Return of the Song

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  “Yes, I’m beginning to understand, but I don’t know if Mr. Silva will ever understand. And we must help Bella. She doesn’t take to change.”

  Caroline shifted in her chair. “There’s something else I haven’t told you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Gretchen’s face muscles tightened as they did when they talked about Mr. Silva.

  “I’ve made an important decision on this trip. Dr. Martin has asked me to come to the university to teach and work on my doctorate. She has offered me a position starting in the fall.”

  “Oh, you’ll be moving?” Hope disappeared from Gretchen’s eyes.

  “Eventually, yes, but not this fall. I’ve made my decision, and it feels good. The time in Rockwater helped me gain a fresh perspective.” Caroline’s eyes filled with tears. She paused and continued with broken voice. “All the time I’ve lived in Moss Point, I have lived a lie. I’ve been pretending, covering my deep pain. God forbid anybody pitying me or worrying about me. I have way too much pride for that.”

  She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I have prayed and cried and prayed some more. I just couldn’t let go of the pain. Every day I pasted a smile on my face while I was weeping, just weeping, on the inside. Every day I filled my calendar with things to do, but I would have preferred being in a fetal position in my bed. I filled my days with music students and church activities, but there was no music inside me. I felt it was buried in Guatemalan mud with David. I have silently grieved alone for the last six years, moving from day to day doing what fell into my lap to do, but I felt hollow inside—like part of me had died. Dead people can’t make decisions, but I’ve made a decision.”

  “I know how that feels, Caroline. I felt that way for many years, but then I was given Karina and Bella. And as I gave life to them, they gave life back to me.”

  “It’s like the treasure you gave me today. I felt like someone was holding my heart and now it’s been handed it back to me, and it’s beating inside my body again. My life is changing, and you’ve been a part of that. I can move forward now with making new plans. I haven’t known that in a long time.”

  “Will you tell me what your plans are, my friend?”

  “I’m certain I’m not ready to move to the university this year, but I’m ready to make plans. I really want to spend another year right here in Moss Point. I want to be with Sam and Angel, and with you and Bella, and see the Christmas decorations, and another spring of dogwood blossoms, and the irises out by the pond. Then, maybe next fall, I’ll be ready to go. But I want to live, really live, every day for this next year looking at the people around me and seeing them as characters in my life journey and seeing myself as a character in their life stories. Am I making any sense?”

  “Oh, yes, there is a brightness in your eyes and a new tone in your voice, my friend. And I must say to you, I’m so glad you’ll be here for another year.”

  “Maybe we’ll both make some changes together, okay?”

  “Agreed.”

  “And I have something else to tell you. I finished ‘David’s Song’ in Kentucky. I’m dying to play it for Bella.”

  “Then let’s go inside. I’d like to hear it myself.”

  Caroline followed Gretchen inside and put away the teacups while Gretchen told Bella that Caroline wanted to play the piano. Bella took her seat beside the piano.

  As Caroline played, she watched Bella rock back and forth with her fingers playing every note on the folds of her flowered dress. This song was as much a part of Bella as it was of her.

  When she got to the new section of the piece, Bella looked startled and quickly turned her head and fixed her eyes on Caroline. Their eyes locked. Caroline finished the piece and rose from the piano bench. She went to Bella, took her hand, and brought her to the piano bench. Caroline played the entire piece once more with Bella sitting beside her. When she finished, she got up and Bella began to play. Caroline moved quietly to Bella’s chair.

  Bella played “David’s Song” with perfection.

  Playing the finished piece for her recital was one thing, but hearing Bella play the completed work made it real—like waking up and finding your treasure has been restored.

  Da Capo al Fine—

  From the Beginning to the End

   Rockwater was quiet again. So was Roderick. Liz took phone messages, and he opened notes from his guests—gratitude, inquiries about this talented pianist, and questions about her return.

