Page 55 of Echoes of a Silent Song
Which it probably didn’t.Who was he kidding?This was Blair the ice queen.Any heart she had was doubtless poured only into the music and the kids.That was all she had room for.No space left for anyone else.No space left for him.And that was just fine.Perfect, even.The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with someone in Peterson when his mission had always been to return to Boston.
But Blair’s softer, warmer side had kicked his compositional muse back into gear.It had given him the confidence to accept that commission.
If she had forever shut off that side of herself, though, then where did that leave him?Would he require a constant supply of inspiration to be able to complete his commission, or was that kick start last month enough?
No wonder he was grouchy today.But at least he could use the concert as an excuse.Any director would be stressed the week of a concert, especially if it was their first one at a new school.
It was 100 percent believable, and no one would look too closely.
No one had to know that the concert wasn’t the only cause.
Blair’s cinnamon-roll candle flickered to life beneath the flame of her stick lighter.Its golden glow and homey scent soon filled her corner of the choir office but did nothing to calm her jangled nerves.With a sigh, she plopped into her chair, jammed the lighter back into the desk drawer, and tore into a fresh bag of peanut butter cups.
Seeing Callum in normal work clothes, keeping a professional distance from him, and not having his hand graze her bare skin should have yanked her back to reality.Sadly, they had not.She’d even gotten lost in the music during Women’s Choir this morning—something she never, ever did—because she couldn’t stop staring at him.He hadn’tsaid anything, mercifully, but the look he’d pinned on her meant he’d definitely noticed.
But the post-homecoming fog had quickly given way to irritation as the day wore on and rehearsals progressed.The choirs always lost a little bit of momentum over the weekend, and the first few minutes of every Monday rehearsal were spent reteaching everything Saturday and Sunday had made them forget.And she’d known to expect a slight lack of focus from everyone after homecoming.But, true to form, Callum expected more of the kids, not less.He was impatient with their lack of focus.Frustrated that he had to reteach.All the feelings you’d expect from a new director staring down the barrel of the October concert.
He cared about the job—and the kids—more than she’d expected after that first stiff handshake.And she was grateful.But her esteemed colleague had yet to entirely grasp that these were children, not professionals.
The door creaked open, and Callum strode in, iPad in hand.He gave her an indecipherable glance as he passed her desk, and she responded by defiantly stuffing a peanut butter cup into her mouth.
He set the iPad down on his desk, then turned to face her.“Blair ...”
Finally.Thewhat on earth was thatconversation she’d been dreading since Saturday night.
“We don’t know each other all that well yet,” he said.“And God willing, we only have to work together until May.”
The knife-edge of his words cut swiftly and unexpectedly deep.
“But we do have to work together until May, so ...”He ran a hand through his hair.“Are you upset with me about something?”
The peanut butter cup slid down her throat as her defenses ratcheted up.“Why do you ask?”
“I thought things were going well.You know, between us.But today you’ve been a little ...frosty.”
Of course I’m frosty.Because we danced together Saturday night and I felt things I didn’t want to feel, especially for you, and it sure seemed like you felt the same things, and yet we’re not going to acknowledge that, which is probably just as well since you’re counting the days until you can get out of here,so there’s literally no point to exploring those feelings we had.If, in fact, you weren’t just faking it.
Oh, that she had the courage to actually say those words.Instead she reached for her water bottle.“Surely you understand concert stress.Especially when the choir isn’t ready.”
“There it is.”
She turned to face him, water halfway to her lips, her voice still sticky from the peanut butter cup.“There what is?”
“Could’ve guessed it.”He tossed his high-tech pencil onto the desk beside the iPad.“You might not say anything, but your expression always gives you away.You still think this music is too hard for the choirs.”
“It’s great music, Callum.But these kids haven’t had any sort of meaningful choral experience for the last five years.Going from zero to a hundred is giving them whiplash.”
He looked skyward.“I see.So you just want me to stay with safe, easy,boringmusic.”
“If that’s what they need for a successful performance, then yes.”She set the water bottle back down on her desk.“A successful performance will give them the confidence they need to tackle more challenging music, and that’s something we can build on.For this year, anyway.Then we have to start over again.”
“With all due respect, Blair, that’s not really my concern.”
“Clearly.”She unwrapped another peanut butter cup, the crinkle of the foil filling the cinnamon-scented air.
“But it is my concern this year.They’re my choirs.And what’s become very obvious to me over the past two months is that no one has challenged them.No one has stretched them.”
“How can they be stretched when nobody sticks around longer than a year?”
