Page 107 of The Sound of Harmony

Kendrick brought his hand to his forehead. He could almost see it in front of him—the two dots, the two lines. A repeat sign, telling him to go back to the beginning. And now he faced a mile-long walk back to his house. He turned toward Main Street and pinched his lips.

Brooke touched his shoulder. “You don’t have a car, do you?”

“No, but I—”

“It’s your lucky day,” she said. “I drove to work today. Come on.”

Emma heard someone pull into Kendrick’s driveway, the slam of a car door, and the sound of Kendrick’s voice, followed by Brooke’s. What was Brooke doing with him?

Kendrick rushed through the door and stopped short at the sight of her. She stared back. Brooke was on Kendrick’s heels, and Gwendolyn was at Emma’s back, but she and Kendrick might as well have been alone in the house, because the silence was that deep.

There were dark circles under Kendrick’s eyes, but the kindness she’d first seen in them still shone through. He had a gash on his cheek and his hands were scraped like he’d fought with a rabid parrot. His shirt was wrinkled and his hair stuck up on one side. He held his flute case in a bruised hand and stared around the room in confusion. He’d never looked so handsome.

And then everyone was talking at once—Kendrick apologizing and Emma saying she was sorry too and Brooke explaining how Kendrick found her at the library and Gwendolyn reminding them that Ben was still on Skype.

“Shh, shh,” Emma lifted her arms, trying to calm everyone down. She had to tell Kendrick what was in her heart and she had to do it quickly. If she didn’t do it now, she’d be too nervous to say anything at all, and she’d lose him all over again. She couldn’t let that happen.

When the room finally quieted, she gestured for Kendrick to put down the flute. She took both of his hands in hers. “I need to tell you how wrong I was. About you, about us, about everything. And I’m sorry for the way I acted at the concert and for what I said. I shouldn’t have said any of it. Because I think you’re perfect the way you are.”

Her voice shook, but holding Kendrick’s hands gave her the courage to continue. “You were right about me. I keep things to myself and I use silence as a weapon and I’m a professional organizer who can’t seem to get herself together. But if you give me another chance, I promise I’ll never walk out on you again. Because you are a symphony to me and I want to listen to you for the rest of my life.”

Emma barely heard the drawn-out “awww” from everyone in the room because she was so focused on Kendrick. He tilted his head to one side and smiled at her, and her heart sang with joy.

“Emma,” he said. “I’m a musician with a crazy ear and I stumble a lot but the only place I ever want to fall is at your feet. And you never have to tell me a single thing because I know what’s in your heart. I want to be with you, even if it means sharing your silence.”

He picked up his flute. “I wrote you a song. A new song. It’s a private song, just for you. And I promise I’ll never publish or perform it.”

“Too late,” Ben said from the computer. And everyone laughed. But somehow having a private moment in a room full of people didn’t matter so much anymore.

“Knock, knock. Are we interrupting?” came a voice at the door. Emma laughed harder as Maude Zelinski let herself in. It made some kind of cosmic sense that Kendrick’s neighbor would choose this very moment to cross the street. She was dressed in her usual yoga pants and loose top and today she had an orange scarf tied in her white hair. Murray was right behind her, his cane thumping the floor as he walked. He was wearing a t-shirt the same orange hue as Maude’s scarf.

“We noticed Emma’s truck,” Maude said. “And then Kendrick came back, and we heard voices. Murray and I wanted to check on you. Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m more than okay.” Emma gave Maude a little hug and touched Murray’s hand. “You’re just in time for the concert. Kendrick and I have written some music for each other.”

“Wait, you—” Kendrick’s jaw dropped, and then he whipped his head around to look at Brooke, as if to ask why she didn’t tell him. Brooke shrugged, pinching her lips together.

“Yes, I did,” Emma said. “Gwendolyn has to play it because my piano skills are rusty, but I wrote the whole thing. So go ahead and get out your flute.”

“Ladies first,” Kendrick flourished a hand.

“Here’s the thing,” Emma said. “While we waited for you, I talked to Ben. You left Sibelius open, and well, look at this.”

She lifted her sheet music from the piano and handed it to him. Kendrick’s eyes widened as he read through it. “Oh my God. Emma.”

Their songs were both beautiful. Both could stand on their own. But as good as they were separately, they’d be even better together. They were compatible in key and tempo and while there would be a few problematic measures, it would mostly work.

“Look here,” Emma said. “Treat this as a little pick up and you can come in at measure three.”

“Yes, yes.” Kendrick was already assembling his flute. She didn’t have to explain any more than that. There was no time for warm up or fumbling for a starting point, they were going to dive straight into this and it would either sound incredible or they’d flame out, but it was too exciting not to try.

Everyone gathered around the piano—Gwendolyn at the bench, Kendrick beside her, Emma, Brooke and the Zelinskis close by, Ben and Raine on the computer.

Emma nodded at Gwendolyn and she touched the keys. Kendrick came in on cue and somehow, two songs written by two people in two places for two different instruments just worked. Notes circled above and below one another, chords broke and resolved and sometimes clashed in interesting ways. They didn’t hit every note, but they didn’t have to be perfect. They only had to be real.

Ben was down in Maryland, miles away, but he was right here in the room with them as he pulled out a violin and played along. Murray put his arm around Maude.

Emma had clouds under her feet and sunbeams in her heart. She put a hand on Kendrick’s shoulder and sang the melody line. She’d found her voice, clear and true. Brooke sang the tenor line one octave up, making it into a beautiful descant.