Chapter 77
“Play for me,” he said.
“What?”
“I want to go over to the Oak Room and hear you play that Chopin Scherzo you said was wild. That’s what I want to take with me, okay?”
The motorcycle kept on, Gerald now standing with hands on hips, looking too much like Noel while Jane stood patiently nearby. “Okay,” Jennalee said. She and Harley all but sprinted away.
In the Oak Room, Harley took a chair some distance from the piano. It gave him a side view so he could watch her hands, and as she settled onto the bench, he crossed his legs and waited. “Okay,” she said. “Chopin’s Scherzo No. 1.”
She took a couple seconds to shift gears, to let motorcycle and Sutherland sounds fall away. She thought of Chopin settling in at his piano and welcomed him to her. Then she began the piece.
Chopin announced his presence with two dramatic chords followed by a string of arpeggios that seemed to build on one another, each cranking up the intensity. As Jennalee’s fingers raced up and down the keyboard, she knew Chopin’s emotions were also racing and she got that, the racing feel. The piece was more her than any of his others, though they all resonated.
After all the racing came a quiet section, which Jennalee was certain Chopin included to catch his breath. She also breathed, basking in the respite, hands light on the keys, before Chopin jumped back in, coming at her with his demands, all of which she loved.
He included a lullaby section, and as Jennalee raced toward it, anticipation filled her because it was so beautiful. She knew he’d quoted from an old Polish Christmas song to create calm, and when she reached it, she glanced at Harley, who had now uncrossed his legs and sat forward. As she began the lullaby, he eased back in his chair and she loved that small thing, how the music reached him. Untroubled was how this section had been described by those in the know and she agreed. So fitting a way to close the Sutherland weekend.
Jennalee got a kick out of knowing Chopin would shortly destroy the lull he’d created. Two crashing chords suddenly thrust her into more arpeggios that again sent her racing up and down the keyboard. It felt feverish, her entire being caught up in the composer’s fury as he approached the end. When Jennalee struck the final notes, her breath came almost in gasps and she remained still, hands resting on the keys, recovering in the most wonderful way.
Harley knew this and she loved him for it. He gave her time to come down, knowing she didn’t want to, knowing also that coming back to real life after such an outpouring was somewhat a trial. Finally she drew a couple deep breaths and put her hands in her lap. Only then did he comment.
“Amazing,” he said. “I’ve never heard it before and you played it, well, playing doesn’t say it. You were gone in there. You ran off with him, didn’t you? It was incredible and you made it shine, Lee. Truly, you did what he wanted. You got it and you gave it to me. Thank you.”
“Oh, Harley,” she said, bursting into tears.
He came to sit beside her, put his arm around her, and let her cry. The best part was she wasn’t embarrassed to be crying, maybe because Harley alone knew how it was. He knew it all and she couldn’t stand losing that, not for a whole year. “I don’t want you to go,” she said.
“I know, I know.”
Finally she started to hiccup. This always happened when she cried really hard and Harley chuckled as he offered her a handkerchief. “Good thing Mom makes me carry one,” he said when Jennalee took it.
“I don’t want your mom to go, either,” Jennalee said.
“You’ll be fine,” he assured her, sounding like some adult. “Come on.” He took her hand and led her out.
They got Cokes at the machine by Building Seven and sat in the lawn chairs they’d occupied before. Jennalee enjoyed the silence between them, the knowing still surrounding them like a warm cloud, a good cloud, pink maybe. After several minutes, Harley spoke.
“You really do need to get yourself a local teacher,” he said. “I don’t mean to push but not studying is a mistake. You’re so talented, Lee. Give that lady your folks found a try and if you don’t like her, tell them you want somebody else. They’re on your side, you know. And you should apply to Julliard. Tell them that, too. Mostly, you have to let go of Mr. Mendel.”
“I know. It’s just so hard.”
“Of course it is, but look, I let go of Carroll Fraser, so I think you can let go of Mr. Mendel. It’s something you have to do. He’s standing in your way.”
“Stop being so wise. I hate it when you’re wise.”
“Because I’m right. Right?”
“Right.”
She sniffled a bit more into Harley’s handkerchief and then an idea came to her. “Maybe I could visit you in Garden Grove. There has to be an airport near there. I mean, youdon’t live in the sticks.”
“It wouldn’t be a good idea. What would you do? Hang out in the pawn shop while I worked? Listen to me practice? That’s pretty much my life, and as much as I’d like to see you, that’s not how I want it. Better we meet up here next year.”
“But a whole year. It’s forever!”
“Right now it is, I agree, but you can chip away at the days. Get busy with your music and school and they’ll fly by. Chopin wouldn’t want you pining. He’d want you to make his music shine, like you just did.”
Looking at the burned out building, Jennalee noted the fireman was gone. “I guess the sparks are out,” she said, nodding toward the ruin. “The fireman left.”
“Let’s go look,” Harley said, getting up.