In no time, it was the end of school. Elly began to fret about final exams, and Allie began to worry about tests, too. The holiday season brought all kinds of inquiries and requests. Would Helen do a Christmas special? Would she participate in the holiday celebrations of the children’s school? The answer was no; Helen firmly refused all offers. Natasha called from France: would Helen like to visit? Helen said no.
Maryssa noticed Helen’s mood beginning to deteriorate, and her heart sank. It was their first Christmas without Diane, and if at least Helen were to be cheerful it would have been bearable.
Peggy, Bridget and the children, with Jeannie and Elly, got into a frenzy of cookie-baking. Betsy loved to bake cookies, and Jeannie loved to eat them, and what with one thing and another, it became necessary to make a very large batch of them just so that a reasonable number could be saved for visitors.
With Kate come back from college, Helen’s proscription against Christmas shopping was overruled. Wearing a simple disguise of the prescription glasses that she wore much of the time, anyway, Helen was quite unrecognized. She had arranged to have a credit-card for Maryssa, and they used that. Soon Helen was as cheerful as the children had ever remembered her. Matt had found a Christmas tree by himself, and they had a nice pile of presents under it before Erin and Gena arrived from school.
Elly came to Helen one night and said she didn’t want to go home for Christmas. “Please, Aunt Helen, let me stay for the holidays?” She gave Helen a big hug and said, “This is my home, and you’re my mother and my sister, all rolled into one!”
Helen was struck speechless at first. Then she sat Elly down and talked to her. “Someday you will have children,” she said, “and you’ll understand. I love your mother far too much to encourage you, darling!”
“You’re not encouraging me!”
But something in Helen’s eyes made Elly pause. She had always known, in theory, that Helen and her mother had been lovers long ago. But the reality of it had not really sunk in until that moment. There is always a moment in any child’s life when she first sees her mother through the eyes of her mother’s lover, and for Elly it was this moment. As Helen proceeded to tell her about what Janet meant to her, the prospect of returning to Ferguson did not seem so unbearable.
“What if I invite Tom and your grandmother here for Christmas?” Elly nodded eagerly, her eyes wide. “She’ll be out of your hair, then!”
“Yes! Would you do that?”
“I can only try!”
Elly headed out the following day, with her new violin, promising to practice faithfully, and to never sell it, but ask Helen for money if she needed it. A few hours later, Gena, Erin, Tommy, Annie and John arrived at the airport, and Helen went out with Maryssa to pick them up in the minivan.
It was the week of Christmas.
Meanwhile, Maryssa had arrived at a decision. One morning, early, she called up the home of the Indian family, and spoke to Lalitha.
“It’s me, Maryssa!”
“Hello! How are you, Maryssa? Is everything all right?” Lalitha sounded worried, because Maryssa rarely ever called, and never so early in the morning.
“I need a little advice,” she heard Maryssa say in that slow, deliberate way of hers. “I’m not sure what I ought to do to make Christmas happy for Helen! You know, music, carols, that sort of thing?”
Lalitha nodded to herself. “Hmm. I know what you’re getting at.”
“I’d like to play carols and stuff, just to get in the Christmas mood, but I’m afraid that that’ll get her started thinking about singing, and … everything she’s given up. This used to be such an important season for her!”
Lalitha smiled. Maryssa was so careful and sensitive to Helen’s needs, it made her feel sick with sorrow for all the opportunities she, Lalitha, had missed when they were together. Because Lalitha visited so rarely, Maryssa could never guess how sensitive Lalitha was about everything to do with Helen.
“I don’t think just simple Christmas music would upset her. It’s the big classics, like Messiah, and the Christmas Oratorio; I wouldn’t play those at all.” Lalitha felt a catch in her throat. It would be inevitable that something would happen to make Helen feel miserable this season. “I’d talk it over with young Gena, Maryssa.”
“Oh! I was about to ask, what the Christmas Oratorio was! I could ask her, couldn’t I!”
Lalitha said yes, and smiled. “Helen is so lucky to have you,” she added in a gentle voice.
Maryssa thanked her for her kind words, unable to think of anything else to say. Sometimes she felt she was in way over her head in Helen’s complicated world. They were all gentle, loving people, but there was so much about that world that Maryssa had no clue about …
She went up to Gena’s room and knocked on the door and poked her head in. Ignoring Gena’s red face she backed in and turned around, giving Gena time to get respectable.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Gena …” she began with a worried frown, but Gena smiled that wonderful smile of hers, dispelling any doubts that she was welcome. Maryssa’s face relaxed and she sat on the edge of the bed as Gena made room for her. It seemed natural to lean over and give her a good morning kiss on her cheek.
“What’s on your mind, Aunt Maryssa?”
It was hard to keep her mind on the problem. Gena’s soft speech reminded her so much of what Helen must have been when she was a young girl, so soft, so sweet, so bright and eager! Maryssa picked up the hand that lay on the coverlet and squeezed it affectionately.
“I’m worried about your mother,” she said quietly. “I want to have some nice Christmas music in the house,” and Gena’s eyes brightened at once, “but I’m afraid that if we have the wrong kind of music, she might be reminded of—all that unpleasantness, and … you see what I’m getting at?”
Gena’s grin had disappeared, and she nodded, as her blue-grey eyes searched Maryssa’s face thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, “like, the Messiah, she sang that before Queen Elizabeth, you know.”
Maryssa’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”
“Uh huh,” Gena nodded, her eyes focused inward on that wonderful memory. “Yeah, that was a big deal for her. It must hurt to like, have fallen from there.”
“No music at all, you think?”
Gena shrugged. “I don’t know … Who can we ask? Elly isn’t here …”
“Tommy?” Maryssa was fond of Helen’s strange sister, but had rather a low opinion about her wisdom.
“Yeah … we could ask Tommy. She’s smart about those kinds of things, though she really doesn’t care.”
Maryssa sighed and sagged.
“Come on,” said Gena getting out of bed. She was completely nude, but she grabbed a wrap and tied it in place and tugged at Maryssa’s hand. “Let’s go invade her room!”
Maryssa blushed bright red.
“Er, Gena, maybe we should wait until a little later…”
Gena grinned. “I’ll do a safety check first,” she said, her eyes gleaming.
Gena knocked, poked her head in, and turned back to grin at Maryssa, saying it was safe.
Tommy looked exhausted, but Gena woke her up, and Tommy squinted at her visitors looking sleepy and confused.
“Jeeze, guys, what time is it … seven!” She yawned hugely, looking very grumpy. “What’s the emergency?”
Gena sat on the edge of her bed, and explained the problem. Tommy became still and listened seriously.
“Shit,” she said, clearly frustrated. “She’s too sensitive.”
