Chapter 71
“Sleepy head,” Lizann said. “It’s nearly eight.”
Jennalee was dealing with morning grunge in her mouth, sleepy bits in her eyes, and the certainty her short hair must be totally haystack. Lizann handed her the coffee and she took a sip, the hot and bitter liquid snapping her to attention. She recognized the cup as one from the continental breakfast. She didn’t really like coffee, but took a second sip to rouse herself. Settled somewhat, she glanced at Lizann, who bore a faint smile as she listened to her son’s violin.
“I know it’s Bach,” said Jennalee, “but not which piece.”
“It’s the chaccone from the Partita No. 2 for solo violin. It’s his favorite, one of the longest movements, fifteen minutes. Harley says it’s Bach at his best, everything a violin can do in one movement. I agree.”
Jennalee shut her eyes so she could enter the music and found both haunting strains and lively ones. Bach did so much in minor keys, challenging you, waking you up. This was perfect early morning music. “I love it.”
“Me, too,” replied Lizann.
A minute more, then Jennalee realized she wanted to be up on the bluff, not down below, so she excused herself, telling Lizann she’d collect her sleeping bag later, and ran to her living quarters. There she found Jane, Gerald, Marian, Bob, and Clifford at the breakfast table, chattering away as if they were one big family.
“Just passing through,” Jennalee said. “I’m going up on the bluff to listen to Harley practice. He’s incredible.” She didn’t wait for comment, just raced to her room where she changed into an apple green T-shirt, white shorts, and sandals because it was already warming outside, then addressed her haystack hair, which wasn’t really so bad. A few brush strokes and she was presentable.
She splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth, and would have sailed out again had not Jane stopped her. “Don’t you want to eat something?” she asked.
“Not right now, but I am thirsty.” She detoured to the kitchen for a Coke and ran past them again. “See you later,” she called as she went out the door.
She felt like a deer running and leaping up the trail to the bluff. The chaccone was still in progress. She could tell, even though she’d missed a bunch, because what she heard now fit with what she’d heard before. Bach was consistent even as he did it all.
When she reached the bluff, she stopped to take in the scene. Harley, still in his blue shirt and jeans from the night before, had his back to the sun and to her. She wished she could see his face, but he was at the bluff’s edge, raining music down into the little valley. She thought Bach would have appreciated the scene.
As usual when he played, Harley was a study of motion, but how could he not be with what was coming out of his violin? He leaned and swayed, almost jumped when the music took off, then seemed fluid when it quieted. Jennalee sat against the big oak, drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. She felt herself in heaven.
When Harley finally struck the final notes and quiet descended, he lowered the violin to his side and simply stood, looking skyward rather than down at the inn. Jennalee got this. Music was great that way, letting you soar until, when it was over, you had to take a minute to land. She waited and he finally turned. “Hey,” he said with a big smile.
“You snuck away,” she said.
“I wanted to wake you to music.”
“Aw, that is so sweet. And it was great. Your mom was sitting and listening, and I joined her. It was nice. She said that movement is your favorite Bach.”
“She’s right. Don’t you think it’s something?”
“I do. It’s amazing and you played it beautifully.”
He bowed, then came and sat beside her. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good, I guess. I don’t think I moved all night. Just woke up and, oh yeah, I’m outside. That was a kick. Want a sip?” she asked, offering the Coke. He took it, drank, and handed it back.
“I’m going to miss this spot,” he said. “It’s probably the best place ever to practice.”
“Where do you practice at home?”
He chuckled. “My room, the garage, back room at the pawn shop. Wherever I can. I keep the violin with me pretty much all the time. Once while I was working at the shop, I got to thinking about a Bach sonata and couldn’t wait to get out of there, but I didn’t want to play inside so I went to this park, got as far away from people as possible, and played. Pretty soon people were coming over to listen. After that, I played there whenever I wanted to escape.”
“That’s what’s so great about the violin. It’s portable.”
“You’ve got your keyboard.”
“Yeah, but it’s a lot heavier than a violin, enough so I don’t want to drag it around anywhere. No, you’ve got the best of it.”
After a few more minutes, he got up. “Back to work.”
“What are you going to play?”
“I’m in a Bach mood today so I’ll do his Sonata No. 1, all four movements.”
“Let the concert begin.” She now sat cross-legged, leaning forward, an audience of one.