by Jean Oram
“What?”
“There are a lot of strings in here.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked, hitting a few keys.
“Ouch! Stop that.”
“Sorry.” I sat on my hands, so I wouldn’t be tempted to knock his fingers a few more times. All eighty-eight keys were covered in a layer of grime from a year of disuse. Off to the right I could see a D key that wasn’t sitting properly. This thing was about trashed. Bringing it up to a reasonable standard was going to take not only time, but skill—something I was certain Steve was bluffing about possessing.
“There’s a high D looking odd. How does it look in there?” I asked.
“Which one’s odd?”
“Are your fingers clear?”
“Yes.”
I popped my head up to peek at him. He was doing something on his phone instead of looking inside the instrument.
“What are you doing? Researching how to tune a piano or texting your girlfriend?”
He gave me a saucy glance, and I couldn’t decide whether that meant yes, he was researching the job, or no, he was texting some woman.
I tapped and wiggled the funny key, which remained silent. I needed that one for “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” We planned to play it in honor of Ms. King this year. I just hoped we didn’t choke up for sentimental reasons. “What’s up with this key?”
He bent forward again. “Wire broke. We can probably bring it back to life if we use a little care. Bring out this old beast’s potential.”
“I don’t know if it can be salvaged,” I said, taking in its condition again. As a kid it had simply been a piano. You sat down, you played your music, you got up again. But looking at it now, with its chipped and yellowed keys, I realized the past few years of neglect and abuse were certainly showing, and I didn’t believe it was up to the task of making up for any faults us gals had in our singing or playing. It was time to have the instrument replaced.
Steve was watching me over the top of the cabinet. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Replacing a piano wasn’t easy when money was tight. Could we squeeze another season out of it?
He closed the lid, then set a very familiar looking pocketknife on top, which sent a surge of adrenaline through me. He still had the knife? I met his gaze, but his eyes didn’t give anything away. Maybe it wasn’t special to him. Maybe it was just something handy, like a keychain, that he didn’t even think about. And of course, the gift had been a secret. He didn’t know the pocketknife was from me, but for some stupid reason I wanted him to.
“We need to find you a new piano. Where should we start looking?”
“I didn’t say it needs replacing right now,” I said, frustrated by his take-charge demeanor. “Quit trying to solve problems that aren’t yours.”
He met my eyes, a thread of history dangling between us, tangling the past with the present. I found myself wishing he would back off and let everything be. Life had felt simpler before he’d moved in next door. I knew that his helpful actions didn’t warrant my frustration, but it was Steve. I never seemed to be able to act truly reasonable around him.
“This will do for another year. It just needs tuning.” I ran my fingers down the out-of-tune keys again, hitting the dead one and leaving a hole in the sound ringing through the empty building.
Steve eased away from the piano, hands raised in surrender. “Just trying to be helpful...”
There was something in his steady, even gaze that made me uncomfortable. It wasn’t anything I’d ever seen from Calvin, and I wasn’t sure what it was. It was like Steve was considering me, trying to see what was behind my need to argue with him instead of simply placating me and carrying on with his plans.
It left me feeling exposed.
“Don’t tell me what I need in my life,” I said, glancing down as I played the scales.
He stepped to the piano, casually leaning against it, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. “You need something?”
“No. And this piano is good enough. A new one would need tuning after being delivered, anyway.” I stood up, shutting the piano cover. “So maybe you should just tune it like you said you would.” That would at least get us through this year. The building needed a roof more than a piano, and eventually the fundraising group would be able to replace it.
“Maybe,” he said, taking a step closer, “despite how you try to convince yourself, it’s not good enough.”
“And maybe you don’t know everything,” I challenged with a glare, daring him to glance away. The fiery look I sent him was returned with a gentle, understanding one that made me feel like a broken, wounded animal lashing out due to pain.
I was not a wounded animal.
“Maybe you should stop accepting things that you shouldn’t,” he said.
“The piano is fine, Steve.” I was calm now. That weird place between emotions. “Maybe you should accept that not everything needs changing just because you want it to be different.”
He came around the piano, and for a moment I feared he was going to tenderly cup my chin and kiss my forehead. Or lips.
“Maybe you need to learn to speak up,” he said. “Demand more. Reach out and grab what you want in life.”
“Fine,” I said, the word coming out more breathless and less firm than I’d intended. “Bring me a glorious new piano, Steve, or fulfill your promise and make this thing work again. And while you’re at it, how about finding me a job that pays better, too?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
He smiled knowingly, which angered me.
“Quit trying to mess up my life, Steve. I’m happy!”
“Follow your dreams, Joy. Follow the yellow brick road,” he crooned.
“Maybe this is my dream.” I crossed my arms, my insides trembling.
I was a single mom working in a job that would never allow me to fully pay my bills without Calvin’s support. How could that be my dream?
“Maybe there’s room for more.”
“Like a teaching certificate.” I jutted out one hip, daring him to confirm that he thought I should pursue something that would break my bank account.