“So …”
Tommy shrugged. “Yeah. No Messiah, no Christmas Oratorio, no serious music like that. That’s what I’d suggest.”
Gena turned to Maryssa and nodded.
When Helen came out of the dance studio where she had been exercising, she head the soft strains of Christmas carols coming from upstairs. She smiled. She knew Gena would be playing carols all week long.
Now that Elly was gone, Erin and Gena took her place, and the four children practiced their violins together. Maryssa was thrilled to see all four children playing; it was a sight not every mother had the fortune to see, let alone a foster-mother!
Tommy drifted downstairs mid-morning, hearing the sounds of violin-playing. Helen was elsewhere, only Little John, Maryssa, Jeannie and Peggy were there to appreciate the little performance. They finished playing the exercise they had been rehearsing, and looked up at Tommy, who stood at the door, exchanging eyebrow-waggles with her brother. It was clear that Little John longed to play music with them, but he simply hadn’t been as disciplined as his siblings and his nieces, and the family had tactfully left him alone on the issue of taking up an instrument. He sang well, they knew, but preferred not to sing.
Gena grinned up at Tommy.
“Hey, big mama, where’s your cello?”
“Oh …” Tommy gestured vaguely, “at home, I guess,” she said.
Gena looked at her reproachfully. “If you’d only brought it, Tom, you could play something with us!”
Tom raised an elegant eyebrow. “Like what?”
“I don’t know—anything!”
“I’m not going to play exercises with beginners, Gena; you know better than to ask me to!”
The smile on Gena’s face twisted with embarrassment at Tommy’s rejection. Little John turned to look at his sibling thoughtfully.
“I’d play with ’em if I only knew how,” he said, managing to put a gentle reproach into the neutral remark.
Tommy looked at him scornfully, turned on her heel, and left. John shook his head slowly.
Music began to fill the house quite steadily. The old carols they had always listened to at Christmas were pulled out, and Gena and John were constantly playing disk-jockey, loading and unloading their old stereo.
Later that afternoon when they began to sing carols together, Tommy decided to join them, singing in a light tenor, while John struggled to sing bass. Tommy was not a contralto, but she had an enormous range, and could sing very low if she had to.
“Where’s mama?” Allie asked, finally. They knew that for her, the ultimate judge was Mama.
“She’s gone out,” Erin said, which James confirmed in his unique know-it-all way. Allie frowned in strong disapproval of Aunt Gretchen and her inconvenient plans.
The carol-singing acquired a lot of momentum when Maryssa turned up with Jeannie. There was pure delight in her face at the sight of the Nordstrom family seated round Gena at the piano. Then Betsy turned up with Kate and Carol, and soon the little sing-in was in full swing. Jeannie had a high, sweet voice and great enthusiasm, Carol sang accurately, and Kate made up for the quality of her voice with her gusto.
While they sang, Maryssa studied Tommy. The girl was incredibly sexy, her skin was smooth and healthy, her legs just beautiful, her thighs big and touchable, her arms firm and full-fleshed. Her breasts were better-shaped than her older sister’s, and her stomach flat as a board. In spite of her solid build, she gave the impression of being perfectly lean and muscular, not fat. She was the perfect androgyne, attractive to both those whose ideal was the female form, as well as those who preferred the male form. Maryssa could imagine photographing her—oh how incredible that would be!
In contrast to the previous year, it was a wonderful Christmas morning. The day was bright and fine, the sky was a beautiful blue, seldom seen in Philadelphia at that time of the year, and Helen and Maryssa had put together a wonderful breakfast. There were a stream of ‘yum’s as the kids tucked in, and Gretchen, Helen, Maryssa, Matt, Betsy and Annie looked on. Even Tommy was in a good humor, making jokes all the time, while Gena laughed politely. Early that morning Gena had been calling on the phone, and Helen smiled with pleasure at her daughter.
Lalitha had arranged for the younger folk to go to a Christmas celebration with the Impromptu Chorale and Orchestra. She had talked it over with Helen and convinced her to let them go. “Stay home with me, or Annie, or someone. Let the others go,” she had advised, and Helen had decided that was the best thing to do. Accordingly, they piled into two cars, and were gone until early afternoon. Peggy and Bridget had been given the week off, but Helen stayed home.
Nothing had happened to mar that wonderful day by dinnertime. Late in the afternoon, Peggy and Bridget and their families had come to visit, bringing presents to the children, in spite of Helen having told them not to. Everybody hugged Helen. Seated on the piano stool, wearing a colorful dress with a full skirt, Helen drew every eye like a magnet. Jeannie came to her and gave her a great big hug.
“Merry Christmas, Miss Helen!”
“And the same to you, Jeannie! Was it a good Christmas?”
“Oh, yes! I got a lot of stuff! And thanks for your present, Miss Helen!”
“What present?”
“Oh, the coupons, Miss Helen! I guessed it was you!”
“No, it wasn’t me!” Helen denied, eyes wide, but Jeannie only grinned.
A couple of days after Christmas, Annie, Tommy and Little John went out to Minnesota to spend some time with Grandma Elly and the Johnsons, and young Elly, Janet and Cindy arrived in their place.
Elly greeted Helen with such feeling, Helen was moved by the intensity of it. Evidently the youngster had awarded Helen a very high place in her heart—as high as her mother. She clung to Helen at the airport, so hard that it hurt.
“I wanted to call you every day, but I didn’t,” Elly said eagerly, as Helen smiled. She couldn’t help responding to the girl’s fierce love. Who could? “It was so hard to wait and wait until now!”
Helen laughed. “We had rather a quiet Christmas, Elly; nothing fancy! Did we, kids?”
“No, but now we can!” said Erin, grinning. Elly was a far greater favorite with them than was Tommy, Helen knew, though they tried their best to be equally affectionate to both girls.
Elly let go of Helen, and hugged everyone in turn, while Helen embraced and kissed Janet and Cindy. Janet approached Maryssa, who faced her shyly. They talked politely for a while, and Maryssa studied the handsome woman without actually staring. Janet had the ability to fade into the background when she chose, and the previous Christmas Maryssa had hardly been able to learn much about her from their limited contact.
Helen was talking to Cindy, and Maryssa wished she would stop and talk to Janet a little more. The tall brunette seemed too important to be kept waiting—though, of course, there was absolutely nothing in her demeanor that suggested she was impatient.
“Everybody seems to be in great health and good spirits!” Janet said, her eyes crinkling in a smile. Her face was well lined about the eyes, indicating that she did not stint on her smiles.
“Oh! Yes,” Maryssa said, at a loss with this kind of small talk. She glanced at the children, who looked rosy-cheeked and bouncy, even Erin, who tended to be thin.
Janet laughed. “Not accustomed to being a mother, are you!”
