“Can you play this one?” the clerk asked. She smoothed out the packet of music she’d had in her purse and put it on the music stand.
Mia flipped through the creased pages and saw that it was a complicated looking accompaniment to an Italian aria. After scanning through the music once, she nodded.
“Sure, I think so.”
“All right—let ‘er rip,” the clerk encouraged her.
Mia started playing and, after a moment, she was surprised when the clerk began singing the aria.
“Il mio bel foco, o lan-ta no vici-no,” she sang in a strong, gorgeous alto. Mia almost stopped playing, entranced by the clerk’s clear-as-a-bell voice, but she somehow had the presence of mind to keep going. The two of them continued right up to the conclusion of the piece, which ended on a high, longing note that tore at Mia’s music-loving soul. As it died away, she looked at the other woman in wonder.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered.
“Only half as beautiful as your playing,” the clerk said, smiling. “Listen, do you have a job?”
“A job?” Mia shook her head. She hadn’t even thought about getting a job. According to Hank, her job was “keeping the house up” and someday soon, having his babies. Since she’d already failed at the second task once, Mia did her best to manage the first one to his liking. But a job outside the house? No, she hadn’t even considered it.
“Because I’m the choir teacher at the local high school,” the clerk told her. “I’m Kaylee, by the way—Kaylee Winston. I’ve lived here in Crate’s Corners all my life but I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new? Oh, and what’s your name? And the reason I asked if you had a job is that I’ve been looking for an accompanist for my class ever since old Mrs. Murphy retired and went to live with her granddaughter in Newhaven. I never thought I’d find anyone who could tackle those arias, but you played that perfectly!”
This deluge of information was a bit overwhelming for the shy, quiet Mia, but it was obviously kindly meant and she liked Kaylee at once.
“I’m Mia…Mia Rogan,” she said, smiling shyly. “And yes, I’m new in town and no, I don’t have a job. But I’m not sure what my husband would say about it, though,” she added carefully.
Kaylee waved this concern aside like someone swatting a pesky fly.
“Now how could he have a problem with you using that amazing talent of yours, Mia? Do you mind me asking, where did you learn to play like that?”
“Oh, I’ve been practicing since I was three,” Mia said seriously. “My Granny and my Mama are pianists, too—they both played for the church choir and the service on Sunday mornings. Mama taught me as much as she could and then she got me private lessons.”
The thought of how her mother had taken extra students and worked double shifts at the diner so she could afford Mia’s lessons, still gave her a little stab of shame.
She worked so hard and look how you repaid her! whispered a little voice in her head. You lost your only chance and now you’re nothing but a housewife.
“Well, playing like that, I’m not surprised that talent runs in your family,” Kaylee said, pulling her out of her guilty thoughts. “What does surprise me is that you wound up in this one-horse town instead of studying somewhere like New York.”
“I…I had a scholarship to Julliard,” Mia admitted in a low voice.
“You did? Of course you did!” Kaylee exclaimed. “How amazing! How was it there?”
“I…I don’t know.” Mia dropped her head in shame. “I, er, had to turn it down. I got pregnant in my senior year of high school and dropped out before I could graduate.”
That had been Hank’s idea, of course. Having sex without a condom had also been his idea. It had been Mia’s first time and it had hurt a lot. She hadn’t wanted to continue—well, to be honest, she hadn’t wanted to in the first place—but Hank had been insistent.
“It’ll feel real good in just a minute, peanut,” he kept saying. That was his pet name for her—“peanut”—because she was so small and plain with her brown hair and hazel eyes. “You’re gonna love it in just a minute. God, you’re tight!”
He’d grunted and huffed, shoving himself into her as Mia lay in the backseat of his truck and tried not to cry at the overwhelming pain. It had been prom night and he’d been mostly drunk—too drunk to listen when she said she didn’t want to, when she said she wasn’t ready, when the tears ran down her face and she begged him to stop…
But it’s not like this nice woman needs to know any of that. She didn’t need to know why you lost your scholarship, either! whispered a scandalized voice in Mia’s head. Why in the world did you tell her that?