The Song of David (12 page)

“I stopped to fill up on the way. Guess I didn’t need to, since we’re walking.”

“We’re walking because we’re practically there.” An old church that looked like it had been built around the same time as Millie’s house rose from a circle of trees at the end of the block. “There’s been talk that they are going to tear it down. Then I’ll have to find somewhere else to go.”

As we closed the distance, I could see that the church was a pale brick with a towering white spire and soaring windows on the tallest end. A creek ran to the north of the building and Amelie and I crossed a sturdy bridge that ran adjacent to the road.

“No water in the creek?” She asked as if she already knew the answer.

“No.”

“Soon. A couple of months and I’ll be able to come hear two of my favorite sounds at once.”

“You like the sound of the creek?”

“I do. When spring comes, I stand on this bridge and just listen. I’ve been doing it for years.”

When I began to veer across the grass on the other side of the bridge, heading for the wide double doors that were clearly the entrance to the church, she pulled against my arm.

“Aren’t we going in?” I asked.

“No. There’s a rock wall. Do you see it?”

Ahead was a crumbling, twenty-foot wedge of piled rocks cemented into a divider that rimmed the side of the church, separating it from the grassy slope that led down to the dry creek bed. I led Millie to it, and she dropped my arm and felt her way down it a ways before she sat and patted the spot next to her.

“Are the windows open?” she asked

“It looks like one is, just a bit.”

“Mr. Sheldon usually remembers. He leaves it cracked for me when the weather’s good.”

“Do you listen from out here?” I was incredulous. I could hear muted men’s voices and then laughter, as if there was a meeting of sorts going on behind the windows.

“No. Not exactly.” She listened for a second. “They’ve started earlier today. It fluctuates. Sometimes it’s eleven-fifteen or eleven-thirty. They like to visit and are slow to begin sometimes. But I don’t mind waiting. This is a nice spot, and when it’s not too cold I’m happy to just sit on this wall and think. When it’s warm Henry comes with me and we have a picnic. But he gets bored, and I don’t enjoy it as much when he’s here. Maybe because I can’t relax.”

The piano began playing and Millie sat up straighter, tipping her head in the direction of the music.

“Oh, I love this one.”

I could only stare at her. This was one of her favorite sounds? Then voices were raised, and the sound seeped out the slim opening and floated down to the place where we sat, and I forgot about the fact that my suit coat was a little tight across the shoulders and my knuckles were sore from yesterday’s sparring session. I forgot about all of it because Amelie’s face was lit up by the sound of men’s voices, singing in worship, mellow and smooth, lifting and lowering over the words. They weren’t professional. It wasn’t a barbershop quartet or the BeeGees. There were more voices than that, probably twenty or thirty male voices singing praises. And as I listened I felt it deep in my belly.

“There is no end to glory;

There is no end to love;

There is no end to being;

There is no death above.

There is no end to glory;

There is no end to love;

There is no end to being;

There is no death above.”

When they finished, Amelie sat back and sighed. “I’m all about girl power, but there is nothing like men’s voices. They knock me out every time. The sound makes my heart ache and my bones soft.”

“Is it the words you love? It was a beautiful song.” I was still thinking about the words.

“I love that particular one. But no. It wouldn’t matter if I couldn’t understand a word they were saying, and there have been days when Mr. Sheldon doesn’t attend or he forgets to open the window, and the music is muffled, even more than it was today. And I still love it. I can’t explain it. But love is like that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Did you like it? Now you’ve heard two of my favorite sounds.”

“I liked it a lot. I wish I would have worn my sweats instead of this damn suit coat. But hey, at least I didn’t have to actually go to church.”

Amelie reached toward me, feeling along the lapels of my coat and up to my collar. “Yep. I got you good. I can’t believe you agreed to come.”

“You’re wearing a skirt!”

“Yep. If I’d worn pants you would have known something was up.”

I stood and pulled her up with me. “You’re a smart aleck and a tease. I don’t know if I like you, Silly Millie.” I was smiling as I spoke, and she grinned with me before reaching for my lapel once more, as if asking me to wait.

“I want to feel you smile. I can hear when you’re smiling. I love the way it sounds. But I want to feel it. Can I?” she asked sweetly.

I brought her hands to my cheeks and laid them there, dropping my hands to my sides.

“Are you smiling?” she asked.

