Читать книгу Sweet Trilogy - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 19

CLAIRE PULLED into the side parking lot at Amy’s school, then turned off the engine. “Are you sure?” she asked, speaking directly at the girl.

Amy nodded and smiled. “I want you to meet my teacher.”

There was some signing that Claire didn’t catch, but she understood the major point of the conversation. Amy had mentioned her at school. Claire hoped the topic had been more about how fun she was and not about anything significant… like the fact that she was a concert pianist.

Claire still hadn’t figured out how she was going to deal with her “other” life. Walk away completely? Until she got her panic under control, did she have a choice? People came to see her play, not have a total breakdown. While the writhing and screaming might have some minor interest the first time around, it would quickly get boring. None of which had anything to do with Amy.

“I’d love to meet your teacher,” Claire told the girl.

Amy led the way through the bright and open school. There were wide corridors and skylights. Big signs reminded students that hearing aids were required to be worn in classrooms. That and the students signing with each other were the only indications this school was different from any other Claire had been in.

Amy led the way to the main office where she asked the woman behind the desk to get her teacher.

“They have a meeting every Tuesday,” Amy said, speaking slowly. “They should be done now.”

A meeting? As in more than one person in a room?

Claire told herself not to worry. That Amy would call her teacher over, they’d be introduced and it would be over in a matter of seconds. No biggie. But couldn’t Wyatt have asked her to take Amy to school on a nonmeeting day?

A dozen or so adults filed out of a room behind the main counter. Amy waved and began signing at the speed of light. Her proficiency reminded Claire that her signing still had a way to go before it even got close to being basic.

A woman in her midthirties walked toward them. “Hi,” she said as she signed. “Amy, it’s good to see you. Who did you bring with you today?”

“My friend, Claire,” Amy said. “This is my teacher, Mrs. Olive.”

Claire smiled. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve been looking after Amy while visiting my sister.”

“I heard about Nicole’s surgery,” Mrs. Olive said as she signed. “How is she doing?”

“Better,” Claire signed, feeling awkward and slow. She was really going to have to get better at the whole deaf communication thing.

Amy tugged on her teacher’s sleeve. “Claire plays piano. She played for me. It was beautiful.”

Mrs. Olive looked at Claire. “That’s great. A lot of hearing people assume the deaf can’t appreciate music, but that’s not true. There are a lot of…” She blinked. “Oh my gosh! Are you? You couldn’t be. Are you Claire Keyes?”

Claire stifled a groan as she nodded.

“I have a couple of your CDs. I love your music. I saw you on PBS. I can’t believe it.” She turned to the other teachers still in the area. “Sarah, you’ll never guess. This is Claire Keyes, the famous pianist.”

The other women hurried over and introduced themselves. Claire found herself answering questions.

“Yes, I do travel all over the world,” she admitted. “It’s a lot more work than you’d think.”

“Still,” one of them said. “You’re so lucky. Have you really played with those singers? The three tenors?”

Claire nodded. “They’re charming men.”

“I can’t believe this. A world-famous musician—at our school!”

The crowd increased. Claire grabbed Amy’s hand to keep her close. Mrs. Olive continued to sign the conversation so the girl could follow. She seemed to be doing it unconsciously.

An older woman joined them. “I’m Mrs. Freeman, the principal. What a pleasure, Ms. Keyes.”

Claire shook hands with her. “The pleasure is mine.”

Mrs. Freeman touched Amy’s head. “She’s one of our favorite students. So smart and motivated.”

Claire smiled at Wyatt’s daughter. “She’s pretty special,” she said.

Amy beamed.

“We’ve all heard about you,” Mrs. Freeman continued, “But we didn’t understand exactly who you were. Would it be too much to ask you to play for us?”

Too much? Those weren’t the words Claire would have used. Bone-chillingly horrible was a better choice.

“I know you’re on vacation,” the principal continued. “It’s just most of us will never have the opportunity to hear you play live.”

They weren’t alone, Claire thought, fighting the need to throw up. Until she conquered her fears, no one was going to hear her play live ever again.

