Mrs. Livingston smiled her approval.
Jessie’s hands shook.
What am I thinking, doing this with Sunny?
She glanced at her partner. Sunny looked calm. Probably because she didn’t know what was really going on.
Sunny nodded at Jessie and they began. Concentrating on the score, listening to Sunny’s part and counting in her head took Jessie to another place. Somewhere in her mind she could hear their music. It sounded really good. Once, she lost her focus and stumbled but Sunny covered for her and gave her time to find her place again. They ended together and stood and bowed.
Mrs. Livingston and Bryce clapped their approval. Jessie glanced at Bryce who beamed with pride.
Bryce and Sunny sat quietly on the sofa while Jessie finished her lesson and went over the material for next week. At three o’clock, the doorbell rang.
That’s Daddy. I guess our experiment isn’t going to happen today. I’m kind of relieved.
They gathered their books, music and coats then started down the dark hall behind Mrs. Livingston.
Sunny chattered with happiness. “Wasn’t that fun? You didn’t even seem nervous, Jessie.”
Jessie, Sunny and Bryce came to the dreary living room. In the gloom, Rita sat in a chair by the window. All at once, sheet music fell all over the floor and onto Jessie’s feet. She looked at Sunny. The child’s face was stark white. Sunny lifted her arm and pointed at Rita. In a shaky voice she said, “That’s who hit me!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A month after the duet performance, Jessie was raking leaves when she spotted Tina pushing the twins in a double stroller. She waved. “Hey! Get to work!”
“You think this isn’t
work
?” She trudged up the sidewalk. The twins stared up at Bryce and his dad—high on ladders, cleaning out the rain gutters under the eaves.
Farley, the Old English Sheepdog, ran across the lawn with Phillip and took a flying leap into the neat pyramid of leaves Jessie had piled together.
“FARLEY! PHILLIP!” Jessie shouted. Phillip laughed and ran away, the dog at his heels.
Mrs. Livingston, wrapped in a thick blue sweater, served hot chocolate from a tea table on the little front porch of her new Victorian house. She watched her helpers and laughed at Phillip and the dog.
Red and gold leaves fluttered through the crisp October air and covered up the newly raked lawn.
What is the point here?
Jessie looked up at Bryce at the same moment he looked down at her. He smiled his special smile and suddenly it didn’t matter about the leaves. She smiled back.
Sunny was on the porch with Mrs. Livingston arranging cookies on a plate to hand out to the workers. She ran down the steps and went looking for Phillip and found him hiding behind a tree ready to jump out at Jessie. Miss Tyler raked leaves near the back fence.
Jessie’s dad and mom put the finishing touches of paint on the red shutters of the little white frame house with the steep pitched roof.
“Jessie,” called Mrs. Livingston. “Would you like to see my studio?”
Thank goodness. I get a break!
“Be right there,” she called. She propped her rake against a tall oak and ran up the steps.
Inside, the teacher showed her around. From the hallway, Jessie peeked into a cozy sitting room with two easy chairs and a soft-looking sofa placed in front of a gas fireplace. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall and huge windows looked onto the side yard where everyone was working.
The next room was a dining room and then a sweet little kitchen with a row of windows that let in the autumn light. Behind the kitchen were two small bedrooms carpeted in soft green with white iron beds and large windows facing the backyard.
The studio was across the hall. It was a big room for this little house. There was the piano and there were the shelves of sheet music and books. Best of all, a big picture window—like the one on the farm—looked out onto rolling countryside and blue sky that went on forever.
“I could hardly believe it when the realtor called me and said he had some people who wanted to buy the farm and turn it into a bed and breakfast,” said the teacher.
“I heard,” said Jessie. “I was so happy. And here you are in your pretty house and only a block from downtown.”
“Yes, I love it!”
“How is your daughter?” asked Jessie.
“Well, Rita is in a group home near Omaha where she is getting better. Someday she will be able to visit me. But when I talk to her on the phone, she seems happier than she has been in years. I think she’s relieved to be there.” Mrs. Livingston sat on a blue velvet chair by the window. “She was drinking that day—the day she hit Sunny. She didn’t do it on purpose. She lost control and knocked her down. It was a terrible thing.” Tears filled her eyes. “I had my suspicions but I really didn’t know until that day you and Sunny played the duet.”
Jessie put her arms around her teacher. “Well now we’re practically neighbors. We’ll help you out, until Rita comes home.”
THE END