“I guess we can add ‘thoughtful’ to the list of words describing our mysterious gentleman.” Angel continued to brush the tangles. “Kentucky gentleman, piano recital, and pink dress or not, don’t ever let Gracie do this to you again. Nobody should have this much hair.” Beads of perspiration broke out on Angel’s face.
“Gracie surely gives new meaning to teasing hair.”
“That’s what you call what she did to tangle up your hair? Teasing?” Sam asked. “Well, come to think of it, there’s not much difference between teasing and tangling. Just depends on how you look at things.” He noticed the sheen on Angel’s forehead. “Angel, I think you’d better sit down and give Caroline a rest.”
Caroline ran her fingers through her hair. “Thanks, Angel. See what I mean about the hair spray eating Gracie’s profits? I need to go anyway. I talked to Dr. Martin the other day and told her about my experience with Bella, and she suggested I do some reading on musical savants. Gretchen and Bella may come tomorrow, so I want to know as much as I can before this meeting.”
“Savant? Bella may be a savant?” Angel wiped her forehead with her napkin.
“I don’t know, but she has typical savant characteristics. The research is fascinating, so I’m anxious to get back to the internet. I checked the local library today, but they didn’t seem to have much of anything. Guess I’ll do my research online until I can get to the university library.”
“Mind telling me what a savant is?”
“Sam, where in the world are you when we’re watching those TV magazine shows? They do all kinds of super-human things with numbers and music!” Angel turned to Caroline. “Remember, the only kind of unusual people Sam dealt with were drunks, junkies, and jailbirds.”
“Angel’s right—savants have phenomenal abilities most often coupled with very severe limitations. They’re usually somewhere on the autism spectrum, with very low IQs and difficulty functioning with basic living skills. Yet they have these rare and magnificent abilities. Just like Angel said, some with numbers, some with music and art, and some with languages. Their mental functions can make computers look like mere typewriters.”
Sam propped his elbows on the table. “Guess it’s true: we are fearfully and wonderfully made. I’ve been saying it for years to people who think computers are really something. They forget it was a human brain that thought of computers.”
“From what I read, the mind of a musical savant is like a computer storing files, or more like a tape recorder. And oddly enough, of the savants they know about, they’re often blind.”
“Well, that would explain some things you know about Bella, wouldn’t it?” asked Angel.
“It certainly explains how she came to be playing ‘David’s Song.’ I mean, if she’s been sitting there listening to my playing at night, her brain recorded the music.” Caroline pushed away from the table, picked up the teacups, and took them to the sink. “I must be so careful in explaining things to Gretchen. Maybe I’ll get her story before I bring up the issue of the intruder.”
“Smart thinking, sweetie. Don’t bother with the dishes; I’ll do them later.”
“I’ll get the cookie plate tomorrow.” Caroline started toward the porch.
“Oh, by the way, Caroline, Ned and Fred will be here tomorrow. They’ll finish up the painting on the studio windows.”
“You mean Tandy Yarbrough is giving them a day off? I understand she’s had them quite busy out at her place.”
“I don’t think she’s giving them a day off. I think they’re taking a day of rest. Seems Tandy’s been possessed by an alien species this week.”
“Poor Ned and Fred. I’ll look for them and stay out of their way. Bye.”
Caroline strolled home with her loosed hair floating in the late-afternoon breeze.
Liz breezed into Roderick’s London office without knocking and parked herself in front of his desk. “Conference call in five minutes.”
Roderick quickly fumbled around for the remote among the papers. Amid adjusting numbers on spreadsheets and changing the wording in legal documents, he’d been listening to one of Caroline’s recitals since lunch. He had hit the rewind button three times.
Liz cleared her throat and leaned over the desk, exposing tanned cleavage. “Looking for this?” She dangled the remote in front of him as she laid a green folder on his desk.
“Yes, thank you.” He reached for the device, but she kept it.
