by Lisa Wingate
As I hung up the phone, I felt all the unanswered questions returning like the dull roar of a jet far off in the distance.
What would the sound be like when it finally touched down?
Chapter 6
After lunch, Ben offered to take everyone on a tour of the farm. The idea of driving by the family cemetery on the hill overlooking the back of the farm, of seeing my mother’s grave and Grandma Rose’s, was more than I could face, so I told them I was tired after getting in so late last night and I wanted to rest before going through the old letters Jenilee had brought.
I stood on the porch of the little house, watching as they climbed into the old flatbed farm truck by the barn. Dell said something to Kate, then headed across the newly planted cornfield toward the river, toward home, I supposed. Did anyone at home keep track of her at all? She’d been at Kate’s the entire day, and no one had called to check on her or to see whether she was staying over for lunch.
What would that be like? Kate and I had always had someone monitoring our activities, making sure we had meals to eat, clean clothes to wear, homework done. There was always someone looking after us, even if it was a hired someone. Our days were scheduled and tutored. We were always safe. We were never like Dell, running unbridled in the woods and the hills, passing the unplanned hours of the day, searching for somewhere to be. I thought about it, watching her disappear into the lacy undergrowth at the edge of the pasture. In a way, I was like her now. Suddenly, all the normal underpinnings were gone, and I was drifting in a world that seemed vast and unpredictable.
The noise in my head started growing again, so I went inside, sat down at the piano, and began to play. My fingers wandered through a long, slow melody, and peace washed over me like the warm river water in summer. I abandoned myself to the sound of the music and the smooth feel of old ivory beneath my fingers. My thoughts went back to some long-ago afternoon, when I sat with Grandma Rose at the old piano. It was in the main house back then, the strings perfectly tuned, not slightly off-key as they were now.
Grandma Rose loved to hear me play, but she seldom took time from her household chores to sit down and listen. That day, she sat on the bench beside me, closed her eyes, and lost herself in the music. When the song was over, her cheeks were damp with tears. I asked why she was crying, and she told me the music reminded her of someone, but she wouldn’t say whom.
“I could stop playing,” I said.
She kissed my hair gently. “No.” Tears trembled in her voice. “It’s a good memory.”
“If it’s a good memory, why are you crying?” I asked, unable, as usual, to figure her out.
She let out a long, slow breath. “Because it’s a memory of someone”—pausing for a long time, she gazed out the window, seeming to forget I was there—“who is gone.” She asked me to play the song again, so I did.
Now, all these years later, I could feel tears damp on the keys again. Her tears, my tears . . .
A sound in the room interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up. Dell was perched in the chair by the doorway with her knees curled to her chest, watching me through thoughtful, dark eyes.
Wiping my face on my sleeve, I turned to her. “You’re back.” I couldn’t think of what else to say.
“I just went home to see if Uncle Bobby come by. Granny was sleepin’, so I left her be.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, maybe he’ll come later.”
She didn’t seem excited by the prospect. “Maybe,” she said flatly.
We sat silent for a moment, Dell studying me while I absently tested the piano keys, one by one, listening to how far out of tune the notes were. “You might be able to catch up with Kate and the rest of the group.”
“I don’t like to go to the graveyard.” She wrapped her arms tighter around her knees.
“Me either,” I admitted, and the conversation ran out again. I tested some more of the piano keys, then played a few notes of a soft, slow melody. I couldn’t remember the name.
“I know that song,” Dell piped up, sitting a little straighter in her chair and watching the keys with interest. “The one you were playin’ just now. I know that song. Grandma Rose used to sing it.”
“Really?” I asked. I hadn’t been thinking about what I was playing, or why. “I’m not even sure what that song is called. It’s just been running through my head all day.”
“ ‘Turn Your Eyes on Jesus,’ ” she informed me. Lowering her feet soundlessly to the floor, she crossed the entryway and sat down beside me. “We sing it in church some, when I get to go. Grandma Rose used to sing it, too, out in the flowers. I learnt it from her.”