“I, ah…”

She looked at all the teachers staring at her. They were so excited and hopeful.

“H-how many people are we talking about?” Claire asked cautiously.

“Just a few of the teachers and some students.”

She could handle the students, she thought. It was the adults that made her nervous.

She wanted to tell them no. She wanted to bolt for the car and never look back. She wanted to not be afraid anymore.

It was the last one that got her attention. Not being afraid would be a miracle. She knew she’d made some progress—she could now work at the bakery without having a panic attack. She’d conquered driving. But did any of it matter if she couldn’t play the piano?

“Only a few people,” she said reluctantly. “I’m ah, resting, and I don’t want to have to deal with a large crowd.”

Mrs. Freeman clapped her hands together. “Of course. How wonderful. Absolutely. Shall we say two-thirty this afternoon? In our music room. There’s seating in there for about thirty.”

Claire nodded. “Sure. I’ll be back.”

She crouched down and smiled at Amy. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Amy nodded, then hugged her. Claire hugged her back, feeling an uncomfortable combination of affection and terror.

NICOLE WENT UP the stairs without holding on to the railing but mostly dragging herself. Progress, she thought. At least she was making progress. She wasn’t supposed to go back to work for another couple of weeks but she could probably pop into the bakery on Thursday or Friday.

She missed her life. While she appreciated that the surgery had gotten rid of the pain in her stomach, it hadn’t done anything for the pain in her heart. That still burned hot, like a fresh wound.

“Don’t think about it,” she told herself aloud, wishing she’d asked Claire to stop at the grocery store and pick up a movie. Anything that could be a distraction. Because the alternative was to sit in the house missing and hating Drew and Jesse in equal measures.

She heard Claire’s car in the driveway. Seconds later her sister burst into the house. She was pale and wild-eyed.

“I have to play,” she said as she headed for the stairs. “I have to play. I said yes. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. It’s too soon. I’m never going to get better. I should just face it. I can work in retail, right? Like the bakery. Do people make much doing that?”

Claire raced up to the second floor and dashed into her room. Nicole followed her. By the time she’d made it to the landing, she could see Claire kneeling on the floor flipping through what looked like hundreds and hundreds of pages of sheet music. Who traveled with sheet music?

“What are you talking about?” she asked Claire glanced up at her. “Amy’s school. She told her teacher I play piano. She put it together with my name. The principal asked me to play for a few of the teachers. Today.”

She flipped through dozens of pages, looking at them once and flinging them over her shoulder. One fluttered to Nicole’s feet.

She looked at it, at what looked like thousands of notes. How could anyone make sense of that?

“What’s the big deal?” Nicole asked. “You play all the time.”

Claire sat back on her heels. “Wyatt didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Claire rolled onto her butt, then dropped her head to her hands. She hated having to confess the truth to her überpractical, confident sister. “I’ve been having panic attacks when I play. It started a few years ago. I faked a panic attack to get Lisa off my back. But somehow I lost control and instead of me controlling them, they’re controlling me.”

“Panic attacks? Like what you had at the bakery?”

Claire nodded. “Only worse than that. I collapsed the last time I performed. They practically had to carry me off stage. It was horrible.” She shook off the memory.

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“What? No. It’s why I didn’t have to cancel performances to come here.”

“Okay. So what happens now? Are you in therapy or something?”

“I have been. I know what’s wrong, I just don’t know how to fix it.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Music is who I am. It’s my life. I’ve been so empty without playing. I’ve tried to enjoy my time off, but the truth is I miss playing. Last night instead of reliving my date with Wyatt, I found myself imagining Mozart. I lay there in bed, playing the piece in my head.”

“Not anything I would do,” Nicole muttered. “Do you want to go back to playing?”

Claire looked at her. “Every minute of every day. But I’m terrified. Worse, I doubt myself.” She put her hand on her chest. There was a feeling of tightness. Adrenaline poured through her body. “I can’t breathe.”

Nicole crossed the floor and sank down on the bed. “Of course you can. Take a breath and focus. In, out. In, out. You can breathe.”

