Charlotte soon got into the rhythm of teaching Miss Wilder the piano. She enjoyed the other woman's presence, and often, she would stay at her home longer than the agreed-upon hour to chat. Miss Wilder did most of the talking, usually about her day or her students, which was not terribly exciting, but Charlotte enjoyed listening.
The simplicity helped Charlotte forget the heavier aspects of her life. And she enjoyed helping the woman improve her musical skills, which indeed had become more impressive over the weeks. Eliza Jane soon went far beyond Camptown Races and instead learned some of the more intermediate pieces of Beethoven and Mozart.
Occasionally, Eliza Jane's brother Almanzo, a strong blond man, would arrive to have dinner or rest, but he spent most of his time out working. Charlotte never felt nervous at Eliza Jane's house, likely because of its persistent lack of guests. She could relax without the fear of being watched and judged by others, not even Eliza Jane, who admired her.
That day, Eliza Jane was happy to see that she was halfway through her old piano music book. "I've never made it this far before."
"It isn't too hard to progress quickly when you've mastered the basics," Charlotte said, sitting in an upholstered armchair that she had pulled up close to the piano. "I think we'll move on to some of Vivaldi's pieces."
She taught for some time, but half of her mind was elsewhere. Usually, she was as focused and sharp as a razor's edge while teaching. But she kept thinking about her fishing trip yesterday.
She kept thinking about Mr. Oleson.
The thought of him made her chest feel tight and her head cloudy. She tried to shake the feeling away, but it would always come back, buzzing around her and inside her like a pesky fruit fly.
She had never felt so peculiar. She had a few beaux in her past; her father had set them up with her in hopes that they would marry her. Some had been somewhat handsome and somewhat wealthy, but very dull and cold. They would bring her flowers and compliments, but grudgingly, and they'd soon get bored of her after discovering the severity of her ills.
She never felt much for them. She would dance with them, and let them steal a kiss from her sometimes, but she never felt love or longing for them. When they were cold, she returned their coldness.
But now, she felt warm. She remembered the warmth of Mr. Oleson's hand as he helped her across the stream. She remembered trying not to look at him, despite wanting to so badly.
She was confused.
Mr. Oleson is becoming a good friend to me, she thought. I enjoy his kindness. Few have been kind to me the way he has, in an authentic way, and kind to Uncle Samuel. I appreciate him for that, and I enjoy his company.
"How was that?" asked Miss Wilder.
Charlotte had been so deep inside her head that she didn't hear anything that Eliza Jane played. "Very good," she replied, somewhat absentmindedly. "As usual, let's focus on the tempo. Try it again."
They continued the lesson until their hour was up, and they both stood to their feet. "I'm excited by the prospect of soon being able to play the songs at the back of the book," said Miss Wilder.
Charlotte smiled. "It won't be too soon. Those songs are advanced enough to require many months of practice."
"Well, yes, of course, but it is still a very tangible possibility.... Miss Richmond, before you go, I have one thing to ask. I'm sure you've already heard of the harvest festival the town will be having once fall rolls around. I was wondering, because there will be a piano there for music, if you might play?" When Eliza Jane saw the trepidation in Charlotte's face, she quickly continued. "Not to play the whole time, of course. But perhaps you would play a song to close the evening? I think your playing is so wonderful, and I'm sure everyone in town will agree."
"I'm not sure," Charlotte replied. The idea of attending the festival rattled her enough, and she knew her uncle would drag her along no matter what she said. But the prospect of playing the piano in front of so many people, as if she was at one of her concerts again, terrified her.
At any other point in her life, she would have agreed wholeheartedly. She used to love performing for large crowds, showing them what she could do, showing them her singular and most powerful strength.
But now, when she thought of such a thing, she could only think of the night of her fainting spell, and the weeks of deathly fever that followed. But she didn't want to disappoint her new friend, so she didn't decline right away. "I'll really have to think about it, Miss Wilder. Good evening."
In the morning, Charlotte and her uncle went to the mercantile to get some eggs and bacon. As they parked their buckboard near the store, Mr. Oleson came out with a broom, ready to sweep the dusty stairs. soon as he saw them, he smiled brightly and forgot all about sweeping.