He shrugged, not saying a thing, which made me want to fight even more.
“Going back to school sounds so fun. I’d be pinched for time, traveling to the city, almost four hours away—if not actually moving Max there after finally settling him here, or even worse, leaving him behind and becoming a long-distance mom. A busy, distracted, stressed mother, as well as in debt. Sounds like I’ll provide Max the kind of childhood everyone dreams of. And for what? The possibility that I might be able to teach a classroom full of kids and financially support the two of us?”
“Sometimes we have to make minor sacrifices in order to—”
“You’re not a parent. You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Try listening!”
“You see the problems, but what about the other things? The rewards?” I shut my eyes, fighting for control as he continued. “Financial security. Sharing the same holidays as your son. Using that amazing brain of yours.”
I opened my eyes to lash out as his tone became soft, but he was reaching for me as if he planned to stroke my hair. I tipped my head away, confused by his tender expression. His fingers missed their intended mark, and he grasped a tendril of hair, stepping closer to delicately tuck it behind my ear. The unexpectedness of his actions made me quake, dissolving the anger and filling me with something else. Something I couldn’t identify. I didn’t like it. It made me feel vulnerable and uncertain.
I was pretty sure it was longing, but didn’t know if it was for his touch or for the career and lifestyle he’d described.
“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you have,” I whispered, unable to take a step back despite my desire to.
“I’m trying. I keep failing at it.” His lips had twisted into a wry smile, his gaze displaying that same tenderness
I’d felt in his earlier touch.
“Well, maybe I already reached out to get what I want. I have a home. A son. A job. A car. I don’t need more.”
“Did you pick them all out yourself?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it before saying diplomatically, “Calvin and I decide on these things together. As a couple. That’s what we do.”
Okay, so the cute little cottage-style home I’d selected in the historic section of town after our breakup was vetoed by Calvin because its insulation—a must for mountain winters—wasn’t as good as the home he’d selected for me. And yes, he’d also convinced me that my all-wheel drive SUV was better than the cute sedan I’d been leaning toward. But I had gotten to veto the bungalow he’d chosen for himself, as well as the bigger SUV he’d thought I’d like. He knew me well, and neither of us had given up our autonomy by listening to each other.
“Why are you so bossy?” I asked Steve, my tone revealing a hint of disgust.
“Because I’m good at it.”
“Expert level,” I muttered, turning away to sweep a palm through the dust gathered on the piano top, then smacking my hands together to clean them.
“Are you going to look into becoming a teacher?” he asked.
“Why can’t you understand that I’m fine working in a daycare?”
“Because you’re not.”
“Haven’t you been listening?”
He watched me for a second while I battled my feelings.
“You’re a good liar,” he said gently.
I gasped with indignation. “I am not lying. I like working there.” Which was true. The hours and pay just weren’t enough to keep me going.
“Don’t be afraid to change your life.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I’m not afraid of change.”
Paris. Paris was a change—a big one. What if it happened?
But I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t. I just didn’t want all the upheaval. It felt like we’d just gotten settled, and Max was just getting used to his parents living in separate homes and in a small town instead of the city.
“Look,” I said, clearing my throat. “I have paint to pick up from the hardware store. So if you’re done pretending you know how to tune a piano, can we go?”
“Paint?”
“Max wants a blue bedroom.” I gestured toward the door. “I’m going to surprise him.”
Steve nodded slowly, moving toward the exit, one eye on me. I could feel his judgment washing over me, seeping between the cracks.
“You know, not everyone likes to just waltz off on adventures, with no cares or responsibilities,” I said, my tone a bit preachy. “Maybe some of us like having a stable life and don’t need more. We don’t need to disrupt our lives due to some insatiable thirst for action and excitement. Maybe I just need a job, and a home and Saturday movie night with my son. Maybe that’s the important stuff.” I turned at the door and locked eyes on Steve. “You know—family.”
Steve’s stance softened, as did the look in his eyes. “You’re right.”
His words took the fight out of me, as did the pang of loss in his gaze.
We climbed down the steps in silence, finding the snowy, sunny world too bright after being inside. I felt riled up, angry, sad and frustrated. Typical emotions after spending time with Steve.
“I do know what it’s like to have responsibilities,” he said quietly, taking my elbow when I skidded on an icy patch.
“Thanks.”
“And to have someone depending on you.”
I stopped walking. “You have kids?”
He stopped, too, his gaze averted to the evergreens lining the road. “My mom was sick when I was in high school. I went home at lunch to make us a meal, and to feed her before coming back to school again.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He finally looked at me, his contemplative expression making his eyes seem a shade darker. “You have an amazing son who seems very well adjusted. That isn’t easy.”
“It is easy. Calvin and I get along very well.”
“I know.” He reached out, gently stroking his thumb against my chin just once while he repeated, “I know.”
The walk back to my house was fast—too fast. We were as silent as we’d been on the way over to the center, but my mind was a mass of confusion, and I didn’t know what to think or what to say.