She turned and pointed it at the television, which quickly went to black. “Is she the Caroline girl that keeps calling? The one coming to play the recital?”
“Yes, that is Miss Carlyle.”
Liz turned back to face Roderick, her face stern. “You have this call and documents to complete before your meeting this afternoon. No more distractions.”
“The documents are completed, and I’m ready for the call. And in reality you’re my only distraction right now.”
“Well, you needed these.” She pointed to the green folder. “First draft of closing documents.”
“Thank you.” He looked at his watch. “And you can leave after you put the call through.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay in case you need anything?”
“Yes, just put the call through, and you can call it a day. Hopefully, this will be quick, and I’ll be able to close this deal. There’ll be lots of paperwork exchanged in the weeks ahead.” He turned back to his computer.
“I’ll be available if you need me. I’m always just a call away.” Liz sashayed out the door.
The call lasted only ten minutes, during which Roderick found himself not as focused as usual. The minute he put the phone down, he reached for the remote.
I’m glad she plays Debussy. Soothes my soul like when Mother played.
He studied Caroline’s profile on the television screen, then rested his head on the back of his leather chair and closed his eyes.
Why am I so captivated by Caroline? Is it her music? Her beauty? Or her discipline? I don’t know. But there’s something about her . . . Maybe she’s searching for more than her childhood piano. There’s depth in her soul. But I’ve never been afraid of the deep. That’s where everything is still.
He listened, completely satisfied, as the music swelled and then eased with the classic ritardando before the quiet finish. When he opened his eyes to the video again, it was to see Caroline, still seated at the piano, turning to acknowledge her audience. He smiled back at her.
I’ll call you again, Caroline Carlyle. And I’ll keep calling until I figure this out.
Wednesday morning was fair, in spite of the previous night’s thunder and lightning. The phone rang as Caroline dried her hair. Gretchen called to say they could come to the studio at nine thirty.
Caroline would simply gather as much information as possible from Gretchen, observe what she could about Bella, and trust that her own good sense would help her navigate the conversation. Telling Gretchen that Bella had been the intruder would not be easy.
She tidied up the studio, hurriedly cut a few roses for the counter, and got out a couple of teacups just as the bell rang.
They’re early, she thought as she approached the door. Through the window she saw denim and plaid. Not Gretchen and Bella but Ned and Fred. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
“And a good morning back to you, Miss Caroline,” Ned said as they both took off their caps, holding them to their chests as though pledging allegiance to the flag.
“Sam told me you’d be here to paint the windows.”
“That would be right, ma’am. We told Mr. Sam we would be here at nine o’clock, and we’re here just like we said we would be. But Miss Caroline, we have to leave for a little while.” They both hung their heads as if the movement had been choreographed.
“Oh, you must be going to Mrs. Yarbrough’s house to finish up a project.”
“No, ma’am, that ain’t exactly it.”
Caroline heard Fred mumbling something unintelligible under h
is breath.
Ned said, “No, ma’am. For real, we have to go back to the barn. We fergot the paint. And besides, it’s still too wet out here to paint anyway. So, if that ol’ green truck’ll crank ag’in, we’ll be on our way, and we’ll be back by the time that beautiful sunshine’s dried up them raindrops.”
“That’ll be just fine, Ned. I’ll be here with some fresh lemonade and cookies when you get back.”
“And Miss Caroline, if Mr. Sam comes down here lookin’ for us, you tell him we was here on time, and we’ll be back later to get our job done.”
“I’ll tell him. He knows you gentlemen do what you say.”
“Yessum, we sure do. That’s the way we was raised. A man ain’t no better than his word,” Ned said.
Fred nudged him and put on his hat. Caroline heard them talking as they checked the windows on the way out.
“Can you believe Miss Caroline’s so nice? Cookies and lemonade, and still callin’ us gentlemen?”