"Samuel, Miss Richmond. Stopping by for your usual groceries?"
"That we are, Nels," said Samuel as he helped Charlotte up the stairs, though she had grown accustomed to doing most of the muscle work and mostly used her uncle for support.
"Harriet will put the eggs and bacon together for you."
As Charlotte was about to follow her uncle into the mercantile, Mr. Oleson stopped her. "Miss Richmond, I have a proposition for you. Now, I understand if you say no, and I know you haven't gotten off on the best foot with my children. But despite that, would you consider teaching them the piano? Word around town has it that you're doing well with Miss Wilder, and my wife insists that the children should have some musical talent for one reason or another. What do you think?"
Charlotte was surprised at the proposition. Though Mrs. Oleson had once asked her the same question, she figured that the opportunity was off the table after her ordeal at dinner. But the idea was distasteful to her, for she was neither fond of Nellie nor Harriet Oleson, and she figured Willie would be just as much trouble. And she worried if her health could stand more appointments throughout the week.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Oleson, I don't think I can. Much of my time is already taken up with cooking meals at home, teaching Miss Wilder, and, frankly, resting as Doctor Baker requested."
"I understand," he said with a nod. "But I will mention that we'll pay you well. There aren't very many good piano teachers around here. We'd pay you $3 an hour for about an hour or two a couple of times a week."
Charlotte's eyes practically bulged from their sockets at his offer. With that amount of money, though it wasn't daily pay, she and her uncle could live more comfortably again, and without as much worry. She didn't want to accept, but she knew she had to for her sake and her uncle's. "You've made me an offer that's very difficult to refuse, Mr. Oleson. I accept."
"Good," he said with a smile. "Could you start tomorrow at noon?"
"Yes, I suppose I can."
"Fine, just fine. Now, just to warn you, the children can be a little... difficult at times. If they give you any trouble, call me over and I'll straighten them out, all right?"
He hesitated and grinned, lifting the edge of her bonnet up with a finger. "And I don't see much of a point of hiding so much behind that bonnet anymore, Miss Richmond, at least not around here. I've already seen what you look like."
"Yes, Mr. Oleson," Charlotte said, too shy to look him in the face, instead setting her eyes on his crisp white collar that rested just beneath his Adam's apple.
Charlotte was far more nervous about teaching the Oleson children than she ever was about teaching Miss Wilder, mostly because she knew half of the family disliked her. She wrung her fingers as she sat with her uncle in the buckboard outside of the mercantile, hesitant to enter.
"I'm surprised you said yes to all this," said Samuel. "Though I suppose I can see why, with all that money they're gonna be payin' you. You'll be makin' more than me."
"That's about the only reason why I agreed," Charlotte sighed. "Otherwise, I'd be back in bed."
Samuel smiled and pinched her cheek. "But I'm glad you're doin' this. You'll be spendin' a lot of time out of the cabin, socializin' like I hoped you would."
"Yes," she replied shortly, not thrilled about it. "I feel like I'm headed into the lion's den."
"Suppose you are, in a way, except accountin' for Nels. He likes us two strangers."
"I imagine we won't be strangers in this town for long, uncle," she pointed out. "As long as Father searches for a way to get our house back, Walnut Grove will have to settle for our home, won't it?"
"That it will." He sighed. "Well, get goin', girl. I've got to get back to work at the mill."
She went to the front door of the house and knocked, but no one answered. She instead went into the attached mercantile and found both Mr. and Mrs. Oleson manning the counter, catering to a large family with seven children, the parents of whom were ordering a hefty supply of fabric. The two shopkeepers were very busy choosing and cutting fabric for the family while also trying to prevent the children from pulling things off the shelves.
Charlotte stood quietly and awkwardly by the door, her hands collapsed in front of her skirt, wondering if she should wait outside and come back when they were less busy. But before she could do anything, Mr. Oleson caught sight of her and spoke up over the commotion. "Oh, Miss Richmond, good. You're here. The children are waiting in there." He gestured quickly with his chin at the adjacent door which led to the parlor.
