Piano Lessons Read online

  Piano Lessons

  Gail Sattler

  Copyright

  © 1999 by Barbour Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  one

  Jed parked his truck but remained seated behind the wheel as he stared at the house. Back when they were teenagers, he and Liz had done nothing but fight. He’d been the worst kid brother imaginable, and he didn’t know how it happened, but through phone calls and constant letters, it was almost unbelievable they had become so close as adults while living apart.

  The kids’ bikes lay strewn in the middle of the front yard, and squeals of laughter along with the dog’s barking echoed from the back.

  Suburbia. Happy family life.

  Enter Uncle Jed.

  Would he be a happy family addition, or an intrusion? Liz had invited him to stay, and after all, he would be earning his keep, but he wasn’t sure he would like the big city of Vancouver. Even though Liz’s house was in the suburbs, like his new job, it was too close to the city to suit him.

  Leaving his belongings in the truck, he approached the house slowly. He would start his new job in a few days, but for now he felt like a poor, displaced relative.

  He knocked and waited.

  Liz answered the door with a huge smile, greeting him with a big bear hug before he had a chance to say a word.

  “Jed! We’ve been so excited waiting for you. Come on in!” Liz turned to yell at the top of her lungs. “Mark, Betsy! Uncle Jed is here!”

  Their screeches gained in volume until they rounded the corner and pounced, almost knocking him down the stairs.

  “Hey, ragamuffins! How’s it going? And how’s school? Got your diplomas yet?”

  “Uncle Jed!” Betsy faced him with a scornful expression, her hands on her hips emphasizing her disdain. “They don’t give dippalomanas out for kinnergarnernen.”

  Liz shook her head, scowled at Jed, then smiled at Betsy. “That’s pronounced ‘dip-lom-a,’ and Uncle Jed will teach you to say it properly. And he can work on the word ‘kindergarten,’ too.”

  Jed laughed. He loved to goad Betsy into using big words. “So, Mark, how’s calculus?”

  Mark scrunched his eyebrows, scowled in an expression that mirrored his mother’s, and said nothing.

  He ruffled Mark’s already messy hair. “You mean they haven’t got you doing calculus in grade three? What good is that school, anyway?”

  “Uncle Jed!” Mark crossed his arms and tried to look angry, but his quivering grin gave him away. Jed mussed his hair even more.

  Liz craned her neck over Jed’s shoulder to see his truck. “Bring all your stuff?”

  “Yup.”

  “In one load?”

  Jed tried to give his shoulders a casual shrug and forced himself to smile. His 4X4 was big, but not that big—not that he had a lot of stuff left. “I sold everything big and put the rest away in storage. All I need is my clothes, bedroom furniture, and my stereo. I didn’t think you wanted my couch and stuff in your family room.”

  “The sale go all right?”

  “Yeah, I was lucky.”

  It had almost been too easy, but he could see God’s hand at work. After the plant closed, causing massive unemployment and a downturn in the local economy, he somehow had managed to find a buyer for his condo immediately, selling it for just enough to cover his outstanding mortgage. He’d also managed to find another job before his last penny ran out, albeit in the city. He moved as soon as the money came through. The only problem would have been finding a decent place he could afford to stay in only a short week before starting his new job, but Liz had taken care of that.

  When her sitter quit only three weeks into the school year, Liz was desperate. Now that Betsy had started kindergarten, only the more costly day cares would provide transportation back and forth to the school—if she could even find an opening without being relegated to a waiting list.

  Problem solved. Jed’s new job on the evening shift would allow him to be home all day to baby-sit. Liz and Frank arrived home in plenty of time for Jed to drive the fifteenminute trip and arrive on time for the second shift. All he had to do was start supper for the family, and of course keep up his share of the housework, and he had free rent and all his meals paid for until Betsy started full-day school next September.

  The entire drive into town he had been lost in thought, both grateful and amazed everything had fit into place so smoothly and quickly. He dared not question why all his prayers had been answered, especially after he’d been so stupid.

  Liz and Jed both started to speak at the same time. “I really appreciate. . .” They laughed in unison. Liz’s eyes sparkled, lightening his spirit by one more notch.

  “You first,” he said.

  Liz smiled up at him. “I was going to say, little brother, that I really appreciate you moving in to do this for me. I’m going to enjoy living with you again, because it’s far cheaper to pay for your meals than to pay for day care.” She cocked her head to one side. “Your turn.”

  Jed heaved a sigh of relief. He still worried about being an unwelcome guest or a financial burden, but Liz had again eased his fears. He wondered how she knew what he was thinking. Perhaps the reason they fought constantly when they were growing up was because they thought too much alike.

  “I was going to tell you how much I appreciate you sharing your home and committing your family to putting up with me for a year. And don’t count your chickens about the cost of keeping me. You haven’t calculated the cost of my laundry.” Jed pretended to have to pry his shirt off his chest, as if it were wet.

  Liz hit his shoulder with a stuffed toy she had been carrying. “Frank will be home at 4:30, but if you want, we can start moving in the boxes and smaller things now.”

