Elly, Episode 8

[Click here to go to the beginning: Episode 1.]

It was a miserable summer.  Helen spent the warmest months going over the beautiful, extravagant old house, and making all the repairs it had needed for many years.  She lost a lot of weight, and her health definitely improved.  But soon after the work was done, she relapsed into the somber mood into which she had slipped right after Diane’s death.  Elly tried her best to snap her out of it, but failed.  Unable to stand it any longer, Elly went out to St Paul, where she was completely at a loose end, leaving Maryssa to cope with Helen’s depression.

At last it was the fall.  Helen had been worried that, perhaps, Elly would decide not to go back to school, but she called the week before classes.
“I got a letter from—you know, the other place,” she said.  By that Helen understood that her former alma mater had inquired after her progress.  Elly had done well enough to salve her pride, but she was still sensitive about the situation, obviously.  “Hah!” she said, “I get mad when I just see the crest on the stationery.  I wish they’d declare bankruptcy, or something.”  Helen only laughed.  “Anyway, I guess I’ll be back for the Fall.”
“How wonderful!  I’ve missed you something terrible!”
“I’d just bet you did!”
“Come on, Elly, you know better than that!”
Elly chuckled.  “It gets to be a habit, I guess!”  Helen sighed.  “I missed you, too.”  Helen made a vague sound of inquiry, her heart thudding.  On top of everything, their relationship oscillated between simple affection and something that seemed at times dangerously close to passion.  But no matter what road it took, Helen was unwilling to even consider not having Elly stay with her for the Fall.

Settling in for the Fall
There was a lot to decide.  What to do about the house at Primrose?  In which house would they live?  Where would they put Elly?
Having repaired the beautiful old house, Helen realized that Maryssa should enjoy it for at least a year.  That meant that either Maryssa would live at Primrose and come out to visit Helen every day, or Helen would move in with her and Matt.
In the end, once Betsy, Carol and Elly arrived, they decided that it made better sense to move into Primrose.  It still seemed like living in someone else’s house, but at least Helen could help with the utilities and the housekeeping without making Maryssa feel as if she was taking charity.
The Fall began, with its usual excitement.  One week after Elly had resumed classes at Penn State campus, the younger children began school,.  Allie was now a second-grader, assessed to be too far ahead for first grade.  She was a little younger than her classmates, but was more mature than many of them in many ways.  James was starting Kindergarten.  By the end of September, the routine had settled down.

They were going out to Cleveland for Thanksgiving, to visit Helen’s voice teacher, Norma Majors, and her cousin Cicely, who lived together in the little house in which Helen and Janet and Janet’s young family had lived, and which Helen had bought off her when Janet moved away.  Maryssa was a bundle of nerves all the way out to Cleveland.  In Cleveland, they rented a van and headed out to the little town in which Norma and Cecily lived.  Neither of the two women drove, Helen had explained, so she wanted to make sure she could take them around everywhere they wanted to go, Christmas shopping, or whatever.
Cecily sat at the window, waiting anxiously for Helen and her family, instantly recognized Elly when she jumped out of the minivan, though she was much changed—more curvy, more graceful, grown-up.  Elly shook her hand and then gave her an enormous hug, just as Norma came out of the house, smiling.  “So good to see you, Cecily!  Goodness, look at all the grey hairs!”
“You’re not supposed to notice!” said Cecily, smiling to cover her sadness.  She couldn’t still be reconciled to her aging; in her own mind she was still a young woman of thirty-five.
Then the others piled out of the car, the young woman Cecily assumed was Helen’s latest ‘friend,’ little James, and Alison.  Helen was last out, and Cecily was amazed.
Helen seemed to have aged ten years since they had last seen her.  Then she had been thirty-something, and looked barely twenty-five.  Now she looked positively middle-aged, heavy in the legs, bent over, the very life seeming to have gone out of her.
“Oh, Elly … what’s happened to Helen?” asked Cecily in a low voice.
“Just don’t talk about it,” warned Elly.
“But—how can I not?  Who else does she have?”
“Just not when I’m around, Cecily.”

