke Fisher spoke. That melodious voice that had sounded in her car, announcing songs, exhorting people to come to God, talking with people who called in, filled their humble auditorium with his particular brand of music. "Those of you who listen to the radio," he said, "may have heard a number of your hymns being played and wondered how it could be that worldly artists could sing the music and words that mean so much to you." He paused, and all the young people in Claire's row looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Obviously they'd thought the very thing she had. Maybe some of them had even had the radio on on the way to Mission and had heard Just As I Am. "Well, here's the thing." He paused, then said, "I grew up in the Elect." An audible gasp swept through the room. "I did, and I lived a life of sin and suffering, brought on by my own headstrong will. But God had a plan for me, and you know what that was?" Claire found herself shaking her head, as though he had spoken directly to her. She wished he would. She wished those eyes would seek her out in the midst of this crowd and see that there was a mature, reasonably attractive woman who was currently single and very much available, right here in the seventh row. "God's plan was for me to preach the gospel, but not as a Shepherd. No, His plan for my life reaches further than that. Radio isn't a sin, my friends. It's a way of reaching the heart of the sick, the shut in, those who aren't as fortunate as we are in this hall tonight. It's a way of bringing cheer to your soul as you drive to the supermarket, of focusing your mind on Christ while you work in the office. It's a way to reach the soul on the other side of the cube divider who doesn't know which way to turn in a life that looks like a maze." The crowd was utterly silent. "God gives us all our talents, my friends. And what have we been doing with them? Have we been burying them in the back yard of our own little group? Or have we been lending them out to others, and participating in the body of Christ?" "Back yard," Claire heard someone say. "Nonsense," snapped Elizabeth McNeill, Julia's mother, and then blushed scarlet at having actually spoken aloud in a Gathering, where it was forbidden for women to raise their voices except in song. Luke Fisher smiled at Elizabeth, and Claire lost her ability to breathe. If only someone would smile at me that way. The "story behind the story" Coming soon!
From the book A Sounding Brass by Shelley Bates, Warner Faith, publication date August 2006, copyright by Shelley Bates. R and TM are trademarks of the publisher. For more information, surf to Warner Faith. |
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