Her voice became stern. “Gregory, don’t be such a man. The most special day in a woman’s life is her wedding day, so I want to do whatever I can to make it perfect for Jill. Just bring my future daughter-in-law for dinner on Wednesday night.”
In other words, his presence wasn’t necessary except as an escort to the bride-to-be, even in the eyes of his own mother. He didn’t bother to filter the smile from his words. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say. I’ll check with Jill and make sure Wednesday works for her.”
“Good. See you at seven.”
Kaylee Fontaine was a serious-faced child, with limp, pale hair that dangled from her skull like homemade spaghetti on an Italian chef’s pasta rack. Red blotches from the cold winter wind stood out starkly on her pale cheeks and made her nose as bright as a clown’s. The wide eyes she turned up to Jill, though, were a truly beautiful shade of blue-gray, framed by thick, curling lashes that would no doubt evoke envy in fashion models worldwide. Jill gave the girl a smile and extended her hand toward the woman standing on the front porch beside her.
“Hello. I’m Jill. You must be Mrs. Fontaine.”
“Please, call me Becky. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled as she took Jill’s hand in her gloved one and pressed. “I can’t tell you how thrilled Kaylee is to be taking lessons from the famous Jillian Elizabeth King. You’re like her idol. She was so excited I don’t think she was able to sleep at all last night.”
Kaylee’s gaze dropped to the floor, embarrassment expanding the red splotches on her cheeks. Her thin shoulders seemed to shrink in on themselves. Sympathy for the shy girl stirred in Jill.
“Please come inside.” She took a backward step and gestured up the wooden stairs. “My apartment is upstairs.”
Becky Fontaine hesitated. “Actually, I wasn’t planning to stay for the lesson, if that’s okay. My son is in the car, and I have to run him over to a birthday party. I’ll be back before the thirty minutes are over, though.” She turned a pleading expression on Jill. “Would that be okay?”
Actually, after the first piano lesson of the morning, Jill preferred not to have Becky hovering over her shoulder. Mariah Cramer’s mother had refused to sit on the sofa, where Jill directed her, but paced behind the piano stool watching every move Jill and her daughter made. Mariah hadn’t seemed to mind — she was probably used to having a helicopter mom — but Jill had been a bundle of nerves by the time the lesson was over. If this piano lesson thing continued, she might have to institute a rule about parents waiting downstairs in Nana’s living room.
“That’s no problem at all.” Jill gave Kaylee a broad smile. “We’ll be fine by ourselves, won’t we?”
The child’s head bobbed once, almost imperceptibly.
“Oh, good. Thank you.” Becky stooped and planted a quick kiss on Kaylee’s cheek. “Have fun, sweetie. Learn lots.” She headed toward the car parked at the curb in front of the house. Jill caught a glimpse of a small, round face in the back seat.
Kaylee watched the car pull away, then faced Jill. Only her eyes moved as she looked up at her. She still hadn’t said a word.
“Why don’t we hang up your coat, and then we can get started?”
Jill closed the door behind the child, put her coat on the rack in the hallway, and led the way upstairs. When she entered the living room, Kaylee stopped in the doorway. Her eyes went round as she gazed at the piano.
“Wow. It’s beautiful.” Her voice, surprisingly low, was breathy with awe.
“Thank you.” Jill couldn’t help a swell of pride. She might be at odds with her piano at the moment, but it was still the most beautiful instrument she’d ever played. “Do you have a piano at home?”
The child nodded. “My grandma gave it to me last year. But it’s old. Nothing like this one.”
A rush of kinship warmed Jill. “My grandmother gave me my first piano, too.”
Blue-gray eyes lifted to her face. “Really?”
Jill nodded. “It was pretty old, too, but I didn’t care. I loved it anyway. I spent hours playing it.” She seated herself on the bench and patted the cushioned seat beside her. “Ready to get started?”
Mariah had rushed for the piano the moment she spied it, but Kaylee approached slowly, almost reverently. The two looked to be close to the same age, but their temperaments were as different as girls could be. Kaylee slid onto the bench and sat rigid, her hands clasped in her lap.
“Have you ever taken music lessons?” Jill asked.
Kaylee shook her head.
“Do you know the notes on a piano?”
Again, the child shook her head. That suited Jill fine. Mariah had never taken a lesson either, which meant both her students would be at the same level. Much easier for her. They could use the same lesson book, and she would only have to prepare one lesson each week instead of two.
“All right, let’s begin by learning the keys. The very first key on the keyboard is an A, just like in the regular alphabet. It’s all the way down here on the left side.”
Jill went through the same introductory comments she’d given to Mariah, only without parental interruption the lesson went much quicker. When she asked Kaylee to point out all the C’s on the keyboard, the child did so quickly, without hesitation, but also with a soft touch of obvious reverence for the instrument that the other girl had not displayed. Jill found herself drawn to the shy girl, to her quiet manners and, especially, to her obvious deference for the piano. She also had a quick mind, and listened to everything Jill said with the attention of a cat focused on a bird’s nest.
“That’s really good, Kaylee,” Jill told her when they’d covered the black keys and the concept of sharps and flats. “Now, I’d like to hear you play something. What do you play at home?”