“It doesn’t…” She gasped. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“That doesn’t matter. You can breathe. You’re talking. You’re not turning blue.”

“Okay. Okay. You’re right. I’m fine.” Claire’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to convince herself. “It doesn’t feel fine. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t go back?”

“I’d probably give you a job in the bakery. I hear you’re terrific on the cash register.”

Claire started to laugh. Nicole joined her. They laughed and then Claire was crying.

“I hate this,” she admitted, wiping her face and wishing her emotional weakness involved getting hives or throwing up. Anything but this awful sense of dread and panic. “I feel so weak and stupid. I want to be able to do what I love.”

“Look, we’re talking about a bunch of regular people,” Nicole said. “Teachers can’t afford to go to the symphony every week. They won’t know if you’re playing well or not. They’ll just be excited to see you. You’ll be the biggest star they’ve ever seen.”

Claire wiped her face. “They have CDs. They’ll know if I mess up.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point. But you’re playing on some school piano. My point is they’re not going to judge you.”

“Probably not to my face.”

“Does the rest of it matter? Do you think the people who pay to hear you play aren’t being critical.”

Claire winced. “I so didn’t need to think about that.”

“Have you played for anyone since you’ve been here?”

“Amy. She stood with her hands on the piano, feeling the vibrations.”

“And you were okay with that.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “She’s deaf.”

“I know. You didn’t answer the question.”

“I was fine with it.”

“Then have Amy stand where she stood before and play for her. Ignore the rest of those bitches.”

Claire’s mouth twitched. “They’re really nice women.”

“Probably, but for the purposes of this conversation, they’re bitches.”

Claire nodded, trying to be brave. Knowing she was going to be emotionally eviscerated, she pushed up to her knees, slid over to the bed and put her arms around Nicole.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she breathed, holding her tight. “Please don’t hate me anymore. I can’t stand it.”

Nicole hesitated, then hugged her back. “I don’t hate you,” she said, hugging Claire back for the first time in over twenty years. “I couldn’t.”

“But you tried.”

“Okay, yes. I put a lot of effort into it.”

“You need to stop.”

“I will.”

Claire straightened. “Promise?”

Nicole smiled. “I promise.”

CLAIRE HAD TROUBLE finding parking at the school that afternoon, which was weird. There had been a ton of spaces that morning. Not sure what was causing the problem, she finally found a spot by the far fence and turned in.

The sense of pending disaster hovered just at the edge of her consciousness. She could feel it and taste it, but she refused to acknowledge it. Maybe she would totally freak out and start frothing at the mouth. Maybe she would get through with scary foam. Either way, she was going to play the piano because that was what she’d been born to do. And because it would make Amy happy.

She collected the music she’d chosen and walked into the school. After finding her way to the main desk, she smiled at the receptionist.

“Hi. I’m Claire Keyes. Could you direct me to the music room?”

The woman stood up. “Oh, you’re here. Everyone will be so excited. Principal Freeman asked me to take you to the auditorium.”

Claire swallowed. “Excuse me. I’m playing in the music room.”

The other woman laughed. “Not anymore. Word got out and we’re full to capacity. A lot of the parents came to hear you play. You’re totally famous.”

The woman kept talking, but Claire couldn’t hear the words. She couldn’t hear anything except a loud buzzing sound.

“H-how many people?” she asked.

“About four hundred.”

Dear God. The room spun and dipped. The buzzing got worse, as did the pressure on her chest. She was going to die, right here at Amy’s school.

“I know it’s more than you were expecting, but how could we tell people no? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. To hear someone of your caliber play live.”

If the panic didn’t ease, they were going to hear her play dead.

This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. She didn’t owe them anything. What did they think, that they deserved to hear her for free? She earned thousands of dollars for each…

She sighed. It wasn’t about the money. It was about excuses. That was the bottom line. Either she did what she’d promised to or she weaseled out.

Claire clutched her music to her chest. “Would you please show me where I’m going to play?”

