Page 9 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“And I think perhaps I’ve overestimated the choir’s capabilities at this point in the semester.”
“I ...don’t disagree with you.”
“Well, that’s a first.”And then Callum smiled.The curve of his lips carved a slight indent in his cheek.His eyes crinkled at the corners.And her heart gave a curious thump.It wasn’t attraction.Goodness, no.But if she had to spend the rest of the school year watching someone ...there were certainly less pleasant someones she could be watching.
“Not to push this tenuous truce too hard,” he began, his hand on the doorknob of the office.“But might you be available for a bit after school today?I could really use your help.”
Blair tilted her head.“With ...”
“Repertoire selection,” he replied.“I’d really like to get going on music, for Madrigals in particular, but I haven’t had a chance to explore the choral library, so I’m not sure what’s in there and what I might need to order.I want to find something challenging but achievable, and high-quality compositions are an absolute must.Frankly, I’d like to select music for all the choirs.Four per choir to begin, with a goal of learning at least that number, if not more, for the October concert.Does that sound reasonable?”
Reasonable?It sounded like perfection.Not that she’d give Callum Knight the satisfaction of knowing she thought that.Not yet.Not when the idea of not hating him was so new.“Yes.Very reasonable.”
His eyes lit.“Wonderful.Then perhaps the rest of the day we go over the handbook?”
“That sounds like a good idea to me.”
“And I’ll make sure to remember to point out the deadline this time around.”He cracked the door and tossed another grin over his shoulder, and her heart did that same funny thing it had before.
She had to get that under control.
If she didn’t, Joy would never let her hear the end of it.
Chapter Four
CALLUM WOULDsay one thing for Peterson High School: Their choral library was extensive.Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls of a small, musty-smelling room off the main choir office.Rows of boxes filled the shelves, each box carefully labeled with the title of the composition it contained, alongside a number corresponding to the library’s equally extensive and equally well-organized online database.He chuckled at the unfathomable neatness of the handwriting on each label.Blair’s, no doubt.
For the last twenty minutes, both tantalized and overwhelmed by the possibilities, he’d combed through the database and jotted down a few ideas for each choir.Now he was pulling boxes off the shelf.Ah.Mozart’s “Regina coeli.”That might be a possibility.He grabbed it from the shelf and plopped it onto a table in the corner.The resulting cloud of dust made him sneeze.
What next?Ah yes.Kinley Lange’s gorgeous “Esto Les Digo.”With senior bass Willie Vance’s luscious low C, not performing this one would be positively criminal.It was perched two shelves over amid a couple of boxes’ worth of Vic Nelson’s work.Callum’s pulse quickened at the sight of “Death Be Not Proud,” perhaps his favorite Nelson composition.A beastly piano part, but Blair seemed to have the chops for it.Probably too easy for Madrigals, though.Could Mixed Chorus handle it?He’d give that some thought.
Wait ...was that ...
It was.“The Road Not Taken.”One of his own, and earliest, compositions.
He pulled the box from the shelf with a wave of nostalgia.Inspired by the famous text by Robert Frost, Callum had written the piece in a feverish spurt of midnight creativity four days after arriving in Boston, a reflective homage to both his new home in New England and the leap of faith he’d just taken.At the time he’d thought the work genius, and the sales numbers had pleased his publisher, but in later years he’d realized just how basic and beginner it was.As recently as two years ago, he’d been embarrassed by its pedestrian chord structure and predictable melody.
Helpless bitterness clawed his chest and clenched his jaw.Now, writing even a high-school-level song like this—the creativity required to summon even the most basic of harmonies, the most boring of melodies—seemed a pipe dream.Dear God, what I wouldn’t give for another feverish late-night composing session.Whatever price the Almighty required, Callum would pay double.Anything to get his mojo back.Anything for inspiration, anything for—
A light clicked on behind him, streaming soft warmth across the carpet at his feet.Quickly, he shoved “The Road Not Taken” back onto the shelf, then grabbed the other titles he’d pulled and strode back into the office, where Blair stood at her desk.Lighting a candle.
“Isn’t that against fire code?”The question came out far more of a snarl than he intended.
She regarded him briefly, then stuck the lighter in the drawer.“No one’s ever complained.”And you’d better not either.She didn’t say the words, but her expression conveyed them all the same.
The smell of cinnamon cut through the stale air, bringing to mind the Cinnabon stand at O’Hare.Blair pulled her long red hair back with one hand, then leaned in to take a deep breath.In the flickering candlelight, with her eyes closed and lips curved, she was almost pretty.
Almost.
“It’s my after-the-students-leave ritual.”She fished in a drawer of her desk.“Gotta havesomeconsistency around here, after all.”
Was that a shot?She’d let her hair fall back around her shoulders, obscuring her face, so he couldn’t read her expression.Irritated, he turned and thumped the boxes of music onto his desk.
“Looks like you’ve already got a decent start on the library.”Her voice was steady, maddeningly devoid of anything other than cool pleasantry.
“Yes.It’s quite impressive.”
“Thank you.”
