Page 26 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“Let me see.”Blair leaned in closer, a second whiff of Callum’s cologne doing nothing for her concentration.
But the sight of Victor Nelson as a high school senior caused her to erupt in her own giggles.Heavy, dark-blond hair combed over his forehead, Beatles-style.Thick black plastic glasses.And a smile not unlike Sheldon Cooper’s Joker-like grin inThe Big Bang Theory.“Wow.Just ...wow.”
“At least we know the man didn’t peak in high school,” Callum said.“That’s comforting.”
“Right?”Blair chuckled her agreement.“Never peak in high school.”
Their eyes met then, and their laughter died.Something hovered in the pasta-scented air between them.Something warm and wonderful, yet also alarming.Callum looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
Were they ...having a moment?
He broke eye contact first and handed the yearbook back.“Thank you, Blair.I needed that laugh.”
“You’re welcome.”She turned back toward her desk, gulping a bite of salad and turning another page in the yearbook.Iris should provide a needed distraction.
Except ...huh.This was Vic’sseniorpicture.In 1970.
Had he and Iris really graduated the same year?With both of them being involved in music and in the same hundred-member graduating class ...no way did he not know her.
So why would he claim otherwise?She turned another page in the yearbook and froze.
Because front and center on the marching band page, feathered band uniform hats pressed together, mugging for the camera, were Iris Wallingford and Victor Nelson.
“Callum?”
“Mmm?”He sounded distracted.Must’ve gone down the “Dies Irae” rabbit hole again.
“Didn’t you say Vic told you he didn’t know Iris?”
Callum glanced up from his iPad and met her gaze.“Yeah.Why?”
She held the yearbook out to him, and he took it from her.“Because I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.”
Callum stared at the picture, then looked back up at her, eyes wide.“Nope.Not accurate at all.”
The lunch bell rang then, and they both jumped.Was their break really over?How had time evaporated so quickly?
Callum handed the yearbook back, then shoved an unseemly amount of microwaved pasta into his mouth, picked up his iPad, and headed out to the choir room.She turned back to her desk, set the yearbook aside, and wolfed down the rest of lunch, her mind in overdrive.
Vic Nelson had always been above reproach in all he did.She’d never known him to lie about anything.So why would he tell them he hadn’t known Iris, when that yearbook photo seemed to prove otherwise?
Maybe the yearbook photographer had been roaming the sidelines and decided to snap a picture of the marching band.One of those random “Okay, folks, grab the person next to you and say cheese” sort of situations.
Or perhaps the years were catching up to Vic, poking a few holes in his legendary memory.
Blair grabbed the thick blue music binder off the corner of her desk as the final bell rang.
There had to be an innocent explanation.Had to be.
Any other possibility simply wouldn’t be worth entertaining.
“No, no, it’s not ‘haaaaal-le-lu-juh.’”Callum drawled an exaggerated short A sound on the first syllable and all but grunted the final syllable.“It’s hah-le-lu-JAH.”Opening his mouth wide and dropping his jaw practically to his sternum, he placed his hands on the sides of his face.“Drop your jaw.”
Normally his exaggerated accents and fish faces drew a chuckle or two from the kids—or at the very least a few halfhearted grins—but on this day, the Friday before Labor Day weekend?Crickets.In fact, the only sound permeating the dead-quiet choir room was a literal cricket chirp, though whether it came from an actual insect or just someone’s phone, he couldn’t be certain.
“Again,” he said.Blair gave the pitches, and he raised his right arm and cued the choir.Better, but only marginally.Still, this close to a long weekend, it was about as good as he could expect.
The bell rang as he cut them off, and Callum slumped onto his stool, relief coursing through him.A three-day weekend.Three whole days away from this place.The very idea sounded like heaven itself.His Netflix queue was stocked and ready to go, and the DoorDash gift card his mother had sent him was fully loaded.With any luck at all, maybe he’d even sleep.
