Playing by Heart by Anne Mateer

her nephew. Could he help—?
    Cold shivered down my back. To use the boy in my matchmaking scheme seemed as chickenhearted as my father’s sneaking out of Fort Riley, Kansas, after his regiment was ordered to Puerto Rico during the Spanish-American War.
    I winced. At least JC’s father hadn’t committed a dishonorable act in his death. Davy’s accident was tragedy, pure and simple. JC’s memories would be of a man everyone liked, everyone mourned. Would that make it easier or harder to live without him?
    Pastor Reynolds asked the congregation to bow their heads in prayer. My chin dropped to my chest. I hadn’t heard a word the man said. When my head rose again, my eyes locked on Miss Bowman at the piano, her graceful fingers gliding over the keys. What a gift to be able to make music instead of just imbibe it.
    Ma touched my arm as Pastor Reynolds dismissed the congregation. “I need to speak with Mrs. Reynolds about this week’s Red Cross meeting.”
    I nodded, turned to JC. “Did you enjoy the service, son?”
    He looked up at me with solemn eyes. “Yes. It’s better with Aunt Lula playing the piano.” He crooked his finger, beckoning me closer. “Mrs. Wayfair hurt my ears.”
    I chuckled, slapped the boy on the back, and guided him out of the pew. Davy Wyatt could be proud that his son had an ear for good music. And I could praise God for yet another common interest with the boy to build a friendship upon. “How about you and I go get a soda next Saturday?”
    â€œOh boy! Could we?”
    I nodded. “We’ll ask your ma.”
    JC pulled me toward Mrs. Wyatt and Miss Bowman, my mouth suddenly dry as I searched for a way to open a conversation with Lula. But as we neared, Lula’s delicate jaw tightened.
    I slackened my steps, angled myself away from her conversation with her sister, not eager to intrude. Yet Mrs. Wyatt’s words carried clearly.
    â€œBut Lula, I specifically asked him so y’all could spend some time together.” I didn’t have to see Mrs. Wyatt’s face to gather she disapproved.
    â€œI told you, I don’t want to spend time with him.” Words solid as stone.
    Mrs. Wyatt huffed. “If you don’t spend time with a man, you won’t find one to marry.”
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you?” she hissed. “I’m not marrying anyone.”
    I couldn’t help but glance at them now. Not marrying anyone? A woman like Lula? It didn’t make sense.
    Mrs. Wyatt’s hand swatted the air. “Oh, pshaw. You say that, but no girl means it.”
    Lula swung her gaze away from her sister, slamming it into me.
    I took a step back, my collar suddenly tight. Her revelation should have set me to singing hallelujah . But for some reason it didn’t. I felt something more akin to disappointment.
    With a quick smile at JC, I patted my pockets and headed to the front of the church as if I’d forgotten something. I wished I could tell her I knew how much energy it took to fight the plans someone else had for your life.

    Thursday evening, I copied figures onto one more piece of paper, blew on the ink to dry it, then set the page in the stack with the others. Numbers added, checked, and rechecked. I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back in my chair, imagining a modern gymnasium, built to encompass a basketball court as well as bleachers along the sides. Either the school board would catch my vision, or they would not. I wasn’t asking for a new gymnasium right away. And who could reject aplan that would ensure the people of Dunn did their part in funding the war?
    Ma bustled into the front room and sat near the window, her basket of mending near her feet. I slapped my hands to my thighs and stood.
    â€œI’ll be home by nine o’clock, I imagine.” I swept the stack of papers into my hand.
    She looked up, squinted. “Where’re you