I tapped out the first notes of the melody, and the words played in my mind. Oh, soul, are you weary and troubled. . . . No light in the darkness you see. . . .
The same words I’d heard floating up from the riverbank that morning. “Was that you singing this morning? I heard someone singing down by the river. I thought maybe I was imagining it.”
Dell watched my fingers intently as I replayed the beginning of the melody. “Grandma sung that song while I was sleepin’, and when I got up, I thought about it. I sung it while I was walking over.”
Gooseflesh prickled on my arms. All this talk about her seeing Grandma Rose in her dreams was too much mumbo-jumbo for me. It probably wasn’t something to encourage, either, so I changed the subject. “You have a beautiful voice. Do you sing in the choir at school?”
She knitted her brows as if she thought I was making fun of her, as if I couldn’t possibly mean it. “Huh-uh. Choir’s after school. I gotta get home after school to help Granny change her oxygen and stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, again getting a glimpse of her life. “Well, really, it’s a shame to have such a beautiful voice and not do something with it. I could talk to Kate. Maybe she could help you get back and forth to after-school practice.”
For a split second, Dell seemed to entertain the thought, even be excited by it. Then she refocused on the piano keys, shaking her head. “Kate’s busy. She’s got a lot to do all the time with Josh and Rose.”
“Yeah, I know.” I’d already noticed that, as much as Kate and Ben seemed to care for Dell, she was mostly a shadow on the fringes of all the baby activity. “That has to be kind of disappointing sometimes, huh?” Some strange urge compelled me to reach over and brush her hair away from her face. “It’s not always fun being an older”—I realized that I’d been about to say “sister,” but Dell wasn’t Josh and Rose’s sister—“being older. But it’s nice that you’re around to help Kate and Ben. I know they like it when you’re here.”
She didn’t reply, but instead motioned to my hand on the piano keys and changed the subject. “I can do that.”
“Hmm?” I wasn’t sure what she meant. “Do what?”
Sliding her hand over, she studied the keys for a minute, tentatively pressed the first one, then tapped out two bars of the melody with one finger—every note perfect.
I sat looking at her, amazed. “I didn’t know you played the piano.”
“I don’t know how, but I can hear the way it sounds,” she said simply.
“You mean you memorize the notes?” I asked. “You saw which keys I was pushing and you remembered the order?”
She shook her head impatiently. “No. I hear it in my head, like this”—she tapped out the first few bars to “How Great Thou Art”—“and I know which ones to push.”
“That’s fantastic.” Something that my old piano teacher had said ran through my mind. Great musicians don’t learn the music—the music is already inside and they only learn to bring it forth. “What else can you play?” My pulse sped up with an anticipation that surprised me. I felt like I’d just unearthed a hidden treasure.
“I dunno. I do it on the church piano sometimes when no one’s there.” She shrugged, then started tapping out the melodies to song after song—hymns, pop songs, and finally, the theme to The Brady Bunch.
“Wow!” I gasped. “You’re amaz
ing.”
She drew back at the compliment, then slowly broke into a wide, slow grin that lifted her face and made her eyes sparkle. I had a feeling no one had ever said that to her before.
“How about if I teach you a few things?” I tasted a sweet sense of purpose that pushed away the lingering salt of my tears. “You should learn to play with all of your fingers. If you can do that . . . well, there’s no telling what you’ll be able to play.”
“ ’K,” she agreed, seeming a little uncertain. “What if I can’t do it?”
“I think you can.” I didn’t wait for her to change her mind or decide to turn shy again. Taking her hands, I gently laid them over the keys, and we began.
We spent the next hour working together—an unlikely student, an unlikely teacher, finding perfect harmony at the keys of an out-of-tune piano. It was as my old piano instructor had told me—the music was already inside her, and it was only a matter of coaxing it forth.
