Page 42 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“Callum?Are you okay?”She stepped closer, the tarp crinkling under bare feet.
“Yeah.Fine.I just ...it’s been a minute since I fixed a fence.Raked leaves.Cleaned gutters.Didn’t have any of those in Boston.”
Blair smiled.Had he thought of her as the ice queen?Because this smile was warm and soft.Nothing icy about it.
“I had no idea fixing fences was part of your skill set,” she said.
He shrugged.“My granddad used to be a carpenter.In all the years I knew him, I don’t think he ever hired anything out.Did it all himself.He was always grumbling that my father, the physics professor, didn’t have any useful or practical skills, so he made sure I did.”
She had paint on her cheek too.Right at the top of her cheekbone.Just a little drop, but the fact that the normally primped-and-polished Blair had let herself get even a little bit messy was apparently his undoing.
Her brows inched together.“What?”
Busted.“You’ve, uh ...you’ve got a little paint ...”He indicated the spot on his own lip where her worst smudge was, and her eyes followed.Nowshewas staring athislips.
Just for a split second, though.She tried to wipe off the paint with the back of her hand, but she also had paint there, apparently, because the little splotch turned into a smear.
“Oh no,” she groaned.“It’s worse, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay.It’s a good color on you.Besides, it’s Difference Makers Day.We’re bound to get a little messy.”He gestured toward the paint tray, where an extra roller lay.“Need a hand?”
Blair cast a wary glance outside, where the kids were staining the freshly rebuilt fence.
“I think they’ve got it under control out there,” Callum said.“And our view from this window means if those knuckleheads try anything, they’ll wish they hadn’t.”
“Yeah.Okay.Sure.”Blair handed him her roller, then moved the extra out of the way and poured more green paint into the tray.
Difference Makers Day?Yeah.Today was definitely making a difference.
Chapter Sixteen
O’ER THEla-aand of the freee ...
Callum held out a hand to indicate the fermata, and a chilly breeze buffeted his cheeks.Okay, good.They’re not closing the E vowel.They’re keeping it open, just like I told them.
Then Zara, their top soprano, popped up to the high B-flat, and Callum resisted an urge to pump a fist.Yes.She nailed it.And she even dropped her jaw on that high note.Again, just like he’d instructed.This a cappella performance hadn’t been perfect.But the kids were listening.They were paying attention.And by the gleams in their eyes, they knew it was paying off.
And the home of the braaaaaaave.
The crowd started cheering before Callum cut off the final chord, but even the packed stands at the homecoming football game couldn’t drown out the excellent “vuh” on the end of the word “brave.”A textbook shadow vowel.Those kids reallyhadbeen paying attention.Joy and exhilaration surged through him.He couldn’t have fought off his smile even if he’d wanted to.Granted, the national anthem at a high school football game was a far cry from the Rutter Requiem at a cathedral in Cambridge—the last time he’d directed a choir—but it brought the same post-performance high.
No ...actually, this was a different level of satisfaction.Letter jacket– clad teenagers looked at each other, thewowevident on every face.They hadn’t known what they were capable of until now.Some had just tasted the magic of music for the first time.And he’d facilitated it.He’d guided them through.He’d taught them things.His professionals in Bostonhadn’t needed to learn much.They’d merely needed a director.These kids needed ateacher.And he had the privilege of being that teacher.
Only for the rest of the year, though.Then he’d be back in Boston, and someone else would be teaching the kids.
Was Boston really what he wanted anymore?As the choir moved off the track and he reached for the microphone stand to pull it out of the way, his heart twinged at the idea of leaving them.Those kids who’d greeted him with such suspicion in August were starting to like him.To buy into his way of doing things.To believe they were capable of more than they thought possible.They were just six weeks in.What magic could the rest of the year hold?How would they react next year when they had to start over—yet again—with someone new?Would this new person challenge them to meet their capabilities?Would the kids continue to work hard?Or would they slide back into apathy and reluctance?
And then there was Blair.Sitting in the stands.Not that he’d been looking for her, of course.But that red hair was hard to hide, even when she’d tucked half of it into an adorable knit beret.She clapped gloved hands together, and her smile was like nothing he’d ever seen.The woman was utterly beaming, and when their eyes met, he smiled back.Blair knew better than anyone the chaos these kids had been through, and if that performance had made her happy?Well, that was even more reason for him to be.
“Sounding good, Mr.Knight.”
Callum turned at the deep voice to his right, and there stood Vic Nelson in the flesh.He extended a hand, which Callum shook.
“Vic.What a pleasant surprise.”
Vic’s free hand found Callum’s shoulder and pulled him into a bro hug.“I’m always here for the homecoming game.Of course, I’ve been retired long enough now that I don’t know the students as well anymore, but I still wouldn’t miss it.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you.Big shoes to fill, though.”