Maryssa blushed. “Helen’s the mother,” she said very quietly, turning quite red. No one was near, fortunately. “I just watch, most of the time!”
“Don’t let her have all the fun,” Janet said, making a joke of being severe, but then immediately smiled.
When they finally set off towards the baggage claim, Helen walked beside Janet, with Elly close on her other side. Maryssa, watching it all, studied the two women closely.
Janet felt her chest tighten as she walked with Helen. Helen was greatly changed. With half her mind, she chatted with her about Ferguson School, the people Helen knew there, some of the younger students, the house. But with another part of her mind, she noted the weight Helen had gained, the anxious look in her eyes when she was off her guard, the slight stoop of her shoulders, the slight line of worry down the middle of her forehead. Helen’s glorious gold hair was now a dull dirty blonde, cut just below her shoulders, and braided carefully as always, but there was a halo of broken ends all about her head. Her oval face now looked a lot squarer, and she seemed to be acquiring jowls. At least she wasn’t slouching; that would have been more than Janet could bear.
They got their baggage and headed to the parking lot.
When they arrived at the house, and everyone had been safely settled in their rooms, the kids wound up in Elly’s room. Elly had brought a large box with her, and all the little ones had decided to see what she had brought in it.
“Merry Christmas!” Elly was yelling, as the adults followed the racket to her room.
“Christmas?” Helen asked Janet.
Janet only grinned.
“She loves playing Santa,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes for Maryssa’s benefit. Elly was handing round presents to the kids.
“What’s this, Elly? Huh?”
“Yeah, what are these things?”
“It’s an fine adjuster, James, see? You put them on your violin … remember?”
“Oh. Oh! Yeah! I know what that is! It’s the screw things! Hey Allie, what did you get?”
“Look, James, you’ve got another one, too … oh, it’s The Sword in the Stone! It’s about Merlin and King Arthur!”
“What you got, Allie?”
They went downstairs for some food, and then Cindy pulled out still more presents. As the presents were handed out, Helen became more and more glum. She remonstrated with Janet for having brought so many gifts for them all. In spite of Maryssa’s urging, she had bought hardly any gifts at all. Maryssa smiled reproachfully at Helen. With her limited experience with people, it was an acute embarrassment not to have something to give in exchange for such generosity.
“I have some money,” she murmured to Helen anxiously. “I could put it in an envelope and give that, couldn’t I?”
Helen quickly shook her head. Maryssa turned red at the rebuff, and Helen smiled at her, as if to say, it was all right. Maryssa gave her a grateful smile. But a second later, Helen looked upset again, and Maryssa felt her heart ache. She had learned a great deal over the past year, but there seemed more to learn. She had been so confident that Helen would see her through every problem, but it seemed that Helen had turned inwards to such a degree that it seemed up to Maryssa to deal with the world, and all of Helen’s friends and family. Fortunately, they seemed a very forgiving set of people.
The kids were going crazy with excitement. They had received plenty of presents already for Christmas, but here they carried on as though they had never received presents before. Maryssa felt an arm round her waist—it was Elly. She looked at Elly, who was smiling affectionately at her. Thank goodness for young Elly!
“Just relax,” Elly advised, “Mom just went crazy with shopping. She likes the little ones,” she added, unnecessarily. Janet was very evidently fond of the girls.
Maryssa felt someone snuggle against her from the other side, and turned to see Gena.
“Lighten up, Aunt Maryssa,” Gena said, smiling. Maryssa thought how sweet-voiced the girl was. “You didn’t know they would do this, after all!”
“I should have known,” Maryssa mourned softly.
That evening, the visitors seemed at a loss. Janet and Cindy were clearly expecting there to be music, but Helen, of course, simply sat at table, talking, ignoring all hints about an evening of live music. Finally Gena decided to make a direct approach.
“Mom, how about a little music right now?”
“Sure, sweetheart, go ahead.”
“Me?”
“Why not? You know how to get started, Gena.”
“Aww, Mom, you do it so much better. Or I’ll ask Elly. Elly, let’s get everyone over to the ballroom, let’s play some music!”
Elly nodded vigorously, and turned to tug at her mother. Gena and Elly got everyone to hurry over to the ballroom, and soon there was the wonderful sound of tuning.
In spite of Helen’s stubborn refusal to play, a creditable sequence of pieces was performed. Elly had brought her grandmother’s viola, and Janet sat at the piano without any fuss and filled in very professionally. Even the little ones played the simple little tunes they had been learning, as Helen watched with a proud smile. There was absolutely no doubt that both the youngest children had far more than average talent, though Erin was easily the best player among Helen’s children. Erin and Elly played several duets together, and trios with Janet.
They never seemed to tire of playing. Maryssa watched Helen sorrowfully, thinking how wonderful it would have been if she had joined in. She looked interested and seemed to enjoy the performance, but no matter how much she was entreated to bring her violin, she declared she would rather listen. Then Gena fetched her violin for her. The smile disappeared from Helen’s face, and she said quietly that she had retired. Her tone made the children stop pestering her at once.
Maryssa hurried away from the window. It was a couple of days later, and Helen had gone out, on foot, as she always did on her mysterious errands. She had been dressed in a crude disguise of jeans, flannel shirt and lined jacket, and had taken a package with her in a large bag. She would be gone at least an hour, probably more like two hours.
First Maryssa found Elly, who was on the phone with someone in her room. Seeing Maryssa, she quickly said “Gotta go! Bye!” and hung up, much to Maryssa’s discomfiture.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your call, Elly! Why did you hang up?”
Elly shrugged and grinned. “It’s all right,” she said, coming to the door. “Come in! What’s up?” As Maryssa hung by the door, she urged her in, making her sit down on the lovely antique chair Maryssa had given her.
“I’ve got an idea!” Maryssa said, her eyes shining. “We have to hurry; Helen just left the house, and we have about an hour before she gets back. I promised to go with your mother to the museum this afternoon …”
Elly studied Maryssa with some amusement. She was not the best at explaining a complicated idea in a hurry, and now all her various concerns were spilling out at random. With a little effort Elly learned that it wasn’t the museum that concerned Maryssa.
“… I wondered whether you think that’s a good idea, actually! I thought, you know, at least, if she didn’t want to play the violin any more, at least …”
Elly nodded vigorously. “It’s a great idea! Just let me get my shoes on!”
The idea was to buy a new piano.
The Brooks piano, a beautiful old baby grand, had been tuned late in the summer, but Maryssa had learned that the damp the room had suffered that winter as a result of a leaking window had affected the action of the piano. “See this wobble?” the tuner had asked, wiggling a key. “The wood has swelled, and then shrunk.” He had shaken his head slowly, sizing up the old instrument. “It’s pretty, but not the best quality.”
