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Chapter 12
Samantha smiled atHarry as he handed her some freshly photocopied sheet music.
“How are you doing this fine Wednesday evening?” he asked.
She envied his easygoing nature. “Good, thanks.” And it was good. It was dark outside, and she hadn’t drunk a drop yet that day. She didn’t want to count her eggs just yet, but she was pretty confident that she was on the verge of accomplishing a day one.
It had been relatively easy. The thought of alcohol made her want to retch.
“Your ex delivered my oil last night,” Tiffany said from across the platform.
It took Samantha a minute to realize Tiffany was talking to her, though she was likely the only one with an ex-husband who delivered oil.
When she realized Tiffany was in fact talking to her, she didn’t want to answer, so she didn’t.
“Who’s her ex-husband?” Jake asked.
Samantha bit back a groan. Why would he care?
“Brent Gallant. He works for Pioneer Oil,” Tiffany said as if that explained everything. She gave Samantha a pitying look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Samantha didn’t know a lot of things for sure, but she knew that she was showing zero signs of being upset. Hearing Brent’s name was like a knife to her abdomen. She missed him so much it was like something had sucked the air out of the room. And she wanted nothing more than to go back in time and be in his arms again. But she knew that none of that showed on her face or in her body language. She’d grown up in a stoical New England religious home where only weak people showed feelings. She’d learned how to hide hers when she was about three years old. Ignoring Tiffany, Samantha focused on Harry, who waved the sheet music to get everyone’s attention. “We’ve had a request.”
Jake groaned dramatically. “What? I thought we didn’t take requests.”
Samantha knew why he was annoyed. About once a week, someone approached one of them and asked them to sing their favorite song next Sunday. Often these songs were so obscure that there was no sheet music in the world for them. Sometimes they were so awful that they made her cringe. And sometimes they were just wildly wrong for a church service, like the time a deacon had told—not asked, but told—them to sing that song about worshiping Hank Williams.
Harry shook his head. “I never said that.” He handed out the sheet music.
“Who’s Ben Fuller?” Tiffany whined, her nose all scrunched up.
“No idea,” Harry said. “But it’s a good song.”
“Yes!” Jake cried so loudly that Samantha flinched. “This isn’t a good song! This is an awesome song!”
“I’m glad you approve,” Harry said.
“Who requested it?” Jake asked.
“The kindergarten teacher.”
“Right on,” Jake said. “She’s got good taste.” He wasn’t annoyed anymore, apparently.
Harry finished doling out the sheets and returned to his spot at the front. “Is this song on the radio?”
Jake scrunched up his face. “Not sure, sorry. I don’t listen to Christian radio much, but I listen to this guy all the time.”
“Huh,” Harry said. “I’ve never heard of him.”