Helen seemed to straighten up a little when she came up to where Cecily waited for them, her arms full of bags.  Each of the kids had their own little backpack, and Helen’s young lady friend carried a big canvas bag.  She certainly was a lovely thing, slim and demure, her raincoat draped over her arm, her tiny feet in old-fashioned brown shoes.
“Hello!” called out Helen, the little ones standing beside her looking bashful.  It had been a while since they had seen Cecily and Norma, and though Allie at least seemed to recognize them, James squinted at them blankly.  “Cecily, I’d like you to meet my friend Maryssa Brooks!  Maryssa, this is Cecily Majors, an old friend of mine, and there’s Norma, my voice teacher since I was sixteen!”
“How d’you do,” said Cecily, smiling warmly at Maryssa, her eyes crinkling up with the welcome she always extended to Helen’s friends.  She had met several, and they had been wonderful people, without exception.
Maryssa shook hands with the utmost politeness and respect, and Cecily’s soft heart warmed to her.  Cecily reminded herself that regardless of what Helen did, Maryssa was probably a wonderful girl in her own right.  After Norma had greeted Maryssa and exchanged a few words about Helen, they all went inside, and Cecily gently guided Maryssa in the house, towards the rooms she had decided to put the little party in.  Before long she had been confirmed in her belief that Maryssa was a decent woman, though her upbringing had been sheltered to an almost unbelievable degree.
 The visitors found Norma and Cecily in poor health.  They, too, seemed to have aged greatly in the last several years, though they were delighted to see Helen and the children, and Maryssa and Elly.  Soon there was the merry sounds and smells of food being prepared, and Maryssa was talking to Norma.  Norma, as always, spoke slowly and deliberately, and Maryssa hung on her every word, fascinated with her stories.

Word quickly went out to the little musical community that Helen had been a part of before she left Ohio, and she was invited to a rehearsal of the orchestra.  Elly watched gloomily as they played some of her favorites, and Helen looked just as depressed.  When Helen was asked whether she would like to take the baton, she declined.
Allie and James had come, too, quite unusually for them, and Helen could see that Allie was fascinated with the music, and so was James.  Erin had arrived that afternoon, but had gone to bed immediately.  Maryssa watched the little family group, so different, the four of them, yet so alike in their intentness.
Since around April it had become clear that Helen was no longer favored as a conductor, Maryssa had felt Helen’s frustration.  Whenever the topic of music came up, Helen would react in one of two ways: she would either come alive with the subject of how to make classical music relevant to a wider audience, education, outreach; or she would retreat into a dull silence.  At first it had been almost a sullen silence, which had almost angered Diane in the last weeks before she died.  Diane had tried to draw Helen out on a number of occasions, only to have Helen listen with her eyes wandering, and suddenly change the subject.  When Maryssa had brought up the idea that perhaps there was something she, Maryssa, could do to get Helen involved in the musical life of the city, Helen invariably expressed impatience and became silent.  Since July 4^th, Helen had not sung or played a single note.  Maryssa had firmly put away thoughts about Helen and music from her mind for half a year, but now she was forced to think about it again.  In addition, it was clear that Elly and Allie missed music desperately.
It was awkward to stare at Helen seated right next to her.  Cecily and Norma, who had been talking to her had now become silent, watching the orchestra and Helen fondly.  Helen’s fingers drummed agitatedly on her leg, her eyes wandered round the hall, unseeing, while inside her head she watched the music in some fantastic dance that Maryssa tried hard to imagine.  But Maryssa’s eyes went repeatedly to little Allie, who had stood up on a rail of the seat in front, and was focused so deeply on the music that she barely seemed to be breathing.
It was a quiet Thanksgiving.  They were all happy to be with each other, and Helen was glad she had come.  But more and more, Helen was losing the belief that she could make life pleasant for all her extended family.  As always Norma thanked her privately for the privilege of letting them live in the house, and Helen told her they were very welcome.
“I wish I could do more for you!” Helen said, and there was a sadness there that went far beyond the fact that she saw them in such poor health.  Norma told her gently that she was doing far more than anyone could ask her to, and Helen shook her head and began to leak tears from her eyes.  “I feel so helpless!”  Norma felt sad and puzzled.

