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Song in the Dark

By Jessica White

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CHAPTER 1

Possibility floated on a warm breeze across Washington Park’s freshly cut grass. Jenna plucked the strings of her harp in time with the drumbeat of a jogger’s sneakers on a nearby path, putting all her passion into the piece.
She was born to do this.
A wisp of a girl stopped and stared in bright-eyed wonder.
Oh, to have a dozen students with the same awe in their eyes.
But Jenna had to be practical. Harp teachers weren’t in high demand. If she planned to start over, she had to find a position with an orchestra.
Letting the final notes resound to the heavens, she stilled the strings.
The girl’s mother clapped. “Wow. What a gift.” She placed a five-dollar bill in the charity container.
“Thank you.” Jenna set her harp onto its base and motioned the girl closer.
The child inched away from the protection of her mother’s skirt. Surely if she could muster up the courage, Jenna could step out of her own mother’s shadow. God had opened the door. She just had to be brave enough to step through.
Moving to the edge of her stool, Jenna leaned forward. “What instrument would you like to play?”
The girl glanced at her mom before scurrying over to whisper in Jenna’s ear.
Jenna suppressed a chuckle. “I’m sure you’ll be amazing, but you need to grow a bit taller to hold a bass upright.” She pulled a pamphlet from the basket at her feet. “Want to know a secret?”
Expectant light filled the little doe’s eyes.
“You don’t have to wait. You can learn the basics on one of these.” Jenna pointed to a violin on the brochure before handing it to the girl’s mother. “A good violin is expensive, but this program rents to students who can’t afford to own one. They budget time for practice on-site too. When she’s ready, it’s an excellent place to start.”
The woman thanked her and promised to look into it.
As they wandered off, Jenna finished her bottle of water. Summer officially began last week, but the earth already radiated with heat as if the pits of Hell lay just below the surface. She’d hoped Albany would be cooler than the concrete oven of New York City, but the humidity negated any relief the surrounding woodlands provided.
The heat hadn’t been the only stifling thing in Manhattan. Which was why when Albany’s Music in the Park organizer had called, desperate for a last-minute replacement, Jenna had hastily agreed. If only she’d realized it was for the hottest shift of the day.
She pulled at the neckline of her blouse, fanning herself as she scanned for her next audience. At five o’clock, most people were heading home for dinner or getting in an evening jog after work.
A group of boys throwing a football in the adjacent field scattered like a flock of birds into the trees. Jenna’s stomach tightened.
Mystery Man and his three Dobermans crested the grassy rise. She wasn’t sure whether it was his dogs or his stoic expression that made people back off, but both intrigued her. He always came in the heat of the evening and walked right past. He hadn’t stopped for the technically complex Berlioz or Hollinger’s haunting “Praeludium,” but she was determined to find a song to capture his attention.
Watching for the man’s reaction, Jenna began her rendition of a moody rock song. The Dobermans’ ears perked. In unison, they turned toward her, pulling their owner in her direction. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach and let herself get lost in the depths of the minor chords. As the last tone faded, the dogs whimpered.
Opening her eyes, she found them and their master studying her with equal intensity.
“You’re a siren.” The deep, steady timbre of his voice resonated inside her chest.
Warmth not caused by the sun heated her cheeks. “I don’t play to cause men to lose their sanity or wreck their ships.”
“But you play to charm.” It wasn’t a question yet demanded an answer.
“I search for songs that reach people’s souls.” As she moved the harp off her shoulder her gaze dropped to the black T-shirt hugging his chest. He was as sleek and trim as his dogs.
“Like I said, a siren.”
Rolling off his tongue, it sounded like a compliment, but she wasn’t certain. He was older than she’d assumed, definitely in his thirties. Perhaps he thought she was a naïve college girl and was toying with her.
Jenna turned her attention back to his three companions and offered a hand to the small gray Doberman. He nuzzled his pink snout into her palm.
“What are their names?”
“The one you’re petting is Usi.” He pointed to the black and tan ones. “And these are his brothers, Cerin and Berk.”
“Brothers?”
A faint smile cracked his serious facade. “Usi was a surprise.”
“Unusual names. They must mean something special.”
“Cerin means dark. You’ll notice he has more black than his brother, but Berk has more muscle in his broad shoulders. His name means strength. And Usi? Well, his name means smoke.”
