Free After Hello by Lisa Mangum

said, a daring edge to her smile.
    Sam chose to hear the word as a promise instead of an evasion. There had been a moment—right before she’d hidden behind her sunglasses—when he thought he had caught a glimpse of something unexpected. A deeply hidden pain. Raw anger. And maybe a little fear. Perhaps his first impression of her had been accurate. Perhaps they were kindred spirits after all.
    There were layers to her that made her intriguing because beneath those layers of emotions, Sam sensed a core of strength in her. He appreciated that. Most people would have delivered the book to Piper and then walked away from her outlandish demand with a simple, Not my problem attitude. Not Sara. Even after he had pointed that out to her, she had accepted the quest, and Sam suspected if anyone could see it through to the end, it would be her.
    He followed her into the church, trying to remember if he had ever been as brave as Sara seemed to be. Maybe. Once. Not anymore, though.
    Sara hadn’t gone far. She stood just inside the doorway, her face lifted toward the high, arched ceilings. “Oh, wow,” she said again. She slid her glasses back up onto her head, her face peaceful.
    The afternoon light filtered through the stained-glass panels on the walls and touched the floor with color. The rich sounds of organ music filled the church. Deep bass notes rumbled through the air, followed by a flurry of ever-increasing notes that traveled all the way up the scales to a piercingly high soprano pitch. Sam had been gambling that Daniel would be on the bench this afternoon. Sounded like he was right. That was good. But Sam knew they’d have to hurry if they wanted to talk to him before he left for the day.
    Sam touched Sara’s shoulder and gestured for her to follow him.
    They each dropped a few dollars into the donation box—the volunteer thanked Sam by name—and then they walked down the long aisle toward the nave. Tall, arched alcoves lined the aisle on either side. Sara pulled out her camera and looped the strap around her wrist. Her fingers twitched like she wanted to take a few pictures, but Sam tugged on her sleeve and quickened his pace. He wished they could take their time and really explore the church, give Sara the time she wanted to frame up some amazing pictures, but from the sound of the music filling the room, Daniel was almost done with his organ recital.
    They reached the choir seats and Sam glanced up into the loft where the organist sat. A group of people stood together in a small cluster, watching Daniel play the final measures of music.
    Sara sat in one of the empty chairs facing the loft, her eyes closed, basking in the echoing sound of the organ.
    Daniel struck the final, thundering chord. The note held for a moment, then slowly faded away. The smattering of applause sounded weak and small in its wake. Daniel stood up from the bench and shook hands with each member of the tour group who had been watching him, then turned and stretched, lifting his arms high above his shaved head.
    Sam raised his hand, waving to catch Daniel’s attention. “Not bad—for a beginner,” he called up in a loud whisper.
    Daniel leaned his elbows on the railing. His dark skin looked even darker against the pale white marble of the balustrade. “Beginner?” he scoffed. “Nah, I earned my place here, my man.”
    “Have a minute?”
    “Always. Gimme a sec; I’ll be right down.”
    Sam joined Sara on the front row, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs.
    “So, do you like it here?”
    She nodded. “It’s so beautiful. And . . . quiet.”
    Sam chuckled. “You didn’t appreciate the music?”
    “No, it’s not that. Honest. It’s just . . . this place makes me feel quiet. On the inside.”
    “I know what you mean. An inside quiet can be a good thing.” Sam absently reached for the silver chain around his neck and felt the familiar shape of the dog tags and the token that he wore beneath his shirt. As