Her Brother's Keeper

by Sara Hoskinson Frommer

  “I’ll try not to let you down,” Fred said.

  Chapter 4

  Joan always did her best to arrive in plenty of time before the rehearsal to supervise the setup of chairs and music stands on the stage of the Alcorn County Consolidated School, and this Wednesday, a week and a half before the wedding, she succeeded. Good thing, she thought, because the parking lot was already filling with high school basketball game traffic. Latecomers were going to have a hard time finding a spot.

  Alex Campbell, who ordinarily gave latecomers plenty of grief, must be having trouble finding a parking place, because she still hadn’t arrived when it was past time to tune. Nicholas Zeller climbed onto the podium and pointed his violin bow at the first oboe for the 440 A, as he did every week. The winds tuned first, then the lower strings, and finally the violins, with a fresh oboe A each time.

  “You think he’ll take over the rehearsal?” murmured John Hocking, the easy-going engineer with whom Joan shared the last stand in the viola section.

  He might do a better job than Alex, she thought, but for the moment, at least, Nicholas took his seat in the first chair of the first violins. Next to him, Birdie Eads was studying the new music, her round face solemn. Could it be that she’d never played Mozart’s 40th? Not likely. Birdie was serious most of the time. She seemed to spend most of her life looking the way Joan had been feeling all afternoon.

  A few more players trickled in, but still no Alex. The orchestra was chatting, and the clock was crawling steadily on.

  Joan stood in her place and raised her voice. “While we’re waiting for Alex, I’ll remind you that the Mozart parts are rented, and they’ve threatened us with a stiff penalty if we leave markings on the music. So please erase all the pencil marks after the concert, even the ones you didn’t make. We can’t afford the penalty.” And she didn’t want to do all that erasing herself. She wondered whether the last orchestra had been charged. Having their bowings left in had ended up saving her a lot of work because she’d had to change so few, but of course the rental company might have charged the penalty without doing anything to the music before sending it out again. “And be sure to sign out your folder and return it after the concert. They really hit us hard for lost folders. Any other announcements?”

  An orchestra board member in the horn section stood. “We’ve never yet charged dues to play in this orchestra. But we have to pay Alex and Joan, not to mention the phone bill and renting music and the school, printing programs, and setup for concerts. At the moment the budget is in the red. I don’t know about you, but I’d miss it something fierce if it folded for lack of funds. Please donate what you can. We need it!” He sat down to a smattering of applause and a certain amount of muttering. Joan couldn’t help thinking of the people whose arms she’d had to twist to fill out the sections.

  As if on cue, Alex blew in from stage right, bringing a blast of cold air with her. But she looked as downhearted as she’d been looking all fall. She shed her coat and hefted herself onto the podium, where she sat up in the tall chair that let them all see her baton better than when she stood, short as she was. “We’ll start with the Mozart.”

  “I still haven’t practiced the fast bits,” John confessed to Joan. “She’s gonna yell at us, you watch.”

  “Me either, with the wedding stuff landing on me. But I don’t think Alex’s mind is on such things.” Alex was still mourning the sad end of what might have been her only romance ever. Joan couldn’t help her and was glad she hadn’t asked for help in that department.

  The symphony began at what felt like breakneck speed with the famous tune to which her children had sung, “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no, it’s Mozart.”

  Alex didn’t seem to notice the violas’ errors tonight, even when Joan struggled with fingering the string crossings of the second set of divisi “deedle-deedles,” as her father had called them. I don’t belong in this orchestra, she told herself, not for the first time. But they keep letting me play. And paying me for the work I do, to boot. She scribbled a penciled star by the measures before letter C, to work on the accidentals that went by too fast for her slow fingers to catch.

  The lyrical second movement required less of her fingers and more of her soul, and the Menuetto was straightforward, and not too fast for comfort. But the final movement charged ahead again, and Joan scrambled to keep up. More stars.

