Читать книгу Sweet Accord - Felicia Mason - Страница 8

Landing the job at Community Christian Church had been easy. Convincing some of the dyed-in-the-wool traditionalists that hand clapping and foot stomping wouldn’t guarantee them a one-way ticket to hell was another matter entirely.

Matt knew he’d face resistance.

He just didn’t expect it to come from a twenty-seven-year-old blond beauty. From across the table he watched Haley Cartwright shoot down every one of his ideas. Of course, she did it with such grace and sweetness he could almost forgive her the interference. Almost.

“When we lift our voices in song, particularly praise song,” she said, “the melody should be one that would make angels weep.”

Translation: That raucous noise you call music will be sung in here over my dead body. Matt had to smile. The lady had a way with words.

“I don’t see anything funny about this impasse, Mr. Brandon.”

“Call me Matt,” he said. Again.

Everyone else had quickly done so. Well, everyone who supported him.

Tall and softly rounded, Haley Cartwright was what his grandmother would call a big-boned gal. Matt preferred to call her pretty. But right now, she was doing a fine job of frustrating him.

“And no, there’s nothing funny about this.” His gaze took in the other seven people at the table. “I’ve been hired to direct the choir. That’s my job.”

An arched eyebrow rose over big brown eyes. She’d apparently picked up the not at all subtle message that since he was doing his job, she should do hers.

“Many of the young people in this church are also in my Sunday school classes,” she said. “To see them influenced—”

“Haley, I think Matt has a point.”

All eyes turned toward the man at the head of the table who’d quietly taken in every point of the debate.

Haley’s shoulders slumped at the pastor’s words. Matt bit back a grin. Having an ally had its merits, especially when the ally was Cliff Baines, the shepherd of the Community Christian flock. Since Reverend Baines declared this round a draw, Matt couldn’t really claim a personal victory. But he’d won and that meant an inch in his favor in the tug-of-war with Haley.

“However,” Reverend Baines said.

“However?” Matt echoed.

Across the table, Haley folded her arms and glared at him, but a flare of triumph danced in her eyes.

The pastor nodded at them both. “I think a compromise is in order. Introducing some of Matt’s ideas into the service will be good for us. He’s right. That’s why we hired him. Community Christian needs a good dose of fire every now and then.”

Matt resisted the urge to poke out his tongue in a “so there” gesture at Haley.

“However, taking it slow will be better than turning the worship experience completely topsy-turvy.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea, Reverend Baines,” piped in Mrs. Gallagher.

Eunice Gallagher, church clerk, pastor’s secretary and all-around terrific lady, had been in Matt’s corner from day one. If now though, after an hour’s worth of wrangling, she advocated a compromise position, Matt knew enough to heed the warning.

It galled him to say it, but he offered a concession he knew would appease them. “I can jot down the lyrics of the compositions so you can review them if you’d like.”

“Well, that’s a terrific idea, but I don’t think that—”

Reverend Baines held up a hand. “Deacon Worthington, we’ve been up and down this road already. And we do have other agenda items today. I don’t think it’s necessary to have lyrics approved by council. This is, after all, a church. And we’re of one accord on the gospel.”

Matt gave a huge internal sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do was write music by committee. And with this committee, the church council, his chances of getting anything approved ranged from slim to none. The church council consisted of Reverend Baines, Eunice Gallagher, Haley who directed the Sunday school, the heads of the deacon and trustee boards and two at-large members of the church. As the newly hired choir director, Matt represented the newest blood on the staid council.

Not for the first time since he’d arrived in Wayside, Oregon, Matt wondered why God had led him here. He glanced at the woman across the table. Haley Cartwright couldn’t be the reason. She’d been nothing but the proverbial thorn in his side from the moment he’d stepped in the door. She had apparently taken one look at him and decided she didn’t like him. Granted, his look was a little on the wild side for Community Christian.

“Reverend Baines,” Haley said. “If not by advance approval, how do you propose that we keep that…” She glanced at Matt and paused. “How can we ensure that the new music is appropriate for our services?”

“I’m glad you asked,” the pastor said, a definite gleam in his eyes as he met the curious gazes of those at the table.