"Thank you," Charlotte said quietly, perhaps even too quietly to be heard, and she hurried through.
Sure enough, Nellie and Willie were waiting, looking utterly bored. Nellie reclined in an armchair, her face buried in a magazine, while Willie, sitting on the carpet, immediately became busy hiding a handful of hard candy in his shirt pocket once Charlotte entered.
"Good day," Charlotte said with a polite but nervous smile. She knew the children, for whatever reason, disliked her, or at least the girl did.
"Hi," Willie responded. His sister glanced over her magazine, rolled her eyes, and went back to reading.
Charlotte glanced sheepishly between them. "I... I suppose you already know that I'm here to teach you the piano."
"Yeah," Willie replied loudly. "But I don't know why I've gotta learn it. It's for girls."
The boy's words amused her. "You know, many of the most famous pianists are men."
The boy shrugged, unconvinced. Charlotte's gaze settled on Nellie again, still reading her magazine, her pencil-thin legs splayed far in front of her. The girl's rude behavior overshadowed Charlotte's anxiety and let irritation take its place. "Nellie," said Charlotte. "Why don't you put that magazine away? As far as I know, I believe that you already have some piano skills, is that right?"
Nellie put down her magazine and jumped to her feet. She wore a pale pink dress with white trim and the same, piercing look in her eyes that she had when Charlotte had last been in this house. "You must not know very much if that's all you have to say about me. Mother says I'm a genius with the instrument, which is why I have no idea why you're even here. Mother barely believes that you can teach anyway."
Charlotte had encountered many spoiled children in her life, but none so caustic as Nellie Oleson. Her words didn't make Charlotte feel any better about her relations with Mrs. Oleson either. Still, she felt that the best thing to do was to continue being as polite as possible.
"I suppose your parents must have had some reason to hire me, despite all that. Willie, do you have any experience with the piano?"
"Nuh-uh."
"All right. Nellie, why don't you play something for me, please? I'd like to assess your skill."
"Of course, Miss Richmond," said the girl, looking down her nose at her as she pranced over to the piano. The piano was small, but in perfect shape, and nicely polished. "I think I'll play Ode to Joy."
She did just that, and for the next minute, Charlotte listened to the worst rendition of the song she had ever heard. While the girl knew all the notes, she slammed on every key as if she had a grudge against them. She also played the song so fast and chaotically that it was barely recognizable, though the girl was proud that she could press the keys so fast, even if they produced music that was far from beautiful.
"I told you I had a gift," said Nellie once she finished playing.
"Certainly, a very particular gift," Charlotte replied quietly. She grabbed a thin piano book resting against the instrument's backrest and flipped through it. It was not as advanced as the one Miss Wilder had, and it was primarily songs for children, though there were some intermediate pieces. "Try playing this one, Nellie." She opened the page to My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.
She hoped that having Nellie read the sheet music would produce a different result, but instead, the music was just as harsh and rushed as before. "Perhaps we should let Willie have a turn," Charlotte suggested.
It was true that Willie knew nothing of the piano, and Charlotte had to start by teaching him the keys and how to read music, which took a very long time since the boy was constantly distracted. Charlotte only became suspicious of him when he started glancing at her repeatedly. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothin'," he said, holding back a grin.
Charlotte furrowed her brows, confused, and continued teaching him, until she felt something odd clinging to her skirt. When she looked down, she saw a hefty bullfrog clamoring over her thigh.
Charlotte yelped and jumped up, covering her mouth before her outburst could make too much noise. The frog hopped onto the piano, heavy enough to press a few keys, before it jumped onto the floor and disappeared under an armchair. The two children burst into laughter, scarcely able to breathe.
The sudden shock hurt Charlotte's heart and it skipped a few beats, causing her to cough. She felt dizzy for a moment, but more than anything, she was angry. She refused to be humiliated in this house a second time, especially by rude children.
She jumped again, but less so, when Mr. Oleson swung through the door. "What's wrong? I thought I heard a scream."