“But Mother said it was the best they had!”
The man grinned ruefully and shook his head. Maryssa was beginning to find out more and more that her mother had been gullible in lots of ways. She knew about many things, but she had been singularly shy about getting advice, and had preferred to be wrong rather than appear ignorant.
Janet had agreed with the tuner’s assessment when Maryssa had quietly asked what she thought of the piano.
“Oh, it’s perfectly good, really, for the children to play on,” she had said at first. “It’s beautiful!”
“But the sound, the quality of it?”
Janet had shrugged and fingered a couple of keys, making them sound softly. Her hands were beautiful, strong-fingered, steady on the keys, unlike Maryssa’s thin fingers when she played. But Maryssa didn’t care for her own needs, it was Helen she was concerned about. “It feels a lot older than it looks,” she admitted. “It looks about … I’d say twenty years old?”
Maryssa had looked taken aback. She shook her head. “Only five,” she said. Janet had stared at her. She said she hoped it hadn’t cost much. Maryssa had shaken her head again. Several thousand dollars wasn’t much—was it?
“How much do you have to spend?” Elly asked, trying to sound off-handed.
“Oh … I guess, if they’ll let me do a hire-purchase …”
“Hire-purchase?”
“You pay a little every month, you know? It takes for ever, but you gradually own the thing.” Maryssa blushed. “I just finished the last payment for the old piano in April.”
“Oh, you mean take out a loan?”
Maryssa nodded. “I think I could afford, maybe, a hundred or so a month?”
Elly kept her face from showing her shock. She had assumed Maryssa earned a lot more.
“I’ll help,” she said quickly. “Anyway, let’s go look. It’ll be fun to check out what they have!” She smiled at Maryssa. “You know who’d know? Mom, or even Lalitha. Mom really knows her pianos. I’m strictly a violin and viola type, Aunt Maryssa!”
Maryssa was adamant that Janet should not come. She made sure Peggy could hold the fort while they were gone. She wanted the piano to be as much of a surprise as possible, so no one should know where they were. Peggy knew Elly’s cellphone number, and would call her if there was a problem, otherwise Gena and Erin could manage most situations.
They were soon at the little music store Helen and she often shopped at. So far they had only looked at violins for the children, and ended up not buying. This was not the music supermarket her mother had shopped at, which Maryssa had begun to distrust. These were professionals, and Helen seemed to think they knew what they were doing.
“May I help you, miss?” asked a serious-faced young woman. She had short dirty-blond hair pulled back with pins, and large glasses. But she was polite, and Maryssa was glad that it was a woman. Men intimidated her still.
Maryssa took a deep breath. But her courage left her, and she looked at Elly desperately.
“We’re sort of interested in, like, a piano?” Elly said, tentatively.
The girls crinkled her eyes and smiled.
“A piano? Why, certainly!” She looked about for something or someone. “I’m not a piano specialist … we have people who sell only pianos, miss …”
“Oh, no, please; you’d be fine,” Maryssa said quickly.
The girl looked at Maryssa, taken aback.
“I can show you a piano or two, but when you decide to buy …”
“Great,” said Elly, sensing Maryssa’s discomfort, “why don’t you show us a piano or two, Miss …”
“My name is Kimberly Smith,” she said smiling. “My family owns the store!”
“Oo! We’re lucky, then! I was worried you might get in trouble!”
“Oh, no; I just don’t know much about the pianos, that’s all. I’m an organist!”
“Are you? So’s my aunt!”
“Really?”
Elly was more intent on putting Kimberly at ease than in flaunting the talents of her aunt, and she succeeded admirably. They introduced themselves, and not surprisingly, Kimberly made no sign of recognition except polite acknowledgement. Maryssa began to relax, and soon they were in a large hall full of pianos from wall to wall, with numerous folk wandering about the room, conducted by a number of uniformly well-dressed young men.
“The pianos are the backbone of our financial operation,” Kimberly explained softly, “so our piano guys are specially trained. What kind of piano do you want, and is it to rent or to buy?”
“To rent,” Maryssa said, quickly. She had seen some of the prices, and they were $15,000 and up, even for small uprights and spinet models. She began to understand what her mother had been up against. Elly nodded at her gravely.
Kimberly was watching them closely.
“Is it for you ladies, or for kids, students … ?”
“Well, … er, a combination, really, …” Elly looked at Maryssa, not really expecting too much help from her. It was up to Elly, she realized; Maryssa was too bashful to be forceful about what she wanted.
“Yes,” said Maryssa, looking completely out of her depth, “some children, but Elly here is a serious musician, aren’t you, Elly?”
Kimberly looked at Elly with sincere interest. “Really? What do you play?”
“Er, viola and violin, but I’m …”
“How long have you been playing, Elly?”
Elly shrugged. “Oh … fifteen years, maybe! Something like that.”
“Play in an orchestra?”
“Oh, the Chamber Orchestra of Ohio; I don’t suppose you’ve heard of them?”
Kimberly’s eyes widened. The COO’s reputation wasn’t quite dead, apparently. She talked to Elly with some interest about the early days, and Elly shared a look with Maryssa that said that they just might have an unexpected ally in Kimberly. Helen’s name hadn’t really come up, but it may as well have.
They began looking at specific pianos, and Elly soon felt intimidated. They were all good, but even she could tell that they were nothing special. Pianos had evolved to the point where none of them were very bad, really, but they rarely seemed to have any character at all. People no longer seemed to buy pianos for their character.
“Would you like to sit down and try it out?” Kimberly asked with an understanding smile. Maryssa urged Elly on with her eyes and an emphatic nod. There was just so far they could go without playing the pianos at all.
Elly sat down, her mind a blank. Then the feel of the clean, new keys under her fingers made her smile. She played a soft scale, beautifully evenly, and Maryssa knew enough to know that she had been taught well, probably by her mother. Soon Elly was playing a Bach minuet, and as her confidence grew, some Schumann, and a little Beethoven.
“You do play well!” Kimberly said softly, glancing across the room with what definitely looked like pride. They were getting smiles from the other folk looking at the more expensive pianos. “Here,” she said, moving over to a piano across the aisle, “try this one!”
Elly got up with an effort. She was acutely self-conscious now; she was not a pianist, and did not like the attention. “I’ve run out of things to play!” she said, laughing.
“Oh, play the same things,” Kimberly said quickly, her face serious. “The point is to compare. This one is a little more expensive, but it is a lot better.”
“Oh dear … this certainly is a lot more expensive,” Elly said, sitting down reluctantly. She played the Beethoven again, and the keys felt so much more easy under the fingers. She played on and on, the music flooding back to her mind. It was a sonata she had loved as a young girl of twelve, just when she was experiencing those first crazy feelings for Tom. She pushed those thoughts aside and played for the pure joy of it. The limitations of her technique were frustrating when it came to the faster passages, and she gave up in disgust.
