prickled on my arms. All this talk about her seeing Grandma Rose in her dreams was too much mumbo-jumbo for me. It probably wasn’t something to encourage, either, so I changed the subject. “You have a beautiful voice. Do you sing in the choir at school?”
She knitted her brows as if she thought I was making fun of her, asif I couldn’t possibly mean it. “Huh-uh. Choir’s after school. I gotta get home after school to help Granny change her oxygen and stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, again getting a glimpse of her life. “Well, really, it’s a shame to have such a beautiful voice and not do something with it. I could talk to Kate. Maybe she could help you get back and forth to after-school practice.”
For a split second, Dell seemed to entertain the thought, even be excited by it. Then she refocused on the piano keys, shaking her head. “Kate’s busy. She’s got a lot to do all the time with Josh and Rose.”
“Yeah, I know.” I’d already noticed that, as much as Kate and Ben seemed to care for Dell, she was mostly a shadow on the fringes of all the baby activity. “That has to be kind of disappointing sometimes, huh?” Some strange urge compelled me to reach over and brush her hair away from her face. “It’s not always fun being an older”—I realized that I’d been about to say “sister,” but Dell wasn’t Josh and Rose’s sister—“being older. But it’s nice that you’re around to help Kate and Ben. I know they like it when you’re here.”
She didn’t reply, but instead motioned to my hand on the piano keys and changed the subject. “I can do that.”
“Hmm?” I wasn’t sure what she meant. “Do what?”
Sliding her hand over, she studied the keys for a minute, tentatively pressed the first one, then tapped out two bars of the melody with one finger—every note perfect.
I sat looking at her, amazed. “I didn’t know you played the piano.”
“I don’t know how, but I can hear the way it sounds,” she said simply.
“You mean you memorize the notes?” I asked. “You saw which keys I was pushing and you remembered the order?”
She shook her head impatiently. “No. I hear it in my head, like this”—she tapped out the first few bars to “How Great Thou Art”—“and I know which ones to push.”
“That’s fantastic.” Something that my old piano teacher had said ran through my mind. Great musicians don’t learn the music—the music is already inside and they only learn to bring it forth. “What else can you play?” My pulse sped up with an anticipation that surprised me. I felt like I’d just unearthed a hidden treasure.
“I dunno. I do it on the church piano sometimes when no one’s there.” She shrugged, then started tapping out the melodies to song after song—hymns, pop songs, and finally, the theme to The Brady Bunch.
“Wow!” I gasped. “You’re amazing.”
She drew back at the compliment, then slowly broke into a wide, slow grin that lifted her face and made her eyes sparkle. I had a feeling no one had ever said that to her before.
“How about if I teach you a few things?” I tasted a sweet sense of purpose that pushed away the lingering salt of my tears. “You should learn to play with all of your fingers. If you can do that . . . well, there’s no telling what you’ll be able to play.”
“ ’K,” she agreed, seeming a little uncertain. “What if I can’t do it?”
“I think you can.” I didn’t wait for her to change her mind or decide to turn shy again. Taking her hands, I gently laid them over the keys, and we began.
We spent the next hour working together—an unlikely student, an unlikely teacher, finding perfect harmony at the keys of an out-of-tune piano. It was as my old piano instructor had told me—the music was already inside her, and it was only a matter of coaxing it forth.
When Kate and Ben came back with the group, we were doing a duet on the piano—Dell playing melody and I the harmony chords.
She knitted her brows as if she thought I was making fun of her, asif I couldn’t possibly mean it. “Huh-uh. Choir’s after school. I gotta get home after school to help Granny change her oxygen and stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, again getting a glimpse of her life. “Well, really, it’s a shame to have such a beautiful voice and not do something with it. I could talk to Kate. Maybe she could help you get back and forth to after-school practice.”
For a split second, Dell seemed to entertain the thought, even be excited by it. Then she refocused on the piano keys, shaking her head. “Kate’s busy. She’s got a lot to do all the time with Josh and Rose.”
“Yeah, I know.” I’d already noticed that, as much as Kate and Ben seemed to care for Dell, she was mostly a shadow on the fringes of all the baby activity. “That has to be kind of disappointing sometimes, huh?” Some strange urge compelled me to reach over and brush her hair away from her face. “It’s not always fun being an older”—I realized that I’d been about to say “sister,” but Dell wasn’t Josh and Rose’s sister—“being older. But it’s nice that you’re around to help Kate and Ben. I know they like it when you’re here.”
She didn’t reply, but instead motioned to my hand on the piano keys and changed the subject. “I can do that.”
“Hmm?” I wasn’t sure what she meant. “Do what?”
Sliding her hand over, she studied the keys for a minute, tentatively pressed the first one, then tapped out two bars of the melody with one finger—every note perfect.
I sat looking at her, amazed. “I didn’t know you played the piano.”
“I don’t know how, but I can hear the way it sounds,” she said simply.
“You mean you memorize the notes?” I asked. “You saw which keys I was pushing and you remembered the order?”
She shook her head impatiently. “No. I hear it in my head, like this”—she tapped out the first few bars to “How Great Thou Art”—“and I know which ones to push.”
“That’s fantastic.” Something that my old piano teacher had said ran through my mind. Great musicians don’t learn the music—the music is already inside and they only learn to bring it forth. “What else can you play?” My pulse sped up with an anticipation that surprised me. I felt like I’d just unearthed a hidden treasure.
“I dunno. I do it on the church piano sometimes when no one’s there.” She shrugged, then started tapping out the melodies to song after song—hymns, pop songs, and finally, the theme to The Brady Bunch.
“Wow!” I gasped. “You’re amazing.”
She drew back at the compliment, then slowly broke into a wide, slow grin that lifted her face and made her eyes sparkle. I had a feeling no one had ever said that to her before.
“How about if I teach you a few things?” I tasted a sweet sense of purpose that pushed away the lingering salt of my tears. “You should learn to play with all of your fingers. If you can do that . . . well, there’s no telling what you’ll be able to play.”
“ ’K,” she agreed, seeming a little uncertain. “What if I can’t do it?”
“I think you can.” I didn’t wait for her to change her mind or decide to turn shy again. Taking her hands, I gently laid them over the keys, and we began.
We spent the next hour working together—an unlikely student, an unlikely teacher, finding perfect harmony at the keys of an out-of-tune piano. It was as my old piano instructor had told me—the music was already inside her, and it was only a matter of coaxing it forth.
When Kate and Ben came back with the group, we were doing a duet on the piano—Dell playing melody and I the harmony chords.
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