Sweet Accord. Felicia Mason

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      She lifted the box, placed it in the trunk next to several other boxes and closed the hatch with a hearty thwack.

      He glanced at the trunk. “Something tells me you were wishing that was my head.”

      She ignored that, too, and resisted the smile that threatened.

      “There’s no way we’re going to be able to work together.”

      He nodded. “Yeah. It’s looking like that. But listen,” he said, reaching for her arm when she would have walked away. “We can work this out.”

      His thumb grazed her skin, but whether deliberately or as a result of him simply touching her as she pulled away, Haley couldn’t say. Frissons of something very like pleasure raced through her, causing her to catch her breath and feel even more wary of him.

      “Let me go, please.”

      Instantly, he dropped his hand and stepped away from her. She saw something flash in his eyes, but it was gone before she could determine if it’d been anger or something else entirely.

      He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “When you decide to stop playing games and being Miss Holier Than Thou, call me,” he said.

      Haley watched him walk to a motorcycle parked not far away. He slipped a helmet on and a moment later the bike’s engine revved and he peeled out of the school parking lot.

      Instead of being angry, she found herself even more curious about him.

      She tore open the envelope he’d given her and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first was the order of worship for the Sunday morning service with two songs penned in where traditional hymns were normally sung. The other held lyrics to a song labeled “Acceptable.”

      Standing in the parking lot, Haley read the words of the poem, a praise song about Jesus’s love and sacrifice. By the time she finished reading, her eyes were filled with wonder and with moisture that she furiously blinked away.

      Surely he hadn’t written such an emotional song. But there, at the top of the page, under the title was “By Matt B.”

      “Where is Mr. Brandon?” Haley asked Eunice. She had to find him. She’d gotten her emotions in check by the time she arrived at the church. The pages, though, remained clutched in her hand.

      “I thought he was with you. I sent him over to the school when he came here looking for you.”

      “He found me, but he left. Is there another way to reach him?”

      “Sure, Haley,” Eunice said as she reached for the Rolodex on her desk.

      For a moment, Haley thought she detected the hint of a sly smile at Eunice’s mouth. But in a flash it was gone.

      Eunice plucked out a card. “He’s staying in the Amends House over on Grove Street. You know, the one they rent out. Here’s the phone number.”

      Haley glanced at the card and then at Mrs. Gallagher who was smiling this time. “No. Thank you, though. I’ll just go over there.” She held up the pages. “We, uh, need to go over this.”

      “Sure thing, Haley.”

      It wasn’t until she stood on his front porch rapping with the brass knocker that she realized just what she was doing. The words to the song had touched her so deeply, moved her so completely that she wanted to hear the music, had to know if it sounded as emotionally gripping as the lyrics. For a moment, she wondered if Matt had really written the song. He’d claimed to be something of a songwriter when he’d interviewed. It just seemed so incongruous that a man who wore jeans and an earring and drove a motorcycle would or could compose such stirring lyrics.

      No one answered her repeated raps on the door. Dejected, she turned away and went down the three wide steps. She sat on the middle one and opened the paper again to read the poem.

      “So what did you think?”

      She started and clutched her heart, the envelope and papers crumpled in her hands. Matt stood not six feet in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

      “Do you always sneak up on people?”

      Two brown paper bags of groceries filled his arms. “Since I live here, I’d hardly sneak up on my own house. What are you doing here?”

      It took a moment for her heart to stop its accelerated beat. Twice now he’d caught her unawares. It wouldn’t happen again. “Is this one of the songs you plan for the choir to sing Sunday?”

      “No,” he said, stepping around her and going up the steps. “It’s one I was going to sing. If, of course, it meets with your approval.”

      His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. Haley didn’t quite know what came over her when he was around. Matt seemed to bring out the worst in her.

      “It’s a beautiful piece.”

      Not saying anything at all, he stared at her a moment. Then he murmured a quiet “Thank you” as he hoisted a bag on his hip and jostled for his keys. Haley wondered at his quiet intensity and then the soft-spoken words of thanks. What had he been thinking?

      He managed to open the door.

      “I’ll get that,” Haley said. She plucked the second bag from his arms and followed him inside.

      “Thanks. The kitchen is this way.” The Amends House, named so because old Mr. Anderson built it for his wife to make amends for running off to the war, had been a landmark in Wayside for many years. These days, Mr. Anderson’s grandson used it for long-term rentals.

      The sprawling house, twice the size of Haley’s small rancher, seemed quite a lot for a single guy like Matt. Maybe it was all that had been available for rent. Or maybe he had a wife and lots of children somewhere who would soon fill the many rooms. Would they be joining him when he got settled?

      Haley trailed behind him through a dimly lit living room and dining room into the kitchen. Here, late-afternoon light streamed in through windows at the sink and a sliding glass door that opened onto a large deck.

      “I didn’t know they’d built a deck.”

      “You know the Andersons?”

      She nodded. “They go to First Baptist. I taught their oldest boy two years ago.”

      “So you’ve lived here all your life?”

      Haley didn’t particularly want to talk about her life. She’d come here to discuss his music. Besides, she didn’t even like talking about herself; she much rather preferred drawing others out of their shells.

      “Long enough to know a lot of people,” she told him. “Living in town and teaching helps a lot.”

      She placed his second bag of groceries on the counter. “It looks like you’re settling in well.”

      Matt glanced at her, but didn’t say anything about her attempt to change the subject as he began to unload groceries. Haley noticed СКАЧАТЬ