His two children quickly stopped laughing, biting their lips frightfully to stop. Charlotte, still clutching her chest and trying to catch her breath, had a mind to tell the man the truth but thought better of it. "It's nothing, Mr. Oleson. I'm sorry. I stubbed my toe is all."
"Well, all right," he said hesitantly, seeming unconvinced. "Would you like some sarsaparilla? You're... looking especially pale."
"No, sir, but thank you."
Mr. Oleson nodded and narrowed his eyes at his children before he left again.
Charlotte stood and turned to the children, her frustration making her bolder than ever. "Now, I don't care who put that frog there, but it won't happen again. Your parents are paying good money for you to learn the piano, and I won't have you putting it to waste."
She paused, her own confidence surprising her. "Willie, sit down. I'm going to teach you the Chop Waltz. After that, Nellie, I'll help you correct your mistakes in Ode to Joy.
"What mistakes?" Nellie said, suddenly upset.
"You needn't worry about that yet. Willie, let's begin."
She taught Willie, who seemed rather bored, the simplest version of the Chop Waltz with just two fingers. He learned it faster than she expected he would, and he seemed somewhat pleased with himself. "Can't we play something like what you played in the schoolhouse? This song is dull enough to put me to sleep."
The corner of her mouth curled upwards. "That song I played wasn't for beginners, Willie. But look, if you want to make this song more exciting, we can try a little trick. Play the song again."
He did so, and Charlotte joined in for a duet. The addition of two hands to the original song immediately gave it texture and interest. She was pleased when Willie's expression became more engaged. "See what a difference some extra notes can make?" she said.
"Yeah, I guess so," Willie replied, smiling once they finished the song. "How did my part sound?"
"Fine, just fine. Perhaps you have a secret knack for the piano you never knew about."
From the armchair behind them, Nellie seethed with jealousy. She stood up quickly, her skirt bouncing. "Miss Richmond, allow me to demonstrate the way I play the Chop Waltz; the proper way."
She nearly dragged her brother off the piano bench and sat down beside Charlotte, also trying to nudge her aside. She immediately made her usual mistake of pressing the keys too hard and too fast, though she played with her eyes closed and her nose up in the air as if the tune was sublime.
Before the girl could finish, Charlotte gently touched her hand to stop her. "Nellie, I'm afraid I must correct you. I'm sure you can hear that you're not following the song's tempo, and the way you press the keys is much too violent. You're liable to break the piano that way. Try something more like this." With her right hand, she demonstrated the two-fingered version of the Chop Waltz more delicately.
However, the girl was not watching her demonstration. Instead, Nellie stared at her with a red face and fiery eyes. "You must have something against me to talk to me like that, or maybe you're just dull."
Shocked, Charlotte replied, "Nellie, I'm only trying to help you."
Nellie stood suddenly. "I don't need help. Everyone knows my playing is just fine. There's no real reason for you to be here."
"Your parents must have had a reason, or indeed, I wouldn't be here."
The girl's face, if possible, grew redder, contrasting strikingly against her fair hair and blue eyes. "You were my parent's last choice because they couldn't find another teacher. My mother didn't even want you to teach us. My father only decided to hire you because he pities you. He thinks you're pathetic. Everyone does. It's no secret."
The girl stormed out of the room and up the stairs that led to her bedroom.
Nellie's words tore Charlotte from the inside out. She knew that the girl may have said such things to hurt her, but she also knew that it was very possible that her words were true.
Is that how people truly see me now? She wondered. Pathetic? Pitiable?
Though her body had been fragile all her life, in the past, no one ever saw her as pathetic. When she used to enter the stage, the piano waiting for her amidst the vast emptiness, people in the dark ocean of the audience would cheer for her before she even began to play. When they heard her music, the way she played with such anguish and passion, they knew her as incredible, unstoppable, unforgettable.
But she supposed she should have expected that change of perception ever since her fainting spell. Though it didn't seem that anyone in Walnut Grove, save for the Olesons, knew about it, everyone still knew her as a meek and sickly girl. They did not know her as she once was, when she had been great.
