Dewey’s – By Anne Barwell #2
He'd always been careful not to voice that sentiment aloud to avoid being labeled crazy, but connecting with a piano often made the tuning easier.
“Pianos like this one have a history,” he said cautiously, watching Gerry carefully. “Perhaps…” Gerry raised one eyebrow, and Daniel changed tact. “Is there someone I could talk to about it… and Hal?”
“Pepère might talk to you. I’ll ask him. He never met Hal, but my great-grandfather knew him well. He hummed that tune like you did, which is why Pepère could play it.”
“But only once?” Daniel frowned. Surely, you’d want to play a piece like that more than once. “Was that the last time the piano was played?”
“A while ago, but mostly by a few folks here and there passing through like you.” Gerry cleared his throat. “I need to get back to work. Going to get busy in here soon. Do you still want to stay for a meal? If you want a coffee refill, it’s on the house, with you being new in town and all.”
“Thanks, and yes, please.” Daniel knew a change of conversation when he heard it. “I’ll pay you, refill my coffee, and then settle here in the corner.” He followed Gerry back to the counter.
“I’ll bring your meal over when it’s ready.” Gerry refilled Daniel’s coffee. “I’ll talk to Pepère this evening, but can’t promise anything. How long are you staying in Laverge?”
“Couple of days, depending on work. And thanks.” Daniel headed to the table closest to the piano and sipped his coffee. The bar door opened, and a group of men and women in their thirties rushed in, several holding umbrellas, which they shook out and deposited into the stand next to Daniel’s.
One of the women gave Daniel a curious look and then shifted her attention to the rest of their group. He mentally shrugged, happy to slip into the background mostly unnoticed.
The rain pattered on the roof, the even rhythm a comforting reminder of the coziness of the bar. Daniel curled his fingers around his coffee cup. He’d always loved the rain and, provided he was armed with a decent umbrella and coat, didn’t mind being out in it.
Distracted, he jumped when Gerry laid the bowl of gumbo and a basket of warm bread on the table.
“Enjoy.” Gerry smiled, but didn’t wait for a reply.
The bar was buzzing, several other groups taking over tables. The place felt alive, people connecting with each other, their laughter and good will giving a welcoming ambiance. Music played softly in the background, a jazz tune Daniel hadn’t heard before. He closed his eyes, soaking it all in.
One strand of melody tugged at his heartstrings, growing in intensity until the melancholy line joined the earlier earworm replaying in his mind. He hummed a few bars, putting down his coffee when he caught the now familiar scent of jasmine.
The music from the bar’s speakers faded, the piano taking over until that stopped, too.
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
Daniel looked up in surprise. A man sat on the piano stool, his expression curious.
His brown hair was styled longer on top, short on the sides, and parted in the middle.
Old-fashioned, but it suited him, as did the trousers and matching waistcoat, his white shirtsleeves rolled up to above his elbows.
The piano lid was open, despite Daniel being sure he’d closed it.
“I’m new in town.” Daniel shuffled his chair closer at the same time his new acquaintance swiveled on the stool so they were facing. “I didn’t see you come in, either.”
“Ah.” The man gestured behind him. A door stood to the side of the shelves. His dark eyes twinkled in amusement. “Most use the front door, but the back is closer to my lodgings, so I don’t get wet. It’s been quite the downpour today, don’t you think?”
“I was just thinking that.” Daniel grinned. Something about this man put him at ease, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes, too. “I’m only in town a few days. Have you lived here long?”
“Most of my life, although…” A shadow crossed his face. “I must admit, there’s a new melancholy here, with too many trying to move on from loss.” His gaze lingered on Daniel, and then turned away. “My apologies. You remind me of someone.”
“No need to apologize.” Daniel went out on a limb, unsure why. “I lost someone recently. Part of me still expects to see them again, although that isn’t going to happen. I’m Daniel, by the way.”
“Hal.” Hal smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Thank you. I lost a… friend, too.” He shrugged.
“He passed some years ago but I still have that expectation, too. It’s not easy to move forward, but music helps.
I hope my playing didn’t disturb you. I usually come here later in the day, but this one’s been more difficult than usual. ”
“Playing?” Daniel’s brain caught up with Hal’s introduction. His name wasn’t uncommon, although he was more used to hearing Harold shortened to Harry. “You’re not going to get much of a tune out of that old girl, unfortunately. She needs a good tune.”