When Kate and Ben came back with the group, we were doing a duet on the piano—Dell playing melody and I the harmony chords. Dell was singing the words to “Over the Rainbow,” which she said she had learned from Grandma Rose. She didn’t notice that we had an audience at the door.
I winked at Kate and gave a shrug toward Dell. Kate widened her eyes, then mouthed, “Wow,” and just kept shaking her head in shock.
Joshua finally squealed and started to clap, and Dell realized they were watching. She blushed and stopped singing.
“Hey, how about that!” Ben cheered. “When did you learn to play the piano?”
“Karen taught me just now,” Dell replied matter-of-factly, as if everyone learned to play the piano in less than an hour.
I stood up, raising my hands helplessly. “Don’t ask me. She’s a quick study.”
“Karen’s a really good teacher,” Dell bubbled, and she gave me an exuberant hug.
Kate blinked in surprise. There was, I thought, a hint of jealousy in her look, though she was trying hard to hide it.
Dell didn’t notice Kate’s expression. She hurried to the door and scooped up Joshua, looking happier than I’d seen her since I arrived. “It was fun! Want me to teach you the piano, Joshie?”
Joshua said yes, and I stood up so the two of them could have the piano bench. Dell began carefully explaining the notes to him, and of course, he quickly frustrated her efforts by banging on the keys so loudly that it drove the audience onto the porch.
Ben screwed one eye shut, shaking his head. “Sounds like the piano needs tuning.”
The rest of us laughed, because we knew the piano wasn’t the problem.
Kate leaned in the door and told Dell we were going to sit on the porch of the main house, and she and Joshua could come join us when they were done.
“ ’K,” Dell chirped, and went back to trying to teach Joshua the theme song to Sesame Street. “No, push this one, then that one, Josh. You gotta hear the music in your head, like this. See? No, don’t push those four all at once. Ja-osh!”
The rest of us started across the lawn. Jenilee and Caleb stopped by their truck to get the box of letters, and Ben veered off toward the back door to take baby Rose in for a diaper change.
Kate and I walked slowly past Grandma’s rose garden. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dell that excited about anything,” she commented.
“I know.” It sounded like I was boasting that I had outdone Kate’s efforts with Dell, so I quickly added, “It’s the piano. She’s amazing with it. I’ve never seen anyone pick up the notes that fast. Has she ever had any kind of music lessons?”
Kate frowned thoughtfully. “I doubt it. They took music classes out of the elementary school a few years ago because of the budget crunch. I think they have some kind of extracurricular vocal music program after school, but that’s about it.”
“She should have music lessons. It’s almost a crime if she doesn’t get to develop that talent. She’s amazingly gifted.” My mind rushed ahead, trying to work out the details of how Dell could continue playing piano after I left. “Who’s the pianist at the church these days? Is it still Shorty’s daughter? Does she give lessons? Maybe Dell could go after school, or something. I’ll . . .” I stopped short. One look at Kate told me I was stepping all over her toes.
“Karen, you don’t understand a thing about Dell,” she snapped in a way that caused me to back off. Kate stopped walking, and so did I. “In the first place, she can hardly even bring herself to talk to people she knows. There’s no way she’ll want to go take music lessons from a stranger. In the second place, it’s almost impossible to get her anywhere on a regular basis. We can’t even get her to church on Sunday, and I can’t tell you how many times Ben’s gone by to give her a ride to school, and she’s wandering around the woods or gone to some medical appointment on the dial-a-ride van with her grandmother. The last couple weeks, every time I turn around she’s off somewhere with this Uncle Bobby, whoever he is. I don’t have a clue what’s going on there, and Dell won’t tell me.”
“She doesn’t want to bother you, Kate,” I heard myself say. What was I doing getting in the middle of Kate’s family business? “She’s afraid to be a bother to you. She sees that you’re busy and you’re stressed, and she’s afraid to pile on more.”