When they arrived back in Philadelphia Maryssa was exhausted.  It wasn’t that they had exerted themselves too much, but rather that the air of resignation that had hung over the group had wearied them all.
Maryssa and Elly had talked a couple of times, and Elly had admitted that Helen was acting depressed.
“Depression is a kind of illness,” Elly had said in a low voice, “and experts can tell if you have it.  And I’m guessing she has it.”
“Sometimes I feel depressed, too,” Maryssa said, her eyes showing her anxiety.  “Do you think I have it too, maybe?”
Elly smiled patiently and patted Maryssa’s shoulder.  “No, you don’t fit the profile.”  Maryssa looked at her, sad and confused.  So many words she was familiar with, yet she didn’t know what they really meant.   “We learned about this a bit in Psych 110.  You know how she sort of shuts down sometimes?”
“Yes!”
“And how she goes to bed early, and you have to push her out of bed in the mornings?”
“Gosh, yes! …”  It didn’t happen all the time, but when it did, it made Maryssa feel afraid.  She had tried not to think about what it meant.  “What should we do?” Maryssa had asked in an almost inaudible voice.
Elly had shrugged.  “They’re all signs of clinical depression.  You could try and make her get help.  I bet she won’t do it.”
Maryssa had seen the look in Elly’s eyes, and knew that it was wearing the girl down, too.

Back in Philadelphia, Maryssa tried to talk Helen into going shopping with her.
“What for?”
“Why, for Christmas, of course!”
Helen made a face.  “You don’t have to go shopping, Maryssa, just because it’s Christmas!”
“But—but the children haven’t had a chance to get presents for each other!  And I… I haven’t bought you anything!”
Helen’s expression grew impatient.  “Maryssa, what do you need me along for, if you want to buy me a present?  Make it a surprise!  Or just skip it; I don’t need a present.  Get something for me at the grocery store.”
“Well, you haven’t bought me anything, either!”
They were washing up on Sunday evening, and the children had been prowling around getting on Helen’s nerves.  Elly was hanging around, looking suspiciously like she wanted to talk to Helen privately.
“I might have; you really don’t know, Maryssa, do you!”
“Ohh!”  Maryssa whirled away, muttering to herself, and Helen stared at her in alarm.  She could hardly ever remember Maryssa losing her temper.
“Mama?”
“What’s it now?”
Allie stood near the door, looking a little anxious.
“Mama, where’s all my stuff?  All my stuff, from the old house?  I can’t find some of my things.”
“What things?”
“Oh—you know—my stuff …” said Allie, vaguely, looking a little cautious.  Maryssa exchanged a sympathetic smile with her.  With Helen in such a lousy mood, they had to stick together.
Helen turned on the little girl impatiently.  “What are you talking about?”
Allie became defensive, and a little belligerent.  “Mama, I’m talking about all the things I had in my box, over in the farmhouse, toys, and books and—stuff like that!”
“Your toy box?”
“Yeah!” she said, nodding vigorously.
“It’s in the attic, isn’t it?  All the boxes Jim brought down on that second trip, the ones we didn’t open, they’re all in the attic.”  Helen looked at Maryssa for confirmation.
“We put it in one of the store rooms, Helen,” Maryssa said, shaking her head.  “Come on, Allie; you may as well have your toys where you can use them.”

