Reynolds was now attending St. Andrews Choir School where he not only went to school, but boarded there as well. It was nice not having him around pestering her all the time thought Ali. On Sundays Reynolds sang in the choir at St. Andrew’s Church. Ali and her mother would walk to the church on 5th Avenue and sit right near the front where they could see Reynolds. Ali had rarely ever gone to church, and certainly not one as grand as St. Andrews.
The entry to the church had many stone steps in the front. As soon as you entered the church everything seemed quiet and cool and serene. Someone would give Ali’s mother a program for the service and they would then walk down an aisle that had hundreds of wooden benches with little hymn and prayer books tucked away behind each bench. The ceilings were exceedingly high. The windows were beautiful and had different pictures made of colored glass with images of people and animals from the Bible. Many massive columns of stone rose from the marble floor to the ceiling of the church. The focal point of St. Andrews was above the altar, near where the choir sat. The whole front wall had carved ivory statues rising all the way to the ceiling. Jesus was right in the middle. During the Sunday services, large candles on the stage would be lighted by the choirboys, and later extinguished when the service was over.
“Ali, stand up. They’re coming down the center aisle,” whispered her mother. The organ music began and men in robes who were singing walked slowly down the center of the church and took their places in various seats on the stage. Behind the men were the boys who sang in the choir. They all wore robes of black and white and carried books in their hands as they walked by each of the benches on the way to their seats near the altar.
“There’s Reynolds,” Ali whispered to her mother.
“I see, honey, sssshhhh now,” replied her mother. Before she saw Reynolds singing in the choir, Ali had no idea he could sing. He and the other boys sang like angels with high voices compared to the men in the choir who had deeper voices like Ali’s father.
Other than the singing, Ali wasn’t very interested in all the talking that the adults would do. But every time they were asked to take out their hymn books and sing, that was fun. The organ would play and everyone would stand up and sing for a couple of minutes. Then everyone would sit down and some man would start to talk again.
“Ali, sit still and stopping swinging your legs,” said her mother more than once to her. Ali would just lean against her mother and wait for everyone to finish so they could take a Sunday walk up 5th Avenue and into the park.