Felicia Mason - Sweet Accord

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.”

Haley’s eyes widened, first in surprise and then in reluctant pleasure. She could think of worse ways to spend a Thursday evening. Settled in front of the television with a bowl of microwave popcorn came to mind.

She told herself curiosity about the song “Acceptable” made her want to take him up on the invitation. Her innate honesty, however, compelled her to acknowledge curiosity about the man himself. She’d never really been this close to anyone like him before. If Matt projected any image at all, it was that of rebel. Maybe it was the bike and the earring. And maybe it was the sense of controlled power she sensed whenever he was near. Whatever it was, she knew for certain that she’d never met anyone quite like him.

He shrugged out of the jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. She’d seen him in nothing but his casual clothes since the day of his final interview with the church council. Wondering if the suit he’d donned for that meeting was the only one he owned, she studied him as his arms flexed when he tucked the paper bag under the sink. Pulling out a colander, he ripped lettuce and let cold water run over it.

When he turned to her again, her breath caught.

“So?”

More than slightly confused, and painfully aware of her awkwardness, Haley just stared back. “So what?”

He held up a plastic-wrapped butcher package that contained two thick center-cut steaks. “Dinner?”

Before she could answer, the telephone rang. “Excuse me,” he said as he walked across the kitchen to an old-fashioned gossip bench. He picked up the phone.

A moment later, a smile curved his mouth. He glanced at her and shifted a bit so his back was to her. He spoke in the quiet hushed tones she’d seen her college roommate use when a boyfriend called and said something naughty.

Haley blushed. She quickly glanced away.

Then she looked over her shoulder at him. His low murmur and chuckle made her wish someone talked like that with her on the telephone. But Timothy, her first and only long-term boyfriend, had never been one for flowery compliments or long conversation. That was one of the reasons Haley eventually realized it would never work between them. They had everything—and nothing—in common. A man of action, Timothy wasted precious little time on social niceties unless it was with a client. To Haley, that seemed so cold. And so unfair. Over time, until he’d finally called things off between them, she’d learned to live without.

Now, half-listening to Matt, she wondered what it might be like to have a man whisper sweet nothings to her.

Despite his dinner invitation, probably issued because he wasn’t used to eating alone, Haley realized she intruded. She picked up the song sheet, smoothed out the wrinkles in the paper and tucked it in her pocket. Without disturbing his conversation, she slipped through the rooms headed toward the front door.

She’d just pushed the screen door open when he called out.

“I thought you were going to have dinner with me. You know, we have to at least put forth some sort of effort at compromise.”

Haley paused.

While her mind had been running along another track entirely, Matt remained focused on their mission.

Inexplicably, Haley felt on the verge of tears, her emotions raw and on the surface. Something about Matt brought out a soul-deep longing in her while at the same time a fear of the very thing she longed for. He wasn’t afraid to embrace life, while Haley preferred the comfort of things she knew best.

“I can’t,” she said. And then she fled.

From his door, Matt watched her leave. Something had frightened her. He glanced back in the house, not sure what it could have been. He finished the conversation with his grandmother, apologizing for keeping her waiting, then, unfortunately, turned his attention to an evening meal for one.

After grilling steak and vegetables for dinner, he spent the rest of the evening in the room he’d been using as a makeshift studio. Upstairs, it had the best light and a decent view of the town square. If he stood just so, he could see the gazebo where, he assumed, bands played during the summer. That’s the sort of small-town activity he’d seen on television. And Wayside, at least its downtown area, looked and felt as if it had been towed straight out of a studio back lot.

Matt had been in Wayside for all of two weeks. He’d been in Oregon, though, for several months. He loved Portland and took every moment he could get to go into the city for books, good coffee and record stores with extensive gospel selections. He liked large cities because a person could be as anonymous as he wanted to be. And for a long time now, Matt had reveled in anonymity.