Piano Lessons

by Gail Sattler

  “Well, Pumpkin, we made it.” He pulled into the driveway. “What do we do now?”

  “You forgot to let Missy out.”

  Was this a problem? “So?”

  Betsy’s big brown eyes opened wide at him, reminding him of a chubby-cheeked chipmunk. “I hope she didn’t go peepee on the rug.”

  That was all he needed. This time it wouldn’t be fake. He hurried with the key, listening to the dog barking furiously from the other side of the door. As he opened it wide, Missy ran into the front yard to relieve herself. At least one thing had gone right this morning.

  Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew.

  Coffee. He needed coffee. Bad. Maybe ten coffees.

  “Uncle Jed?”

  He clenched his teeth, then forced himself to relax as he looked down at Betsy. If he heard one more “Uncle Jed” he was going to scream. “Yeah, Pumpkin?”

  “Can I watch TV?”

  “You bet.”

  In silence, Jed hung up Betsy’s coat, slid her sneakers by the door, and settled Betsy in front of the television. He started a pot of coffee and sat down, elbows resting on the table, his chin cupped in his palms, and watched it drip. The heady aroma of coffee soon filled the room. Had it really only been an hour since he had been dragged out of bed?

  ❧

  Jillian smiled, inhaling the fresh morning air as she opened the window wide. Tuesday, her favorite day. Her smile widened at the thought of her first lesson later that afternoon. Mark Edwards, her favorite student.

  The hardest part of teaching piano lessons for a living was finding things to keep her busy all day, and then as soon as school was over, working nonstop, often not taking the time for supper until lessons ended at 8:00. She paid the price for working such short hours on the weekends, however, which were filled with lessons from early morning till midevening. Many Sundays she spent time after church with students who needed extra help, especially at exam time, but it was worth it. She managed to earn a living from her home, even if it did mean seldom keeping company with other adults. In many respects, she welcomed the chance to keep to herself. No one asked her out anymore, and she liked it that way.

  Jillian sighed. After running a few errands today, she had tentative plans to visit her sister. Except for Sue’s screaming children, she enjoyed those visits. It also made her appreciate the calm, well-behaved kids she taught.

  As the day wore on, despite the best of intentions, Jillian ran out of time, arriving back at home with barely enough time to get a pot of coffee started before her first student knocked at the door.

  “Hello, Mark,” she greeted him cheerfully as she sat in her chair beside the piano. “How is that new piece coming?”

  “I really like it, Miss Jefferson, and I think I’m doing okay, except I don’t have my book again. Can I borrow yours?”

  Jillian picked through her pile of extra books. “Did the sitter forget to pack it again? I think maybe you’re going to have to try harder and remember to pack your books yourself from now on.”

  Mark grinned. “No, the sitter quit. My uncle is staying at our house to look after us. I guess he forgot. He had a bad morning. I thought he was gonna, you know, like, hurl, when he saw what Thomas lent me.”

  Jillian didn’t even pretend to understand as she opened her spare Level Three book to the correct page. “Well, let’s get started. Can you do it hands together?”

  She watched him work the selection with amazing ease, especially for the first week on a new and difficult number.

  They discussed what needed improvement, and Jillian carefully complimented him on what he did well. After reviewing a couple of songs from past weeks, the lesson progressed quickly, and they soon ran out of time.

  Her next student waited patiently, sitting in the chair next to the door. Jillian dismissed Mark and called Ashley up to the piano.

  ❧

  “Uncle Jed!” Mark called as he walked in the door.

  Jed cringed. “Yes, Mark.”

  “You forgot my piano books. Miss Jefferson is mad at you. She said I have to pack my music books myself now.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, she’s real strict.”

  Jed looked at Mark’s smiling face. He looked like a pretty happy kid to have just come from a grueling piano lesson. “You know, I haven’t heard you play for a long time. Want to play something for me? How about what you just played for your teacher?”

  Mark glanced over at the piano, where his books were still sitting open to the correct page. “Sure.”