  As they walked out to the truck, Jed thought about Frank still at work. “So, why are you home? I thought you would be at work, and I was going to let myself in. I was really surprised to hear the kids at home.” He jingled the contents of his pocket, fingering the shiny new key Liz had mailed him.

  Liz sighed. “I couldn’t find a sitter, so I had to take a few days off work until you got here, and they weren’t very happy about it. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to get back tomorrow. Are you ready to jump right in?”

  He handed down a suitcase. “No problem. Just run down the routine for me. After all, what else do I have to do, except find a place for what little stuff I brought?”

  As they walked back and forth together unloading the truck, Liz gave him the rundown on the daily routine. “Frank and I leave at 7:00. That means you have to get Mark up and get him ready. He has to be out the door for school at 8:20. Betsy usually wakes up when he leaves. Mark eats lunch at school, and Betsy has to be at school by 12:30. You’ll have the afternoon to yourself, until you pick her up at 3:00. Mark gets off at 3:00 also, but he walks home with his friends. So if you can start supper, Frank and I get home at 4:15. Monday is soccer, Tuesday is Mark’s piano lesson, Wednesday he may go over to a friend’s house, Thursday is. . .”

  “Whoa! I think I’m going to have to write all this down. How do you keep up? No wonder your sitter quit!”

  Liz turned and stuck her tongue out at him. “You took the job, little brother.”

  Jed grinned at her. “I know.” It was great to be home.

  ❧

  Jillian checked
her watch as she listened to little David pounding out each note of the song he was supposed to have practiced all week. She put on her best teacher’s smile.

  “David, I thought you said you practiced your piano lessons every day.”

  “I did. But I only played it once every day.”

  Jillian wanted to hit her head against the wall. If he had practiced this song seven times over the past week, it surely would have sounded better than that. Instead she smiled at him again. “I’m going to have to ask you to repeat it for next week. I know you can do it with no mistakes. And don’t forget to tap your foot. All the notes have to be on time with your foot. Okay, David?”

  “Yes, Miss Jefferson.”

  “Your time is up now, and I see your mom’s car in the front. Now, you practice it every day, and more than once.” She closed the book and stood, prompting David to stand as well. “Good night, David.”

  “Good night, Miss Jefferson.”

  Jillian waved good-bye to the last student of the day. As she closed the door, her smile faded, and she immediately headed to the medicine cabinet to get something for her pounding headache.

  Why did little David have to play so loud? It wouldn’t be so bad if at least he got some of the notes right the first time. She wondered where his parents had the piano, and how they could stand it. It was almost as if he pounded every key as loud as possible on purpose, just to be annoying.

  Her students ranged from kindergartners to high school students, beginners to advanced. By sheer coincidence, all her worst pupils were on Monday, and all her best ones were on Tuesday. She loved Tuesdays. But children grew up so quickly; soon they would all improve their skills or quit, and these days of headaches and frustration would be long forgotten. Once her schedule filled to capacity, she wouldn’t be taking on so many beginners.

  The best part of teaching piano lessons from her home was not having to fight traffic or worry about pleasing the boss. She only needed a few more students, and her appointment book would be as full as she wanted.

  Sitting at the piano, she packed up the beginner lesson books, tidied up the pile of pass stickers and various other rewards for hard work, then selected a small pile of her own favorites. A Bach classic, her favorite Chopin collection, and a few praise books. After a day like today, she especially needed those. As she played, the music soothed her shattered nerves, and her mind drifted ahead to the next day’s schedule.

  On Tuesday, the best day of the week, she most appreciated her lesson with Mark Edwards. Even at eight years old, Mark demonstrated real talent, along with a desire to excel. Eager, intelligent, he had a real love for music. If only all her students could be more like Mark.

  ❧

  Jed held Betsy in his arms, and they waved to Liz and Frank as the car backed out of the driveway. It had been 3:30 in the morning before he had his stuff organized enough to go to bed. Now, only three and a half hours later, Betsy was up for the day.

  “Uncle Jed?”

  Jed answered and yawned at the same time. “Yeah, Pumpkin?”

  “Are you really going to live with us until I get to stay in school all day?”

  “You bet.”

  “Are you going to like living with us?”

  “Sure.” He yawned again.

  “Can you help me ride my bike?”

  “Yup.”

  “And play baseball like Mark?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I can print my name. My teacher says I’m doing real good. Can you help me print my phone number?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “With a pen?”

  “Yeah, with a pen.”

  “And when will you teach me to tie my shoes?”

  Why was the kid asking these hard questions? Didn’t she know what time it was? “Tomorrow.” Jed lowered her feet to the floor. Was she always such a yacky little thing so early in the morning? Liz had told him Betsy didn’t get up until much later.

  The alarm on his wristwatch beeped as Jed stifled another yawn, signaling time to get Mark up for school. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a nickel if you go wake your brother up for me.” He remembered Liz waking him up for school one morning by pouring water on his head. Betsy was too young for that, for now. Maybe one day. . .

  “Mark! Mark!”

