Chapter 9
In the early evening, I watched from my bedroom window as the light slipped across the valley. The day had been overwhelming, to say the least, and Jacob hadn’t yet returned. My body seemed adrift without him in this strange house.
Too eager to receive a reply, I’d written a quick letter to Mother, letting her know I’d arrived and all was well, and tucked it into my pocket like a charm.
I didn’t dare write the truth of it—that the manor puzzled and drained me, that I knew I was already failing before I even learned all the rules.
I stretched my fingers out over the windowsill. What I truly longed to do now was play the piano. Twilight was the hour of imagination, my favorite time to play.
My fingers tapped the wooden sill as if it were the piano keys, one invisible note after another.
I let my mind wander and saw Jacob standing beside me at a grand piano, his beaming smile warming through me.
He loved me and he’d bought me a piano as kindly as he’d brought the flower.
It felt like an oasis in this strange desert.
I struck a pretend chord. With my eyes closed tight, I could almost hear the notes rising around me.
I played another, its sound echoing distantly.
My hands moved of their own accord, plucking out the notes of Jacob’s favorite hymn.
As I played without sound, it felt so real, so certain.
A song coursing through me, livening me.
My eyes fluttered open and my fingers stalled out over the wood of the sill.
I could hear the notes. The chords floated unquestionably around me, the same as if sitting in church. Somewhere in the house, a piano sounded out a hymn:
Come, come, ye Saints …
Jacob had brought home a piano—my piano. A smile cracked across my face. He’d been true to his word, and so quickly too. I dropped my hands from my intangible instrument and made for the door, my heartbeat clicking in rhythm with my footsteps.
The music was distinctly louder in the hallway. I listened to ascertain its origin.
No toil nor labor fear …
I dashed down the stairs, expecting to find Jacob and the magnificent instrument sitting in the entry awaiting my arrival. I skidded to a stop on the bottom step, confusion clouding my enthusiasm. The entry was just as empty and sad as it had been earlier in the day.
But with joy wend your way …
My neck snapped back to trace the ceiling above me.
No, the sound was certainly coming from above.
Maybe the piano had been brought upstairs while I completed chores with Prudence all afternoon.
I hadn’t yet explored any of the other rooms, and many larger homes had additional sitting rooms or music rooms. My heartbeat thrummed in time with the music echoing from above.
Though hard to you this journey may appear …
I climbed back up the stairs. Down the darkening hallway every door was closed, each room’s occupants talking low or silent as the grave.
Perhaps my new family was gathered altogether now awaiting my arrival.
I turned into the next wing of the hallway.
There were two more closed doors, and then, nothing.
Grace shall be as your day …
No one waited to greet me. With a throb of disappointment, I pressed my ear to each door but heard no music emanating out. I tilted my head, listening intently. The music came from higher still. I shifted between my feet. Perhaps I was being fooled by a trick of the mind.
Tis better far for us to strive, our useless cares from us to drive …
Yet the hymn played on. I fought the panic rising up, the worry that the Devil played with my mind, and I leaned back against the wall at the end of the hallway.
It was odd that it ended where it did, with no bright window.
As I pressed against the wood, something hard lodged in my lower back. I inhaled sharply.
Behind me was a small handle painted nearly the same color as the wall. I stepped back, eyes widening. My fingers traced along an almost-imperceptible groove in the wallpaper. This was a door.
Leaning in again, I listened.
Do this, and joy your hearts will swell …
The piano was behind this door. With heat trickling down my back, I grasped the nearly invisible handle.
A hand closed around my elbow and I startled, stifling a scream. Jacob held on to my arm. His eyes traced me up and down, then flickered to my hand on the wall. The music had ceased, as if the piano’s fallboard had suddenly snapped shut.
“What are you doing, darling?” Jacob’s voice was sharp but soft.
I let my eyes rove once more over the wall, but what moments ago had been so plainly a door now appeared merely a dirt-streaked wall. Had I imagined the music altogether? There was no sound but the pulse of blood in my ears.
“I heard music. You didn’t tell me you already brought the piano.” I gently tugged my elbow from his grip. Jacob’s expression didn’t change. I dropped my fingers to thread through the folds of my skirt.
Jacob let out a booming laugh.
“Heavenly Father must’ve spent too much time on making you pretty to give you sensible ears.”
“I—” The sudden urge to cry caught in my throat.
“It was only a joke, dear. No need to be so sensitive about a jest.” His mustache shifted up with his smile. “Did you get the flower I left you this morning?”
I blinked back unexpected tears. This was the man who gave me flowers, who called me pretty, even when I was being overly sensitive.
“It was lovely. Thank you. But the music—”
“You are mistaken, Hazel. I told you before, I don’t own a piano.”
His eyes blazed.
“Hazel, darling, you’re tired. The journey, our new home. I know you love music, but we don’t have a piano yet. I’m working on it, though.”
My hands froze in my skirts. I strained my ears again for the hymn but heard nothing. The house was as still as an empty church once more. If my husband said there was no piano, then I had to believe him. He knew his house far better than I.
I was so caught up in my daydream of playing that I imagined the entire thing. Mortification shook me. I was a fool, as usual. Lost in the world within my head and the Devil had made it his playground.
I forced a smile to my face, praying the guilt of my growing panic wasn’t etched too obviously on my face. “Yes, that must be it. I’m so sorry, I’m probably much more tired than I realize.”
Jacob studied me one final time, then smiled. “Come, let’s go to bed, darling. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
His hand pressed on the small of my back as he led me back down the hallway. Unexpected warmth spread from his touch and the memories of our night before pulsed through me. A part of me wickedly hungered for the chance again to pretend, to close my eyes and kiss my husband while I imagined Elijah.
“Oh, and Hazel,” he said as we walked slowly. “Don’t try that again. There’s nothing for you behind locked doors.”
I nodded, torn between the desire flaring awake and the meaning of his words. There was a door then … And there was no music, he’d said, but I could’ve sworn I heard the final chords:
All is well! All is well!