Joshua
slammed his fingers on the keys of the upper and lower manuals of the grand
church organ, and the chord blasted through the pipes—heavy, minor,
anguished. He let it hang, and then
played five notes on the choir—why why O
God why?—slowly at first, building momentum, increasing in speed until the
notes tripped on each other, spilling into new notes. Those notes growing in number and intensity
until a crowd of music cried in grief.
Then: a single note, high and clear, rises above the rest, pleading,
asking for…
His
hands froze. His fingers didn’t know what
to play next.
Joshua
thumped his elbows on the keyboard, making it blare, and buried his face in his
hands.
“That’s
an interesting ending,” someone behind him said.
Joshua
gave a start. He’d thought he was
alone. He wiped his face with his hands,
hoping the person would notice only his sweat and not the tears. “It’s a work in progress.”
“I
didn’t know you could play organ. Is it
more difficult than the piano?” The
person climbed the short steps and sat on the bench beside him.
Joshua
glanced at him long enough to take in the dark hair, brown eyes, and short
sleeve polo that was totally wrong for the freezing weather outside. “Sorry.
I’m…tired. Do I know you?”
The
man laughed as if he’d played a great joke.
“Seriously? A new hairstyle and contacts, and you don’t recognize
me? Maybe I should go harass Malachai
next.”
“Malachai? Dr. Randall Malachai?” Something clicked in Joshua’s overwrought
brain, and he gave his visitor a closer examination. Blue eyes for brown; long blond hair, add a
slouch that came from years of resentment and lack of self confidence… Could it
be? Despite his prayers, he couldn’t
believe it, and yet… “Deryl?” he
whispered.
1 comment:
OK, now you've hooked me....
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