Matt suddenly got a really bad feeling in his stomach. He knew he wasn’t going to like the plan or the proposal about to be hatched.

“A committee can do the deciding,” the minister said.

Matt inwardly groaned.

Deacon Edward Worthington cleared his throat and raised his hand. “I’ll volunteer.”

“Thank you, Deacon,” Reverend Baines said. “But I think since Matt’s work with the choir and Haley’s work with the young people overlap, that they should be our committee of two.”

“But…” Haley sputtered.

Matt’s head shot up. This was worse than he’d imagined. Couldn’t Cliff see the woman had it in for him?

“What a wonderful idea,” Eunice said with a clap of her hands. “You can come up with recommendations for us.”

“Exactly,” Reverend Baines said. “At next week’s church council meeting, the two of you can make a presentation on how to best weave some new life into the service.”

“But…” Haley squeaked.

“What about this Sunday?” Deacon Worthington said.

The minister rubbed his chin. He glanced between Matt and Haley. “Let’s just let our new committee handle that. Now, Eunice, I understand there’s a conflict between the Smith wedding and the senior citizen’s monthly luncheon.”

With the council onto other business, Matt took a moment to study his new partner. Scratch that; his fellow committee member. Thinking about Haley Cartwright as a partner, of any kind, would land him in nothing but trouble. She was too intense, too dedicated and too pretty by far. In other words, too much of a distraction.

Her steely dedication to her belief—that church music should sound like funeral dirges—nearly cost him the job as choir director at Community Christian. Backed by Edward Worthington and a group of traditionalists, she’d balked at every step of his interview process. Matt knew the vote to hire him had been close. And he had no doubt that Haley had led off the Nay column.

Not for a moment did Matt believe he was here by accident. The Lord had directed him to this small Oregon town for a reason. It was more than two thousand miles away from everything familiar to him. With its crisp clean air, green trees and Mayberry R.F.D. feel, Wayside was a world away from the sultry heat and humming intensity of his native New Orleans.

He didn’t miss Louisiana, though. He’d left a lot of anger and disappointment in that part of the country and had no particular urge to return to it or to the person he’d been then. He knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be right now—in the will of God. But knowing he was where he was supposed to be and liking his current situation were two different things. Being on a committee with Haley meant he’d have to be near her, and if he’d learned nothing else in his life, he’d discovered through harsh experience that he didn’t need to be that close to temptation.

“We’re agreed then, Matt?”

He blinked. Seven sets of eyes stared at him. “Yes?”

“Then you do approve?” Haley said.

If Haley approved he probably didn’t. His eyes narrowed. He’d been caught woolgathering. “Excuse me, I think I missed something.”

Deacon Worthington harrumphed. Eunice filled in the gaps: The Wayside Revelers, a local social group, couldn’t find a place to hold their annual fund-raiser and requested the use of Community Christian’s big room.

Annabelle Lancaster, one of the at-large council members, twittered. “I know our small-town ways are different for you, Matt. But even you surely couldn’t approve of a dance being held in the fellowship hall.”

He didn’t.

“It took five police officers to break up the melee at their event last year,” Annabelle said. “They’re banned from the VFW hall. Tore the place up, they did.”

Matt quickly provided his perspective. The request was denied, then mercifully the meeting wrapped up.

As the other council members left the classroom they used for their meetings, Reverend Baines asked Haley and Matt to wait. They remained behind while the minister finished talking with Annabelle.

Haley shifted the file folders in her arms. Matt stayed in his seat. He leaned back, crossed his feet at the ankles and tucked his hands behind his head. He took a moment to study her. Her blond hair came to her shoulders; he couldn’t tell if the crimped curls were a natural gift or the effect of a salon. Today it was pulled together with a clip and left hanging in the back. Her skin glowed with the health and vitality that only came from clean living. But her eyes, a deep chocolate brown, and her smile arrested him.

In the time since he’d been hired at Community Christian he’d had the opportunity to see her eyes flash with anger, frustration and mischief. The latter, of course, not directed his way. He just got the glares. But that, he knew, was a good thing. Though she sported no ring, she’d seemed the hearth-and-home type, all-American, apple pie and lots of kids at her feet. He’d already found out that she wasn’t married, so a boyfriend or fiancé who’d give her all her heart desired had to be lurking somewhere. Matt just hadn’t met the paragon yet.

