Yellow Rose Bride by Lori Copeland

Author:Lori Copeland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2006-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Cammy isn’t herself today,” Franz excused, offering a reassuring smile. “If it makes her feel any better, I’ll clean the cellar as many times as it takes to set her mind at ease. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“Have you heard that Beth has chosen rose for the bridesmaids’ dresses?” Carolyn asked.

“No, I hadn’t heard that.” Vonnie wished the floor would open up and swallow her…and her mother.

“I thought surely she’d insist you make her dress,” Carolyn blurted, then looked as if she wished she’d bitten her tongue. “I mean—”

“She did.” A knot formed in Vonnie’s throat. “When she and Adam set a date we’ll talk further.”

“Oh, of course.” Carolyn nodded. “Of course no one knows what the date will be.”

“Oh, my,” Audrey crooned, eyeing the piano. “My lovely old piano—”

Audrey got up to run her hands over the fine wood lovingly, her eyes filled with sweet memories. “I never tire of seeing it.”

“It is a beauty,” the judge agreed. “And I must confess, it’s done nothing but gather dust these past few years. That girl of mine played it long enough to learn a song or two, and then got bored with the whole idea.”

Vonnie recalled Carolyn’s musical talent: heartbreaking!

“Daddy, you have to admit your nerves have calmed down once I stopped playing.” Carolyn laughed. Turning to Cammy, she giggled. “He said that piano practice was far too kind a word for what I was doing. He said it was more like premeditated slaughter of fine music when I sat down to play.”

Audrey laughed with the others at Carolyn’s self-deprecation, though they all knew it was true. The girl had absolutely no sense of rhythm. Her piano teacher, Vonnie remembered, had given up out of sheer frustration.

“I’d like to buy the piano back,” Franz offered quietly.

“I fear,” Clive said gently, “that the piano has become a part of us. I’m hoping our grandchildren will be more musically inclined, but Audrey is always welcome to play as often as she wants. We so enjoy her fine talent.”

Carolyn smiled. “I am perfectly dreadful at the keys.”

“Oh,” Audrey sighed. “We could never afford to buy it back anyway.”

“But you’ll play for us, won’t you?” the judge encouraged.

Audrey sat on the bench and lovingly opened the lid to expose the keys. Her fingers lightly touched the ivories, up and down, up and down. Glancing around, she smiled. “What would you like to hear?”

Carolyn turned to her father. “What was the song you always wanted me to play, but I absolutely could not do it? Instead, I’d have the teacher play it for me and you listened with such enjoyment. Oh, what was it?” Her brow furrowed. “It was one by Johann Strauss, right?”

With a smile, Audrey nodded, then her fingers flowed up and down the keys, and a hauntingly sweet melody filled the room and captured her audience with its irresistible beauty. The room’s occupants sat spellbound, breathless, as she bent over the keys, her frail body moving with the music’s emotion.

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