Page 22 of Wisteria Winds
“I wasn’t actually… I wasn’t prepared for this,” she said softly into the microphone.
She’d been in front of hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, but right now she felt like a kid at her first recital.
“But music has been my best friend all my life, even when I tried to push it away at times. This piece is called ‘Remember When,’ and it was composed by my late husband, Robert.”
Her fingers found the keys, and the gentle notes of Robert’s composition filled the room. He’d written it during their 30th anniversary trip to Venice, inspired by the most perfect evening watching the sunset over the Grand Canal. The melody was wistful but also hopeful and very complex in structure.
Clara played, closing her eyes, letting the music carry her back to that time. For the first time since Robert’s death, she played not just with technical precision but also with her whole heart and allowed the grief and love to flow out through her fingertips.
When the final notes faded, there was a moment of silence before the room erupted in applause.
Clara opened her eyes and found many of the audience members wiping away tears, including Dorothy, who seemed to be someone who rarely displayed emotion, especially publicly.
Danielle walked to the stage as Clara stood and offered her a hand, helping her down the steps.
“That was extraordinary, Clara. Thank you for sharing that with us.”
“I really wasn’t planning to,” Clara whispered, “but somehow it felt right.”
“Well, the best moments often come unplanned,” Bennett said, joining them. “Your husband’s composition was beautiful, as was your performance.”
Clara found herself surrounded by residents, everyone offering appreciation for what she’d done. Even Cecilia approached and told her how much she admired the technical complexity of the song.
“You know,” Morty said, “we’ve never had live music for our sunset gatherings at the beach, just that little portable speaker with spotty reception. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have Clara play our keyboard out there occasionally?”
Clara immediately wanted to refuse, to retreat back into the safety of grief and solitude. But she felt such a warmth while playing, and such a connection to Robert’s memory, it pulled her in a different direction.
“I think I might enjoy that,” she said.
The crowd dispersed, and Clara found herself walking back to her cottage with a lightness in her step. The grief was still there; it would always be there, but tonight she learned that she could coexist with the grief.
When she got to her cottage, she went straight to the piano and lifted the stack of her husband’s compositions she’d brought with her but hadn’t been able to face. It was time to bring his music back to the world. It’s what Robert would have wanted, and perhaps, she realized, it was what she needed as well.
Danielle woke up to the sound of hammering. Blurry-eyed, she looked over at her clock. 7:15 a.m. She groaned and pushed herself up, trudging to the window. She pulled back the curtain like she was an investigator looking for the source of the disturbance.
Off in the distance, at the bluff overlooking the cove, she saw a flurry of activity. Workers were wearing hard hats and moving things around a construction site, unloading materials from a big white truck, while others appeared to be measuring and marking the ground.
It was the gazebo project. Bennett had mentioned the builders were starting today, but she hadn’t expected them to begin so early in the morning.
Her phone buzzed on the table with a text from Bennett.
Sorry about the noise. Brought a crew over on the first boat. Want to come see the progress after your morning rounds?
Smiling, she texted him back.
Only if you bring coffee. The GOOD kind from the mainland.
His response was immediate.
Deal. And I’ll also throw in your favorite chocolate croissant. Meet you at 11?
Danielle put her phone down and walked over to the shower, suddenly excited despite the early wake-up call. The gazebo wasn’t just going to be a wedding venue. It was going to be the symbol of their future together, a permanent addition to the island they both loved so much.
She got dressed and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading to the clinic for her morning appointments. Mrs. Henderson needed her blood pressure checked again, and Ted was due for his quarterly physical. These were routine matters that grounded her day-to-day life on the island.
As she walked toward the clinic, she saw her mother walking briskly along the path, dressed in workout clothes and looking kind of casual.
“Mom? You’re up early.”