  Roderick’s treks for morning coffee weren’t the same. He imagined hearing Caroline’s early morning voice from the balcony. From the terrace table he envisioned her practicing the piano with the late afternoon sun shining on her hair or at the recital with the lightning flashing behind her and the soft glow of candles around her. He saw the fading white irises and her lifeless waders hanging in the mudroom.

  Since Caroline, he found it difficult to focus on Adair Enterprises. He wanted to hear her voice morning, noon, and night. But he refrained from calling. He spoke of her with Sarah. When Sarah encouraged him, he listed all the reasons the relationship would not work—he was nine years older; she had deep roots where she was; she still grieved for David; he was too busy for a long-distance romance. Sarah refuted each argument.

  He noticed Lilah’s green gingham apron replaced her smile and song. She brought him a fresh cup of coffee to the terrace. “Here’s another cup, Roderick. Looks like you been dragged through town backward and slapped with a buzzard gut. You need something to get you going.”

  “I look that bad? I need something to get me going all right.”

  “Uh-huh, and that something has a name: Caroline Carlyle.”

  Roderick put his cup down and looked at Lilah. “And what makes you think that?”

  “Mostly your face and your voice when you talk about her. And then I remember how you were when she was here. You haven’t been like that since she left. You just got a chronic case of the mully-grubs.”

  “None of this makes sense. I get word from this young woman who wants to play this Hazelton Brothers piano because it once belonged to her. I agree. I ask her to play a recital for my friends—something we haven’t done in years. She’s here for just four days . . . and . . .”

  “Uh-huh, just long enough to turn you upside down and inside out. You’re smitten, Roderick. Face it, you’re just plain smitten. She brought some life and music back in this house. She made you smile, and she kept you from working while she was here. She’s for real, and you know it. Not like the other women you know—plastic, just plain plastic.”

  “You think so, Lilah?”

  “Yeah, I think so. But what I want to know is, what will you do about it? I’m tired of watching you mope around here.”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “You could ask her back to play the piano again. You could invite some different folks this time.”

  Roderick saw the sparkle return to her eyes. He knew Lilah thrived when she was planning a party.

  “And besides, I know you bought that piano because it reminded you of your mother’s. You bought and paid for it, but it’s not yours. It may sit right here at Rockwater in front of that big window till Jesus comes, and the check that paid for it may have had your name on it, but that’s Caroline’s piano, Roderick. You know it. So you might as well let her play it, and I don’t mean once in a while. I mean every day.”

  Roderick stood up, hugged Lilah, kissed her on the cheek, and walked briskly toward his quarters. He shouted to her as he went, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re just what I needed to get me going this morning. Lilah, don’t you ever think of leaving Rockwater. I absolutely couldn’t live without you.”

  A week passed. The summer heat in Moss Point was oppressive, with only the relief of an occasional afternoon shower. Caroline was restless. Angel was improving but still weak. Hattie was attentive, and Sam was tackling the park project.

  Caroline talked openly with Angel about Roderick. “I
’m a muddled mess, Angel. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. I’m so very fond of him, and I think about him. But he’s older and from a different world. Maybe I should just settle down and think about being his friend. I mean, I’d like to be his friend so I get to play my piano again.” She said the same thing a hundred different ways to Angel, and Angel’s answer was always the same.

  “Caroline, you’re feeling things you haven’t felt in a long time. You didn’t get to marry David. Instead you married your grief, and I think you’re feeling unfaithful. Just one day at a time, sweet girl. Look at all the doors that are open for you. Just one day at a time.”

  In the daily-ness of these days, she longed for the phone to ring. He had called twice to chat, telling her of another upcoming trip to London and wanting to know the latest on Bella. “You haven’t asked,” she’d told him, “but I’ll tell you. I’ve made the decision to stay put here in Moss Point for another year. I feel so much peace about the decision. I wasn’t excited about going back to the university, and when I leave here, I want to be headed somewhere, not just leaving some place.” She smiled inside and out when he blessed her decision.