“She ain’t like that yackin’ Yarbrough woman orderin’ us around like we don’t know which end’s up. Treatin’ us like ol’ man Grange treated his mules. Why, just thinkin’ ’bout that woman’ll keep me single the rest of my born days.”
“Fred, you sure don’t talk much, but when you do, you speak the truth, for true, for true.”
Caroline quietly chuckled. Why weren’t there more Neds and Freds in the world and fewer Tandys? Unpretentious, simple people who took pride in their work and spoke the truth. People with pure motives who did what was honorable.
Moments later the doorbell rang a second time. This time there was no denim or plaid, but a gray sweater and cotton floral dresses.
“Good morning. I’ve been looking forward to your visit.” Caroline hugged Gretchen as she came through the door. Gretchen warmly responded to Caroline’s gesture. However, when she tried to hug Bella, Bella stiffened and gave no response.
“Good morning, Caroline. We’ve looked forward to this much more than you have, I’m sure. I felt badly about leaving so abruptly last week, especially with your broken pot. Oh, did you save the broken pieces?”
“Yes, I did. They’re in a box in the pantry.”
“Oh, I’m so very glad.” She reached for Bella’s hand. “We must remember to take the box with us when we go home.”
“What will you do with them?”
“That is really not for you to know right now. Oh, I’m so sorry. That sounded intolerably rude. Maybe it is better if I say that we do not want to reveal the surprise just yet. And that’s enough talk about this. How have you been?”
“I’ve been very well, thank you.” Caroline started around the bar into the kitchen. “A cup of tea for you and lemonade for Bella, and I have some praline bars. They’re really very good. First time for this recipe.” She lifted the plate of cookies from the countertop to the bar.
“Look, Bella, Miss Carlyle has made more cookies. Bella really enjoyed your cookies the last time we were here.”
“I’m so glad. Remember, there are always cookies here, Bella.”
Caroline guided them to the chairs, which she had arranged just as they were for their first visit. She served the lemonade, tea, and cookies and continued the small talk until they finished their refreshments.
Caroline then turned to Bella. “Bella, I’ve been dying to hear you play the piano again. Would you play for me?”
Bella sat motionless until Gretchen took her hand and coaxed her to the piano. Bella followed her, sat down, and immediately started playing “David’s Song” accompanied by the rocking-back-and-forth motion.
“I’ve not been able to get her to play this song on our little keyboard, but she plays lots of other songs.”
Caroline stood and moved toward the piano. She gently and deliberately placed her hands over Bella’s hands to stop her from playing and guided Bella to put her hands in her lap.
Bella turned her enchanting eyes toward Caroline and followed her lead.
Caroline sat next to her on the piano bench and began to play Bach’s Minuet in G an octave above where Bella was seated. She repeated it and then guided Bella’s hands toward the keyboard right in front of her.
Bella, without taking her eyes off Caroline, slid her hands up to the octave where Caroline had played and flawlessly repeated Minuet in G. Caroline’s insides fluttered with excitement.
Bella continued to play until Caroline stopped her again. Caroline played another of her student’s recital pieces. When she finished, Bella lifted her hands and repeated what Caroline had played. This time she continued playing, repeating not this piece but all the pieces she had heard at the recital in the same order as they had been performed.
Caroline sat mesmerized by this child who remained speechless yet could play these pieces with great expression and finesse.
Gretchen was just as shocked as Caroline. “She’s been playing these simple pieces since hearing them at your recital.”
“What other pieces does she play?”
“She plays the pieces I play on the keyboard. I play them once or twice, and then she plays them. That’s why I knew she has a gift.”
“You’re right. Bella has a very unique and rare gift. Do you suppose we could go out into the garden and talk a bit?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Do you think Bella would like to stay here and play?”
Gretchen moved toward the piano, stopped Bella from playing, and spoke softly to her. “Bella, Miss Carlyle and I are going out into the garden. She says it is fine if you would like to stay here and play the piano. We’ll bring you a flower.”