When she’d asked Mariah to play, she’d been treated to a clanging but enthusiastic performance of “Chopsticks,” followed by “Heart and Soul” pounded out with both index fingers.
Once again, Kaylee showed herself to be no Mariah. A look of absolute horror crept over the girl’s features. She shrank from the keyboard, her fingers curled into fists and pressed against her collarbone. “But I don’t know how.”
“That’s okay.” Jill placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “You’re here to learn how, and you will. I just want to hear what you can do. It doesn’t have to be good.”
The large eyes studied her, and gradually Kaylee’s features relaxed. “Okay.”
She extended her hands, and her childish fingers hovered for a moment over the keys. Then they lowered.
The piano awakened as music poured from beneath the raised lid like clear, fresh water bubbling over a rocky stream bed. Jill’s jaw went slack during the first few, intimately familiar notes of Für Elise. The child, who’d never had a lesson, was playing Beethoven, and playing beautifully, with real feeling for the piece. Her dynamics were nearly flawless, her interpretation much the same as Jill would play herself. Her technique wasn’t perfect, for sure. The tempo was a little off when she moved from the left-handed arpeggios into the relative major.
When she made a jarring mistake, blood suffused Kaylee’s face and she jerked her hands off the keyboard. “See, I told you I couldn’t do it.”
For a long moment, Jill could only stare at the girl, incredulous. Had the child been lying when she said she’d never had a lesson? No, Jill saw no guile in Kaylee’s face. And during the lesson it had been obvious that she didn’t know a C from a D-sharp.
“How did you learn to play that piece?” she asked.
The child looked down at the hands in her lap. “From you.”
“Me?”
She nodded. “Mama took me to hear your concert in Halifax when I was seven, and she bought me your CD. I listened to it over and over.” Her thin shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Then I played it. But I can’t get it right.”
She played by ear. First she listened to a piece, and then she sat down and played it. No sheet music, no training, just an
acute musical ear and a talent the likes of which Jill had never encountered.
An unexpected stab of jealousy knifed Jill in the stomach. She’d exhibited talent as a child, but nothing like this. Every song she played had been the result of hours of hard work at the keyboard. And this kid picked up Jill’s CD, listened to it, and then played with a style and emotion many music majors never managed to attain.
Envy evaporated. How could she be jealous of a sweet child with an amazing talent? With work, Kaylee could be a great pianist. Her gift could take her all the way to …
All the way to Carnegie Hall.
Maybe Jill would never play Carnegie Hall herself. But wouldn’t it be almost as good if a student of hers, her protégé, played while she watched from the wings?
She put an arm around Kaylee’s shoulders and hugged her tightly. “I am so glad you wanted to take lessons from me. You have an incredible gift. We’re going to have fun together.”
Chapter 9
Sunday, November 27
The notes of the final hymn vibrated from the organ in the church sanctuary. Jill held her side of the hymnal and mumbled the words while Greg’s melodious baritone rang in her ears. From the first time she’d heard him sing, sitting in this very church, she’d thought it was such a shame he never studied music. A voice like that could have taken him far on the performance circuit.
She clamped her teeth together in defiance of a yawn. She’d read an entire novel to postpone the moment when she had to close her eyes last night, though today she couldn’t remember a thing about the story. Still, it had served its purpose. When she finally allowed herself to fall asleep around four a.m., she’d been so exhausted she didn’t dream at all. But seven o’clock had come awfully early this morning.
The hymn ended, and after the minister’s final words, the organist launched into the postlude, signaling the end of the service. Jill bent forward to grab her purse from beneath the pew in front of her, while Greg stepped into the aisle and waited for her to join him.
“There you are, Bradford. Could we have a word about this meeting of yours tomorrow night?” One of the church elders, Mitch Landry, plucked at Greg’s sleeve.
“Of course.” Greg gave her an apologetic grimace. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Jill nodded. “Take your time. You know it’ll be at least half an hour before Nana is ready to leave.”
Greg turned to give Mitch his full attention, and Jill scanned the choir loft to catch sight of Nana. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the fiery red head surrounded by a sea of gray. Nana stood out among her cronies like a stray dandelion in the middle of a manicured lawn. Her arms waved, hands churning the air around her as she spoke with all the dramatic flare of a stage actress. As Jill watched, her hands swept down her body toward the floor. Probably describing Mom’s wedding dress, which meant news of the wedding had spread through the congregation. No surprise there.
Jill turned to pick up her bulletin from the cushioned pew, then straightened, catching sight of a man hurrying toward her. She bit back a groan. Paul Nester, minister of music, wore a purposeful expression that sent dread rippling through her. Before the accident he took every opportunity to pressure her into playing in church whenever her concert schedule allowed her to be in the Cove on a Sunday morning. The invitations stopped for a long time after the accident, but in recent months he’d dropped a few casual hints to let her know he hoped to schedule her on the special music calendar whenever she was ready to play again. Judging by the look on his face, he wasn’t going to hint around this time.
