The morning meal passed in a flurry of pancakes, eggs, and fried ham steaks. All the noise and laughter increased the stabbing pain in her head. It took every ounce of her self-control to not let it show. She scraped plates into the bucket they took out to the animals. She rubbed her forehead.
Relax. Breathe. So much left to do.
But the throbbing didn’t lessen.
These darned headaches seemed to come more often. Maybe she needed to see Dr. Cameron. Find out if something was really wron––
“Whit ... another one?” Havyn placed a hand on her shoulder.
With a sigh, she glanced at her sister. The child within her was beginning to show. “Yes. But don’t worry. You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll make it through. I always do.”
Hands on her hips, Havyn quirked an eyebrow at her. “You might be the oldest and think you can still boss us around, but I most certainlywillworry. When one of us is hurting, the rest of us hurt.” She grabbed the wooden spoon out of Whitney’s hand and tilted her head. “Let me finish this and take it out. Everyone else has already gone out for the rest of the chores, so you go ahead and spend some time with Granddad. I think your idea of playing music for him will help you both. Especially with the house being quiet for a bit.”
Since when did Havyn give her orders? Still, her fingers itched to play some relaxing music on the piano. She’d give in.
This time.
“All right. But don’t think you’ve won.”
Havyn’s wide eyes blinked at her. “Oh, never.”
“I can hear the sarcasm, sis.”
“Good.” Havyn gave her a little pat. “Now go on.”
Whitney removed her apron and hung it up before heading into their large parlor. The piano gleamed in the lantern’s light. The dark wood drew her. Mama had them polish it with oil and beeswax twice a week without fail. Running her hand over the smooth surface, she allowed the memories to assail her senses. All those times they’d gathered around it, the times Mama taught them at it, the times she accompanied them as they sang . . .
Oh, to see Mama at the piano again.
Stop it. Sadness wouldn’t help. Not her or Grandad. Whitney went to the cabinet in the corner to pull out the music to Chopin’sFantaisie-Impromptu.
Mama’s favorite piece.
How Whitney had loved to sit on the floor and watch mother’s fingers fly over the keys as she played this piece. For years, Mama had wanted Whitney to learn it. But the technical piece intimidated her when she was younger ... and there was something special about watching someone else play such a phenomenal creation.
Whitney set the music on the grand piano and opened the lid. She should have learned it at Mama’s side––
No. Stay positive.
She could work on it for Granddad. It was his favorite too. And maybe, just maybe, they could comfort each other with the music. Be reminded of the beauty his daughter, her mother, gave them.
With a few deep breaths, Whitney examined the opening of the piece. The part that amazed her and daunted her the most. The triplet pattern in the left hand was contrary tothe rhythm of the sixteenth notes in the right. Mama always called it three against four. Told her that the way to conquer it was for each hand to learn how to play independent of the other.
“You have to master it hands separately, my dear.”Mama’s voice was so clear in her mind. Almost as if Whitney could conjure her up beside her.“Then let them come together. They will know the rhythm. They will know what to do. But only after you’ve practiced it hundreds of timeshands separately.”
The emphasis on the words brought a smile to Whitney’s face. How many times had her mother drilled into them,“Count. One and two and three and four and ... watch those scales, tuck that thumb ... hands together, hands separately!”
Whitney sat and practiced the first couple of pages. Hands separately, she played each part and paid careful attention to the fingering and rhythm. She knew what the song sounded like, so it was easy to imagine how it would be all together. But this would take a good deal of practice.
The clock chimed and she glanced up. Maybe she should just bring Granddad in here and tell him she would learn the piece for him. He loved to hear her and her sisters practice, no matter how many mistakes they made.
She got up from the piano bench and headed down the hall to Granddad’s room. The past year had been hard on the whole family, but they’d come through it. Together. Music was one way they accomplished that.
She opened the door to their grandfather’s bedroom. Light spilled in from the eastern window and blinded her for a brief moment. A sharp pain started at her right temple and shot across to the left. Blast these headaches!
She covered her eyes for a second and hoped Granddadhadn’t noticed. He was a worrier now that he was laid up all the time. She moved her hand and then squinted into the room. “Granddad? How about we take a little break from the exercises and I’ll play some musi—”
She gasped.
