Piano Lessons

by Gail Sattler

  For himself, Jed didn’t care that Mark saw them, or what Mark thought, but if Jillian cared, then it mattered. He wondered why it made such a difference; after all, Mark was his nephew, so it wasn’t like Mark was just any student. But the fact that she was upset about it made the difference. What could he do? He’d have to have a talk with Mark, and then if he explained things to Jillian, maybe she’d feel better.

  “. . .and then you start to play some of that Bach and Beethoven stuff, and some of it is really neat, but some of it is really boring, but Miss Jefferson will tell you how good it is for you to play all that stuff and then she’ll set that ticking thing and make you do it real fast, but then it really does start to sound good. And then in Book Four it gets even harder and she starts making you do scales with tons of black notes and. . .”

  How could he convince Mark to keep this a secret? Like any typical eight-year-old boy, once you said the word secret, it became a general bulletin through the whole school population and entire neighborhood. Bribery? No, he would tell everyone the reason he got whatever he picked out. Threats? Another bad idea.

  “Uncle Jed? Don’t you want to hear about Book Four?”

  Maybe the kid would forget all about it. Maybe it was already forgotten. He was constantly forgetting about his homework and making his bed. Kids forgot things all the time.

  “Uncle Jed? Uncle Jed? Aren’t you listening?”

  “Huh? What, Mark? I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t hear. What was that again?”

  “I said, why didn’t you just wait for her to get you a different sticker? Why did you let her kiss you? Gross!”

  Maybe he wouldn’t forget that quickly. “Mark, I asked her to kiss me.”

  “Eeww! Why? She’s got great stickers. Girls got germs, you know. And cooties.”

  “I like to kiss Miss Jefferson.” At Mark’s horrified expression, Jed tried to scramble for another idea. “Doesn’t your dad ever kiss your mom?”

  “Oh. That. Yeah, he does.”

  “Well, it’s kind of the same thing.”

  “Oh.”

  Jed could almost see it like a light going on inside Mark’s head. Finally, he was getting somewhere. “It’s no big deal, Mark. Really. It’s nothing.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Mark walked in silence the rest of the way home. Jed thought Mark looked very serious for a little kid. He was too young now, but in a couple of years he would start having girlfriends of his own. Jed prided himself on handling it so fast. Now he could get on with his bigger problem of convincing Jillian, which would be the hard part.

  As soon as they entered the house, Jed hurried into the kitchen to start supper. Instead of going outside to play, Mark sat at the table and watched him. Jed thought his behavior unusual, but since he was starting a bit late, he didn’t have time to concern himself. He had barely got everything going, his lunch packed, and was hurriedly trying to gulp down his coffee when Liz and Frank walked into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Jed. How was your day?”

  “Fine. Don’t forget to pick Betsy up at 6:00; remember, today is Angela’s birthday party. And I’m almost on my way.” Jed grabbed his lunch pail and rushed to swallow the last gulp of his coffee before he dashed out the door.

  Mark piped up. “Guess what, Mom, Dad?”

  Frank and Liz started to peek inside the oven and pots on the stove. “What, Mark?” Frank asked absently.

  “Uncle Jed and Miss Jefferson are getting married.”

  Jed choked on his coffee, spitting most of it into the sink, and dribbling some of it down the front of his shirt.

  Liz dropped the pot lid and gasped. “Jed? Why didn’t you tell me?” She stood straight and placed her hands on her hips, feet slightly apart. “Have I been missing something? Is there anything you want to tell me? Or do you have some explaining to do, little brother?”

  Jed tried to speak through his cough, barely getting the words out. “Mark! I’m not going to marry Miss Jefferson! What gave you an idea like that?” Jed wheezed for air as another fit of coughing seized him.

  “You said it was just like Mom and Dad. And they have to because they’re married.”

  Liz took advantage of Jed’s inability to speak. “What do Mom and Dad have to do, Mark?”

