NOVEL NEXT 278: Tricking You Again And Again
The piano in the Methodist church's sanctuary stood alone in the quiet room. Perfect! I gently lifted the lid and propped it up to its full height so the instrument would release all of its sound when I started playing.
The church was a gorgeous old cathedral with full, stain-glass windows and tall, sweeping, arched ceilings. The kind of place that when you crossed its threshold, you felt the weight of years, dust, and long memory. It was hundreds of years old but still beautiful.
The silence of the morning was absolute as I approached the grand piano and settled onto the bench.
This was where I'd learned to play piano, as tutored by Ms. Sharp, piano teacher of so many kids in Cheyenne. And the stillness of that grand hall was about to be rudely interrupted.
Fingers to the keys, I played the opening notes in the coaxing, deft way Ms. Sharp had insisted and slowly built that into the layered crescendo, adding the punctuated, sharp chords moving towards the grandeur of the second page.
Did I have music? Oh, it was there, but I didn't need it as my fingers tickled the keys in a staccato, demanding march and built into a fury. I felt a presence enter the cathedral but paid it no mind. I was all dancing fingers and bouncing shoulders as music poured out of the piano making a declaration that sound was life and soul.
"Rondo Capriccioso" is well named, you see. Capricious is the melody; tricking you again and again into thinking it's softening and going quiet, becoming beautiful and tame. Then when you least expect it, the song explodes into noise and fury.
By the time I reached the closing stanzas, my heart was racing with anticipation, and joy shone on my face. My favorite part! Bang, Bang, BANG. I slammed the racing octaves, hands flying in a madness of sound.
The room fell quiet once more.
"Sam!" Rhoda cried.
I turned to face her, grinning.
"What was that? That cacophony is — is — I have no words!"
"That, dear Rhoda, was Mendelssohn, and I think that piece is me on pages. It's always been my favorite. It's the only song I know where you NEED to BANG the keys. I can let loose and pound away and be rewarded for it!"
Stolen novel; please report.
"You're crazy!"
"You betcha!"
Rhoda was standing by the piano, looking at me eagerly, and I noticed her little boy Filly sitting on one of the pews playing on a pad.
"So, what're we doing? Having a concert?"
I grinned, "No, I need a recording of me playing. Did you hear the song I embedded for the 'Finding My Voice' poem?"
"Gorgeous— wait, was that YOU?"
Shaking my head, I told her, "No, that's HC's friend Coraline, and I met her on Discord. She gave me the sheet music on the condition I send her a video of me playing."
Rhoda's face was wide and gleeful. "And, exactly how old is this Coraline? What does she look like? God, her voice is amazing, Sam!"
"I know, I know, and she's funny as can be, but let's do the recording, okay?" I handed Rhoda my pad. "Can you stand behind me? I don't want to show my face on stream yet."
She nodded and took up a spot behind me.
Just as I had at Nanna's house, I played the opening chord gently then danced my fingers over the keys. Without intending to, I added my voice, softly whisper-singing the melody Cora had written from my lines. " . . . when they looked at you, they only saw me."
I shifted from that song into my favorite lullaby. A wistful, quiet tune reminiscent of falling snowflakes drifting slowly, gently. The kind of song that softens everything around you and inside you and lifts you into another time and place.
As the last note faded, I lifted my foot from the pedal and hands from the keys, returning them to my lap, then sighed a soft breath.
"I've turned it off, Sam. That was so pretty. What was it?"
"'Reverie,' by Claude Debussy."
"Reverie? I feel like I just woke up from a dream."
"Or stepped into one," I smiled.
"Samantha?" called a male voice. "Is that you? Playing Debussy? Oh! Rhoda, you and Filly are here?"
I jumped up to hug Pastor Rick at the same time Rhoda reached for him.
"You two know each other?" I asked.
"Of course," Rick explained. "Family of the deputies have to stick together. Bobby, my husband, works at the station with Mike."
"Ah, that makes sense. I didn't put that together," I nodded.
"Yeah, and Bobby's been really supportive with everything that's been going on," Rhoda glanced uncomfortably at Filly, so Rick changed the subject.
"Marjorie's well, Sam?"
"She made breakfast casserole this morning, so I'd say so!"
"Rhoda, if you still need a sitter for Filly until the preschool gets an opening, you can't go wrong with Sam's Nanna Marjorie. She's the salt of the earth—"
I cut Rick off, "You need a sitter, Rhoda?! Why didn't you tell me!?"
"Your Nanna watches kids?" she asked eagerly.
"I come by my nannying skills honestly."
"Oh! This is the best day. Thanks, Rick," Rhoda hugged the pastor.
"I'm off for a lunch meeting. It was so good to see the two of you! And Sam, come back and play again soon!" Rick said, heading for the door.
I waived at him as Rhoda asked, "Wanna get some lunch? I'm starved. Have you been to the new pupusa food truck on Jackson?"
"WHAT?! There's a pupusa truck?! What're we waiting for?!"
And we were off to find treasure in griddle-fried deliciousness.