Once Maryssa had gone off with Allie, Elly drifted in to talk to Helen.  Helen shot her a glance that wasn’t quite hostile.  Perhaps she realized she couldn’t alienate absolutely everybody.  Betsy and Carol had retreated to the safety of their rooms soon after they had heard raised voices.  Peggy and Bridget had gone off to their rooms once they found that Helen wanted to clean up by herself.
“If you’re in a real bad mood, I can talk later,” she said, giving Helen a half-smile.
Helen shook her head, not meeting her eyes.  “It may as well be now,” she said, with obvious resignation.  “What can I do for you?”
“Funny you should ask!”
Helen looked up sharply.
“I want to start music again.”

That night in bed Helen and Maryssa lay awake.  The silence was getting rather awkward.
Helen sighed.  She couldn’t stand letting Maryssa bear the entire brunt of her frustration; after all, she was the most inoffensive woman who had ever thrown in her lot with Helen.  Their last night in Ohio, Maryssa had tried to cajole Helen into a mood to have sex.  She had teased Helen, caressing her, whispering little words of love into her ear, until Helen had snapped at her, accusing her of being a sex maniac.
Tonight, Maryssa lay straight as an arrow, too hurt to make an amorous approach to her friend, but too softhearted to sleep by herself in the little couch that stood along the wall.  She was breathing so softly that her chest hurt. 
Helen was her first and only love, and she had never experienced the vagaries of a relationship, and had no way of predicting how moody Helen could be.  It was particularly frustrating since for six long months Helen had been the most wonderful, even-tempered lover in the world, and had completely shattered Maryssa’s image of the relationship of lovers as being stormy and beset by obstacles and misunderstandings.
“What did Elly want?” Maryssa asked, finally.  “I hope I’m not prying?”
“Oh.  No, it wasn’t anything like that … she wants to start up music lessons again.”
“Start up?”
“Yeah; she’s rather a good violinist,” Helen admitted, not without pride.  “And a very good violist,” she added, thoughtfully.
“Our Elly?  I haven’t even seen her play!”
“Well, she had such a bad freshman year, she—she sort of gave it up.  She apparently sold her violin.”
“Is that bad?  Was it a good one?”
Helen didn’t mention that it had been one that she had made herself.  It had taken a great deal of courage for Elly to own up to it, and Helen wasn’t about to make her suffer Maryssa’s indignation, too.
“Well, I suppose it was,” she said, non-committally.
“Guess what Allie was looking for, in her collection of what she calls her ‘stuff!’ ”
“What?”
“She had a little violin, a completely playable little instrument!”
“Oh!”  Maryssa gratefully observed the note of amusement in Helen’s voice.  “Oh.”
“I was watching her at the rehearsal.  Did you notice how intent she was on the music?”
“Yeah,” Helen said, very softly.
“Of course you knew about her violin, didn’t you?”
“Sure; I made it, Maryssa.”
Maryssa remembered that Helen could do that.  It was hard to keep track of the things the woman could do.
“Helen—why don’t you teach Alison a little violin?  She’s musical, that’s so obvious.  And Erin plays, I know; Allie must want to be a part of your musical family so much!  And isn’t it true that you have to start young, if you’re going to be a violinist?”
Helen was quiet for a long time.  Since she didn’t make any sign of being upset or impatient, Maryssa was encouraged.  Then she asked,
“What does Elly want to do?”
“She wants me to teach her violin, to get started once more.”
Maryssa turned towards Helen and felt for her hand and took it in her own.
“I think you should, Helen!”
Helen pressed Maryssa’s hand, and all the annoyance she had felt for days melted away.  She could almost feel Helen’s hardness evaporating.
“I don’t want to, Maryssa, I just don’t want to!”
“But why?”
Helen took Maryssa’s hand and held it to her cheek.
“I don’t want to have anything to do with music anymore,” she said in a soft voice.  There was no anger, just a gentleness that told Maryssa that Helen wanted to make something clear: that the feelings she was expressing had nothing to do with Maryssa.  “I don’t want to be hurt any more.  I don’t want to be a musician.  I just want to be an ordinary woman.”