  Mark made a face. “You know! Kiss!” Mark opened his mouth and let his tongue hang out, grabbed his own neck with both hands as if choking himself, then crossed his eyes.

  Jed’s face burned as Liz and Frank stared at him. The tightening sensation in his throat wouldn’t allow him to speak.

  “I can hardly wait to hear this one,” Liz said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

  Mark continued on, unaware of Jed’s predicament. “When I got to my piano lesson, Uncle Jed was kissing Miss Jefferson because he passed Book One. I told her she better not kiss me; I want stickers for passing. I know she’s got a huge one of Mario and Luigi, but Uncle Jed said it was okay for her to kiss him because he asked her to. And it was just like you and Dad, you know, cause, like, you and Dad are married, and that’s how babies are made, you know.”

  “Oh?” Liz looked down at Mark, then back at Jed, then pressed her lips tightly together. “Well, Uncle Jed? Want to tell me all about passing Book One?”

  Thankfully, Frank had the sense to be quiet. Jed cleared his throat. “I’m going to be late for work!” he grumbled as he ran the dishcloth over the wet dribbles on the front of his shirt, then threw it in the sink. He made a grab for his lunch pail for the second time, and stormed out.

  All the way to work, Jed’s guts churned. If Liz and Frank hadn’t guessed there was something happening between himself and Jillian before, they knew for sure now. But, worse than that, now Mark knew, and knew too much. Now the whole school, and probably every one of Jillian’s students would hear about it. Jillian would be devastated.

  Would Mark tell the whole school his uncle Jed was marrying his piano teacher? Or worse? Liz and Frank had better straighten the kid out about the reasons for kissing a girl. Although come to think of it, what were his reasons?

  Jed ran in and punched his time card with only a minute to spare. He threw his stuff in his locker, changed into his work boots, and hurried to his station. Another night of the same old thing. Today he’d have to make an extra effort to keep his mind on his job.

  ❧

  With relief, Jillian bade good-bye to the last student of the day. All evening, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything except the heart-wrenching embarrassment of being interrupted by a child, a student no less, caught in the most exhilarating kiss of her entire lifetime, not that she’d been kissed that often. Now that she was finally alone, she could deal with it rationally. Her stomach flip-flopped thinking about it as she leaned with her back against the door.

  Jillian covered her face with her hands and sagged into the door. She never did get around to telling Jed that she didn’t think it wise to see him outside of piano lessons. And now this! No matter how much she liked him and enjoyed spending time with him, she wasn’t going to risk her reputation or her heart for him. She had to come to a decision on which way she would proceed with Jed.

  Her decision was redundant; either way, she lost. She could keep with her original plan to refuse to see him again except for piano lessons, but she didn’t think she could handle the strain of seeing him twice a week and knowing there would be no more, now that she knew how much fun he was to be with. Her only other option would be to tell him to find another teacher, so she would never see him again. Jillian sank lower as she continued to lean against the door. She couldn’t handle that, either.

  She shuffled into the kitchen to make herself some tea to help her relax, but only stared into the bottom of the empty cup. She opened her Bible to read, but none of the words made sense. Instead of sitting up all night and moping, she decided to go to bed. She would be able to think more rationally in the morning.

  Yawning as she hopped into bed, she switched off the light, but she found
she couldn’t close her eyes. Every time she did, all she could see was Jed with his eyes closed, his untamed hair falling onto his forehead and a lazy smile on his face. Either that or the horrified look on Mark Edwards’ face as he stood in the entrance hall. She tried praying about it, begging God for answers, but she only came up with blanks.

  At 2:07 a.m., Jillian turned to the clock radio for the hundredth time. Rather than stare at the ceiling all night unable to decide what to do, she shrugged on her housecoat and shuffled into the kitchen to make herself some chamomile tea in the hope that it would help her sleep.

  Sitting at the table, she watched the kettle, waiting for it to boil. Outside, a rumbling sound echoed, then stopped in front of the house.