  Alex took time to work through a few problem spots, and then they went back and played the symphony straight through. The last movement was less ragged than before, but Joan thought it still had a long way to go. I’m going to buckle down as soon as the wedding is over, she promised herself. She leaned over to copy her scribbly stars onto the copy in the folder she’d take home to practice.

  Then she heard clapping. Someone was standing out in the center aisle of the dark auditorium, clapping hard.

  Alex whirled around and peered into the dark, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Who’s out there?” she barked. “This is a closed rehearsal!”

  “I’m sorry,” said a deep, resonant voice. “I was looking for Joan Spencer, but the Mozart was so beautiful I couldn’t help applauding.”

  Joan knew that voice. She handed her viola to John and squeezed her way between the stands in front of her to look down over the apron of the stage.

  “Dave?”

  “Joanie!” Now he was close enough for the stage lighting to show him standing there with a battered suitcase at his feet. Even after all that had happened to him (and because of him), he was still a handsome man, she thought. More than seven years older than she was, he was in his fifties. He had their father’s straight nose, but he hadn’t lost his dark hair. Only gray touches over his ears showed his age. And she could tell that he was still slender, even in his parka.

  “Who is this man?” Alex demanded, fury written all over her face. The last thing they needed.

  “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. This is my brother, Dave Zimmerman. I haven’t seen him for years, and I had no idea he’d show up tonight.”

  Dave swung himself up smoothly to stand on the edge of the stage and spoke to Alex, not his sister. “I apologize for disturbing your rehearsal. But you sounded wonderful, and I had to congratulate you. You have no idea what a treat this is for me.”

  Alex thawed visibly, the glower melting from her pudgy face as she looked up at him. Even her voice was soft when she answered him. “We’re glad to hear it.” She turned back to the orchestra members, who were already talking among themselves. “Let’s take our break now, but keep it short. We got a late start.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” Joan said as people began moving around. “That’s very kind.”

  “What brings you to Oliver, Mr. Zimmerman?” Alex asked him.

  “Please, call me Dave.” He turned that wonderful smile Joan remembered so well on Alex.

  She smiled back. Was that actually a dimple? It didn’t seem possible, but he’d certainly done way more than calm her down. “Dave, then.”

  “My only niece is being married soon. I can hardly believe my little sister could have a child ready to tie the knot. I had to be here.”

  “Well, we’re glad you came to hear us. Can you stay and attend our concert?”

  “I’d love to. When is it?”

  “End of January. This is our last rehearsal until after the Christmas break.”

  His face fell. “I’ll be gone by then. But now that I know how good they are, not to mention how delightful their conductor is, you can bet I won’t wait so long to visit again.”

  “I certainly hope not. Meanwhile, you’re more than welcome to stay for the rest of the rehearsal.” Alex was actually smiling at him.

  “Thank you. I will.” He shook her hand warmly before turning to his sister.

  “Dave! I’m so glad to see you.” Hugging him now, Joan realized it was true. He was the only other living member of her growing-up family, and whatever else he’d done, he’d always been a loving big brother to her.

&nbs
p; “Joanie! I wasn’t sure . . .” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. “Let me look at you. Even dressed like a grown-up, you don’t look your age,” he said, and she was glad to be wearing adult clothes instead of the sweats Elizabeth Graham had caught her in. This morning she’d taken the time to pull her hair into a French braid she knew looked good with her tweed jacket, sweater, and slacks.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “Called your house. Your son told me.”

  Andrew hadn’t invited this ex-con to the house when she was away. Probably being cautious. Or maybe Dave had insisted on seeing her first, Joan thought. Either way, she had to figure out what to do with him after rehearsal tonight. She’d talk to Ellen. Better than showing up past nine at night with no warning, before he was expected in town.

  “I have to make a phone call, and then we’ll finish the rehearsal. Meet you backstage afterward? Just go out that door.” She pointed.

  “Sure.” He hugged her again, hard, and slid back off the stage.

