The Piano Teacher

Chapter 13

He paused, coughing again. "Say, that harvest festival's comin' up soon. You said you were goin', ain't you?"

"Only because I know you'll take me anyway if I said no."

He grinned, his sunned, leathery skin wrinkled from the expression. "And you'd be right. I figure if you can stand teachin' the piano four days a week, you can stand to go to a public gatherin'."

"Teaching the piano to a small number of people at a time isn't the same as a crowded festival, you know."

"There's no need to be nervous anyway. Don't tell me it won't be fun."

Charlotte gave a small smile and stared into her lap. A part of her knew that it could be fun, but another part returned her old fears of people. So many people in one place where so many things could go wrong.... She tried to put that deep-rooted fear aside and think of the positives. There was sure to be good music and food there, and, most importantly, she was going with her uncle, so she wouldn't be alone.

"I've got an idea," said Samuel, nudging her shoulder. "Why not go to the mercantile and get yourself somethin' pretty to wear for the festival? Nothin' too expensive, you know, we're not ridin' high on the hog yet. But a little piece of jewelry maybe, or a brooch."

"I already have a broach."

"I know, the one your Pa gave you, but you never wear it and I know why. Don't know why you even keep it still."

In truth, the only reason she kept that piano pin, despite the terrible memories it gave her, was because it was perhaps the only physical token of affection her father had ever given her. It meant enough for her to keep it, but not enough to wear it.

"We shouldn't waste our money on silly things like that, uncle."

"Oh, come on. We have a little extra. Go on and buy somethin' nice for yourself. I'll wait outside and enjoy this fresh breeze."

She could tell that her uncle was insistent on this matter, so she descended the buckboard and walked over to the mercantile, though she didn't really want to and had no idea what to buy.

In the past couple of weeks, she had been trying to avoid Mr. Oleson.

Of course, that proved difficult since she was at his house two days out of the week. Fortunately, he was usually working in the mercantile with his wife while Charlotte and the two children practiced the piano in the adjacent room. Some days, she could avoid him entirely with this setup.

She wanted to avoid him because she hated the way she felt around him.

The moment he looked at her, she felt warm all over, and horribly breathless.

She wanted to be around him, which is exactly why she kept herself away. She liked the way he talked, his voice warm and paternal. She liked the way he moved, quite formal most of the time, often giving her a little bow every time he saw her, though he was never stuffy like his wife. He was friendly, which made him exceedingly pleasant to be around.

And yet, she deprived herself of this pleasure.

I suppose I see him as very much like a father figure. His character is certainly softer and more approachable than Father's. And he's so kind, it's only natural for me to want to be near him.

She hyper-focused on these thoughts and considered them the truth, because any alternative would have been too mortifying for her to consider.

As she went up the stairs of the mercantile, hoping that Mrs. Oleson was at the counter instead of her husband, she encountered Miss Wilder who was just leaving with a basket of groceries. "Oh, hello Charlotte," she said with a big smile. "I'm glad to run into you here. I wanted to ask you again if you might play something at the festival?"