There had been something in Steve’s expression that just...
He couldn’t be envious of Calvin.
Calvin didn’t even love me. When we’d broken up he’d said he didn’t believe we’d ever really been in love. That alone had blindsided me.
He’d said we’d been too young, and what had we known about love?
The fact was my own husband of seven years and five months hadn’t loved me. The only man I’d ever been with hadn’t ever truly fallen all the way in love with me. The father of my son.
It had felt like it should have been love.
And then there was Steve... He was like one of those chocolate eggs that Max loved. You never knew what was hidden inside, sometimes a toy, sometimes a puzzle.
Steve was the puzzle when I’d been expecting a toy.
He pushed me and made me think when I didn’t want to. But maybe it wasn’t for the reasons I’d always assumed. And then when he was pushing me, and I was about to snap, he would drop back and do something unexpected.
It was infuriating, and I found myself wishing that he was more like Calvin—straightforward and easy to predict. Other than the no-love bit, Calvin was linear, like a marble rolling down a tube. Steve, on the other hand, was a bouncy ball operating under zero gravity.
I turned to face him at the bottom of my steps, the yard’s inflatable Frosty bobbing jovially as the fan at his base kept him plump with air. Steve had walked me to the door even though he could see me from his place and it was still daylight. Maybe he was hoping for a second cup of coffee with the gals.
So much for my must-go-buy-paint excuse. I had a houseful of friends waiting for me to return home.
“Why have you never liked Calvin?” I asked.
“What does a new piano cost?” he asked at the same time.
“What?” It took me a moment to catch up with him. “I’ll hire a real tuner. One who has tools and isn’t overwhelmed by the number of strings inside.”
“Funny.” He smirked, not at all put off by my dig. “So seriously. How much?”
“I asked you a question.”
“I asked one, too. How much?”
“A lot.”
“How much was yours?”
“A lot.”
“You’re in a real helpful mood, aren’t you?”
I put my hands on my hips and swiveled to face him more fully. “I wasn’t expecting tuning the piano to be such an issue.”
“So? It is. Let’s solve it. We could restore it, but we don’t have a ton of time.”
“The piano isn’t my problem.” I waved toward the community center and sighed.
“If you plan on playing music for the extravaganza, then it is your problem.”
I was tempted to roll my eyes, but refrained. The crunch of tires on the packed snow indicated I had company. I bit my top lip as I recognized the SUV. It was Calvin. I wasn’t sure if I should appreciate his timing or not.
“Man-night steakfest was yesterday,” I said, as soon as my ex stepped foot on the walkway. He came to a halt and stared at Steve and me.
“What do you need?” I asked, feeling impatient with his unexpected visit.
Calvin was wearing a fine wool coat, his black loafers shining against the white snow. Straight from work. Mr. Handsome Engineer. It wouldn’t be long before he started dating again, I realized. The man was a catch—just not mine—and I was certain women weren’t leaving him alone.
“I thought we could discuss some last-minute details about Paris,” he said, his gaze fixed solidly on Steve.
“You’re going to Paris?” Steve asked me, his voi
ce laced with disbelief. “With him?”
“Calvin and Max are going.” I gave Steve a look as if to say “butt out.” Not that he was ever very good at that, but it would be a lovely Christmas miracle if he figured out how to do it, starting this instant.
“He’s taking Max?” Steve asked, his brows raised as if he found the idea incredulous.
Yes, my little boy was going to be gone during the lead-up to my favorite holiday—one that just wouldn’t have as much joy in it without him asking me about Santa and his reindeer, while crossing the dates off his calendar. But this trip wasn’t about me. It was about Max and his dad having an experience neither Calvin nor I had ever had. There would be plenty more Christmases.
“Steve Jorgensen,” Calvin said, his tone flat. “You’re back in town.”
Steve stood a bit taller. “Living right next door.” That smile sure seemed smug.
Calvin took a long look at me, then shifted his attention back to Steve. His jaw was tight, like the time Max spilled grape juice on our new couch. “Of course you are.”
“Indeed I am. And you’re still... you.”
How had he made that sound like such an insult?
“Max has a playdate and the ladies are over,” I said, moving toward the steps again. The men taking licks at each other now that they were adults felt wrong. We should all be past this—even though I didn’t seem to be.
“What are you two doing out here?” Calvin asked. He’d come closer to me, his eyes still on Steve.
“Talking.” I crossed my arms, then softened my stance when Calvin gave me a slightly wounded look. We didn’t shut each other out. It wasn’t how we worked. We were a team. One with communication skills, not resentment or fights. “We were checking out the piano at the community center.”
“Joy believes it’s had its season,” Steve said. He eyed Calvin’s Buick SUV. It was freshly washed and looking shiny and perfect. “I was thinking I’d scour the used ads, but maybe you’d care to donate one? Your wife sure could use it for The Christmas Extravaganza.”
I shot Steve a look while Calvin crossed his arms, his chest puffed out.