Page 14 of Echoes of a Silent Song
I turned away, my face on fire.I had to focus on something else before I flipped out.
Like the hardwood floor between my shoes.That would do.
Hmm.Those lines on the floor looked almost like a staff.
G would go on that second line.And then a B on the line above it.D on the line above that.A G-major chord.A piano in my head sounded the chord, just as real as if the big black grand at the center of the room were playing it.Then a choir took over, and the sopranos took the top note from a D to an A.The lovely dissonance and soaring melody calmed me.
And frustrated me.Where was my staff paper?I needed to write this down before I forgot.
No staff paper, but I found some notebook paper.I scribbled a swirl of a treble clef.Wrote down what I heard.It was messy, but it worked.
The pressure in my heart released a little, like the steam from a pressure cooker, after I finished the phrase.With a sigh, I put the paper aside and focused on Mr.Gilbert.Not the music.Not Victor.Just the class I signed up to take.
The bell rang all too soon, and I clenched my jaw against the sound and gathered my books.When I looked up, there was Victor, smiling at me again.
“Y’know, Iris,” he said, hazel eyes twinkling, “I really wish they’d tune that bell.”
Chapter Six
SHE’S DEAD?”Callum’s gaze was fierce, his brow furrowed.“Are you sure?”
Blair turned back toward the piano, the musty scent of the long-forgotten music mingling with her cinnamon-roll candle.“That’s what I heard.”
“That’s an unspeakable tragedy.”Callum picked up the last of the torn-out sheets of music, the sleeve of his crisp cotton dress shirt brushing her upper arm.“Talent like this.Silenced.”
“Yeah.She’d have been in her seventies now.”Blair slid from the bench in the direction opposite Callum.
“And an absolute institution.Probably one of the top choral composers in the world.”
Blair peered over his shoulder.“The voice parts are incredible, I’ll give you that.The piano part is a little clunky, though.”
Callum waved a hand.“That would’ve been easily addressed with the proper training.But the sheer talent?”He held up the fragile pages.“I’ve only seen this kind of thing a handful of times.”
His intensity was infectious, and his curiosity drove her to pull her phone from her pocket.“Let me see what I can find out.”She opened her browser and typed in a few search terms, then combed through the handful of articles that popped up.“Oh.Here’s a news article.”Her pulse quickened.“It’s from March 1970.”
“What’s it say?”
Blair spread her thumb and index to enlarge the microscopic newspaper article.“The Peterson community was shocked and saddenedyesterday when seventeen-year-old Iris Wallingford was found dead in her bed.Miss Wallingford was a senior at Peterson High School, involved in choir, glee club, and band, and was the daughter of prominent local businessman Reginald Wallingford III and his wife, Genevieve.”
“A senior in 1970?”Callum’s voice drew her gaze.“Wasn’t that around the time Vic graduated?Maybe he knew her.”
“If she was involved in all that, doubtless he did.”
Callum was already reaching for his phone.“I’ll ask.Does the article say anything else?”
Blair turned her attention back to the tiny screen.“A cause of death has not been released, but no foul play is suspected.”
“No foul play.”Callum leaned in closer to her phone, wafting a not-unpleasant cologne into the air.The flickering candlelight cast a shadow beneath the hollow of his cheekbone.“They think it was suicide.”
Something in his voice drew her gaze.Did he know something about suicide?
She clicked on another article from the same newspaper a few days later.“Unfortunately, yes.They ruled her death a suicide.”
“Did she give any clues?”Callum’s eyes blazed.“What about her friends?Her family?Did someone in her life miss something critical?”
His desperation gave her pause.“Suicide isn’t anyone’s fault, Callum.”
“Yes.You’re right.”He dragged a hand through his hair.“Of course.I just ...I wonder why she felt she had no other choice.”