“I know that,” Kate bit out under her breath. “But I can’t change the way she thinks. I’ve talked, and I’ve tried. I’ve loved her all I can, but you know what? I can’t work miracles.”
My mind went silent, then I whispered, “There’s your miracle.” I pointed toward the little house, toward the sound of the piano drifting through the still air. Dell was playing again. “Right there. There’s your miracle. There’s her chance to be extraordinary, her special gift. The one thing about her that isn’t like anybody else. She hears music in her head.” Kate’s eyes met mine with an expression of sudden understanding, and I whispered, “If that isn’t a miraculous gift, what is?”
Kate seemed surprised to hear me, of all people, asking that question. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I just don’t want her to end up worse off than she already is. She has such a hard time in school and with the other kids. It’s all she can do to keep up now, and she’s getting to the age where she’s starting to change physically. I just don’t think she can handle any more pressure, any more activities.”
“Kate, I wouldn’t have made it through school if it hadn’t been for music.” I couldn’t believe I was admitting this to her after all these years. News flash: Karen isn’t brilliant. I’d never even admitted that to James. Perhaps because he, like Kate, was brilliant and gifted. “You don’t know what it’s like to struggle, to not have everything come easily, to have to hang around the classroom after school so you can get the teacher to explain calculus equations one more time.” Kate’s eyes widened, and she blinked like she was seeing me for the first time. I didn’t care. “All that time, the one thing I knew I was really good at was my music. I knew that made me special, even though I wasn’t the brilliant, gifted, and talented student that you were. My music was enough to keep me going, and it could be that way for Dell. It could be better than that for Dell. I was good at music, but she’s extraordinary. She’s remarkable. She started to see that today, and it lit her up. There has to be a way to keep that flame burning.”
Kate didn’t answer—just nodded, then finally choked out, “O.K.”
Jenilee and Caleb were coming up the path behind us, walking arm in arm and gazing at each other in a moonstruck way that made me miss the days of young infatuation. He leaned down to kiss her, and they stopped near the rose trellis, forgetting there was anyone else in the world. I smiled, seeing myself and James the weekend we first met. He was deadheading on a flight to Boston so that he could spend a couple of days at the summer music festival in Tanglewood. I was flying home after working on one of the first big network jobs for Lansing. I had some of the programming code in my head already, and when the plane landed, I planned to go straight to the office
, input the code, and test it. Then James sat down beside me, said hi as he tucked a carry-on under the seat, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t have programmed my way out of a cardboard box.
We talked for an hour and a half on the flight, shared cheap airline food, and compared his childhood on a small farm in Virginia to mine in Boston. I teased him about being a farm boy, but he didn’t really seem like one. He was sophisticated, intelligent, secure in himself, and just arrogant enough to be successful. He had beautiful hazel eyes, gorgeous light brown hair, and a countenance that made him seem mature, despite that he was only twenty-seven, just two years older than me. He liked music, everything from classical to James Taylor, but he wasn’t one of the starry-eyed dreamers I’d dated in college. He had an actual, practical college degree and a career path, a plan for the future. He loved flying planes, and he was on track to eventually move from first officer to captain. I couldn’t help thinking that even my parents would like him. By the time the flight was over, there was nothing I wanted to do more than go to Tanglewood with him, wander around the grand old Berkshires estate together and listen to the Boston Symphony. I knew, even at that point, that it wouldn’t really matter who played that weekend. All I could see was him.
It was like that every time we were together, from the moment he flew into town until the moment he left. After two months, he surprised me with a weekend trip to Nantucket and a proposal at the top of Sankaty Lighthouse, overlooking the massive cranberry bogs. We bought a ring at one of the little art shops in town and married at a little chapel right there on the island. It was, he confessed, one of the few impulsive steps he’d ever taken. I loved him even more because of that, but as time went by, it was one of the things that frustrated our relationship. For James, life was a flow chart, carefully mapped out on the squares of invisible graph paper. Lines all over the place, no reason to talk about anything that deviated from the flight plan . . .