  Jed listened to him play. For an eight-year-old, the kid sounded good. As he recalled, Liz started him at the beginning of grade one, so he had been playing for nearly two years now. For a strict teacher, this Miss Jefferson must have what it took to put up with active kids like Mark. Mark obviously enjoying playing the piano, and he did well.

  “So what’s your teacher like?”

  Mark opened his eyes wide. “Miss Jefferson? Her feelings get hurt if I don’t practice, and she expects me to remember all the hard stuff. She makes me sit still, and both feet have to touch the floor.” Mark paused to think. “And she’s old.”

  two

  After a few weeks of baby-sitting, Jed was ready to climb the walls. Mark and Betsy got away with all that nonsense the first day, but since then, their behavior had greatly improved. He had been tested, he put his foot down, and that was the end of it.

  With the family all settled into their new routines after the flurry of the beginning of the school year, Jed managed to get Mark off to school with no more shenanigans, entertain Betsy all morning, feed her lunch, and take her to school with no difficulty. During his solitary afternoons, after his daily devotions and Bible reading, he discovered there were only so many times he could wipe the same counter. All he did was walk from room to room, when he wasn’t pacing. And it gave him too much time to think.

  The new job was going to work out, but his assigned menial duties didn’t help his frustration level one bit. The other men were companionable enough, but they lacked any spark or vision for the future. Stuck in a dead-end job, not a single one of them seemed to mind. At least for him, the job was only temporary until next September, when he would enter college, provided he could get back on his feet. He would do anything to see that it happened, and this time nothing would stop him.

  Jed mentally kicked himself for being such a pushover as he straightened the towels in the bathroom, then stood back to admire Liz’s decorating scheme. One day he’d have a house like this. Never again would he let anyone take advantage of him as he had in the past.

  He stood in silence in the empty house, wondering what he should do next. The guys had invited him for a beer before work, the same as they did most days, but Jed turned them down. Not only did he consider it a bad idea to drink before work, he just plain-old didn’t drink. He didn’t want to be labeled a religious fanatic, but as a Christian, his decision had been made. At twenty-six, he definitely was no angel, but he did his best to live his life according to God’s direction.

  Working the afternoon shift effectively put an end to any potential social life. Aside from the fact that he didn’t know anyone in this city except for his sister and her husband, the only church activity during the daytime was the ladies’ Tuesday morning Bible study and coffee time. He simply wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

  Jed picked up a few Lego pieces and tossed them into the box in Mark’s bedroom, then paused for a split second, actually considering dumping the box and building something. Jed shook his head, almost screaming in frustration. Surely he was going around the bend. All alone with nothing to do. All day. Every day. He’d never considered himself a social butterfly, but he always found it easy to meet people. He liked the activity and atmosphere of a large busy church, where there was always something going on, but working the evening shift put an end to his participation. Give it a couple more days, and he was going to welcome the opportunity to dust the top of the d
oor frames. With Liz’s meticulous housekeeping, he couldn’t finish up anything except for what they had previously agreed upon, and that wasn’t much.

  In the solitude of the empty house, as he passed the lonely piano, Jed tried to plunk out a melody with one finger. Before he left for work, Jed often listened to Mark practice his piano lessons. Mark had shown him a few notes, but Jed felt too awkward to ask the kid to teach him a tune.

  As he passed the piano again, Jed tried to plunk out a melody with one finger. As a boy, he had wanted to learn to play the piano, but his parents didn’t have the money or a piano. Now that he was alone, no one could listen or watch him make a fool of himself.

  He dug through the drawer in the kitchen and found Liz’s address book. Flipping the pages one at a time, he finally found what he was looking for under “P.” Piano teacher, Miss J. Jefferson. Jed dialed the number.

  ❧

  Jillian heard the phone ringing as she fumbled with her grocery bags and the bulky key ring. She deposited her groceries on the floor and picked up the cordless phone beside the piano, but it was dead. Not wanting to miss the call, she ran up the stairs to answer before it stopped.