“Didn’t your mother teach you it’s not polite to stare?”

A slow grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “As a matter of fact, she didn’t. She died when I was two.”

Haley’s mouth dropped open, mortification filled the eyes he’d just been admiring. She came around the table and reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said gently pressing her hand to his. “I didn’t mean to be snippish or rude. I didn’t know.”

In the face of her genuine regret and concern, he was sorry he’d been so blunt. She truly looked contrite and sympathetic, as if she hurt for his loss, even though he’d been too young to understand it at the time.

“Matt, we’ve gotten off…”

“Ah, there you are,” Cliff said. “Thanks for waiting.”

Haley dropped her hand and clutched her folders. Matt wondered what she’d been about to say. It had almost sounded like the beginning of an apology, an olive branch offered. In a way, he was sorry the minister had intervened at that moment. Matt found it curious that mention of a deceased parent had triggered a turnaround in Haley’s attitude toward him.

“I know you two don’t get along very well,” the minister said. “That’s one of the reasons I put you together to come up with a compromise. You’ll find common ground. I know you both have very strong opinions about this, and I know you also have the best interests of the church at heart.”

“Thank you, Reverend. I won’t betray that trust.”

Matt cut a glance at her. “Neither will I. We’ll work out our differences. One way or another,” he added in a barely audible mutter.

Haley’s quick intake of breath told him she’d heard though.

“Excellent.” The minister patted Matt on the shoulder and did the same as he passed by Haley. “Have a good day.”

Matt looked at Haley. The day had been just fine until he’d been tasked to spend time with her. As long as he remained focused on his ministry, though, everything would be fine. Just fine.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” she told him. “I didn’t know about your mother.”

He shrugged, then gathered his own papers before standing. “Not a problem. Look, when’s a good time for us to meet? The sooner we get this over with, the faster we’ll be done with each other.”

“Our task is very important, Mr. Brandon.”

He sighed. “Call me Matt.”

“You make light of it, but we can’t have tambourines and guitars in service. I can understand if it were during some sort of special program, but not in the regular service.”

“Too much like having fun in church?”

“Yes!”

His eyes speared hers. “Then we really have a ways to go before we reach a compromise on this committee,” he said. “The God I serve says make a joyful noise. Do you even know how?”

He walked out of the room before she sent a scathing reply his way.

Haley seethed.

“He’s the most conceited, self-absorbed, egotistical lout I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“Lout?” Haley’s cousin Amber grinned. “Now that’s a word you don’t hear very often.”

“Whose side are you on?” Haley said as she snatched a saucepan from a cabinet in Amber Montgomery’s tiny but well-appointed kitchen and banged it on the counter.

Amber winced. “I think I’m on the side of those very expensive pots and pans you’re slamming all over the place. Those are my work instruments, you know.”

“Sorry,” Haley said. Amber was such a terrific cook that she carved a living at it.

Amber put down the knife she’d been using to chop celery and took the saucepan from Haley’s hands. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll finish this.” She drew a bit of water, put the pan on a burner, then returned to a waiting pile of fresh broccoli and grated carrots.

Haley stomped through the small kitchen and plopped into a chair at the drop-leaf table Amber used as both eating surface and desk in her studio apartment.

“He sounds like a dreamboat.”

“You’re taking his side again.”

Amber adjusted the flame, then dumped all of the chopped veggies in the saucepan with the now boiling water. After a quick blanching they’d go into the salad.

“Well, from what I remember, the Bible does say something about making noise in church.”

One of Haley’s missions in life was to get her cousin back to church. She couldn’t make the faith decision for Amber, but she could try to get her back to a place where she’d be exposed to the Word.

“Come with me Sunday, you’ll see.”

Amber glanced up. “Nice try. But I’m running in a 5K in Portland on Sunday. You should come with me. You hardly ever go into the city. We could have brunch and then stop at Powell’s.”

Haley considered for a moment, the bookstore a temptation. “No. This situation with Matt Brandon is tenuous enough. If I’m not there, Lord only knows what he’ll do.”

