The Piano Teacher

Chapter 15

Nels Oleson was having a hard time not thinking about Charlotte Richmond.

A week had passed since the evening of the harvest festival. It didn't feel like so much time had elapsed, though. Every morning when he woke up, it seemed that particular evening had just occurred the day before.

He supposed he was very much in his own head these days. He droned along, carrying boxes of supplies, stocking the shelves, reading the paper when he had time, but he wasn't truly present for any of it. Even today, a breezy autumn day with clouds passing repeatedly over the sun, he leaned with his elbows resting on the counter of the mercantile, staring blankly at the empty store, drumming his fingers on the wood.

The song that Charlotte played at the festival was still stuck in his mind.

It was arguably the most impressive and most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He knew she could play well, of course, from what he heard when he caught her in the schoolhouse long ago. But this was different.

This was an entire piece from beginning to end, something with so much heart he had almost been moved to tears. She was more incredible than he realized. Having her teach his spoiled children seemed to be a mistake. He felt like he should urge her to go back to the city and do what she did best, sharing such fantastic music with people.

But he never did such a thing because she seemed content here, at least for now.

And he didn't really want her to go.

He had grown accustomed to her coming to the house twice a week, though he rarely saw her during those times since he was busy in the mercantile.

Still, he could hear her playing the piano through the wall, playing simple tunes to teach the children. Somehow, she even made children's songs sound wonderful.

Nels kept thinking about how that young woman looked at the festival. She was comely, more so than usual, perhaps because she had more color in her face.

When he danced with her, he thought it was funny that she could barely look at him. He figured she should be more confident as she surely knew how talented she was. But then, that confidence only came out when she sat at the piano.

He had just finished talking to Samuel and was getting ready to leave to make amends with his angry wife when the music began. It became impossible to leave at that moment. Impossible.

For many years, the only music he heard was the poor renditions from his wife or daughter on the piano, most of which only functioned to annoy him while he was reading. But this was something new. This was real music. Even more than just music.

Charlotte Richmond seemed to spill her heart out onto that piano. He remembered watching her from the far side of the room, her hands become a blur against the keyboard, her expression melt in a sort of painful ecstasy. Strands of her hair came loose as she played, but she didn't notice or didn't care, never looking at the people around her, as if she was inside a snow globe and the rest of the world was irrelevant.

He never expected her to play that night, as shy as she was. Yet, she became someone else when she played, someone with vigor and tenacity and anguish in equal parts. And he recalled, as soon as she finished the song, how pale she was, and gaunt, as if a part of her had left.

But none of this could compare to the glance they gave each other before she left the restaurant.

Her face was shiny with tears, eyelids pink and glistening as if they were made of jewels. The brief look she gave him was filled with a thousand meanings: surprise, misery, fear, bashfulness, vulnerability.