  “Hello?” she answered breathily, trying not to sound like she was panting.

  “Is this Miss Jefferson, the piano teacher?” a male voice asked.

  “Yes, speaking. Can I help you?”

  “Do you have any openings?”

  Her heart beat faster. Another student! She prayed he was going to ask for a day that still had a space available. Jillian held her breath for a second to try to steady her voice. “Yes, I do. What day would be best?”

  The caller paused, as if thinking. “Doesn’t matter. Every day’s the same to me. How about tomorrow?”

  She knew the answer without checking her schedule. “Yes, I have an opening tomorrow. How does 4:45 sound?”

  “Too late. Let’s see. I’ve got to work around kindergarten hours, so somewhere around 2:15?”

  Jillian shuddered at the thought of taking on another five-year-old. The kindergarten kids had such a short attention span, and at the beginning of November, most of them hadn’t learned enough of their alphabet to know what notes they were playing. Their legs were too short for their feet to touch the floor, and they wiggled the entire lesson. Often, after being in kindergarten all morning, by midafternoon they were too tired to concentrate.

  Did she have the energy for this? Jillian fumbled to dig a pen and a scrap of paper out of her purse, which was still slung over her shoulder. “Yes, that would be fine. And the name?”

  “Jed Davies,” the deep voice of the caller announced.

  She hesitated before writing it down. A few kids that age had already had lessons, and were getting pretty good. She tried to convince herself that it was entirely possible that this would be one of them. Hopefully he knew enough of his alphabet so she wouldn’t have to waste the first lesson on simple ABC’s.

  Jillian shrugged her shoulders as she scribbled with the pen, trying to convince it to write. It was unusual for the father to be calling to enroll a child for lessons. She smiled to herself as the pen finally began to write, thinking how nice it would be if more fathers showed a little enthusiasm for their children’s musical education.

  Jed listened to the scratching noises, wondering if old Miss Jefferson was writing an entire novel, rather than just his short name.

  “Fine, Mr. Davies. And do you have a book?”

  Silence hung over the line, until Jed realized that by saying “Mr. Davies,” Miss Jefferson was speaking to him. He hadn’t thought about a book. Liz probably wouldn’t mind if he borrowed Mark’s old book. In fact, she would probably laugh. “Yes, I’ve got one.”

  “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at 2:15. Thank you for calling.”

  Jed hung up the phone. Old Miss Jefferson had been a little out of breath when she answered the phone. He tried to picture the little old lady who would be teaching him piano lessons. Jed laughed out loud as he tucked the phone book back into the drawer. Wait until he told Mark and Liz this one.

  As he glanced at the clock, he welcomed the time to go pick up Betsy from kindergarten since, except for work, this was his only opportunity to talk to other adults.

  Jillian retrieved her spilled groceries, then prepared to psyche herself up for her Monday lessons. Someday some of these kids might be good. Someday they might remember their piano teacher with fond memories. Someday their feet would touch the floor.

  ❧

  Jed approached Miss Jefferson’s house carrying Mark’s old book under his arm. Mark made him drive by yesterday on the way to soccer practice just so he could show off his teacher’s house. Jed sucked in a deep breath and knocked.

  A young woman about the same age as himself or maybe a bit younger answered the door. Her wavy, shoulder length auburn hair framed a perfect oval face. Wide, gorgeous green eyes stared up at him. He thought the woman could have been on a makeup commercial, only she wasn’t wearing any. Her figure was model perfect, but she was too short to be a model, probably only about five-foot-five or so.

  His mind wandered back to his conversation with Mark. This woman had to be old Miss Jefferson’s daughter. But Mark had said “Miss” Jefferson. Was she a niece or something? He didn’t know what to say, or who to ask for, Miss or Mrs. Jefferson, or her mother. Or her aunt?