  Jillian ran to the front window to peek through the blinds: Jed’s truck. The interior light came on as the door opened. Jillian yanked her fingers out of the blinds and ran to the door, clutching the neckline of her housecoat to her throat when he knocked on the door. For a second, she considered leaving him standing outside, but she opened the door anyway.

  A rush of cold air whooshed in as Jed stood in the doorway, staring at his feet. Splotches of dirt streaked his shirt, and his jeans were so ratty they had holes in them. His typically unruly hair lay flattened in places, and he smelled like a grease pit. The only clean part about him was his cowboy boots.

  “What are you doing here? It’s two in the morning!”

  He shoved his hands in his pocket. “I know. I was on my way home from work and saw your kitchen light on. Can we talk?”

  nine

  Jed held his breath, hoping she wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

  “Now?” she asked. She stared up at him, eyes wide, her hands clutching desperately around the collar of her housecoat.

  He studied the toes of his boots. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

  “Come in, Jed,” she sighed, then stepped back to allow him entry. Jed closed the door behind himself, toed off his boots and kicked them onto the tray, then followed her into the kitchen, where the kettle whistled on the stove.

  “Do you want some herbal tea? It’s caffeine free.”

  All he could do was nod and watch as she busied herself making the tea. She looked cuddly and sweet in her baggy housecoat and bare feet. For the first time since he met her, her hair was a mess, but even still, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Not only that, she wasn’t making excuses for her appearance.

  She turned her back to reach a couple of mugs in the cupboard. As she lifted her arms, the hem of her housecoat raised up, showing her cute little bare toes beneath it. His heart caught in his throat.

  When she placed the steaming cup of tea in front of him, he took a slow sip, then swallowed it too quickly, scorching his throat, rather than spit it back into the cup. “This stuff tastes like boiled straw! How can you drink this?”

  “It helps me sleep. And I like it.”

  Jed cradled the cup in his hands, painfully aware of Jillian staring at him as he took another cautious sip. He hoped the second sip wouldn’t be as bad, but the strange taste of the tea made him grimace in distaste. He set the cup on the table, wondering how to refuse to drink any more without hurting Jillian’s feelings.

  As much as he needed to talk to her, now that she sat in front of him, staring at him, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. After a full shift, he was filthy, and since it had been a particularly busy night, he didn’t smell too great, either. Jillian, on the other hand, looked great. Pleasantly mussed and bundled in a granny-style housecoat that was probably thicker than his overcoat, she still somehow managed to carry about her an air of dignity.

  “Bunny slippers,” he said as he leaned back in the chair. He folded his arms across his chest, trying to cover the coffee stain and other assorted splotches, although the condition of his clothing was the least of his worries.

  “What?” Jillian started to raise her cup to her lips, then froze. “Bunny slippers? What are you talking about?”

  “You need bunny slippers. They would suit you. You know, the kind with the floppy ears and big eyes that look up at you when you cross your ankles on the coffee table.”

  “I do not put my feet up on the coffee table.”

  “Well, then, you should start.”

  “Jed, it’s two in the morning. I don’t think you came here to discuss ridiculous footwear.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Jed stared into the half-empty cup, then sloshed the liquid around as he tried to think. “I know you were upset about Mark, uh, walking in on us like that.”

  Jillian didn’t answer. Instead, she appeared to be paying too close attention to the pattern on her cup. She blinked a couple of times, and Jed’s stomach tightened.

  “He’s just a kid,” Jed blurted out. “And I had a little talk with him on the way home.” And he had. He merely omitted telling her that things didn’t exactly turn out the way he had planned. He hoped Liz and Frank had had a chance to have a better talk to Mark about kissing girls.

  When she didn’t respond, Jed reached across the table to touch her hand, but she pulled it away. His throat became so tight he wondered if he would be able to manage the words. “Do you want to pray about it? It always helps.”

  She clutched her cup again. “I don’t think I’m ready to pray with you, Jed.”