A man who picked names based on meanings?
Jenna held out her other palm to Cerin. He sniffed before bowing his head. She scratched behind his ear, and he melted into a puppy.
His bigger brother, Berk, whined.
Mystery Man spoke a rapid word she thought was German, and the big dog ceased complaining.
“They’re so obedient. Do they work in a service capacity?” She gave affection to the largest one.
“No, but they can take down a man.”
Jenna couldn’t imagine these sweet creatures attacking a full-grown person with anything more than kisses, but their sleek muscles would give them an advantage if provoked.
She gazed into the stranger’s dark walnut eyes. “Well, you’ve introduced your dogs, but you haven’t told me your name yet.”
He folded his arms and surveyed their surroundings. “Dean.”
Only an elderly couple and a businessman on his cellphone, oblivious to the world around him, walked along the path. The man must value his privacy.
She could respect that. “I’m Jenna.”
“I wouldn’t take you for a Metallica fan.”
So she’d guessed right about his musical tastes. “Just because I play a classical instrument doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate their music.”
He assessed her head to toe. “Perhaps not, but your hundred-dollar heels and tailored silk blouse tell me you’re well off. The fact you’ve been here the past three Tuesday afternoons raising money for a charity instead of working means you likely come from an established wealthy family. A rich, young girl trained in the harp would need to be a bit rebellious to listen to Metallica. You are the picture of decorum. Even your fingernails are an unobtrusive natural polish.”
Uncomfortable with his accurate assessment, she swiped her long blond hair behind her ear. “I have to keep my nails trimmed to play the harp.”
He smirked. “Justifying the least offensive thing I said definitely means you aren’t a rebel. I bet you don’t even have a tiny tattoo hidden under your conservative outfit.”
He wasn’t wrong. Jenna’s mother would haul her before the deacons to have the demons cast out of her if she stepped foot in a tattoo parlor. She’d even made Jenna pierce her ears at the doctor’s office instead of the mall, like her friends.
“And your scrunched brow confirms I’m right.”
She lifted her chin. “I happen to enjoy all kinds of music my mother doesn’t approve of.” Although that wasn’t hard considering Mama disapproved of anything not hymns or classical. “In fact, my Master’s recital included an original interpretation of a Linkin Park song.”
His eyebrow rose. “Play it.”
“I’m not sure you can appreciate it.” Jenna peered down at the dogs’ eager faces. “But I’ll play it for them.”
She scooted to the edge of her stool, adjusted a few levers, and placed the harp back against her shoulder. Only then did she notice the slight tremor in her hands. Not pausing to analyze why this man brought on performance anxiety worse than her final recital at Juilliard, she pushed past the fear and played.
The dogs’ ears resumed their attentive fascination. Their eyes followed her hands back and forth across the strings as if each motion was a magic trick producing sound.
Enraptured by their response, she found herself suddenly at the end. She pressed her hands to the strings, cutting off the notes. A few passersby clapped and complimented her, but none approached to put money in the jar.
Dean waited until they moved out of earshot. “I bet there’s a story behind that song.”
Numb? Yeah, there was. But they didn’t know each other well enough for her to share that one.
The blaze of the summer sun made her reach for her water bottle, lying empty beside her purse. Next week she needed to bring two. To avoid looking like an idiot, she pulled her phone from the side pocket and checked the time.
Dean cleared his throat. “You’re playing every Tuesday this summer?”
“Four ‘til six, unless there’s rain.”
He pulled a ten from his wallet and held it out. “Then I look forward to finding out how good a siren you are, Jenna.”
The resistance of the bill as she slipped it from his grasp sent a vibration through her body.
He gave another command, and the dogs started down the sidewalk.
Had he just challenged her to charm him? Jenna shook the thought away. The heat must be messing with her head. Surely, Mr. Stoic wasn’t interested in her. If he was, it was curiosity, nothing more. By next week, he’d be back to pretending she didn’t exist.
And if he meant it?
Her mind compiled a potential song list. She loved a challenge, and Dean was a puzzle she wanted to figure out. What kind of man walked three dogs trained to attack through a park full of people? Or could assess her entire life in one appraisal? Or read between the lines of her music selections?
Mystery Man now had a name, but he’d left her with more questions. Still what was the harm in playing his game until she could escape New York?

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