I remember the day I first heard her voice.
It was my first delivery. The church had ordered 2 dozen loaves of bread. I just moved in from the country side. I spent my life working on my father's farm during day and doing chores for the neighbors during night.
When I finally saved enough, I drove to the city in pursuit of my dream. To own my own bakery.
I was apprenticing under Madame Baker, she was unwed and close to 45, but she didnt look a day past 30. At least thats what we say to make her smile. I swear the compliments surely add to the flavor.
I entered the congregation through the back door, and dropped the loaves off with the priest.
He thanked me and started a conversation. "Thank you young man, no communion is complete without the Madame's bagets".
I smiled at him, "her skills are truly marvelous".
The priest put his arm on my shoulder, "You look like a believer, come come stay for the service. Im sure the Madame will understand".
I laughed awkwardly, "I fully believe in the word, but if I dont make it back soon the Madame will have me doing all the nightly chores alone".
He pushed my back to the bleachers, "just one hym won't hurt".
Just as he pushed me to the first row, the chior stood. In the group was a nun, her beauty indescribable. Her cheeks slightly flushed, just prominent enough to make her cheekbones highlight her round eyes, her nose was as cute and shaped like a button, her chin small and rounded. As were her ears.
I was mesmerized by her green eyes. I studied every detail I could.
Suddenly to break my stare, she began to sing the hym.
Her voice was softer than silk. Shaped more beautifully than a rose. Knowing this voice, I now know what it means to please the lord.
When she finished her hyms, she sat the row opposite me. Despite the service around me, my eyes never left her side.
It wasn't until the man next tp me passed me a small piece of the bread I delivered that I remembered madame baker. I waited for communion to finish, then rushed back to the bakery.
She scolded me and I had no excuse. I spent the night scrubbing every inch of the ovens.
When I finished, I stumbled across the sidewalks to a nearby bar. I stared helplessly at my mug, then I heard her again.
The same voice, but in the spot I expected to see the nun, a beautiful woman with flowing black hair, wearing black ripped jeans, and a heavy metal band tee, with spiked bracelets.
Despite the opposite appearance, I recognized those green eyes and that beautiful voice.
The song she sang was emotional and beautiful but very far from a hym.
I clapped and cheered when she finished.
And when she walked off stage, I stared awkwardly while turning beet red.
She stared confused with a smile, but it fell as I turned red.
Her voice shaked "Please dont tell the pastor".