Kimberly sat down at the next piano and turned to Maryssa, her face grave.
“If you’re buying the piano mainly for her,” she said, indicating Elly, “I wouldn’t buy anything of lower quality than this.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. She smiled ruefully, and opened her eyes. “I’ll see if I can talk them into a giving you a break on the rate! We probably don’t want to rent this one, though; you’ll have to buy it. But I think we’ll definitely arrange financing for you.”
“Why are you smiling?” Elly asked, unable to resist echoing Kimberly’s smile herself.
“Oh!” Kimberly shook her head. “I guess I’m bad for business! I’d give away all the stuff in the store if I got the chance!”
Maryssa stroked the piano. “It’s such a … modest-looking piano …”
“We could look at some nicer pianos, Maryssa,” Kimberly said, looking doubtful. “But you know we’re looking at considerably more money!”
Elly and Maryssa looked at each other, both thinking the same thought. “What the heck; if you don’t mind me playing on your really nice pianos …”
“Not at all! Come on!”
Ten short minutes later, they were at one of the most wonderful pianos Elly had ever played. Maryssa was so taken with it, she could only stare at it in wonder. It was as though the notes went straight into her heart. Elly was playing like an angel, her eyes closed. Maryssa had hardly heard her play before that afternoon, and here she was, the crystalline notes showering them all with incredible feelings. The other customers kept a polite distance, but it was clear that Elly was attracting considerable attention.
When it was over, they stood silently near the piano. Elly felt as if her arms were made of lead; it ached to get up from the stool. But it was an enormous concert grand, costing easily as much as a small house. Even Kimberly sighed. It was a miserable job. Those who had the talent could rarely afford the instruments, and those who could afford the instruments could rarely play them.
“There are pianos as good, I think, but more affordable,” Kimberly said, sensing the mood of the two women. Elly could tell that she was torn between showing them pianos in their price range, and pianos she thought they deserved to own. How much more, then, would Helen deserve a good piano?
Kimberly led them to another room, where there were five pianos. “This is a room we keep for special customers,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Actually, these are the ones Dad likes to play himself, but … they’re for sale. He kind of hopes no one sees them!”
Elly laughed.
“What about that one?” Maryssa asked. Kimberly looked amused. It was a little larger than the one that was in the house presently, a rich chestnut color, simple and elegant in its styling, and Maryssa was obviously attracted to its looks.
“It’s my own favorite,” Kimberly said, “that’s the one I wanted you to see! Come on!”
This time Kimberly herself sat at the keyboard, and soon she was playing Chopin, and then a Bach fugue. “I’m sorry … I just have to play him …” she closed her eyes in pure pleasure, as her fingers twinkled over the keys. She crouched over the keyboard, concentrating on the complex lines of the piece. Elly and Maryssa stood transfixed.
Later Elly played it too. Maryssa could hardly hear enough of it; she made Elly play it over and over again.
“Now this one …” Kimberly looked anxious. “Let me see what I can do …”
“Wait!” Maryssa said, and Elly wondered what she was going to do. “How much is it?” Kelly shook her head, not meeting their eyes. “Don’t worry about the price; I think I can get it reduced a lot,” she said.
She went off, and Maryssa looked at Elly. “I’m going to tell her who it’s for,” she said, looking pale.
Elly felt her chest tighten. Helen absolutely hated to reveal who she was and where she lived to business-folk. She would be livid if Maryssa told them that the piano was for her.
“What difference would it make, Aunt Maryssa?”
“The price, maybe?”
Kimberly was coming towards them. She shook her head once she got to them.
“He won’t rent it, but he’ll finance it,” she said. “The payments come to three hundred a month. That’s the best we can do, Maryssa. We’re financing it ourselves. That includes maintenance, tuning, everything.”
Maryssa blanched. “Okay,” she said, “it’s a deal!”
“I’ll help, Aunt Maryssa,” Elly said earnestly, and Kimberly smiled. Elly could tell that Kimberly had taken a liking to the two of them, and she, in turn, had become quite fond of the young woman. She asked them to wait, and hurried off to get the paperwork.
When she got back, she said she was going to cut as much of the cost out as possible. Transport would be free, all the usual services would be free, and she would try and eliminate some of the handling costs. She was glad her favorite piano was getting a good home, she said, writing furiously, and she insisted on accompanying it on the truck.
“When can we have it?”
“Right now,” she said. “If we don’t do it now, Dad will blow his top.”
“Oh dear!” said Elly, looking at Maryssa. The last thing they needed was to have an angry business owner denying them services.
Maryssa could hardly believe she had done what she had done. Elly, sensing her apprehension, kept telling her it was a good, sensible decision. “You never regret getting a beautiful instrument, Aunt Maryssa! Trust me!”
But Maryssa shook her head. Thrift came hard for her; she had only learned the concept in the last several years, as she began to realize that they had no plan for survival after Diane died. All those wonderful royalties, those fabulous books—the money had dried up. Her mother had promised her that she would never have to work. “Matt should work, because it’s good for him to work,” she had told her. “You—Maryssa, there’s plenty to do without that. This is the 21st Century. Wealthy people need not steal employment from the poor. Keep your mind busy, read, develop your spirit. Don’t let your heart be poisoned by the evil out there.”
Only Helen’s miraculous arrival a year and some months ago had made her life less of a disaster than it would have been. In spite of all the heartbreaking obstacles Helen had been presented with, she had give Maryssa the strength to see the world as a place with possibilities, with kindness and friendship hidden behind it’s rough, harsh face.
But Helen, to whom self-control came as hard as to Maryssa, would be furious. She would never show it, but she would be angry. Maryssa’s heart fell. Helen could tell a good piano; what if she didn’t like this one? What if she thought it unworthy of the price?
Once a month, Helen went off to Seattle to film for the Galaxy show. She never tried to make out that it was a chore; she had talked to Maryssa about it in the Spring, and though she was enthusiastic about the show and its message, Maryssa felt that, deep down, Helen did it not out of excitement, but in order to earn enough for the few charities she still supported, to be able to pay Betsy and Becky their salaries, and to support Maryssa and Matt.
“You’re trembling! Why, Aunt Maryssa?” Elly asked softly, her eyes troubled. “It hurts me to see you so afraid!” Maryssa let Elly put her arms round her, giving way to the trembling fit she had suppressed so hard. Bless the dear girl; she was tender-hearted, exactly like Helen. So Helen would have comforted her if she had been anxious! It was so ironic.
“I’m worried Helen might think it too extravagant!”
“But I want it!” She hugged Maryssa tight. “I’ll get Mom to help with its cost.”