  Joan found a quiet corner and pulled out her cell phone to let Ellen know they’d be coming later.

  “Don’t think a thing about it,” Ellen said. “We’re up till all hours anyway. Still cleaning up after the last invasion. But our guests’ rooms are pretty much back to normal. Bring him on.”

  Back in her own seat, Joan reclaimed her viola from John, who looked bemused. “Happen often in your family?”

  “People showing up out of nowhere, you mean?”

  “Well, yes, or your brother winning over an old grouch like Alex.”

  “If it’s a woman, I wouldn’t doubt it. Dave always used to have that effect on girls.”

  “It seems to have done her good.” John was looking at Alex.

  Joan had to agree. Alex looked happier than she had in months, even though Dave had told her he was leaving soon. Maybe all she needed was for some man to treat her like an attractive woman, Joan thought. Could it be so simple?

  When the rehearsal finished, she dealt with the usual details, digging extra folders out of the boxes for the string players to take home, signing them out, packing up the rest, picking a plastic water bottle and a Styrofoam cup up off the floor, and shooing the stragglers off the stage under the baleful eye of the custodian who was being paid extra for cleaning up after them but who nevertheless acted personally affronted by having to wait, even though they hadn’t run late. She stacked the now-empty extra box on top of the one that still weighed more than it should, stuffed the poncho into the empty one, tied them together again, and rolled them out to where Dave was standing.

  “Swap you my stuff for all that?” he offered.

  “Thanks.” She picked his old suitcase up and led the way to the car, where he loaded the music carrier into the backseat and tossed his case in beside it. “How did you get here?”

  “Took a taxi from the bus station.”

  “Hop in, then.”

  Sitting in the dark car in the parking lot, she watched while he buckled up and wondered how to break it to him that she wouldn’t take him home tonight.

  It was Dave, staring straight ahead, who broke the silence. “You might as well know. I’ve been in prison.”

  “What happened?” She leaned toward him, hoping she looked like someone who wasn’t going to throw him out of the family.

  “I got overextended and yielded to temptation. Oh, hell, who’m I kidding? I broke parole and had to serve a longer sentence the next time. The last time. Don’t worry, Joan, I won’t disgrace you here. No way am I going back to that place again.”

  “Good. Are you broke?” She’d heard they discharged prisoners with practically nothing. Might as well know the worst up front.

  “I’m okay. I’ve been working in a friend’s print shop since I got out. Not someone I knew inside–a guy I knew before all this happened. Doesn’t pay all that much, but if I don’t do anything stupid, I can make it. I won’t be asking you for money.” He sat straight and proud, or as straight as the seat belt permitted.

  She reached her hand over to him, and he took it. “That’s not what I meant.” But maybe it had been. “You won’t have any expenses while you’re here, anyway. With Rebecca home, our house will be full, but we’re putting family up in a bed-and-breakfast owned by Ellen Putnam, our neighbor near the park, and she’s expecting you.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Of course you can. It’s only because we live in such a little house. Fred’s parents will stay at Ellen’s, too, and his brother and his family, and we’ll have all our big family meals there. Besides, Ellen’s almost family. She’ll have you walking the dog with her daughter if you don’t watch out.”

  He smiled. “How old is her daughter?”

  Joan tried to do the math. “Laura must be about seven by now. It’s her dog, you understand, but I have the impression her mother gets stuck with it a lot.”

  “Just like you at that age.”

  “Who, me?” Sometimes Joan felt as if she’d been born adult.

  “You never had a dog, but I remember a kitten, and a rabbit or guinea pig—something that lived in a cage, anyway. You’d beg and promise anything to talk Mom into letting you have pets, and then it was like pulling teeth to get you to take care of them.”

  “I did take care of them—didn’t I?” Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

  He grinned at her. “Uh-huh. When Mom hollered at you for not cleaning the litter box, you bribed me to do it.”