  Caroline could no longer postpone the call canceling the trip to take Bella to the university. Mr. Silva had bummed up his knee and couldn’t work for several days. Her sense of urgency about Bella was relieved since she was staying in Moss Point, but Dr. Spencer was agitated with the news and insisted on coming to Moss Point at the end of the week. Caroline gave in and agreed on Saturday afternoon, reminding him that seeing Bella was impossible.

  After a sleepless night, she made the phone call early. “Dr. Martin, I’m so grateful for your offer to come to the university in the fall, but I am entirely certain I must decline. I am so sorry to disappoint you.” Dr. Martin made one more plea, but Caroline stood politely firm. “Dr. Martin, I need this year with Bella, and we’ll possibly be seeing more of each other now because of her, and I’ll still be studying with you.” She expressed hope that a teaching position might be available the next summer or fall. Dr. Martin made no promises.

  The next four days of finishing journal articles and getting them to the editor afforded her little time outside her studio. She made a determined effort Saturday morning, but a sudden shower shortened her morning walk. She would have walked in the drizzle, remembering the rain in Kentucky, if GiGi hadn’t blown her horn and stopped to ask her if she knew it was raining.

  She spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon doing further reading about savant syndrome in preparation for Dr. Spencer’s later afternoon visit. He arrived on time, and she greeted him at the door.

  Wyatt Spencer, in his signature khakis, crisply starched blue-striped shirt, and sockless ankles, removed his sunglasses and entered the room. “And this is where Georgia’s most talented pianist and composer lives?”

  Caroline ushered him to the wicker sofa near her desk. “This is where I live. I don’t know about Georgia’s finest.”

  “I’m only repeating Dr. Martin. She thinks you’re the best, and that you’ll be a fine addition to the university in the fall.”

  “How about a cup of tea?” Caroline wanted to avoid this subject.

  “Could you make it iced tea?”

  “Of course.” Caroline made her way toward the kitchen.

  “Should I follow you?”

  “Oh, no, just keep your seat. The kitchen is right there around the counter. I can see and hear you.” She filled the teakettle. “Maybe you haven’t spoken with Dr. Martin in the last few days, but I have declined her offer for this year.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that. It’s our loss.”

  “Perhaps it’s my loss, but I’m hoping the offer will still stand for next fall. But you came here to talk about Bella.” From the kitchen, she told Wyatt about how she came to know Bella and Gretchen. She served the tea and homemade snickerdoodles.

  He took the glass of iced tea and reached for a cookie. “So along with this incredible talent, you have southern grace and charm.”

  Caroline blushed slightly. “My mother would just call it hospitality.”

  “Tell me about yourself. How did you come to be this Caroline Carlyle?”

  She assumed she was being analyzed. “Is that a question that comes with your profession?”

  “Ninety-five percent of the time, but this one’s personal. I want to know how this beautiful young woman on whose sofa I’m sitting became so fascinating.”

  “Well, if I tell you my story, then I can assure you the fascination will wither, and I’ll just be another southern cook who plays the piano.”

  She heard him laugh for the first time. She told him about growing up in Ferngrove and about her family. Before she got to the David chapter of her story, she glanced at the clock across the room. “My goodness, it’s nearly seven o’clock, and the roast needs to come out of the oven.”

  “Wait a minute, I had thought to take you out to dinner.”

  “This is Moss Point, not Athens. I cooked.”

  “Embarrassed to be seen with me?”

  “Quite the contrary. It’s just there’s no place that would be conducive to conversation.” She refused to tell him she had kept the Moss Point tongues flapping enough the last few weeks and she couldn’t feed him Mabel’s cheeseburgers.

  “I understand. But next time it’s my treat.”

  While she got dinner together, he walked around the room and stood at the window overlooking the pond. She invited him to the table and sat down across from him. She served their plates with pot roast, potatoes and carrots, gravy, green beans, hot biscuits, and pistachio salad. Over peach cobbler and coffee, she asked about his background.