“Sure. I’m Molly, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Molly.”

They walked down a long corridor and stopped in front of several sets of double doors. Claire could already hear the crowd inside.

“I need to go in the stage entrance,” she said. Maybe not seeing the crowd would help.

“Not a problem.”

Molly took her around the side. The space might be smaller than most venues she played, but the controlled mess of props and cables was very much the same. The contrast between what the audience saw and the chaos behind the scenes was oddly comforting.

“Anything else?” Molly asked.

Claire nodded. “If you could please make sure the curtains are closed and have Amy Knight join me?”

“Right away.”

When she was alone, Claire practiced the breathing she’d been taught. She pictured herself in a safe bubble and when that didn’t work, tried to imagine a field of flowers. She paced, she stretched, she studied her music, then she put it down when she heard footsteps.

Amy ran toward her. “You’re here,” she signed.

“I know. I’m going to play the piano for a lot of people. Would it be okay if you stood like you did before?”

Amy nodded, then signed, “Why?”

“I’m scared,” Claire admitted. “Having you nearby makes me not so scared.”

“I’ll protect you,” Amy said.

Easy words, but oddly enough, Claire believed her.

“HAVE YOU EVER HEARD her play live before?” Wyatt asked as he and Nicole walked down the hallway of Amy’s school.

“No. I’ve listened to a couple of CDs, but that’s it. Talk about weird. She’s my sister. Shouldn’t I have been to at least one performance?”

“You didn’t have any contact with her,” he told her. “Why would you go?”

“Don’t try to finesse this with logic. I can’t believe how long we’ve been apart.” She waited while he pulled open one of the auditorium doors. “I wouldn’t have gone to New York to take care of her. I would have let her figure it out herself.”

He tugged on a strand of her hair. “Expect me to judge you for that?”

“Maybe. I’m judging myself. I’ve been nothing but mean to her and yet she still showed up. She leads with her heart.”

“I know.”

They stepped into the auditorium. Amy’s teacher, Mrs. Olive had promised to saved them seats, otherwise they wouldn’t have had a chance of finding a place to sit. Wyatt had heard that some of the parents were coming, but he hadn’t expected a standing-room-only crowd.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” Nicole said.

People were moving around and talking excitedly. They’d dropped whatever they were doing to come see Claire play the piano. He felt a sense of pride for her and what she was able to do.

“I hope she’s going to be able to pull this off,” Nicole murmured. “She was pretty freaked before.

“She told you?” Wyatt asked. “About…” He didn’t want to say too much in case Claire hadn’t said anything to her sister.

“The panic attacks? She told me this morning, when she was digging through her sheet music and about to fall over the edge. We talked, she seemed better, but I don’t know if she’s going to make it. She was really upset.”

“What she does can’t be easy.”

Nicole smiled. “So you like her now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I take it the date went well.”

“Didn’t you get all the details from Claire?”

“A few. But now I can hear the man’s perspective.”

“I don’t think so.”

Amy’s teacher waved them over. “Isn’t this amazing? I’m beyond excited. Imagine being able to hear Claire Keyes in person. You must be so proud.”

“I am,” Nicole murmured.

They settled into their seats. Heavy black drapes covered the stage.

“Are you proud?” he asked quietly. “Of Claire?”

“Yes, and it surprises me, too. I guess I’ve stopped resenting her. I know this hasn’t come easy for her. She’s worked her butt off to get where she is now. I just hope she’ll be all right.”

“She’ll make it through,” he said. Claire didn’t have a choice. There were a couple of hundred people with expectations. He had a hard time accepting she would be comfortable letting them down.

“Do you really believe that?”

“I’m going on faith. It’s all I have.”

“It was easier when I didn’t like her,” Nicole muttered. “Now I have to be all worried and concerned. Before I would have been happy she was suffering.”

“You’re always looking at the bright side.”

“Shh. I’m ignoring you and sending calm, healing thoughts to my sister.”

A few minutes later, the principal stepped onto the stage. She had a handheld microphone and asked for quiet.

