Page 17 of Wisteria Winds
“I get that. For me, it’s taking care of people. Sometimes a simple act of care communicates more than anything else I could say.”
Danielle accepted the cup of tea that Clara offered. Clara loved to use her mother’s teacups. She’d broken several over the years, but she still had three that she cherished, almost as much as anything else she owned. They were white bone china, very delicate, with pink roses on them.
“How did you find yesterday’s wedding planning session? I hope my mother wasn’t too overwhelming.”
Clara laughed. “You know, it was very entertaining. Your mother is, let’s say, formidable, but in a very impressive way. And she clearly loves you.”
“She does,” Danielle said. “Although we often have very different ideas about what’s best for me. I was actually surprised to see her so agreeable about the gazebo.”
“I think she just appreciated being included,” Clara said, sitting down across from Danielle at the small kitchen table, “and having her expertise valued. You know, sometimes as we get older, we start to feel irrelevant. I’m sure your mother doesn’t struggle with that, at least not right now. She’s still in the working world and very well thought of. But sometimes, just having other people take your opinion into consideration is all an older person wants. Sometimes we feel like our wisdom means nothing, and that people don’t want to hear from us anymore.”
“I hope you don’t feel that way here,” Danielle said. “We’re all one big family, although we don’t always get along. But I know your input here is already very valuable to everyone who’s met you.”
“Thank you,” Clara said.
“And you’re probably right about my mom. I had been so focused on asserting my independence with her that I might have excluded her unnecessarily.”
They sat for a moment, sipping their tea without any words.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Clara said finally, “about the music for your wedding. If you’d like, I could play the piano at the ceremony. If you don’t want piano, I totally understand. But I could help coordinate the other musicians as well.”
Danielle’s face lit up. “Really? Clara, that would be wonderful. I would be so honored.”
“Oh, it would give me a purpose,” Clara said. “You know, something to focus on besides all the grief. To be honest, after yesterday, I’m feeling a little more connected to things, to people.”
“Well, I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve found the island has a way of healing people. Not by making pain go away or erasing memories, but by surrounding you with other people who’ve been through it and understand it. And they help you carry it.”
“You know, Robert would have loved it here,” she said softly. “He always said music was about connection. The connection between notes, between musicians, between the performer and the audience. I really think he would appreciate how this community connects with each other.”
“Tell me about him,” Danielle said. “What was he like as a conductor?”
Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, remembering him. “Oh, magnetic. When Robert stepped onto the podium, everyone, musicians and audience alike, felt it. It was energizing, like electricity was in the air. He had a head full of unruly white hair that made him kind of look like that crazy doctor on Back to the Future, and he had this amazing ability to draw performances out of musicians that they didn’t even know they were capable of. He never intimidated, like some conductors do. He inspired them.”
She shared stories about her husband. About his passionate interpretation of Brahms, his infamous battles with opera divas, and his ritual of eating exactly three almond cookies before every performance.
She could feel the knot of grief in her chest loosen slightly. It didn’t disappear. She didn’t imagine it ever would. But it was transforming into something that could coexist with warmth, and even occasional laughter.
“Well, he sounds like a remarkable man,” Danielle said. “Thank you for sharing him with me.”
Clara was surprised to realize they’d been talking for nearly an hour, and the tea had long since gone cold in her cup.
“I’m so sorry I’ve been rambling on.”
“Not at all,” Danielle said. “I loved hearing about him. And I’m honored that you want to play at our wedding.”
“It feels right,” Clara said. “Not only is it a way to honor Robert’s memory, but it’s also a way to usher in a new love story and a new life together with you and Bennett.”
Danielle paused at the door before getting ready to leave for her morning clinic hours.
“You know, there’s a small concert in the community center this evening, just some residents sharing their talents. Maybe you could go and listen to them? See if any of them would be good for our wedding?”
Clara nodded. “I think I’d like that.”
After Danielle left, Clara returned to the piano, her fingers finding the keys with renewed purpose. This time she played one of Robert’s compositions, a piece he’d written for their 25th anniversary. As music filled the cottage, she felt something shift. The pain of loss was still there, a constant companion. But now something was there alongside of it - hope.
Bennett stood on the grassy bluff overlooking the cove and tried to imagine the gazebo that would soon stand in that spot. The gentle breeze carried with it the scent of saltwater and blooming wisteria.
“So this is the spot?” Eddie asked, standing beside him with a clipboard and measuring tape.