Maryssa pushed away. “No, that’s out of the question.” She was gentle, but her pride couldn’t stand that. Charity from Helen was—well, it was different. From Janet …”
“You know Aunt Helen built our home for us, right?”
“Which home?”
“In Ferguson, where Mom lives!”
“Built it?”
Elly shrugged, as she let Maryssa go. “Made some additions; doubled its size.” Maryssa shook her head in confusion. “I guess the work was worth about, oh, $50,000. If she helps us out at one-fifth of that …”
“No, no; I have to believe that I bought this piano. I must face whatever she decides to say or do to me.”
Elly smiled. “You’re so funny, Aunt Maryssa! But I love you, all the same!” Maryssa dropped her eyes and blushed. It was worth it, she thought, to have such admiration. But what would Helen say?
True to her word, Kimberly came along with them. She rode with Maryssa and Elly in the car, while the truck followed them. She whistled as they wound their way into the enclave in which Primrose Place was hidden.
“Goodness,” she said, “I could never have found this place in a million years!”
“It’s an old, old neighborhood,” Maryssa confessed.
“You must be well off,” Kimberly said, looking at Maryssa strangely. “If I had known, I’d have sold you a Steinway!”
Maryssa’s face grew grave, and Kimberly sobered up quickly.
“We’re not as affluent as our neighbors, I’m afraid,” she said quietly. “My mother was an artist—a successful one, but … I just work part-time in a library.”
Kimberly looked at her, not quite convinced. Elly drove, her face red. It was way too complicated for Kimberly to understand. Elly racked her brains for a simple way to explain the situation, but nothing presented itself.
“Is this your house?”
“Yes! Elly, pull round, and let them at the front steps …”
“Actually,” said Kimberly, looking out the window, “They should drive a few yards further … there, that’s good! We have a sort of ramp, I know, which can be …”
“Oh, no! No, that’ll hurt the marble!”
“Oh dear.” Kimberly jumped out, and hurried to stop the metal ramp from being rested against Marissa’s precious marble steps.
Because of Kimberly, the movers were particularly patient. Peggy fussed around with drop-cloths and such, and eventually the piano was put together in the ballroom, which was now also a music-room. Kimberly’s eyes popped when she saw the beautiful room, and Elly was not surprised to hear her challenge Marissa.
Kimberly cornered Maryssa, her hands on her hip, a glint in her eye.
“Maryssa, I don’t know who you are, but you’re no waif! What’s the fuss about being able to afford the piano?”
Maryssa’s face became expressionless, as Elly hurried over to run interference. Kimberly simply could not believe what she was seeing. The tuner had come in, and was efficiently tuning away. Janet was just coming in, having heard the noise, and was staring at the piano, amazement and surprise on her face. Elly held her breath.
“Every word I told you was true,” Maryssa said. “I just … live here.”
“Huh!” Kimberly waved her hands, indicating the beautiful house, unable to express her incredulity. Her expression was slightly reproachful.
Janet sat down at the piano once the tuner was done, and began to play, and everything stopped. Janet was the best pianist in the house, as far beyond her daughter as Elly was beyond Maryssa. Starting softly, a cloud of notes washed over the listeners, sound such as the house had not ever heard.
It was a few minutes before Maryssa was able to gather herself together to address the doubts that were clear in Kimberly’s eyes.
“The piano isn’t for us alone,” Maryssa admitted. “We have a friend … a musician—I can’t tell you more—who stays with us, and … helps us a lot.”
Kimberly indicated Janet with her head, and raised her eyebrows. “She’s incredible,” she said in a low voice. “Whew, I’d say she’s a musician, all right!” Kimberly shook her head in admiration, and Elly felt near to bursting with pride. “I bet she could afford anything in the store! Who is she?” Kimberly asked in a whisper.
“Her? Oh, no, that’s just my Mom, she’s visiting for the holidays,” Elly said quickly. “She’s headmistress of a school in Minnesota!”
“She’s not a pianist?”
“Well, not a professional, no!”
Kimberly rolled her eyes, threw her hands up in surrender and turned round in a full circle. She clearly couldn’t believe a word she was hearing. Suddenly, she froze, looking over their shoulders. Elly had no doubt about what she must have spotted, and from Maryssa’s startled look, she, too, must have come to the same conclusion.
“Oh my god,” Kimberly said in a whisper, her eyes big as saucers.
Helen stood at the door, staring at the piano, her face expressionless. She looked rather red in the face, and her hair was a mess, blown about by the wind. Maryssa held her breath. Helen slowly backed out, and disappeared. They heard the sound of sneakers running up the stairs.
One of the movers came over with a paper for someone to sign, and Kimberly grabbed it herself and signed, and the man went away looking confused.
“Well,” said Kimberly, “I’ll get a ride with them.” She began to hurry after the rest of the crew.
“Wait!”
Kimberly turned around, still walking, but more slowly. She waved at them, an odd wave that seemed to say she’d talk to them later. But Maryssa ran to her and tugged at her hand. Elly hurried over to hear.
“Please! What are you going to do?”
Kimberly dropped her eyes and shook her head.
“I know who that is. I wish I had known …” she let her hand drop, a gesture of hopelessness and frustration. “I know what you were trying to do, but … I wish you had confided in me!” She looked towards the ballroom, from where the sound of music was beginning to falter, as Janet must have looked around for everybody. “That piano …” she shook her head.
“Look, if you think I tricked you into selling me the piano cheap …”
“No, no; I understand. Believe me, I do. She’s lost everything. You’re a saint, Maryssa. God bless you!”
Maryssa looked at her, stunned.
They had been walking, and now they were on the front steps, and the men were in the truck, waiting for Kimberly.
“A saint? What do you mean?”
Kimberly looked meaningfully at Maryssa.
“I’m in the music business, Maryssa. We’ve all been—concerned for her; where would she go, what would she do? You’ve taken her in, that’s wonderful!” Kimberly was red-faced, clearly filled with some emotion—gratitude? “There were rumors that she was living with someone who didn’t have a lot of money. So, I guess you’re the one!”
Maryssa looked at Elly, and then back at Kimberly.
“It’s so … complicated!” Kimberly nodded, and gripped Maryssa’s arm in gentle encouragement. “I don’t know how to explain all this …”
Elly joined in, agitated. “Yeah, it sort of sounds fake, but … no, we’re not destitute, we aren’t starving, but … we can’t afford a real nice piano. And she’s never really had a nice piano. She’s just never had one!”
Elly’s earnest pleading seemed to have an effect on Kimberly. Her eyes softened, and she looked thoughtfully at them from one to the other.
There was the sound of the truck engine starting up.
“I’d better go!”
