Where Two Voices Meet

Chapter 9: Duet Practice

If Sarah Reyes had learned anything over the past month, it was this:

The choir had a remarkable talent for turning ordinary days into chaos.

Wednesday evening was no exception.

She arrived at the church basement expecting a normal rehearsal.

Instead, she walked into mild panic.

"What's happening?"

Mia pointed dramatically toward the front of the room.

"Disaster."

Sarah followed her gaze.

Mrs. Henderson stood beside the keyboard with her arms folded.

Never a promising sign.

Daniel looked concerned.

Joshua looked stressed.

Carlo looked entertained.

Which probably meant the situation was serious.

"Our duet singers can't perform."

The room fell silent.

Sarah blinked.

"What duet?"

"The feast day duet," Mia whispered.

"The opening number."

Sarah vaguely remembered hearing about it.

Two senior choir members had been scheduled to sing a featured piece during the parish celebration.

Apparently, that plan no longer existed.

Mrs. Henderson sighed.

"One singer is sick."

"And the other has a family emergency."

Concern immediately replaced the humor in the room.

"Are they okay?" Bea asked.

"Yes."

Mrs. Henderson nodded.

"They just won't be able to perform."

The tension eased slightly.

Still, the problem remained.

The celebration was only two weeks away.

The choir needed new soloists.

Fast.

For several minutes, everyone offered suggestions.

Most were quickly rejected.

Some volunteers lacked experience.

Others couldn't reach the required vocal range.

A few simply looked horrified at the idea.

Sarah understood that feeling.

Then Mrs. Henderson looked up.

Uh-oh.

Sarah recognized that expression.

It usually meant trouble.

Her suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

"I have an idea."

The room became suspiciously quiet.

Mrs. Henderson smiled.

A dangerous smile.

"The duet should be performed by Sarah and Mark."

Silence.

Complete silence.

Sarah was fairly certain her soul left her body for a moment.

Across the room, Mark looked equally stunned.

Carlo immediately broke the silence.

"Oh, this is going to be interesting."

Joshua threw a rolled-up music sheet at him.

"No."

The answer left Sarah's mouth instantly.

Mrs. Henderson blinked.

"No?"

"No."

"Why?"

Sarah gestured vaguely.

At everything.

In life.

At existence.

"Because."

Excellent argument.

Very convincing.

Mrs. Henderson remained unimpressed.

"You've performed before."

"Not recently."

"You sing beautifully."

"Questionable."

The room laughed.

Meanwhile, Mark appeared to be fighting his own battle.

Mrs. Henderson turned toward him.

"What about you?"

Mark rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know."

Translation:

He absolutely knew.

He was nervous too.

The discovery made Sarah feel slightly better.

Only slightly.

The next fifteen minutes consisted of choir members trying to convince them.

Mostly unsuccessfully.

"You'll sound great together."

"No."

"The harmonies will be amazing."

"No."

"You literally already sing well together."

"No."

Mia folded her arms.

"You're both impossible."

Sarah considered that.

Fair.

Eventually, Mrs. Henderson raised her hands.

"Enough."

The room quieted.

"We aren't deciding tonight."

Sarah relaxed.

For approximately three seconds.

"We're trying one rehearsal."

The relaxation vanished.

Half an hour later, Sarah found herself standing beside the piano.

Exactly where she didn't want to be.

Mark stood nearby holding a music folder.

Looking only slightly more comfortable.

Which wasn't saying much.

Mrs. Henderson handed them sheet music.

"It's called Lead Me Home."

Sarah glanced at the pages.

Beautiful.

Challenging.

Definitely not easy.

"Let's hear it."

The room suddenly became very interested.

Traitors.

All of them.

Daniel played the opening notes.

The melody filled the room softly.

Sarah studied the music.

Then took a breath.

And began singing.

Her voice entered first.

Gentle.

Careful.

Testing.

Several measures later, Mark joined.

Immediately, something shifted.

The harmonies blended.

Not perfectly.

Not yet.

But naturally.

Like two voices meeting halfway.

Sarah tried to ignore the strange feeling that accompanied it.

Unfortunately, it was difficult.

Because every time their voices merged, the music seemed richer.

Warmer.

Fuller.

The room noticed too.

When they finished the first verse, nobody spoke.

Mrs. Henderson smiled.

Slowly.

Triumphantly.

Which was never a good sign.

"Oh no," Sarah muttered.

Mrs. Henderson laughed.

"Oh yes."

The choir spent the rest of the rehearsal teasing them.

Mostly Carlo.

Definitely Carlo.

"You know," he said during the break, "if I didn't know better—"

"Don't."

"I wasn't even finished."

"Don't."

The room laughed.

Mark looked equally amused and exhausted.

"Do they always do this?" Sarah asked.

"Pretty much."

"How do you survive?"

"Prayer."

Sarah laughed before she could stop herself.

Mark grinned.

Mission accomplished.

After the rehearsal ended, Mrs. Henderson approached them.

"You both did well."

Sarah frowned.

"It wasn't terrible."

"High praise."

"I'm trying to manage expectations."

Mrs. Henderson smiled knowingly.

"Will you perform it?"

Sarah hesitated.

The answer should have been obvious.

She hated being the center of attention.

She hated expectations.

She hated pressure.

Yet something about the song felt different.

Maybe because she wasn't doing it alone.

She glanced toward Mark.

He looked back.

Neither spoke.

Yet somehow the same question passed between them.

Finally, Mark shrugged.

"If she agrees."

The response caught Sarah off guard.

Not because of what he said.

Because he was giving her the choice.

Trusting her decision.

Mrs. Henderson looked toward Sarah.

The room seemed strangely quiet.

Waiting.

Sarah took a deep breath.

Then nodded.

"One performance."

The choir erupted.

Cheers.

Applause.

Celebration.

Carlo nearly fell out of his chair.

"WE HAVE A DUET."

"Please sit down," Joshua said.

"No."

As Sarah walked home later that evening, the music lingered in her mind.

The melody.

The harmonies.

The way the song felt when they sang together.

She wasn't entirely sure why it affected her so much.

Maybe because it reminded her of something she'd forgotten.

Music wasn't meant to be experienced alone.

Some songs needed more than one voice.

The thought stayed with her as she looked up at the night sky.

And for reasons she couldn't explain, she found herself looking forward to the next rehearsal.

A realization that was probably more dangerous than she cared to admit.