Maryssa found this very painful.  It was hard to respond to such a strange statement.  For Maryssa, Helen was far more than a great musical talent and a celebrity.  For her Helen was a wonderful, passionate woman, someone she loved deeply very much: not for the things she could do, but for the person she was; the sweet, romantic, vulnerable, open-hearted, intelligent girl she had been.
“I just want you to be happy!” she said, choking on the words, her heart breaking.  She knew exactly what Helen meant, and she had watched Helen retreat from what she perceived to be the cruelty of society, and she had ached for her, and still ached.  Everything else she had been feeling became irrelevant, compared to her need to make things all right for Helen.  Here, in spite of Helen’s devastating setbacks of the past months, she had been trying to make Maryssa’s life safe and comfortable.  What could Maryssa do for her lover?  She was so helpless, so without resources, so ignorant!  All she could do was to offer her love, to help look after Helen’s family, and just be there for her.  If only her mother were alive!  Helen would usually listen to Diane.  Maryssa—nobody ever listened to her!
“I only want you to be happy, Helen!  Oh god, if you knew how much I wanted you to be happy!  But I feel so helpless!”
Soon Helen was also fighting a losing battle with tears.  Angrily she dashed away the tears that flooded her eyes, trickling into all kinds of inconvenient places.
“And if you only knew how much I want to be happy for you!” Helen said, with a strangled voice.  “But I can’t pretend anymore!  If not for you …” Helen dropped her voice.  “If not for you, I … I might not be alive any more.  There!  Now you know.”
“Oh god, so it’s true!”
“What’s true?”
“Nothing!”
“What is it, Maryssa?  What have you heard about me?”
“Nothing, Helen, nothing.”
“It has to be something!”
“Just that I suspected you might be fighting depression.”
“Oh yes.”  Helen laughed, a short bark that had no humor in it.  “Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know?”
Maryssa buried her head in her pillow and sobbed.  She could not remember every being so sad; not even when she had heard about Helen’s awful accident.  Then she had been afraid: would Helen live?  Was the baby dead?  She had then had an unshakable belief that if Helen lived and regained her health, all would be well.  She had been willing to bet anything on the strength of Helen’s mind to bounce back.  Compared to the inbred weakness of her family, her mother’s fragile brilliance, her brother’s awkward innocence, her own fear of everything outside their home, of crowds, of being alone in the city, Helen had seemed so strong, so confident, so self-assured, so able to bear any ordeal, any hardship!  Had that been what had attracted Maryssa to her?  Certainly.  The power had radiated from Helen, and that first almost uncontrollable urge to kneel before Helen, bear her breasts to her, to offer herself to the wonderful, exciting woman who had arrived in their midst like a goddess, that force on her had only changed its direction, and not lessened.
Helen still made her body ache with desire, but she had learned other ways to satisfy her craving.  But she still felt the need to mother the big woman, to make her want to bury her face in Maryssa’s breast, at least once in a while.  She could not bear to see Helen wasting away with her self-pity.
What did she think about, Maryssa wondered.  Probably well-worn thoughts of retreat, retreat into dull routine, coming alive once a month for her Galaxy weekend, then relapsing into her mind-numbing routine.
Maryssa lay on her side, her eyes hungry for the old excitement.  Helen’s profile was clear against the dullness of the wallpaper.  Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes open, the long eyelashes slowly blinking as she lay thinking.  What moved her now?  Certainly, love of Maryssa seemed very low in her consciousness—Maryssa didn’t resent that.  She knew if she suffered, Helen would be immediately concerned.  Helen was indifferent now only because Maryssa worried for her.  Anyway, Helen had said that she wanted to be happy for her!  It was a good sign.  Perhaps Helen’s concern for her little family was not dead.
How beautiful she was … her lips were so perfect, her forehead so high; how intelligent she looked!  She sighed and laid her hand on Helen’s breast, squeezing softly through the thin fabric, feeling Helen’s heart beat just a little faster, and a small smile touched her lips.  The nipple stiffened slightly, but not so much.  One day Maryssa would touch Helen’s breast, and she would not be aroused at all.  And the thought of that made a tear roll silently down her temple.
“I wonder whether Alison really has any talent,” she said, her heart in her mouth.