Now, she was nobody, which she supposed was what she wanted for a long time, to escape her image. But it was a double-edged sword, and now she doubted if she would ever be happy no matter what path she took in life.
And she wondered if Mr. Oleson truly hired her only out of pity. He knew how weak she was, perhaps more than any other townsperson. He had helped her down the rocky stream to catch fish, feeling how shaky and feeble she was. Though he had heard her play the piano before, only for a moment, perhaps that was only a small reason why he hired her.
She felt that the only thing she was ever good at was no longer being taken seriously. It had been overshadowed by her illness, as with everything else in her life.
The concept upset her so much that she couldn't move for a while, and she sat staring blankly at the piano. Willie stared curiously at her but then ran off to another room when his father opened the door. "I just saw Nellie run up to her room," he said. "You don't strike me as an unkind teacher, so I'm assuming she upset herself one way or another and ran off."
He smiled at her, but Charlotte felt too desolate to return the expression.
"Is something wrong, Miss Richmond?"
"No, Mr. Oleson," she said quickly, not realizing she had been silent for so long. "I suppose the hour's about up, though I fear the lesson wasn't as efficient as I hoped it would be."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he replied. "My children are... not the easiest to get along with. I admit that. The fact that you didn't run out before the hour was done is impressive enough. That's how it went the last time my wife hired a piano teacher. If I remember right, Willie had dumped a vase of water on her head."
She smiled sadly, staring at the point where Mr. Oleson's shiny black shoes stood on the carpet. She couldn't get Nellie Oleson's words out of her head. If everyone saw her to be so pathetic, she didn't see why she shouldn't just go back to her cabin and stay there.
Only the fact that she needed the money kept her from quitting everything right then and there, and it made her more miserable.
Mr. Oleson watched her closely, unsure of what was the matter, but absolutely sure that it was more than what Charlotte was letting on. He could hear his wife chattering with a customer in the mercantile behind him, and he knew he should go and help, but he supposed it could wait. When Charlotte Richmond allowed sadness to show on her face, it was perhaps the most broken-hearted thing a man could see.
"I suppose you must miss the city," he said, stepping closer and resting a hand on the top of the piano. "I mean, the concerts and the theaters.... I'm sure it was more fulfilling than teaching a couple of children the piano."
She had very mixed feelings about Mr. Oleson knowing her background, especially since he had learned it in such an unappealing way from his daughter. A part of her wanted him to go back to not knowing anything about her at all. And another part....
She stared at the piano, unable to face him. "I do miss it. But it's a distant feeling now... as if someone else lived it instead of me."
"You talk as if you can't go back."
"I can't," she replied gravely. "Not really." She knew how her answer must have sounded confusing, but she didn't know how to elaborate. She had so many problems in her life. So many. The concept of returning to life as it was seemed as impossible as a dream. She stood and walked past him, grabbing her shawl from the armchair, wrapping it around herself.
Mr. Oleson spoke up before she could leave. "Couldn't you... tell me what it was like? The theater? Playing for all those people?" His slate-blue eyes showed his curiosity.
His question made her feel as if someone had stuck their fist in her throat, making it hard to breathe, hard to talk.
She remembered it so clearly. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel what it was like. The cold air of the open auditorium made goosebumps appear on her alabaster arms. The golden lights surrounded her while the audience hid in darkness. The cool touch of the keys, the feeling of her fingers moving so fast that they would have been nothing but a jumble if not for muscle memory. So fast and so fiery, she became someone else when she played, someone better, someone grand, someone strong.
She wanted to tell Nels Oleson every single word of this.
She wanted him to know who she was, or rather who she used to be. Not because she wanted a reaction out of him, and not because she was seeking his admiration, but because she wanted to show him that she had some capability and was not perpetually weak, constantly pathetic.
But she couldn't tell him any of it.
She couldn't tell him because the lump in her throat made it so hard to speak.
And she couldn't look at him, not if he really thought she was some pitiful thing. But still, his question echoed in her ears, and she couldn't ignore it: couldn't you tell me what it was like?
"It was magnificent," she breathed, leaving the place as soon as her mouth closed.