“So, when’s your date with him?”

Haley leveled a heated look at her cousin. “It’s not a date. It’s a committee meeting.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Amber said as she nibbled around a leftover carrot. “I think you object too much. You haven’t even heard any of his music.”

“I heard what he played during his interview and believe me it’s not at all church music.”

Amber shrugged. “Maybe your definition of church music is too narrow.”

That offhand comment stayed with Haley throughout the evening. As she readied for bed that night she wondered if she was being overly critical without giving Matt Brandon a fair hearing. It didn’t sit well with her at all that she had to question herself. If nothing else, Haley had a reputation for being fair, scrupulously so.

So, she reasoned, her visceral objections sprang from elsewhere. Too bad her friend Kara Spencer was out of town. As a therapist, Kara would have some definite ideas about this. Most likely the attraction she’d felt when she’d touched his arm, the awareness she’d been trying to feign indifference toward from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Not since Timothy had she been so aware of a man’s presence.

“And look where that got you,” she muttered.

Matt and Timothy were nothing at all alike. She and her ex-fiancé, both tall blondes, had been the golden couple in Wayside. Timothy, an up-and-comer at the town’s branch of Portland’s largest bank, was perfection and propriety—which made them a matched set. Matt on the other hand put her in mind of James Dean in his rebel without a cause persona. Where Timothy had been solicitous of her opinions and feelings, Matt’s attitude in the church council meetings put her teeth on edge. She’d seen every one of the weary sighs and rolling eyes that he thought he’d hidden so well.

Of course, to have noticed those things, she had to have been studying him pretty intently. She told herself it was the welfare of the church and the integrity of the council’s mission that had her watching his every move. The fact that he carried himself with an easy confidence that was both appealing and refreshing had nothing to do with it. Neither, she told herself, did the fact that when he smiled, tiny laugh lines at his eyes made her want to smile in return.

But watching him in a meeting and working with him on a committee of two were entirely different issues. In the meetings at church, she could hide her feelings behind the shield of the others present. In a one-on-one situation, she had no protection—not that she feared for her physical safety around him. Sparks seemed to fly whenever they were together, and those sparks could prove dangerous to her on a variety of levels.

“And so you’re stuck,” she muttered.

Reverend Baines was determined to have them together on this committee. Realizing it was futile to hope that the pastor might offer another solution to the music issue, her prayer that night was for tolerance and understanding. She ignored the other part of her problem, the awareness of Matt Brandon, an awareness that left her in a decidedly uncharitable mood.

The next afternoon, Haley struggled with a box jammed to overflowing with colorful cutouts and posters. As usual, she’d been the last teacher at Wayside Prep to clear out her room for the summer. Thank goodness, this was the last load. She’d store everything in her garage until she had time to sort through it all and figure out what she wanted to keep for the new group of fourth-graders she’d greet in the fall.

She fumbled for car keys that tangled somewhere under the box.

“Here, I’ll lend you a hand.”

Haley yelped and dropped the box—straight onto Matt’s foot.

“Ow.” He hopped out of the way, too late to protect his toes, though.

“What are you doing creeping up on me like that?”

Even as she said the words and her heartbeat slowed down, her mind registered running shoes, jeans, white T-shirt and a sport jacket, the same uniform she’d seen him in the day before. And the same objectionable thin gold hoop remained in his left ear. “And what are you doing here?”

“I came by so we can have our meeting.”

She reached for fallen posterboard apples and egg crate lions, remnants of the bulletin boards she’d designed and created that year. Their hands met when both sought the same fruit cutout. Heat raced through Haley. Rather than maintain even that minimal physical contact, she surrendered the cutout to Matt.

While he appeared nonplussed, she found herself totally flushed and flustered. “H-How did you know where to find me?”

“Eunice told me you were probably here. I thought you’d be at the church so I went there first.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Jamming her key in the latch of her Honda, she unlocked the trunk and turned to get the box. She crashed into it and Matt instead. Again the box tumbled to the ground, this time most of its contents scattering.

“What are you doing?” she snapped at him.

“I thought I was helping you. Since that doesn’t seem to be the case, why don’t I just leave? Meet me at the church at six and we’ll go over some things.”