  His brain froze as she stared at him, expecting him to say something. He tried to shut out the impulse to get to know her better. He wasn’t interested in available women. He was here for piano lessons.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Jed swallowed and shuffled the book from one hand to the other. “I’m here to see Miss Jefferson.”

  Jillian blinked to stop herself from staring. When she opened the door for her newest student, the sight of the boy’s father had rendered her speechless.

  Mr. Davies was breathtakingly handsome. And tall. And not what she had anticipated. A fabulous mane of wavy light brown hair framed his strong dark features, and snug-fitting jeans showed off strong muscular legs.

  And he was rather young-looking for the father of a five-year-old, but it was possible. She estimated his age at about the same as her own or maybe a bit older, probably about twenty-five. And where was the child? “I’m Miss Jefferson.”

  Jed opened his mouth, but no words came out. He swallowed again, hating himself for being so suddenly tongue-tied. “You’re Miss Jefferson?” he blurted out. His gaze traveled up and down her one more time, before he fixed his eyes to her face. “I was expecting someone, um, older. Um, I mean, uh, your hair is brown, uh. . .” Actually, he didn’t know what he meant! Jed’s cheeks grew warm, and he was sure his ears were beet red as well. On top of it, he was stammering like an idiot. Mark had told him the piano teacher was old. Was the kid blind? But then again, Mark thought kissing girls was disgusting.

  Miss Jefferson’s eyes widened, showing off a deep sea green that nearly took what was left of his breath away. She inhaled sharply, then turned her head, searching for something behind him. “Where is little Jed?” she asked.

  The corners of Jed’s mouth quivered. He was six-foot-one. “I’ve been called many things in my life, but ‘little’ was never one of them. I’m Jed.” He smiled down at her, extended one hand, and waited.

  Jillian tilted her head back to let her gaze travel up to his face at the same time as she lightly touched his hand, giving him the limpest handshake of her life. Although she wondered why he had blushed when she introduced herself, now the heat crept up her face as well. She retracted her hand abruptly.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. As she made eye contact, his quirky little smile nearly made her knees give out. “You’re an adult.” She cringed inwardly at her brilliant observation. “I was expecting someone, um. . .someone younger. You were asking about kindergarten hours.” Jillian mentally kicked herself. At first she thought his stammering was cute. Now she was doing no better.

  “My niece is in kindergarten, so
I need to do lessons when she’s in school.”

  Jillian blinked twice in rapid succession. Niece? “The lessons are for you?” She kept staring, lost in the deep blue of his eyes until a wisp of her hair blew into her face, drawing her attention to the fact that they were still standing in the open doorway. “Oh, I’m so sorry, please come in.”

  She led him to the piano and motioned for him to sit beside her on the bench. “I don’t have any adult students. Please excuse me, I’m afraid you caught me off guard. Shall we start?” She smoothed her sleeves in an effort to compose herself.

  The bench creaked with his weight as he sat. They both looked at each other, stood, then Jillian pulled the bench further back to accommodate the length of his legs, and they sat down again.

  Jillian concentrated on the obviously used lesson book that her new student placed on the piano. “Can you read music?” she asked, wondering if he had taken lessons as a child and given up.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m a beginner. Mark showed me where middle C is. That’s all I know.” He plunked out middle C with his index finger.

  “Mark?”

  Jed nodded, turned his head, and smiled at her. “Yeah, Mark Edwards. He’s my nephew. Plays well, doesn’t he? He’s the one that gave me your name. He thinks this is real funny, that I’m going to take piano lessons from his teacher.”

  Jillian tried to collect her befuddled brain as her newest student flashed a dazzling white smile at her. Mark Edwards? This was the uncle who didn’t pack his music book last week? The one who was staying with them because the sitter quit? Her voice came out in a croak. “Yes, he is one of my better students.”

  He continued to smile at her, and Jillian fought to keep from becoming undone. She turned her body to the piano and focused on the keyboard. “Well,” she mumbled, “let’s get started.” She played some notes on the piano, asking him to name them, then asked a few questions to see what he knew so far.