Page 103 of The Sound of Harmony

Sure, Ben answered. I’ll be the first to tell you it sucks.

Thanks, Kendrick texted back.

He returned to his flute and refined some of the measures in the middle, smoothing them out and making them flow into the next section.

A few minutes later, he added another text to Ben. It doesn’t suck.

“You want to what, now?” Gwendolyn asked when she answered the door. “Are you feeling okay, weirdo?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Emma pushed into Gwendolyn’s apartment. “I need to borrow your keyboard for a day or two. I’m writing Kendrick a song.”

“You’re what?” Gwendolyn’s voice climbed the scale and vanished into dog-hearing range.

“I was wrong,” Emma said. She whipped the cover off Gwendolyn’s electric keyboard and plonked out a few notes. “About him, about us, about everything. Does this stand fold down, or do I have to—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Gwendolyn took her by the shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Emma forced herself to take a breath. “I saw the program. From the concert.”

“And?”

“I didn’t read it before. I shoved it in my purse that night, and I didn’t look at it until today when I was cleaning my apartment. I didn’t know he’d put my name in there. I didn’t know he—”

“Oh, Emma. Oh, no.” Gwendolyn’s eyes were the size of drink coasters. She brought her hands to her cheeks. “We all thought you knew. We all assumed that’s why you were mad at him. You didn’t want the spotlight. After Nashville, you swore off music and hid, so—”

“No, no, no. Just the opposite. I thought he stole my song. I thought he took it, like…” She didn’t have to finish that sentence.

Gwendolyn thumped down onto the couch. “But if you didn’t…and he didn’t…wow. That is some kind of screw-up.”

“It’s the worst.” Emma unplugged the keyboard and rolled up the cord. “That’s why I have to do this. I wrote half the song on my way here, but I need a keyboard to work out the details.”

“Why can’t you just call him up and apologize? Say something like, ‘Oops, big misunderstanding, sorry about that, let’s kiss now and laugh about this later.’”

“I can’t,” Emma said. “I said such awful things to him.”

“He said some terrible things to you, too.”

Emma lifted the keyboard from its stand. It was heavier than it looked. “I can’t fix this with a phone call. I need to show him how I feel, not just tell him. This is the only thing I’m one hundred percent sure will get his attention.”

“Oh, come on. Men aren’t that complicated. Show up at his house naked. You’ll get his attention.”

“That will get his body’s attention, sure,” Emma said. “But I want him to listen with his heart.”

This would either work or be the worst failure of her life. Which is exactly why she had to finish writing this song. She had to show Kendrick that she was willing to put all of herself on the line for him.

Gwendolyn tried to take the keyboard back. “I can’t see you writing music again. What if he doesn’t like it? It will crush you.”

“Gwendolyn, stop.” Emma put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and moved her out of the way. “Could you let me do this one thing? Without your approval? Without your blessing? Without anything from you except your stupid keyboard? Can you just let me do one thing on my own?”

Gwendolyn crossed her arms and stomped to the other side of the room. “You might not see this, but I’m trying to help you.”

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to help you.”

“Me?” Gwendolyn screeched. “How is this about me all of a sudden?”

“But it is.” How had she not seen this before? “You want me to stay broken so you can keep fixing me. You’re always telling me to make good choices, but you never actually want me to make one.”

“But—But—” Gwendolyn blustered. “You’re choosing Kendrick, and I’m not—”