Page 26 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“What’s the last piece you worked on?” I motioned to the piano. It was covered in dust and had sheet music piled everywhere.

“The movers brought that here five years ago. I haven’t touch it since it was set up.” She quickly busied herself before crossing her arms over her chest. She was going into defense mode and because we were in her home, she had nowhere to run. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She held her hand up before I could say anything.

“Fine. Come here.” I motioned to the slider. “You have such a pretty view here.” She stepped up beside me and gazed out the glass.

“I’m usually not here at night. I’m always working. I’ve never really appreciated it. I go to the roof to stargaze.” She shrugged.

“I think you miss a lot of things because you’re too busy trying to block your feelings.” I turned to face her. I knew I was treading on thin ice. I couldn’t help it. Tomorrow was the last day I’d be here, then we’d go back to communicating through texts and phone calls. I was afraid that once I wasn’t here topush, she’d go back to hiding who she was and ignoring her destiny. “I saw the way you watched them tonight.” I cupped her cheek. “You can’t deny that it made you feel alive inside. That spark that you’ve been trying to put out started to glow, and now you’re afraid to love it again.” I leaned in and brushed my lips over hers. What started out as a soft sensual kiss turned deep and passionate quickly. Her hands came up and fisted my shirt as she tilted her head. A ding sounded, causing her to pull away quickly.

“The coffee’s finished.” She started to step back, but I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her flush with me.

“I don’t really want coffee right now. Do you?” She nibbled her lip before shaking her head. “Good.” I pressed my lips to hers again before rotating us so her back was pressed against the glass. Her hips rocked against me as she went to work unbuttoning my shirt. “Are you sure about this?” I pulled back, panting to catch my breath. Her doe eyes glanced up at me, a world of emotion swirling in them.

“There are a lot of things I’m unsure of. You’re not one of them.” She grabbed my head with both hands, forcing my neck to bend so she could connect our mouths again. The kiss raged on, heating up to epic proportions as both our hands explored each other’s bodies. The coffee was long forgotten as we fumbled our way into her bedroom, undressing each other as we went. I gave her one last chance as we tumbled to the bed to stop what was happening but she pulled my body closer to hers, promising this was what she wanted. As we made love that night, I knew this changed everything. I had to find a way to be with her. I couldn’t live so far away and leave her here. I needed her as much as she needed me.

When we finished, I tucked the covers around us, and as she cuddled against me, she drifted off to sleep. I laid there forhours just thinking about how I could make this work. I needed her to see that New York was where she should be. She’d have a fresh start and be able to heal from some of the pain. There was nothing keeping her here.

I slipped from her arms and made my way into the living room. I grabbed my boxers, put them back on, and went to the long-forgotten coffee pot. I pour a cup of cold java and placed it in the microwave to warm. After searching for cream and sugar, I made my way into the living room. Curiosity got the better of me, and I sat on the piano bench. There was music everywhere. I straightened the pages of sheet music before dusting the keys off. There was a small book off to the side with children’s handwriting on it. I picked it up and opened it to find a list of composer’s names. At the top of the page, it said “when I’m big I will play” then all the greats were named. Vivaldi, Tchaikovsky, Mozart, Pachelbel, Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, and so many I didn’t know.

I carefully closed it and placed it back where it was. It was obvious that it meant a lot to her. After straightening everything, I held my hands over the keys and softly played a chord. I hadn’t played the piano in years. It wasn’t my principal instrument, but I did know a few simple songs. I let my fingers move over the keys, and closed my eyes as it slowly came back to me. I guess I started to get overzealous, because the notes got louder. I didn’t notice her standing there at first.

“What are you doing?” It sounded like an injured animal.

“I’m sorry.” I yanked my hands off the keys.

“My dad was the last one to touch those keys. I haven’t played because he was the last one to touch it. What are you doing?” She started to cry as she rushed over in only an oversized tee. She frantically looked around, for what I’m not sure.

“Penny.” I grabbed her hands. “Look at me.” Her lip quivered as tears leaked from her eyes. “Your dad left you this so you’d play it. He’d want beautiful music to come from it.” I waited for my words to sink in. “Do you hear me?”

“I’m sorry.” She swiped at the tears before wrapping her hands around her middle. I slid over and patted the bench, encouraging her to sit beside me.

“Is this yours?” I showed her the notebook. I already knew the answer to my question, but I still wanted to hear the story.

“Yeah,” She nodded as her fingers ran over the red cover. “Dad was always making notes on his music. When I was six and starting to play, I decided that I’d make my own notes. I had a red crayon, because red was my favorite, and I made all sorts of letters and shapes on a piece of his music. I knew he was mad, but instead of getting upset with me, he gave me that notebook. He told me to make my notes in there. I started that list when I was six and added to it every year until I left for Berklee. If you flip to the next page, you’ll see notes that are more in line with what I did to Dad’s music.” She held the book with reverence before handing it to me. I flipped the page, and sure enough there were lines of red triangles and squares.

“Your dad was special.” I set the book aside. “Don’t you think he’d want you to play this?” I motioned to the keys. I slid down farther and started tapping away at the base line of “Heart and Soul”. I learned this in beginner piano and I hoped she’d humor me. “Come on.” I nudged her with my elbow. I added my other hand and gave the baseline depth. Her lips started to curve before she brought her hands to the keys and came in with the melody. I watched a switch flip in her. She sat straighter the longer we played and began to add flourishes. After a few minutes, I dropped out and moved farther over, giving her free reign of the piano. A long dormant part of her came to life that night. This was more than our day in the park. This moment onher dad’s baby grand was her way of healing, moving on, and freeing herself from all grief she’s been facing. She finally let that part of herself live again.

When she finished, she turned and smiled at me. “Thanks.” She yawned, and I pulled her against my chest.

“Let’s get some sleep.” I murmured against her hair. I stood, helped her up, and we went back to her bed. After climbing in, I tucked the covers around us, and we drifted off to sleep.

This was the tipping point, the place I’d been trying to get to all week. This was the night that changed our future.

Chapter 17

Bryson

We were walking hand-in-hand through Central Park. She was smiling at me, and the breeze was blowing, ruffling our hair. It was early fall, and the leaves were just starting to change. It was my favorite time to be outside. There were kids laughing nearby as they chased each other, dodging other walkers and a few joggers. Penny was smiling at their antics. “Let’s go over there.” She pointed to a spot where we could hear the faint sound of music. She began pulling me faster and faster, and the closer we got to our destination, the louder the music became. “I love this song.” She leaned against me.

It was then that my eyes fluttered open against the sunlight. I was tangled in the sheets of her bed. There was music playing though. I laid there as the melody floated in the air. It was soft at first, but then became more pronounced, demanding even. As I listened longer, I realized I knew this piece. This was her senior solo. There was pause as the notes kinda stumbled over one another, then the banging of a fist against the keys before the tune started over.

I tossed the covers back, and stood, searching for my shirt. I slipped it on, and then my pants before wandering into the living room. The sight before me almost took my breath away. There she was in nothing but a t-shirt with her hair twisted up on her head. There was a pencil gripped between her lips, and she was concentrating on the keys in front of her. I moved silently. I didn’t want to disrupt what was happening here. This was huge for her. When she stumbled over the same part again, she pounded against the keys and yanked the pencil from her mouth. “Grrr. I hate this part.” She sat back and her shoulders dropped. “I suck.” She looked over at me.

“You are far from what I would call sucking.” I smiled as I moved closer. I rubbed her shoulders. “How long have you been at this?

“For about an hour.” She sighed as her head lolled. “That feels good.”

“And how long did it take you to learn this the first time?” I continued rubbing her shoulders.

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