Haley lost her patience and her temper. “You’re just going to walk away? You destroy my bulletin board material and you’re leaving.”

He turned to face her. “Look, lady. What do you want?”

At the tone and the words, she stood tall and proud, ready for battle. Her fierce positioning must have convinced him she didn’t cower to anyone, least of all an upstart choir director. Without a word he bent down and started filling up the box.

Careful to put lots of space between them, they picked up the assorted decorations that during the school year illustrated the parts of speech and new vocabulary words.

“You just make me so…ugh!” She shook her head, apparently unable to think of a despicable enough word.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

They completed the rest of their task in silence, though Matt paused every now and then to read the words and descriptions on some of the illustrations. He handed her a piece of white construction paper with a blue sailboat drawn on it. “So, you’re an English teacher.”

“Language arts.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Haley swallowed, glanced away and then tried to meet his direct gaze. “Excuse me?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’ve hardly rolled out the red carpet to make me feel welcome here. Do I look like a boyfriend who dumped you or is it just the music you hate?”

Haley found herself flustered. She’d never met a man who was so straight to the point.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t hate anyone or anything.”

“You’ve made no secret about what you think of me. I was just wondering why.”

“Mr. Brandon.”

“Call me Matt.”

She ignored that. But she did decide to level with him. It was the right thing to do. She could be honest with him without revealing that it wasn’t just the style of music he preferred that disturbed her.

“I joined Community Christian because it was a small conservative church with traditional values and services. If I had wanted to be affiliated with a congregation that had rock bands, hip-hop artists and jazz ensembles as part of the so-called worship experience, I would have joined one of the churches in town that feature that sort of…” She waved a hand as she floundered for an acceptable word. “Sound,” she finally said.

“So if you expect me to turn cartwheels down the center aisle because you’re here, I’m sorry. That’s just not going to happen.”

She lifted the box, placed it in the trunk next to several other boxes and closed the hatch with a hearty thwack.

He glanced at the trunk. “Something tells me you were wishing that was my head.”

She ignored that, too, and resisted the smile that threatened.

“There’s no way we’re going to be able to work together.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s looking like that. But listen,” he said, reaching for her arm when she would have walked away. “We can work this out.”

His thumb grazed her skin, but whether deliberately or as a result of him simply touching her as she pulled away, Haley couldn’t say. Frissons of something very like pleasure raced through her, causing her to catch her breath and feel even more wary of him.

“Let me go, please.”

Instantly, he dropped his hand and stepped away from her. She saw something flash in his eyes, but it was gone before she could determine if it’d been anger or something else entirely.

He reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “When you decide to stop playing games and being Miss Holier Than Thou, call me,” he said.

Haley watched him walk to a motorcycle parked not far away. He slipped a helmet on and a moment later the bike’s engine revved and he peeled out of the school parking lot.

Instead of being angry, she found herself even more curious about him.

She tore open the envelope he’d given her and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first was the order of worship for the Sunday morning service with two songs penned in where traditional hymns were normally sung. The other held lyrics to a song labeled “Acceptable.”

Standing in the parking lot, Haley read the words of the poem, a praise song about Jesus’s love and sacrifice. By the time she finished reading, her eyes were filled with wonder and with moisture that she furiously blinked away.

Surely he hadn’t written such an emotional song. But there, at the top of the page, under the title was “By Matt B.”

“Where is Mr. Brandon?” Haley asked Eunice. She had to find him. She’d gotten her emotions in check by the time she arrived at the church. The pages, though, remained clutched in her hand.

“I thought he was with you. I sent him over to the school when he came here looking for you.”

“He found me, but he left. Is there another way to reach him?”

“Sure, Haley,” Eunice said as she reached for the Rolodex on her desk.

For a moment, Haley thought she detected the hint of a sly smile at Eunice’s mouth. But in a flash it was gone.

Eunice plucked out a card. “He’s staying in the Amends House over on Grove Street. You know, the one they rent out. Here’s the phone number.”

Haley glanced at the card and then at Mrs. Gallagher who was smiling this time. “No. Thank you, though. I’ll just go over there.” She held up the pages. “We, uh, need to go over this.”