Perhaps he should offer to do that for Gerry while he was town? It would be a nice way to say thank you for the warm welcome.
Hal frowned. “Tune?” He turned and played the beginning of a familiar tune. “I assure you, the piano doesn’t need it. See?”
Daniel startled. “But… that’s not possible.
I heard it played an hour ago, and it sounded terrible.
” He straightened in his seat. “I know a few things about pianos. They don’t just magically tune themselves.
It takes….” He trailed off at Hal’s amused expression, which was quickly followed by a chuckle.
“It appears it has just magically tuned itself.” Hal played another few bars to prove his point. “Do you play?”
“Yes, but these days I mostly tune them.” Daniel grimaced. “I’m not as good as I would like, and have resigned myself to making them sound their best for others.”
Hal glanced around and then relaxed, before patting the stool next to him. “Can you play for me? I’d love to hear music that I didn’t play myself.”
“Sure.” Daniel could manage that. “What about the tune you were just playing? Do you mind if I try the first few bars of it?”
He was surprised Gerry wasn’t over here, finding out who was playing the piece he’d claimed had only been performed by two others. How did Hal know it?
Hal shuffled over to give Daniel more room. “I’m impressed that you’re offering to play after only hearing it once.”
“More than once,” Daniel corrected. “I heard it earlier this evening and it’s one of those tunes that sticks, you know?”
“Thank you.” Hal ducked his head. “I called it Caeruleum for the… friend I lost.” Again, that strange hesitation before ‘friend.’ “I hope he would have liked it. We met over our shared love of music.”
“Music is meant to be shared.” Daniel began to play, but the notes didn’t sound like when Hal had coaxed the beautiful sound from the instrument, which had reverted to being terribly out of tune. “Wait a minute. You named the piece? But….”
He turned to ask Hal what he’d meant, but he was gone.
Daniel stood, ready to follow him. Something weird was going on, and he needed to know more. But when he looked for the door, there wasn’t one, only a wall that looked like it had been there for decades.
Daniel’s phone rang as he climbed the stairs to his room, but he waited until he was inside before answering. His mood had deteriorated after Hal’s disappearance, and he hadn’t attempted any further conversation over his meal, instead pulling his book from his bag and pretending to read.
Not that the story kept his attention, either.
No amount of wishful thinking had summoned the door back into reality. Hal hadn’t passed him, and would have had to in order to leave.
Was Hal a ghost? Daniel flopped on the bed and glanced at his phone to check the caller ID. He scowled. His sister wouldn’t give up until she’d talked to him, so he might as well get the conversation over with.
“Hey,” he said, attempting to inject some lightless into his tone.
“What’s happened?” As usual, Serena saw straight through his bullshit and called him on it immediately.
“Hi to you too.” Daniel kicked off his shoes, and shuffled up the bed. “Nothing’s happened. Long drive, and I’m tired.”
“Uh huh.” Serena was silent for a moment, which was never a good sign. “I worry, that’s all. I hoped that getting out of LA for a while would help, but… I miss who you used to be, you know?”
“Yeah.” Daniel sighed. “I know.” So did he.
“I… I like this town. The people are friendly, and it’s got a good vibe.
I have a few jobs lined up, but I’m considering staying longer.
” No way he was leaving until he had some answers about Hal.
He’d ask around, and do some research and, at the very least, dismiss his suspicion that he’d met someone from another time, because that was crazy, right?
He perched his phone on the pillow and retrieved his laptop, quickly connecting to the internet, and typing ‘Hal Lebrun’ into the search engine.
“You’ve never wanted to stay longer before.” Serena sounded pleased, yet curious. “You’ve been….”
“Running?” Daniel finished the sentence for her, not having wanted to admit it before. “Yeah, you’re right. I have been.”
“Now I know something’s up.” Serena chuckled, but the sound was a shadow of how their banter used to be. “My brother admitting to me I’m right? Should I stage some kind of intervention, or be worried you’ve been replaced by a pod person?”
“Ha ha.” Daniel frowned. The only hits were too modern.
Lebrun was a common name here in Louisiana.
He added ‘Laverge’ to his search. “Honestly, I’m fine, perhaps more than I’ve been for a while.
” He gave up, closed his laptop, and yawned.
“The local bar has an old piano with a history. I’m going to ask around and see if I can find out more about it. ”
“Can I help?” Serena was a librarian, and a damn good one. Give her a research problem, and no stone would be left unturned.