Helen caught her breath.
“Allie?  Of course!  Haven’t you heard her singing?”  Helen was indignant.  Maryssa’s heart began to beat with excitement.  “She could be the most musical one of all—certainly one of the brightest,” Helen said confidently. 
Helen had a problem claiming intelligence for herself and for Tommy, Little John and James.  But about the three adopted girls, Helen constantly declared that they were bright.  Gena, Maryssa knew, was a bright girl, and Erin was an accomplished violinist.  But Allie had potential that Maryssa was willing to believe might surpass anything they could imagine.  Maryssa knew she had been Helen’s favorite, but these days Helen hardly spent any time with her.  The long-suffering child contented herself with whatever company she could get out of Elly, James, Jeannie, and the eccentric Carol.  But Maryssa had come to know that Allie loved Helen more than anyone else, including her own sister.  The way she managed to suppress her feelings and leave Helen alone was downright unnatural for a child her age.
“Of course, it’s too early to start James, isn’t it?”
Maryssa saw Helen frown.
“It’s tricky,” she admitted.  “He’s so particular about everything; the problem is to make him think he wants to learn.”
“If Allie got lessons, I bet James would want them, too!”
Helen nodded slowly, chewing her lip.  Maryssa forced herself to breathe, not wanting Helen to know that she was being manipulated.  So far, Helen hadn’t brought up the issue of who would teach the children.
Helen sighed.  “I guess I should at least buy them proper violins,” she said, turning to Maryssa.
Maryssa smiled, trying not to look triumphant.  “I saved up a little money to buy them something for Christmas … violins would be perfect!”
Helen turned to her and raising the edge of her nightie, pulled her knees apart, slipping her own leg between them.  Maryssa felt tears threaten her again.  It was a thing Helen used to do more than a year ago, when they had lusted for each other.  Maryssa pulled Helen in for a kiss, felt her crotch slick against Helen’s thigh, and soon she was giving in to her need, riding Helen’s thigh with abandon, as the blonde urged her on, getting more excited by the minute.  Helen pulled down her own nightie and held Maryssa’s mouth to her own breast, and Maryssa felt the familiar feeling of total abandonment to her feelings, her mouth and her crotch filled with Helen, her heart full of love.  She heard Helen’s grunt of pleasure as she came to orgasm, and then she was moaning, as they strained against each other.
Later as they lay sleepily in each other’s arms, Helen sighed as Maryssa played with her hair.  Helen circled her lover’s arm with her fingers; it was so slim.  Maryssa would never be anything but slim and fragile.
“I’d like you to have just a little more weight,” Helen said softly.
“Why?”
Helen shrugged.  “Healthier,” she said, briefly.  “More reserves for when you get sick.  A hundred pounds—that’s too light, honey.”
Maryssa giggled.  “You called me honey!”
Helen smiled.  “Who else would I call honey?”
“Honey!”  Maryssa murmured the word to herself.  As much as she loved to mother Helen, it was Helen who mothered her.
Helen knew Maryssa was not afflicted with Matt’s mental handicaps in the least.  She longed to test her intelligence, but was afraid that the very suggestion would embarrass her.  She had been struck with the light of intelligence in the girl’s eyes the moment she saw her.  That was why Helen was always frustrated when Maryssa gave up an argument without a murmur.  Helen didn’t like arguments—or at least she hadn’t for many years—but now she missed a good fight.
She felt a kind of anger boil up inside her, and before she knew what she was doing she had turned them both around, and was making love to Maryssa with great force, almost violently.
The smile was shocked off Maryssa’s face.  While Helen thrust into her with a look of almost frightening intensity on her face, Maryssa made herself go limp.  In a few seconds Helen caught herself and began to notice Maryssa.  She slowed down.  Maryssa only breathed hard, and came like a ton of bricks, moaning more loudly than usual.  Helen looked at her anxiously, afraid she might have hurt her fragile woman.  But Maryssa only swallowed hard and gave her a tentative grin.
“What’s got into you?” she asked softly, after she had held up her lips for a kiss, and Helen had obliged her.
“Nothing,” murmured Helen, “I just … got horny, I guess!”
“Horny!” said Maryssa, giggling again.  Helen had to smile.  The oddest things struck her as funny.
Helen soon fell asleep, leaving Maryssa still breathing hard.  Helen’s appetite for sex was as erratic as it was excessive.  She was sleeping on Maryssa’s shoulder, heavy and immovable.  Maryssa smiled fondly, closing her eyes.

