Page 193 of Share with Me

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Teaching Bastienon the piano to kindergarteners was super easy for Ivan. While he was a classically trained violinist, he’d spent some of his time maintaining his piano skills for music composition, especially the accompaniment.

If he kept his left wrist steady and only moved his fingers, he could handle those big notes in the primer music book. To show the students how the notes were played on the piano, he used his right hand, even if the notes were on the bass clef.

It had been a month since he’d been here trying to sort out his life and providing relief for his overworked sister. Willow had classes at Emory at various hours of the day, and when she wasn’t on campus, she was here in her house teaching piano to little kids. Most of them were children of faculty members or people in the area. The lessons were only twenty to thirty minutes long and he didn’t have to sub too many times each week. Besides, Willow handled the more advanced students, those who required one-hour lessons.

Not like the four or five hours of violins he had to hear every day in his own strings studio back on St. Simon’s.

Back on St. Simon’s.

Ivan was getting homesick, and he knew it. He missed Brinley something fierce and shouldn’t have dumped her. He cringed.

Dumpwas such a strong word. He saw it now. He couldn’t handle his own mess and he’d taken it out on Brinley.

Would she be able to forgive me?

She may never take me back.

Ivan was dusting the piano and closing the cover on that old Kimball when the front door opened and slammed shut.

Willow dropped her tote bag on the floor and slid down onto the futon. “I pray to God I graduate in May. I don’t want to stay another semester.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Notbadbad. Just tired, you know.”

“I’m sorry I’m no help.” Ivan walked toward Willow. “Your dreams of our resurrecting Jade Strings might be over, at least with me in it.”

“I’m not sure if I want to travel all over the world anymore. I like teaching piano, and I might do that for a while.”

“I like teaching your beginner students. They’re cutie pies.”

“Aren’t they? Those little fingers trying to reach the keyboard. I worry sometimes that they’ll fall off the bench.”

“I like it that you let their moms sit in so they know what their kids need to practice all week. My students’ moms ran for dear life as soon as the lessons started.”

“You’re making it sound worse than it really is.”

Ivan sat on the piano bench. “Piano is easier for anyone to pick up, I think. You should hear my new violin students. It takes them a while to get it right. Maybe as long as a year or two—some take three and never get it at all—before they stop sounding like screeching banshees.”

Willow rubbed her temples. “I can’t handle too much of that sort of cacophony.”

“Of course, they’ll all even out and then it’s on to whether they can really play the instrument, whichever it may be. I’ve heard some difficult piano pieces and also some difficult violin pieces.”

“Does your Brinley play any instruments?”

My Brinley?Ivan kept a poker face. “She plays the piano.”

“Really? I’d like to meet her someday if you two ever get back together again. Maybe she and I can play a duet.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Oh, you’re such a pessimist.” Willow got off the futon.

Ivan thought his sister was always on the go, never sitting down too long in one place.

“You can thank me now, Ivan.”

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