  Jed flinched at the volume of Betsy’s voice as she screamed loud enough to wake the dead, never mind an eight-year-old boy.

  “Shut up!”

  “Wake up! Uncle Jed said so!”

  “Shut up!”

  “Uncle Jed! Mark told me to shut up!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Shut up!”

  “Uncle Jed! He did it again!”

  What had he done? What had he gotten himself into? How long would it take to pack up all his stuff again? Jed slumped, sitting heavily on the couch. He waited for Betsy to run into the kitchen and Mark to shuffle along before he started to push himself up to follow.

  A bang sounded from the kitchen, followed by a huge thud, then a crinkling sound.

  “Uncle Jed! Mark spilled the cereal!”

  “Shut up, you fink!”

  “Uncle Jed! Mark told me to shut up!”

  “Knock it off!”

  “And he’s calling me names!”

  Jed groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

  As Jed entered the kitchen, he observed Mark furiously scooping the cereal off the floor and shoveling it back into the box with his hands, while behind him the dog licked it off the floor, eating as fast as she could.

  Surrounded by a ring of cereal on the floor, Betsy jumped up and down, shrieking, and grinding it into small crumbs, sending bits and pieces all the way across the room. “Uncle Jed! Uncle Jed!” she cried out, waving her arms in the air.

  Jed closed his eyes. What now? If he could find something else to feed them, he would clean up later. He wondered if Liz had another box of cereal hidden somewhere. With a little imagination and determination, Jed found some bowls and a box of instant oatmeal. Carefully reading the directions, he plugged the kettle in to boil, and waited.

  According to the clock on the wall, they were fast running out of time. Jed measured and poured the water, turned his face back to the table, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mark was gone.

  Mark’s voice drifted from the living room. “Uncle Jed, I think the dog was sick.”

  Jed checked the clock. Now they were really running out of time. “What? Where?”

  “In front of the TV, on the rug.”

  Not now. Why was this all happening? Was cereal bad for dogs? If so, how come the kids could eat it with no ill effects? He grabbed the roll of paper towels and strode into the living room, where an ugly blob lay on the rug in front of the television. Jed’s stomach flipped over. Good thing he hadn’t eaten yet, or he would have been next, right along with the dog.

  Mark stood to the side, his hands covering his mouth and his shoulders shaking. Jed tried to keep from puking himself as he looked down at the mess. As Mark started to laugh out loud, Jed became more suspicious.

  “Mark!” he shouted. “This is plastic! I’ll get you!” He started to chase after Mark, feeling bits of dry cereal crunching under his bare feet as he ran, but Mark managed to keep one step ahead of him. Mark dashed into the bathroom and locked the door, howling with laughter the whole time.

  Betsy stood on the coffee table, pointing at the closed bathroom door. “I’m telling Mom! You’re gonna get it!”

  Jed sucked in a deep breath. He was never having kids. Never. “Come on, Mark, it’s time to eat and get ready for school.”

  Mark opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  Jed ran one hand down his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Come on, Mark. Just get ready for school.”

  Without a word, Mark shuffled into the kitchen. By now the oatmeal was cold, and both of them ate only a couple of small spoonfuls, complaining bitterly the entire time. Jed sagged in his chair while they argu
ed over who got to look at the brightly colored box.

  As Jed watched, he had a nagging impression that there was something he should have been doing, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what it was. Mark pushed the bowl of cold oatmeal to the center of the table with a loud scraping sound, then returned to his bedroom to get dressed. Jed checked the time again, worried that Mark was going to be late if he didn’t move a little faster.

  “Come on, Mark, move it!” he called out, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  Running out of his room, Mark turned to the front door.

  “Did you brush your teeth and comb your hair?”

  “Oops.” Mark ran into the bathroom, and came out in record time. Jed wondered if the toothbrush was even wet, but didn’t push it.

  Mark grabbed his backpack from the kitchen floor and stopped dead. “Uncle Jed? Where’s my lunch?”

  Jed leaned his head back and slapped his palm to his forehead. He knew there was something he was supposed to have done.

  As quickly as he could, he dug through the fridge and found the sandwich Liz had made, then threw in an apple and a couple of cookies. He found a thermos in the cupboard with a picture of some superhero on it, filled it with milk, and rammed it into Mark’s backpack.

  “I’m going to be late now. You have to drive me.”

  “What? I’m still in my pajamas!”

  “I’m going to be late.”

  “What about Betsy?”

  “You have to bring her.”

  “She’s still in her pajamas!”

  “But Uncle Jed! I’m going to be late! You’re going to make me get lines!”

  Jed stared at Mark with his mouth hanging open, on the verge of telling Mark it was his own fault, but he stopped. Lines. He would never live it down, especially on his first day taking care of them. Jed ran into his room and quickly tossed on the first thing he touched. He bundled Betsy’s coat over the top of her pajamas and slipped her sneakers over her bare feet.

  “Let’s go. We can still make it.”

  He hustled the kids into his truck and arrived at the school as the bell rang. Mark leaped out of the truck and ran into the school yard, and Jed turned around and drove back to the house.