I realized I wasn’t, not anymore. But she was, her pink lips parted slightly over pearly teeth, her eyes on a distance she would never see. I smiled down into her face, accommodating her, and her hands immediately fluttered over my lips and her fingers traced the grooves in my cheeks. I’d always used those grooves to my full advantage. When her left thumb slid into the notch on my chin, her smile grew even wider.

“You have dimples in your cheeks and a cleft in your chin.”

“My mother dropped me on my face as a child. I’m severely dented. What can I say?”

“Ah. I see.” One hand flitted up and traced the bridge of my nose. “Is that what happened here, too?” she asked, tracing the bump that I’d earned over and over again.

“Nah. My mama’s not to blame for that one. That’s a product of my favorite pastime.”

Her hands moved to cradle my face, melding to the shape of my cheekbones and my jaw. As she pulled her hands downward, the tips of her fingers touched the hair that brushed my neck on either side, and she paused in her exploration. She fingered the curls thoughtfully and a groove appeared between her dark brows.

“Haircuts with Henry tomorrow, huh? That’s very sweet of you. But don’t cut it all away, okay?”

“You like the Scottish highlander look?” I tried for a Scottish brogue, but didn’t quite make it. My heart was pounding and I wanted to close my eyes and lean into her hands. Her explorations were erotic without meaning to be, sensual without sexual intention, but my body didn’t seem to know the difference.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I’m not sure what a Scottish highlander looks like. But I like your face. It’s strong . . . full of character. And the hair suits you.” She was staring up into my face, describing me, and yet she couldn’t see me at all. I stared at her mouth and wondered what she would do if I pressed my lips against hers. Would it startle her or would she recognize the sensation immediately? Had she ever even been kissed? She wasn’t shy and she was beautiful, and at twenty-two she should have had her fair share of boyfriends and kisses. But she was blind, she had a dependent brother, and she spent her free time listening to men’s choirs and babbling brooks. Somehow I suspected she wasn’t all that experienced with men. She dropped her hands and stepped back from me, almost as if she could hear my thoughts.

“Let’s get some ice cream,” she said, and I shook myself awake, pushing away thoughts of kisses and linking her arm back through mine.

(End of Cassette)

Moses

“I WANTED HIM to kiss me. But he didn’t. And I was convinced that he didn’t like me that way,” Millie said sheepishly, her face flushed. I kept expecting her to turn off the tape recorder and ask us to leave. Hearing Tag’s inner thoughts and feelings was downright embarrassing, and when I saw him again, I was going to punish him for making me sit through it.

We were at Millie’s now, parked in her living room so that she would be there when Henry got home from school. It had been forty-eight hours since Millie had called me, forty-eight hours since my world had shrunk to one priority, everything else pushed aside or postponed.

“Tag went to church with you?” Georgia’s voice was incredulous. Millie and I had brought Georgia up to date, and her presence calmed me, reminded me that regardless of the priority, regardless of my fear, she was with me. She was mine. That part of my world was intact. She’d arrived last night with baby Kathleen, and we’d rented a hotel room, unwilling to stay in Tag’s apartment, though I had a key. There was a freaking “For Sale” sign in the window, and I didn’t want to be sleeping in Tag’s bed only to have a realtor show up with buyers in tow.

The thought made me angry, even as Georgia’s question made me laugh. Tag and church didn’t really mix. The thought of him sitting in a suit coat, his hair slicked back, listening to hymns with Millie was almost too unbelievable to imagine.

“Moses?” Georgia’s lips quivered, the seriousness of the situation making her hesitant to join in.

“I had to drag his ass into dozens of churches throughout Europe. I don’t think he ever went willingly, and we were just looking at the ceilings and the sculptures, no singing involved.”

“He loves music. Have you ever heard him sing? I love hearing him sing.” Millie smiled and then her smile immediately fell, as if reality had slapped her back down and whisked away her joy.

“I’m still stuck on the fact that he volunteered to get a haircut,” Georgia smirked, giggling in spite of her attempts to be appropriate.

“Well . . .” Millie hedged. “That didn’t quite go according to plan.”

HENRY CLIMBED INTO my truck and buckled his seatbelt with the grimmest expression I had ever seen. His hair stood out in every direction, and his hands shook.

“You okay, buddy?” I asked, trying to be gentle.

“Do you want to go see Robin instead? She’d be glad to cut it, Henry.” Millie had followed him out, tapping her way down the sidewalk with a concerned frown between her dark brows. She now stood holding onto the passenger side door. I could tell she wanted to ride along, but Henry didn’t seem to want her to.