JACK'S ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

Rose sat in front of the piano on the wooden bench, her fingers placed lightly on the ivory keys. Since the first time she had seen the piano sitting down in the orchestra pit at the foot of the stage three months ago, she had wanted to play it, but this had been her first chance. There had always been someone in the auditorium or she had been too busy to sit down and try to recall twelve years' worth of lessons. And now she had her chance.

But the notes would not come.

Each time she pressed the keys down in what she thought would be the beginning chord of a song, a terrible sound would erupt from the grand piano that sat before her. Tears were at the brim of her eyes. It annoyed her so that she could not recall the one skill society living had forced her to learn that she had actually liked. Loved.

She remembered from the time she was five, having her first lessons, to the very last lesson she'd had at the age of seventeen, she had always been filled with excitement whenever it was time for her teacher to give her that day's lesson. She had excelled in it. She had sped through the books and sheets of music her teacher had assigned her. It was the one thing that had made a smile cross her mother's face. Perhaps that was why Rose had tried so hard to do this right. At the concerts she put on at their parties, she could always glance to her mother and see a satisfied smile on the woman's lips.

Rose didn't realize it, but she was playing now.

Rose was lost in her memories. She didn't become aware that it had been her playing until, at the sound of someone playing Amazing Grace, she lifted her hands and the music abruptly stopped. She looked about, stunned at first, then tentatively placed her fingers back on the piano keys and began to play.

The songs spilled out of her. Her fingers flew over the keys in all the waltzes, chorales, and hymns she had been taught and memorized. And then she lifted her fingers the piano and stared down at the keys once more. She forced herself to remember the notes. As she once again gently laid her fingers on the keys, she began Nearer My God To Thee.

*****

Susan was behind the stage curtain, making sure everything was in place for that night's show. She had heard the discordant attempts of someone at the piano, but hadn't thought anything of it, as it was normal to hear. Quite often, the janitors would press down some keys while trying to clean the piano, or one of the actress's children would slam down on the keys, making their own "music." After almost twenty minutes of silence, Susan thought that whoever it had been had left. But then, the strains of Amazing Grace began to echo throughout the auditorium, then a pause and then a flow of several different songs after that. Then another pause, and the person played the first verse of Nearer My God To Thee. The music had tapered away as they began the second verse, and Susan could hear a soft sobbing. She stepped out from behind the curtains and saw Rose, her head in her hands, sitting in front of the piano.

"Rose? What's wrong?" Susan asked, sitting on the bench beside her friend and draping her arm over her shoulder. Rose looked up at her, her eyes red from crying.

"Nothing...nothing's wrong," Rose choked out. She pulled away from Susan and stood, lighting pressing her hand against her stomach. "Just a little tired. I think—I think I'm gonna just go...go to bed."

"Rose—"

"I'll be back down before the show starts. I promise." She turned and began to rush up the aisle, leaving the piano and her friend behind, and the strains of that bitter song still echoing through her mind.

And she could still hear the song as she threw herself down on the soft bed and buried her head in her pillow. Rose refused to let herself weep, weep the way she wanted to. She forced herself to breathe deeply, trying to calm herself. She didn't notice the time flying by as she lay on her bed, but when she heard Susan knocking on her door, she knew hours had passed.

"Rose, are you all right?" came her friend's concerned voice. Rose sat up and then stood. She straightened her dress and ran her fingers through her hair. Rose opened the door.

"I'm fine." She forced a smile. "Is Gretchen in her room?"

"You don't have to work tonight, Rose. I can fill in for you."

"No. That's fine. I'm fine, Susan."

"Rose—"

"Really, Susan, I'm fine." Rose smiled, this time a sincere smile.

"All right, Rose. Come on, then. Let's go get Gretchen ready," Susan said, swinging a friendly arm over her best friend's shoulder.

And they made their way down to the actress's dressing room to prepare her for that night's show.

Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stories