“Sure thing, Haley.”

It wasn’t until she stood on his front porch rapping with the brass knocker that she realized just what she was doing. The words to the song had touched her so deeply, moved her so completely that she wanted to hear the music, had to know if it sounded as emotionally gripping as the lyrics. For a moment, she wondered if Matt had really written the song. He’d claimed to be something of a songwriter when he’d interviewed. It just seemed so incongruous that a man who wore jeans and an earring and drove a motorcycle would or could compose such stirring lyrics.

No one answered her repeated raps on the door. Dejected, she turned away and went down the three wide steps. She sat on the middle one and opened the paper again to read the poem.

“So what did you think?”

She started and clutched her heart, the envelope and papers crumpled in her hands. Matt stood not six feet in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Do you always sneak up on people?”

Two brown paper bags of groceries filled his arms. “Since I live here, I’d hardly sneak up on my own house. What are you doing here?”

It took a moment for her heart to stop its accelerated beat. Twice now he’d caught her unawares. It wouldn’t happen again. “Is this one of the songs you plan for the choir to sing Sunday?”

“No,” he said, stepping around her and going up the steps. “It’s one I was going to sing. If, of course, it meets with your approval.”

His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. Haley didn’t quite know what came over her when he was around. Matt seemed to bring out the worst in her.

“It’s a beautiful piece.”

Not saying anything at all, he stared at her a moment. Then he murmured a quiet “Thank you” as he hoisted a bag on his hip and jostled for his keys. Haley wondered at his quiet intensity and then the soft-spoken words of thanks. What had he been thinking?

He managed to open the door.

“I’ll get that,” Haley said. She plucked the second bag from his arms and followed him inside.

“Thanks. The kitchen is this way.” The Amends House, named so because old Mr. Anderson built it for his wife to make amends for running off to the war, had been a landmark in Wayside for many years. These days, Mr. Anderson’s grandson used it for long-term rentals.

The sprawling house, twice the size of Haley’s small rancher, seemed quite a lot for a single guy like Matt. Maybe it was all that had been available for rent. Or maybe he had a wife and lots of children somewhere who would soon fill the many rooms. Would they be joining him when he got settled?

Haley trailed behind him through a dimly lit living room and dining room into the kitchen. Here, late-afternoon light streamed in through windows at the sink and a sliding glass door that opened onto a large deck.

“I didn’t know they’d built a deck.”

“You know the Andersons?”

She nodded. “They go to First Baptist. I taught their oldest boy two years ago.”

“So you’ve lived here all your life?”

Haley didn’t particularly want to talk about her life. She’d come here to discuss his music. Besides, she didn’t even like talking about herself; she much rather preferred drawing others out of their shells.

“Long enough to know a lot of people,” she told him. “Living in town and teaching helps a lot.”

She placed his second bag of groceries on the counter. “It looks like you’re settling in well.”

Matt glanced at her, but didn’t say anything about her attempt to change the subject as he began to unload groceries. Haley noticed lots of red meat and fresh vegetables, including a couple of varieties she didn’t immediately recognize.

“You cook?”

“I grill. It’s a guy thing.”

A smile tipped her mouth.

“You’re very pretty when you smile. You should do it more often.”

The smile quickly disappeared. “I didn’t come here to fight,” she said.

“Paying you an honest compliment means I’m picking a fight?”

Haley didn’t know how to respond. Compliments from Matt made her feel vulnerable. And she definitely wasn’t about to admit that to him. “I came to talk about this.” She held up the now well and truly crumpled song sheet.

“What about it?”

“It moved me to tears.”

That got his attention. Slowly he folded the paper bag. “And?”

Haley shrugged. “And I wanted you to know. I also wanted to hear the music.”

It was his turn for quiet contemplation.

Haley bit her lip, wondering if she’d again said something improper or inadvertently impolite. She still felt bad about the dig she’d made at the church.

The silence grew uncomfortable, and she wished he’d say something—anything! But still he just looked at her. She tried not to squirm, but found herself unable to pull off the absolute stillness that he’d apparently perfected.

“What?” she finally asked when she couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer and he didn’t seem inclined to say anything at all.

“Have dinner with me.”