Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) by Ryan Winfield

even made a note of it back in the spring, when she had signed him up for his health insurance.
    “Happy birthday, then,” the judge said, chuckling. “I like a guy who doesn’t take himself so seriously. And it says here in the bio you sent us that you’re a synesthete.”
    When Caleb nodded but didn’t say anything, Jane was a little worried that maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned that part in the bio she wrote for him. That maybe it was private. She silently scolded herself for writing something so personal but then forgetting his birthday.
    “Did you know Billy Joel has synesthesia?”
    “No, sir, I didn’t know that.”
    “He does. And so did Duke Ellington, I believe. How did you learn about your condition?”
    “I think of it as a gift,” Caleb said. “Not a condition.”
    “Okay. And how did you learn about your gift then?”
    “I told my fourth-grade teacher that I hadn’t been doing my homework because I’d been up at night writing music. She didn’t believe I knew how to write music, so she asked me to bring it in and show her, so I did.”
    “And how did she know from your music that you had synesthesia?”
    “She didn’t, but the counselor she sent me to did.”
    “And how did the counselor know?”
    “He had an uncle with it. He guessed it because my music was all written out in crayon lines of color instead of notes.”
    A female judge at the end of the panel was staring at Caleb through narrowed eyes as he spoke, as if he might be lying. “And are you seeing any color now?” she asked. “As we sit here and talk to you?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “I’m seeing yellow.”
    “And why are you seeing yellow?”
    “Because that’s the color of this giant light you’ve got pointing in my face.”
    All the judges laughed except her.
    “Well, then, young man,” the middle judge said, “let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”
    Caleb draped the guitar strap over his head, took the pickfrom the frets, and began playing. It was a catchy melody that Jane hadn’t heard before, and it built layer on layer until it was ringing loud from his guitar to fill the set with sound. Then he fell to strumming and began to sing. His voice was crisp and clear, and it resonated through the auditorium in a way that was hard to describe. Not nasal at all, but somehow throaty and rich and pure. And then he hit the chorus and broke into a falsetto that made Jane shiver, it was so beautiful.
    I love you will never cross my lips
    ’Cause it isn’t ever really true.
    And if you’d never said it, honey
    I might not feel so blue.
    The judges looked at one another and nodded. Jane closed her eyes and said a quick little prayer.
    “I think I love this one,” the woman next to Jane said.
    “I love him too,” Jane mumbled.
    When Caleb finished, he let the guitar fall against his chest, suspended by the strap, and he clawed both his hands through his hair to pull it away from his eyes. Then he stared right at the judges with a sincere but stoic expression, looking to Jane like some sexy Roman warrior in the center of the Colosseum, gazing up to Caesar for his fate. The five thumbs came up from the judges and a huge smile erupted on Caleb’s face. Then the female judge on the end slowly turned her thumb down, and Jane heard herself shout, “No!”
    The handler waved erratically at Jane to get her attention, holding a finger to his lips and signaling for her to keep quiet. When she looked back to the screen, the judges were arguing, and Caleb was standing there tight-lipped and gently nodding, as if he had expected it to go this way all along.
    “Sorry, young man,” the middle judge finally said. “I think most of my fellow judges up here would agree that you have a unique style and an amazing voice. And you’re obviously a very talented songwriter too. But unfortunately, it has to be a unanimous decision. The answer for you is no.”
    “Thank you for your time,” Caleb said. Then he walked