A slight grin broke the fixed expression on Bella’s face. This was the first time Caroline had seen her smile.
Gretchen put Bella’s hands back on the keyboard, and Bella started to play. Gretchen and Caroline walked into the garden and sat down on the bench in front of the pond where they could see Bella through the window and hear her play.
“You were so right about Bella. She has a marvelous gift, and I really want to help her develop this gift, but I need to know some things.”
Gretchen nodded in agreement. Caroline took that as a sign that Gretchen would cooperate and began with an open-ended question, giving Gretchen opportunity to tell the story the way she would like to tell it. “Would you just tell me about Bella?”
“I hardly know where to start, Caroline. Bella is my beautiful child. Bella means ‘beautiful,’ you know.”
“You chose the perfect name for her.”
“Thank you. You are so very kind, Caroline. You are such a beautiful woman yourself, and I’m so glad you see the beauty in my Bella. I just knew you would. I have seen the kindness in your eyes, and a bit of sadness too.”
Gretchen turned her face from Caroline and stared at the water falling over the rocks into the pond as she began her story. “Bella is my granddaughter. You see, Mr. Silva and I had a daughter. Karina looked just like my Bella. She was smart in school and a very good child. But when she was sixteen, Karina gave her heart to a young man who did not treat it with tenderness. Karina became pregnant, and her young man said very bad things about my Karina. Mr. Silva made serious threats to the young man, and he left town.”
Caroline was sympathetic. “Karina’s heart must have been broken.”
“It was. Mr. Silva wanted Karina to end the pregnancy, but she would not. How could she take the life of the love gift that was growing inside her? He was embarrassed and wanted her to go away out of his sight. I told him I could not bear it if she left. So Karina stayed at home and had the baby.”
“And that is Bella?”
Gretchen’s eyes met Caroline’s, and then she stared at the water again. “Yes. He forced Karina to stop going to school and would not let her out of the house for months. He refused to look at her or talk to her. I do not understand, but that is his way. I tried to make things happy for Karina.”
Caroline looked intently at Gretchen’s profile. “That was a tough job.”
“Oh, she missed her friends and school, but when she was at home with me, we read great books and listened to music all day while we sewed and knitted clothes for the little one. When the little one was born . . . Oh, she looked just like my lovely Karina.”
Gretchen’s story was so engrossing that Caroline hardly noticed the pea-green truck pulling into the driveway. Gretchen continued.
“We brought the little one home. She was so beautiful and such a peaceful baby. Karina would hold her and look into her eyes for hours, humming little songs that I had taught her, songs from the old country. Oh, but when little Bella cried, Mr. Silva would become so angry, and he would speak in a very loud voice to us. It frightened Karina so much. We tried to keep the little one from crying. Music was the only thing that would quieten her.”
“Music, salve for the soul.” She wondered how Gretchen possessed the gentle, sweet spirit when she had been living with the devil himself.
“Oh, yes, it would soothe her. But Mr. Silva does not allow music in the house when he is there, so Karina or I would rock the little one and hum softly to silence her cries. One day, when Karina could stand it no more, she told me she must go. She was afraid of her father and afraid of what he might do to Bella in one of his rages. She wanted to take the child and leave.”
“To find her young man?” Caroline inquired.
“No, just to get away from her father. Oh, I did not want her to go, and I had no money to help her. Mr. Silva gives me only enough money to buy the groceries, and that’s all I had. I persuaded her to leave the baby with me, and I promised her I would protect her from Mr. Silva. I reminded her I had always protected her from his be—” She paused. “From him.”
“Beatings? He beats . . . ?”
“Oh, he does not mean to; he cannot help it when he gets really angry. It is just his way. But I never allowed him to touch Karina or Bella. I try to understand him and be patient with him. He has many good qualities.”
It was too late to convince Caroline he wasn’t a demon. “Does he beat you? Is that why you wear this gray—”
Return of the Song Page 18