  He knew exactly what she meant. He often participated in group prayer, praying for people he barely knew, if at all. This was different. This was personal. Intensely personal. Praying together with someone close lent itself to a certain intimacy, one he couldn’t even begin to reason out. And in a group situation, the results of such prayers usually didn’t directly affect him. This time, Jed not only wanted to pray for peace for Jillian, he needed to. The more he thought about it, the more important it became.

  He also needed answers. He wanted to know why she resisted his efforts to draw her closer. He didn’t think it was him in particular, but he couldn’t be sure. While she didn’t exactly push him away, she didn’t encourage him either. But more than anything, while he was curious about why it bothered her so much, he wanted her to have some peace about the incident with Mark. From her reaction, and the fact that she was still bothered so much about it, he had a feeling things went far deeper than just a little embarrassment.

  So, while Jillian stared into her cup, her eyes fixed on its contents, Jed lowered his head slightly, closed his eyes, and prayed alone.

  When he opened his eyes, Jillian was still staring into her cup. The sight of her made him want to get up, pull her out of the chair, hold her tight, and kiss her again, if he didn’t smell like lubricant and other assorted unmentionables.

  She looked up at him, her eyes big and round. “What if word of this spreads to my other students?”

  “So what if it does? You’re entitled to a social life.”

  “But not at the piano, and not with a student’s uncle.”

  Her words didn’t bode well at all. “It’ll be okay, Jillian, I promise.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she stood, hugged herself, then looked toward the door, then back at him. Jed decided he could take a hint, before he was asked to leave and never come back. He couldn’t take that. “I guess I had better go; it’s late.”

  He walked slowly to the door, listening to the shuffling sounds of Jillian behind him. She didn’t say a word to him as he let himself out. He thought about turning around to say something, but the door closed as soon as he cleared the doorway, and the lock clicked as it engaged. He walked slowly to the truck, then tightly gripped the steering wheel for a few minutes before he started the engine.

  It would be quite some time before he fell asleep tonight.

  ❧

  Jed and Betsy stood in the window and waved at Liz and Frank as they drove off to work. Again, Betsy woke far too early, especially after last night. Not only had he been extra late getting to bed, but he had also lain staring at the ceiling for hours. He was getting to know
every bump and lump of stucco on a personal basis.

  Jed yawned, making no effort to hide it from Betsy. “Hey, Pumpkin, I’ll give you a nickel if you go wake Mark up. I’ll give you two nickels if you do it without any yelling.”

  Betsy giggled. “You watch me, Uncle Jed!” She tiptoed down the hall, still giggling.

  He smiled through another yawn. Betsy could be such a good little girl when she wanted.

  For a minute there was silence.

  “You little monkey brain! Get outta here!”

  Betsy shrieked and ran down the hall and jumped into Jed’s arms, laughing wildly. “I didn’t yell! I didn’t yell!”

  Jed closed his eyes, afraid to ask, but he had to know. “What did you do?” He remembered one morning from his youth when Liz had kept snapping the elastic on his underwear until he couldn’t stand it. Did kids still do that to each other?

  “I pulled his blankets off and tickled his feet. You owe me two nickels!”

  He could live with that. “Tell you what. After Mark leaves for school, how about if we go to the mall and I’ll let you spend those two nickels?”

  “Oh, boy! Can I buy a new doll?”

  It was a struggle, but he tried to look serious. “Not with two nickels. You’re going to need more than that for a doll.”

  “Then I had better go get my bank!” Betsy jumped out of his arms and ran to her bedroom. Jed could hear the shaking and rattling of coins as she emptied the contents of her bank onto the floor.

  Mark shuffled into the living room, rubbing his eyes. “I hate her. She’s a brat.”

  “She’s a little girl, and she’s your sister.” Now he knew how his parents felt, only in their case, Liz was the eldest, and she never let him forget it. But even though she was older, by the time he reached thirteen, he was taller. Much taller. And then he didn’t let her forget it. At times, he pitied his parents.