Page 54 of Echoes of a Silent Song
Finally he seemed to come back to himself.“Oh, Iris.I’m such an idiot.I’m not in my right mind.”He glanced through the music, and his lips curved.“You’d do this for me?You’d offer me your work?”
“Of course I would.In a heartbeat.I’d do anything for you, Victor.”I drew a breath and met his gaze.“I ...I love you.”
His eyes widened.“You do?”
The love in my heart bloomed into a smile.“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He answered my smile with one of his own.“I love you too, Iris.You’re ...an angel from heaven.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”I beamed across the table at him.“Maybe that could be the text of the brilliant piece you write someday.I know you’ll have an amazing career.”
“With you by my side, Iris?There’s no way I can fail.You’ll see.”He talked fast, and his cheeks turned pink.“And when I get into Whitehall, I’ll write to you all the time, and I’ll tell you all the amazing things I’m learning.And when I graduate, we’ll get married, and we’ll both compose.We’ll be the next Rodgers and Hammerstein.”He gestured toward an imaginary sign.“Victor Nelson and Iris Nelson.Can’t you just see the marquee?”
He went on talking a mile a minute, and my heart welled with joy.It seemed I’d given him exactly what I’d wanted to.Hope.Enthusiasm.A ticket out of Vietnam.All because of the piece that lay open on the table between us.
And he’d promised me everything I wanted.A future with him.Making music together as husband and wife.Surely that was worth sacrificing my composition.I wrote it for him, anyway, didn’t I?
So why were the chords in my soul so dissonant?
Why did part of me feel like I’d just made a terrible mistake?
Chapter Twenty-One
LET’S GO, people.Move with a purpose.We’ve got a lot to do today, so let’s get after it.”Callum greeted Madrigals before the bell even rang, while they were still filtering onto the risers in the auditorium.Rehearsals had been moved from the choir room for the entire week leading up to Thursday night’s concert, and he was eager to see how the auditorium’s acoustics would change the sound of the choir.
His good mood from the morning had gradually faded over the course of the day.A post-homecoming funk afflicted all the students with a lack of energy and focus—the exact opposite of what they needed for concert week.As a result, the knots in Callum’s stomach tightened with each passing minute.The national anthem at a football game, as successful as the performance had been, was small potatoes.Besides, two-thirds of the choir were returners from last year and thus already knew their parts for the anthem—and the “Star-Spangled Banner” was nowhere near as challenging as the program he’d selected for the fall concert.
“Hey, hey, Mr.K.”Zayden, a skinny tenor, loped across the stage toward the risers, tossing his folder to himself as he walked.
Callum had never sanctioned the abbreviation of his last name to a single letter, but Zayden marched to the beat of his own drum.
“Afternoon, Zayden.”Callum’s greeting was punctuated by the high-pitched drone of the bell, which hovered between an E and an F but was annoyingly neither of those pitches.
“Saw you and Miss Em gettin’ your groove on at homecoming Saturday night.”Zayden took his spot, front and center, with a mischievous wiggle of his eyebrows.Predictably, student gazes bounced fromCallum to Blair and back again, grins appeared, and a whisper wound its way through the choir.
“We were chaperoning,” Blair replied coolly, at the same time Callum stomped his foot on the stage floor to regain order.
“That is in the past.”Frustration bled into his voice.“It’s concert week.We have four rehearsals left, and we are not where we need to be with this music.We do not have time for chitchat.”
Zayden elbowed Jake.“When have we ever had time for chitchat?”
“Bruh.Shut up,” Jake hissed.
Callum leveled a lethal glare, which he then swiveled to the rest of the choir, just in case anyone else felt like trying anything.
“For time’s sake, let’s skip warm-ups and go directly to page eight of the Lauridsen.”Callum tapped the screen of his iPad.“We have a lot of work to do yet on that middle section.”
He avoided making eye contact with Blair, because he knew she’d have that eyebrow raised again.She hadn’t said anything about his repertoire selection since the first day.At least not with her voice.But her pointed expressions and silent, sniffy disapproval communicated clearly enough.She still thought the music was too difficult.
To his chagrin, she was probably right.But he wasn’t about to admit that and give her the satisfaction.Especially not today, when she’d seemingly retreated into her deep freeze.Blair had barely given him the time of day all day.Just crisp nods and sharp angles and as few words as necessary.And as much as that had bothered him before, it bothered him doubly now, because the ever-perceptive Ralph had brought up a valid point: Callum had feelings for Blair.
At least, the version of her he’d seen these past few weeks, and especially Saturday night, all warmth and softness and curves.
Theoretically her return to cold and angular should make it easier for him to focus on his job.Irritatingly, though, it did not.Every time he had to glance toward Blair to give her a cue, he remembered her in that glittery dress.
She wore a thick brown sweater today, but thanks to Saturday night, he knew the graceful sweep between her neck and shoulder.She hadn’t gotten close enough today for him to smell her shampoo, but its deliciousscent was still seared in his brain.He knew what she felt like in his arms, the delicate touch of her fingers on his shoulder, the tickle of her breath on his ear—and he couldn’t un-know those things.
And she acted like none of that had happened.Like it meant nothing.