She considered escape. Could she pretend she hadn’t seen him? Slip into the aisle and lose herself in the crowd of chatting congregants? A second later, the opportunity fled. He made eye contact, held up a finger, and mouthed, “I want to talk to you.”
Resigned, she waited until he sidestepped the length of the pew in which she stood, then forced a smile. “Hi, Paul.”
“I heard your good news.” His eyes flickered behind her back, where Greg stood talking with Mitch. “Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you.”
“I also heard you’ve started giving piano lessons. Mrs. Fontaine and Mrs. Cramer told the choir this morning that you’re teaching their granddaughters.”
“That’s true. We started yesterday, in fact.”
“That’s wonderful news. Does this mean you’re playing the piano again?”
Here came the request. Jill started to shake her head, but he continued before she could even begin the gesture.
“Because if so, I have a slot in the Christmas program waiting for you.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to see who was standing nearby, and went on in a lower voice. “The program is terrible. We need someone with talent. Your playing is such a blessing.”
A blessing? The word struck her with the force of a slap. A blessing to whom? Certainly not to her, not anymore. God had taken away her blessing when he allowed that crash. When he crushed her hand beyond even the most skilled surgeon’s ability to repair.
She swallowed back a bitter surge of acid and managed to choke, “I can’t.”
And even if I could, I wouldn’t. If God had seen fit to take her gift from her, then why should she play for him? She would use her training to help students like Mariah and Kaylee, but that would be the extent of her giving musically to others. She would not play for anyone else, including God.
Paul’s glance lowered to her left hand for a fraction of a second, which she realized she’d been flexing unconsciously, then flicked back up to her face. The sympathy she saw in his eyes twisted a knot in her chest.
He reached toward her, but did not touch her. “I’m so sorry. When I heard you were taking students, I guess I misunderstood.”
She was saved from responding by Greg, who ended his conversation with Mitch and joined them.
“Well, that’s good news.” His grin swept them both. “He wanted to let me know he and the rest of the elder board will be attending the meeting tomorrow night as a group, as a public show of support.”
“Hey, that is good news.” Paul clapped him on the arm, relief at the interruption of their awkward conversation apparent in his exuberance. “I’m planning to be there too. Look forward to hearing what you have to say.” He smiled another unspoken apology toward Jill, nodded farewell, and left.
“It’s starting to look like the whole town is going to show up tomorrow night.” Greg scooped up his Stetson from the pew and twisted his features into a grimace. “I hope they like my plan.”
Jill turned her back on Paul Nester’s retreating figure. At least that uncomfortable conversation was over with. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be forced to have it again.
She made her way to the back of the sanctuary beside Greg. “You’re not getting nervous, are you?”
“Nervous?” He shook his head. “Nah. I’m looking forward to laying everything out. If there are any real holes in my plan, I need someone to point them out so I can address them. Besides,” He put an arm around her waist and hugged her close, “my number-one fan will be there. Who else matters?”
Jill almost stumbled. She’d said the same thing to him several times, just before she went onto the concert stage. Greg had traveled to as many of her performances as his schedule allowed, and always sat on the front row. His hands were always the first to start the applause after every piece.
We’ve changed places. I’m part of his audience now.
The discovery slowed her step with an unexpected wave of sadness. She’d become accustomed to the idea that she would no longer play on the concert circuit, but this was different. She’d stepped completely out of the spotlight. The rest of her life, she’d have a supporting role.
“Oh, by the way,” Greg went on. “I forgot about a meeting I scheduled Wednesday at four, so I won’t be able to pick you up until around five thirty.”
She pulled herself away from her gloomy thoughts. “What’s happening Wednesday night?”
<
br /> He stopped and turned to face her. They’d almost reached the sanctuary doors, so the people behind them parted to go around them through the exit.
“We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner. Remember?”
Parents’ house? Did she know this? Her face must have been blank, because Greg’s expression grew concerned. “We talked about this last night. You said you were free Wednesday.”
“I did?” Now that she thought about it, she did remember discussing dinner with his parents, though she couldn’t recall that he mentioned a day. She’d been distracted during their phone conversation, only half-listening as she searched through Nana’s bookcase for something to keep her awake so she wouldn’t fall asleep and dream.
“Yes, you did.” Greg peered at her closely. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired today. Didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“If you’d rather not go, we don’t have to. It’s just that Mom wants to talk about the wedding decorations.”
Great. Yet another wedding planner. As if she didn’t have enough with Nana and her Dynamic Dozen.
Jill cleared her expression. “Greg, I want to go. You know I love your parents.”
She did. Greg’s mother was one of the sweetest women she’d ever met, and Jill loved spending time with her. His dad was a bit forceful, nothing like Jill’s memory of her own mild-mannered father, but over the past four years Jill had come to admire him and his fierce devotion to his sons.
“Okay, good.” The anxiety melted from his features.
Nana came up behind them. “I’m ready to go. And look what I have, Jill.” Her arms were loaded down by an untidy stack of magazines, which she transferred to Jill. “They’re bridal magazines. The girls gathered as many as they could find and marked pages for you to see. We’ve found some ideas for the flowers and the cake. You and I can go through them this afternoon, and report back when everyone comes over in the morning.”
Lost Melody Page 6