Maryssa’s eyes pleaded with Kimberly. “Please, forget you saw her here!”
Kimberly nodded, and hurried off, waving good bye to them.
Janet came out, looking for them. Elly took a deep breath, but said nothing. Maryssa’s head was in a whirl, and she felt light-headed. She edged towards the wall, feeling faint. She composed her face. People made mistakes all the time, she knew; they just brazened it out. That’s what she would do, too.
Elly turned to her mother and smiled.
“What do you think?”
Janet’s eyes shone so bright, Maryssa felt a warm glow inside her. It seemed almost worth it when the piano was endorsed by the family expert. Janet didn’t need to say a word. But she did.
“It’s—exquisite! The touch—the sound—the action! Have you tried it?”
“Yes, Mom; we went out to buy it together!”
Janet gazed at Maryssa as though she was some genius. She was simply speechless with elation. “I have to sit down and try it properly again,” she muttered to herself, and Maryssa and Elly looked at each other and allowed themselves a self-congratulatory smile.
Soon the little ones and Gena and Erin came looking for them, and Cindy. Maryssa left them to Elly and went up to look for Helen.
Helen had finished her errand, and had found herself walking past an “adult” store, and this time she simply couldn’t resist. Not stopping to mentally prepare herself, she marched right in, studiously ignoring all who were there.
Some score of patrons observed her. They saw a tall, attractive woman of vaguely Scandinavian type, her shoulder-length tightly curling blonde hair tied at the neck. Her shoulders were a little rounded, and she wore a little extra weight around the hips, pretty much true to type. She wore jeans and a light winter jacket, and carried a briefcase that might have held a computer, video equipment, or practically anything.
One pair of eyes was interested enough to keep watching, and saw the green eyes behind the glasses. If the newcomer had kept looking through the magazines and books, she might not have been recognized, but just then Helen looked across the room, and saw the video section. As she slowly walked over, there was enough of the grace of the woman who had once been the toast of the city for one of her great admirers to recognize her.
The store calmed Helen. Just the sight of so much routine pornography and erotica put things in perspective. A vast number of her fellow-citizens took sex calmly in stride, Helen realized, and the experience she had recently been through must be repeated in dozens of improvised studios in scores of cities. She reached for a video, and studied it.
“Try this one,” somebody said, and she looked up startled.
It was a middle-aged woman, rather nondescript, a lot of grey in her blonde hair, with a shoulder-bag, woolen skirt, sensible shoes. Her voice was friendly, a neutral accent that was familiar and unremarkable. Helen turned slowly, afraid to make an acquaintance in such a place.
Was she being picked up?
The woman had a friendly look on her rather leathery face. She looked completely relaxed, her grey eyes had a glint in them behind the lightly tinted glasses. The chin was not prominent, but it was strong, her lips were on the narrow side—she was not Helen’s usual type.
Helen took the proffered video, and was underwhelmed by its cover.
Helen found herself giving in to the woman’s determined friendliness, agreeing about various things, her taste in photographic specials, an occasional movie they had both seen. Suddenly, what she was doing didn’t seem so bad.
“Look,” she said to Helen, “if you’re not sure, I’ll buy this one for you!”
Helen felt comfortable enough to smile. “No, you don’t have to do that,” she said, “I guess I’m ready to give it a chance!”
They checked out their selections, about a dozen assorted items each, made a face as their totals were rung up, and paid cash.
“May I buy you some coffee?” the woman asked, as they left the store. Helen looked at her properly, then, trying to recall where she might have seen her. The woman shook her head and smiled. “No, you don’t know me; I—just know who you are, that’s all. I hope you don’t mind being recognized!”
Helen shrugged. It seemed that these days she shrugged every other moment. It was her response to the universe.
“It depends,” she said, with a humorless laugh.
“Oh, come on; let’s have something to drink anyway!” She began to walk towards a convenient coffee shop across the highway, turning back to urge Helen to accompany her with her arm and her persuasive look, and Helen followed. She was a woman accustomed to asking for little, but getting her way when she did.
Now that they were crossing a busy highway, they had a little more privacy.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” the woman said, “especially since you moved to town!”
With those words, Helen knew she had really been identified. But she didn’t care. It was a relief, in some ways; for years she had longed for something like this, an ordinary person, someone who wasn’t a prospective lover, a friend who felt comfortable in a porn shop.
Helen grinned and strode after her, leaving behind a burden she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
It turned out that the woman knew who she was pretty well. She was, most interestingly, the head of a small two-year college that offered some more advanced degree-level courses. Her own subject, she said, had been Political Science, but she found herself teaching more in her minor, she said, which was English. “English specialists, I find, aren’t the best equipped to teach writing!” Helen blinked, and she laughed. She had a dry chuckle that was a contrast from the feminine laughter of most of the women Helen knew. This woman was a tough, worldly-wise character.
As Helen listened to her, trying not to reveal more about her own present situation than strictly necessary, she learned that behind the woman’s cynical, sardonic manner was a core of idealism. She set out her occupation as simply a means to stay alive, but when she talked about the occasional class she taught, Helen knew that the woman had the basic instincts of a true teacher.
They had talked for only twenty minutes, but the woman looked at Helen strangely, and looked at her watch.
“Look at the time!” she said, “I’ve gotta go. Hey look, I’d like to meet you again. Is this where you usually shop, or did you stop in on impulse?”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll be spotted?”
“By one of the students?”
“Well, yeah!”
She made a face. Then she grinned. “You have to admit I don’t have quite the problem you have!” Helen laughed, and the woman, who had given Helen her name as Maggie Burke smiled, crinkling her eyes. “But I have my ways,” she continued. “Half the trick is to dress professionally at work, and like a bag lady when shopping!”
Helen nodded. “I work so little, it isn’t hard,” she said.
“Look, call me. Here …” she rummaged in her purse, and dug out a card, and then scribbled something on the back of it. Helen took it, and put it away without looking. “… Call me sometime. These days we’re on break; I work until about mid-afternoon, and then I go home. Once school begins … you know how it is!”
Helen had said she’d look her up once her holiday guests had gone back.
“Tell me,” Helen said, as they paid and left, “what gave me away?”
“Oh,” said Maggie, “nothing specific. I’d have known you in anything, really.” She looked at Helen thoughtfully, and seemed about to say something, but shook her head and smiled. “I’d say you’re perfectly safe!” And Helen had to be content with that. They parted soon after, the woman waiting for a bus, while Helen continued to walk home.
Once she started walking, she didn’t turn back. If they were to ever meet again, Helen wanted to keep the relationship the way it was: light, friendly, in a word, Platonic. If she waved until the woman was out of sight, it would send the wrong signal.