  “Grew up in Tyler, Texas, and my upbringing was like yours—a stable, middle-class family with three boys. When we weren’t on some ballfield, we were on horses. Learned more than my share about horse sense. I think that’s why I’ve always been interested in human behavior.”

  “Are your parents still living?”

  “Still live in Tyler on a small ranch, and both my brothers live in Dallas. This teaching position was the only thing that could have lured me away from Texas, and I plan to return after certain career accomplishments.”

  Caroline guessed that Bella might be one of those.

  She enjoyed his humor and relaxed nature and found herself growing more comfortable with him in spite of the awkwardness of a man sitting across this table from her. It was the first time, and not nearly as comfortable as sitting across the table from Roderick at Rockwater.

  During his second helping of peach cobbler, he told her how much he was enjoying the evening and how disappointed he was that she wasn’t moving to Athens.

  About ten o’clock an unfamiliar uneasiness lowered her comfort level, and she reminded him of his hour’s drive back to Athens.

  “I guess that’s my cue to exit. But before I do . . .” He rose from the table and came to her side.

  Her uneasiness turned to queasiness.

  He took her left hand and kissed it softly. “Thank you. I don’t know when I’ve had a meal so fine, ma’am. Reminds me of home and my mama’s table.”

  She removed her hand, stood, and walked with deliberation toward the door. He followed.

  “Thank you for coming to Moss Point. I have a better understanding now. We’ll just see how things go with Bella.” She felt like an awkward fifteen-year-old on her first date as she turned to face him.

  “I hope we can see each other again. And let me make it clear—I hope to see you again, not just because of Bella. I really like spending time with you.” He came closer and leaned to kiss her.

  Caroline turned her head slightly. “Thank you, Wyatt, and good night.”

  He kissed her on her cheek. “And good night to you, Caroline, and I meant what I said.” He turned and walked across the terrace to the driveway.

  She watched his headlights turn to taillights through the kitchen window. Years had passed without a serious thought of a
man, and now a Kentucky gentleman and a university professor had sent her head spinning. She went to the piano to clear her head.

  Caroline ate Sunday lunch with Sam and Angel. She told them almost everything about her meeting with Dr. Wyatt Spencer.

  Angel followed her to the door as she was leaving. “Sweetie, got any plans for Friday morning?”

  “Don’t think so. Why? Want to make some?”

  “I really do. Could we go to Atlanta Friday morning? I need to go shopping.”

  “Well, sure. But it’s not Sam’s birthday or anything like that, so what’s with this having-to-go-to-Atlanta?”

  “I just need to get out of this house before I commit murder. I’m going to strangle Hattie with my bare hands. She’s more help than anybody needs, and Sam won’t tell her to just go home. By the way, do they put eighty-four-year old women in prison?”

  Caroline laughed. “I think they do if it’s premeditated, and you’ve just told me. I guess you’ll have to kill me too. Maybe you’d better talk with that judge in the kitchen.”

  “Can’t do that. He’s the next one on my hit list.”

  “In that case, maybe we should go to Atlanta tomorrow.”

  Angel closed the screen door. “No, no, that really won’t do. We must go on Friday.”

  “Friday it is, with one condition.”

  “Sounds good. What’s the condition?”

  “We take the wheelchair.”

  “Agreed. We’ll take the chair, and I’ll tell you if I need it. Honestly, sweetie, I’m growing stronger every day. We’ll go early, take our time, shop a couple of hours, and I’m buying lunch.”

  “That’s a plan. See you tomorrow. Going to get my hair trimmed in the morning.”

  “Have fun, and tell Gracie to do something else with Lucy’s hair. She looks like her head got stuck in a purple cotton-­candy-making machine.”

  “I think I’ll let you tell her that. Bye, Angel.”

  Monday morning’s visit to sit in Gracie’s zebra-striped chair was the first since her trip to Kentucky.