By the weekend, appropriate-sized violins had been obtained for Allie and James.  Lessons began on Sunday, with all three of them, Alison, James, and Elly.
Elly realized that it was her Helen would be teaching, mostly; after a while, she would be expected to drill the little ones.
Maryssa and Carol watched the first few lessons with interest, but the novelty soon wore off.  It was not that Helen was a poor teacher; it was just that the lessons were a lot less interesting to watch than to participate in.  Elly supervised thirty minutes of drill every day, and Helen held the lessons three days a week after school, after that first week of daily lessons.
For all of them, it was a treat to see Helen playing her violin again.  Maryssa could tell that she was taking pains to appear to be as uninterested in her own playing as possible.  Most of the time she succeeded, focusing attention on the children, and on Elly.  But every once in a while, the violin sounded magically sweet, and her amber eyes would slowly turn round to Maryssa, and something like a smile of embarrassment would twist her lips.  None of them said a word; it was a little inside joke shared by the three of them.
The sounds James made, initially, were outrageously bad.  Allie, on the other hand made sweet sounds from the start.  But within days, both children were doing far better than Maryssa would have imagined.  Having watched Helen play from their infancy, Maryssa supposed, had somehow imbued them with some insight into the process of playing.  Allie was clearly frustrated with her playing.  “It doesn’t sound right!” she had exclaimed.  But again, in mere days, she became more patient with herself, which was a great advancement.  The number of times each day that she made a sour face went from a dozen to just a couple!  More importantly, they all saw Allie seem to bloom under her mother’s renewed attention.  It was as though Helen was actually seeing her for the first time in months.
Maryssa could tell at once that Elly was intensely musical.  Helen had given her one of her own violins, of which she owned several.  Whereas Helen played effortlessly, there seemed to be a restrained excitement in Elly’s playing, of which Helen evidently did not approve.  In addition, Elly was beautiful to watch, as she held the violin with her plump little fingers, a frown of concentration on her pretty face, her feet braced firmly on the floor, she became transformed from a pretty girl into something even more beautiful.  After that first day, Maryssa was certain that Helen would not look back.  Helen was so involved with Elly’s playing —no matter how hard she tried to disguise it, it was obvious— it was clear that Helen would not relinquish Elly’s tutelage to other hands.  After the tykes had been given their hugs and dismissed, Helen and Elly sat together, working on harder—and to the ears of the listeners, more interesting—pieces.  After a period of several months, Helen was playing the piano again, and Maryssa held her breath at the beauty of the sound that came from their piano under Helen’s hands.
Maryssa had slipped away, that first Sunday lesson, and Carol had followed her.
“What’s the matter?” Carol had asked softly, and Maryssa had only shaken her head, wiping away her tears.  Carol had awkwardly patted her arm, and Maryssa had given her a watery smile of gratitude.  But it was impossible to explain what the sound of music in her home meant to Maryssa.  “You’re happy she’s playing music again, aren’t you!”  Maryssa had nodded.