"There's an aura about instruments that I love."
"How many do you play?"
"Just the piano proficiently. I could probably pick out maybe three chords on the guitar."
"Enough to play most Christian songs that are sung in church," he said with a grin.
She realized he was laughing a bit. "Yeah. That's why they make them that way, right? So anyone, including me, could play."
"I think so. There are good messages in some of them though."
That seemed to be a concession. She got the distinct feeling that he didn't think much of some of the music that was in churches at present.
"Do I detect a little bit of music snobbery?" she asked.
"Maybe?"
He didn't say anything more, but from the twinkle in his eye and the self-deprecating smile, she imagined that he knew he was a bit of a snob. She thought it funny that he didn't apologize for it, though.
"I give lessons back here. You probably haven't seen that."
"I've noticed kids coming in and out. Most of them carrying instruments. Do you rent them?"
"Yeah. I have an arrangement with the school. Although with the music teacher gone, a lot of the kids you saw coming in and out with instruments were probably kids that were coming to return them, since there's no point in them paying rent when they're not taking lessons."
"The music teacher at the school?" she asked, although she already knew it. She assumed they would fill the position immediately.
"Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. It's too bad, because people were looking forward to the Christmas concert, and the kids, especially. They put so much work into learning to play the instrument, and then it's a real letdown to not have any place to show off what they've learned."
"Yeah. That's too bad. It's too bad that someone couldn't at least take over and help the kids."
"I agree."
"How many instruments do you play?" she asked, thinking that teaching the kids was something that he could do, too.
They had stopped beside the piano, and she touched the side of it, feeling a slight unease, but not the full-blown panic that she had grown used to. For some reason, Noah's piano didn't inspire the fear that her Aunt Vivian's did.
"I play two proficiently. Piano and violin. Obviously, I'm not as good at the piano as you are."
"Most people aren't," she said absentmindedly, pushing down on one key.
The sound was perfect, but it also jarred and scared her. She yanked her hand back.
Then she was embarrassed at her reaction. She took a breath, blew it out, and then lifted her gaze to meet Noah's. He was studying her with hooded eyes.
"Something happened to you."
It was a statement. Not a question, and she looked away. Maybe it was his comforting presence, maybe the feeling of being in the building full of instruments and music and the joy and laughter and uplifting feelings that evoked for her, or maybe it was just the man and how he felt like safety.
"You don't have to say anything." But he left the comment open-ended, like she could if she wanted to.
"I don't know what happened at my last concert. I was in the dressing room, thinking about going out, and all of a sudden, I thought I was going to die. It ended up being a panic attack, terrible, terrible stage fright, which I've never experienced before. I mean, I've performed countless times, all over the world, and I've never had anything like that happen to me before. But it's been debilitating. Even looking at a piano is enough to make my stomach twist and my throat tighten and I feel like I can't breathe."
"You just touched one. Played a note."
"I know. It... isn't as bad here." She almost said "with you," but she wasn't sure if that was it or not.
"I wonder why," he said.