  “What did I have to bribe you with?” Back then, he’d stood almost as tall as her father and had ridden his bike around town freely, while she was still limited to their immediate neighborhood. The gap between their allowances must have been just as large.

  “More worthless promises, I imagine. But I didn’t care. You were my cute kid sister.”

  She was touched. It fit with her memories of Dave taking her by the hand to show her off to his friends, twice as old as she was. That he’d taken her anywhere at that age was amazing.

  “I’ll drive you past our house, so you’ll see where it is. You’ll sleep at Ellen’s, but until the crowd arrives for the wedding, you’ll eat at our house.”

  “Any way you want to do it is fine with me.”

  It wasn’t far—nothing in Oliver was far, for that matter. She pointed out her house and then drove the most direct route from it to Ellen’s, though on her walk home from work, she often meandered through the neighborhood for variety.

  The lights were on at the bed-and-breakfast, including one that lit up the sign decorated with an evergreen swag.

  “And here’s Ellen’s.” Laura’s dog, which looked as if it had some beagle in it, barked at them from the front porch, but as soon as they came close and talked to it, it wagged its tail along with the barking. Joan was nevertheless glad to see that it was on a leash, tied far enough from the front door to leave them a clear path.

  Laura ran out of the house. “Hush, puppy!” she told it. The dog hushed and wagged its whole rear end. “I’m sorry, Joan. We’re trying to teach him to behave. He’s okay with us, but if he doesn’t know you, he makes a fuss.”

  “Not a bad thing to have a watchdog,” Dave said mildly.

  “He won’t bite you. He just barks.”

  “Laura, this is my brother, Dave Zimmerman.”

  Hanging on to the dog’s collar, Laura pulled the storm door open. “Come on in. Mom said you were coming early.”

  “Early?”

  “For the wedding, I mean. We’re still fixing the house up, and I’m gonna have to behave like a lady that whole weekend.”

  “Laura! What are you telling them?” Ellen called from inside the house.

  “Just the truth, Mama.” She pushed the door shut and released the dog to frisk around them, tail wagging furiously.

  Ellen came into the living room. Gone were the paint-covered jeans. Today’s trim pair looked brand new, and Joan wondered who had knit the elegant Aran sweater she wore so casually over t
hem. Either somebody loved her, or the bed-and-breakfast was doing well, indeed. Or she’d taken good care of the clothes left from her previous life as a judge’s wife.

  Joan introduced them.

  “Mrs. Putnam,” Dave said, turning on the smile.

  “Call me Ellen, please.”

  “Ellen, then. I’m Dave.”

  “We were expecting you. You get to choose your room. You’re first to arrive, and Laura’s right that we’ve been getting ready for everyone. But tonight’s a school night, and she needs to go to bed.” She looked Laura in the eye. “I’ll be there in a minute, honey, just as soon as I give Dave a tour of the rooms.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Laura led the dog out, shutting the living room door behind her.

  “Oh, I don’t need anything fancy.”

  “Good thing.” Ellen dimpled up at him. “What with Scott, Amy, Laura, and now Laura’s dog, there’s no point in trying for fancy. We’re saving the biggest rooms for families, but most of the smaller ones overlook the park.”

  “I’d like that.”

  They followed her. Joan admired the new rooms she hadn’t seen since the house had been finished after the tornado and the remodeling Ellen had done more recently. Downstairs, the public areas had been enlarged, and the big living room flowed into the huge new dining room. Together they would host the buffet dinner Joan planned after the reception, for family and people who came from a distance. They climbed up to the second-floor bedrooms available for able-bodied guests. Ellen waved a hand at one downstairs for people who couldn’t handle the steps.

  “They’re beautiful!” Joan said, peering into one tastefully decorated room after another. Each had its own individual flavor, some modern, others furnished with what might even be antiques. Ellen had found them at auctions and secondhand shops and refinished them herself, Joan knew.

  “Thank you,” Ellen said.