Read Online A Plain Love Song by Kelly Irvin - Free Book Online Page B

spent all of an hour—most of that writhing in pain—with her. How would he know if she were good company? “I’m almost finished in here. It’s fine. You can write in this room while I clean in the kitchen.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” A splash of sarcasm painted the courtesy. He strummed this time, a higher note, then a lower one. She wanted him to show her how to do that. He patted the guitar as if to say good job . “Would you mind turning down the radio?”
    If she turned down the radio, he’d expect her to continue to make conversation. She would forget all about her job and watch him play the guitar. Maybe learn how to play herself. That was the last thing she needed to do. She had enough problems with Daed…and Matthew. Still, it was Jackson’s house, and his parents were her employers. “I don’t know, I—”
    “It’s hard to write lyrics for a song with the radio blaring, that’s all. I can’t hear them in my head. I promise I won’t interfere with your cleaning.”
    He would write lyrics while she cleaned house. It seemed unfair. No, this was her life. The one she was born to live—if Daed and Mudder had any say in it. “Okay.”
    She flipped the radio off and began to dust around an enormousflat screen TV mounted on the wall. A long, low bookshelf below it contained rows of DVDs interspersed with photos in black and brown wood frames. Photos of Jackson and his brother and sister posing with steers and hogs and huge ribbons. She picked up the first one, a photo of a younger Jackson wearing a blue jacket with F UTURE F ARMERS OF A MERICA embroidered in gold on the front. Grinning ear to ear, he held an enormous ribbon in one hand and his steer’s harness with the other. Strange things these Englischers documented with photos.
    I’ve met my match.
    No matter what I do, I can’t catch her.
    Every time I get close, she rears up and lets me have it.
    She doesn’t give one bit.
    No matter what I do, even something completely new,
    she rears up and lets me have it.
    God knows, He sees how hard I try, but He knows I’ve met my match.
    Adah couldn’t help herself. She settled the frame back in its place and turned so she could watch Jackson’s right hand pluck the strings and the fingers of his other hand move up and down the frets, agile, quick, making music. Now and then he stopped, frowned, picked up his pencil, and made scratches on the paper he’d laid on the table. He was making music. Fascinated, Adah forgot to feign dusting. She stood, transfixed, as he created a song that she was the first to hear.
    “It’s rough, really rough.” He looked up and presented her with an aw-shucks smile. “Sorry you have to hear it before it’s finished.”
    “It’s nice…pretty…”
    “Naw, it’s a mess. It needs a lot of work.”
    “How do you do it?” She had to know. Here sat another person who did what she longed to do. Write songs and play them. “Do you hear it in your head? Do you hear the words first or the notes?”
    “Sometimes the melody comes first, sometimes it’s the words, but they get all mixed together in my head. I never know what’s gonna come out.” He cocked his head, his expression puzzled. “Do you play?”
    She shook her head. “I love the way it sounds, though. SometimesI hear the words in my head too. I can barely read notes, just what I’ve learned from looking at books in the library and the bookstore.”
    “You can’t really learn music that way. You have to practice.” He slid the strap over his head and held out the guitar. “I can teach you. With a voice like yours, you should learn. I taught my sister RaeAnne. She’s no good because she doesn’t practice, but that’s not my fault.”
    “No. Thank you, but no.” It was all she could do to back away. Every fiber of her being wanted to touch the instrument. “We don’t play musical instruments.”
    “Seriously? Not at all? Why?” His eyebrows rose and his forehead wrinkled, giving him a