“We have an unexpected pleasure this afternoon,” she said when the crowd had stilled. “Claire Keyes is going to play for us.”

Everyone clapped. Mrs. Freeman waited for silence before continuing. “Most of you already know Claire’s story. When she was three years old, she walked over to a piano and began to play. She’d never seen the instrument before, had received no instruction of any kind. She was a true child prodigy. But unlike those who peak early, Claire only improved as she grew up. She studied, she played, she traveled the world, sharing her gift. Today she will share that gift with us. Claire Keyes.”

“I hope she doesn’t fall on her ass,” Nicole whispered.

Wyatt privately agreed.

The drapes parted showing a piano in the center of the stage. Nicole crossed her fingers when Claire appeared, holding Amy’s hand. They moved to the piano. Claire took her seat on the bench without looking at anyone, while Amy stood next to the piano, her hands on top of it, as if prepared to feel the music.

Wyatt could see tension in Claire’s back. There was something about the set of her head that told him she was having trouble breathing.

He swore silently, wanting to do something, anything, to fix the problem. But it didn’t require anything from him. Claire was truly on her own.

She spread out her music. Wyatt stared at the pages, at the small black dots that meant something to her. How could anyone get that right? How could she possibly—

Claire put her hands on the keys and began to play. Music filled the auditorium, the notes sure and strong and more beautiful than anything Wyatt had heard since the night he’d listened to her practice. Amy looked out and smiled at them.

She was doing it, he thought with relief. Claire was doing it.

Wyatt watched over the next forty minutes as the tension faded. Claire relaxed, apparently losing herself in the moment.

Nicole leaned toward him. “She’s doing it.”

“She’s impressive.”

“Break her heart and I’ll beat you with a stick. Worse, I won’t be your friend anymore.”

Wyatt looked at her. “For real?”

She nodded. “She’s my sister.”

He put his arm around her. “I’m glad you finally figured that out.”

CLAIRE WENT FOR A DRIVE after she played. She found Pike Place Market under points of interest on her GPS system and let the calm computer woman direct her to a parking garage. After walking down the hills, she crossed the street and moved toward the path offering a view of the sound.

It was sunny but breezy. The wind tugged on her sweater and blew her hair around her face. There were crowds of people everywhere, yet she felt totally alone in the best way possible.

She’d done it. Despite the fear, the pounding heart, the dry throat, she’d played and after a few minutes, the music had become everything.

She’d been horribly out of practice. Anyone with any training at all would have winced through her performance, but her audience had been kind and forgiving.

It was a start, she told herself as she stared at the water and felt life ease back into her. She wasn’t going to kid herself that she was cured, but she was making the right kind of progress. Tomorrow she would practice for a couple of hours. Limber up. Let music back into her life.

She returned to her car and made her way home. When she walked into the house, excited, wanting to thank Nicole for coming, she was surprised to find her sister pacing the length of the great room, her face pale, her mouth set in a thin, angry line.

“What’s wrong?” Claire asked. “Are you all right? Is someone sick?”

Nicole glared at her. “Tell me you didn’t know. I swear to God, if you did, I’ll… I don’t know what, but something big and ugly.”

Claire wanted to back up but she stood her ground. “Know what?”

“About Jesse. She’s selling cakes on the Internet. She’s set up a Web site that looks almost exactly like ours. The Web site address is damn close, too. But the difference is, instead of just giving out information like we do, she’s selling the cakes.”

Claire couldn’t believe it. “The Keyes chocolate cake?” No way. Jesse wouldn’t do that, would she? Not after sleeping with Drew. This was bad. Worse than bad.

“Yes. I can’t believe it. She’s even selling them for five dollars more. I’m so pissed off. I just want to find her and crush her like a bug.”

“You’re really angry and you should be, but we can figure this out,” Claire began.

“No we can’t. I knew she was a screwup. I didn’t expect miracles, but this is the last betrayal. I couldn’t do anything about her sleeping with Drew, but by God I can do something about this.”

Claire didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you going to do?”

“Press charges and have her thrown in jail, where she can rot.”