Maggie, though, had no such reservations. She watched Helen walk off with an interested grin, until she disappeared over the curve of the hill. I hope she likes the video, she thought.
When Helen got out of the shower, Maryssa had gone. The house was quiet, and once she got downstairs, Peggy told her that they had all gone to the Art Museum.
“Have you seen the piano?” she asked, her eyes alight. “It’s a real beauty!”
Helen made a sound of impatience. “I don’t know what to make of that,” she said, frowning. “We can’t afford a piano like that, Peggy. The old one was in a bad way, but …”
“Oh, the old one, the keys wobbled, Miss Helen.”
“It could have been repaired,” Helen said firmly, frowning.
“Won’t you try it out?” Peggy asked, eagerly. Helen studied her face. The woman had such bright, intelligent eyes, and she loved music. She was wearing her black uniform again. Helen had given up on having them dress less formally. At least they had given up their little bonnets.
“No, I’ve got work to do,” Helen said vaguely.
Later that day, when the others came back, Helen was herself enough to greet them with more cheerfulness than she had been able to display for weeks.
“You look good, love! Have you been playing the piano? Did you look at it? You look so happy and well!”
“I—just took a long nap,” Helen said, truthfully. “No, I haven’t played the piano.”
“Come on, then!” Downstairs, they could hear the soft sounds of little hands reverently touching the keys. “Have you seen it?”
Helen simply had to smile at the excitement and anticipation on Maryssa’s face. Maryssa’s soul longed to, yearned to participate in making music. Her whole body responded to music, but she could barely play a waltz or two. She had had lessons, but since she had met Helen, she had completely given up on playing. Matt and Diane both played moderately well, though their repertoire was heavily weighted towards dance music. Maryssa tugged Helen towards the stairs, and Helen gave up resisting.
“Where’s Helen?” an impatient contralto voice called from downstairs. Helen could hear Janet and Elly talking, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of Gena playing one of her favorite pieces. “Who’s that?” “It’s Gena, Mom.” “Go get Aunt Helen!”
“Come on!” urged Maryssa. “Everybody’s waiting to see what you think of the piano!”
She felt Helen stop, and she looked back. Helen had a frown on her face that battled with the smile that had been there. She didn’t say a word, but Maryssa knew without words that Helen just didn’t want to play. Instinctively she realized that Helen needed to make her acquaintance with the instrument quietly, privately.
The knowledge filled Maryssa with a wave of emotion. She went to Helen and put her arms round her and kissed her on the lips. She felt Helen’s arms round her, and saw her eyes shining. It was strange that now her life consisted of wonderful moments like this, and between them was only the waiting for them. The fear of being rebuked for her extravagance was gone; she had been forgiven, and the gift was accepted.
“Hey! Stop fooling around and get downstairs!” It was Elly’s head just showing at the top of the stairs. “There’s a piano waiting for you to play it!”
“Go on,” said Maryssa gently, “she’s coming!”
Helen was embarrassed to be surrounded by everyone as she inspected the piano. Gena mused that just a little more than a year earlier, her mother would have presided over the acquisition of a new piano like an indulgent queen, regal, unruffled, quietly pleased. But here was Mom, so uncertain of herself, awkward. She couldn’t help smiling at her obvious pleasure in the beautiful instrument. It was almost aggressively simple in its lines, yet it wasn’t jazzy. It was sturdily built, but it wasn’t massive. And the sound!
“Sit down! Play it!” urged Elly.
Helen smiled and shook her head. “Gena, dear,” she said, “you play!”
It was a gentle request, but Gena knew it was a command. Everyone pulled chairs around the piano, including Helen, and Gena sat at the keyboard, and asked what she should play. Helen stood to pick up a book of short pieces from the pile of music Peggy had left on a little table nearby, and set it up for Gena. Soon she was playing, as her audience sighed and exclaimed at her playing, and at the beautiful sound of the instrument. The felt of the hammers was new, and the sound was soft, and Gena was playing with restraint. She knew enough that the softer she played, the more legato it would sound. The clarity was remarkable, and little Allie’s mouth was rounded in an ‘O’ of wonder.
They all applauded, and Gena asked if she could play another piece. They had all waited for Helen to play first, but that awkwardness was past now. They all waited impatiently for their own turn, but even Gena playing was so wonderful, the wait wasn’t so hard. Gena played a Beethoven movement, and Erin complained “I wanted to play that one!” Gena laughed and went on.
Then it was Erin’s turn. She didn’t play quite so well as Gena; she was a violinist, and the piano did not come as easily to her. Then Allie played a little tune she knew, then James, who had waited patiently for that moment.
Elly played next, and they sat in silence as she played, first some Beethoven, then some Bach, and Helen was amazed at how well she did. Elly was a good all-round musician, and Helen blamed herself for neglecting her for the past year. She glanced at Janet, who caught her eye and smiled. She pointed at Helen, but Helen shook her head, no. She mouthed to Janet that Elly was playing beautifully, and Janet smiled and nodded, closing her eyes briefly, filled with pride in her oldest child. If only her father were here to see this!
Finally, it was Janet’s turn. It was clear that Helen was not going to oblige them that evening. Janet played some more romantic pieces, some Rachmaninov and some Brahms she had not played for years. The piano over at the Ferguson House saw some use, but Janet rarely took the time to play it. She only seemed to play it occasionally when the children were gone for the holidays. But now she filled the large room with a cascade of sonorities that only a piano could create, and Maryssa watched as Helen listened, her body tense, focused totally on Janet and the piano.
The next few days, the piano was almost constantly in use, as the girls took turns to play it, only taking brief minutes off to go visit their little friend at Trish and Lalitha’s house, or to run to the kitchen to greet Jeannie or her brother. The youngest members of Peggy’s and Bridget’s families were great favorites with them all, as were James and Allie. Once they had gotten to know Gena and Erin, those two were likewise taken to their bosom. Jeannie was reverently inducted to the piano with a formal playing of Heart and Soul, after which they ran off to the playground to visit with the neighborhood kids.
Much as Maryssa longed to see Helen play the piano, it didn’t happen for more than a week. That first night after the piano arrived, she had asked Helen in bed, why she refused to play. Helen had simply said she wasn’t ready yet. She had thanked Maryssa sincerely for buying it, and asked how she had arranged for it. Maryssa, her heart in her mouth, had told her everything. The owner’s daughter had recognized Helen, she said, but promised to keep their whereabouts a secret. They would pay $300 a month for the piano, for several years. The interest rate was very moderate.
To her relief, Helen had been satisfied. It was a good decision, she had stated. They needed a good piano.
“I was afraid you’d think it was extravagant,” Maryssa confessed. “I’m afraid of what Matt will say, too!”
“I’ll talk to him,” Helen had said.
No comments:
Post a Comment