Darlene Gardner - A Time To Forgive

“There’s a public library a half mile down the road. It has lots of cubicles, all with flat surfaces.”

He tipped a nonexistent hat to her, said goodbye to a nonresponsive Jaye and left. Pasting a smile on her face, Abby turned to the girl. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Jaye nodded, but made no move to pick up her violin from the open case. Abby lifted the delicate instrument, turning it over while she examined it. It was a rental from a popular music store, adequate for a beginner but not of the caliber Abby suggested for her more serious students. For now, though, it would do.

She handed the violin to Jaye. The girl took it but didn’t lift the instrument onto her shoulder the way Abby had taught her in class.

“What’s wrong, Jaye?”

“I already told you. Connor was late picking me up.” Jaye’s lower lip thrust forward, but the way it trembled betrayed that something more serious than her uncle’s tardiness distressed her.

“Okay,” Abby said, sensing that Jaye would clam up if she tried to force a confidence. “If that’s all it is, then let’s start the lesson.”

Jaye nodded, but her violin remained at her side. Staring at a point on the carpet, she said, “Remember when I told you my mother was dead? Well, I said that because I wish she was dead.”

Abby swallowed a cry of dismay and forced herself to speak in gentle, even tones. “You don’t mean that, honey. Whatever your mother’s done, she’s still your mother.”

“I hate her.” Jaye sniffed but didn’t cry. “She left me with Uncle Connor.”

“Your uncle seems okay to me.”

She shrugged. “He is okay. But he doesn’t have time for me. He doesn’t pick me up from school till six o’clock and half the time he’s late.”

“He has to work, Jaye.” Since Abby had taken Connor to task for putting in too much time at the office, she found it surreal that she was sticking up for him. “I imagine he’s doing the best he can. He didn’t plan on you coming to live with him.”

“He doesn’t want me any more than my mom does.”

Although Connor’s life would obviously be easier if his niece hadn’t come to live with him. Abby couldn’t let the girl paint him with such a negative brush stroke. “He’s your uncle, Jaye. I’m sure he loves you.”

“Then why can’t I come home after school and be with him?”

“I told you, Jaye. He has to work. And you’re not old enough to stay home alone.”

“I’m too old to hang out with the babies at day care.”

“Surely there are other children your age there.”

“They don’t want me there. They’re all boys. They barely talk to me. And they won’t let me play with them.”

Abby swallowed a sigh because she well understood how it felt not to be wanted. Jaye’s situation was doubly difficult. Not only had her mother left her, she was meeting with rejection in every direction she turned. “Have you talked to your uncle about how much you dislike the school-based day care?”

She nodded. “He says it’s the best he can do and that I need to stick it out.”

Abby had a sense that she’d regret her next question, but couldn’t keep from asking it. “I can’t promise anything but would you like me to talk to him for you?”

Jaye nodded eagerly, making Abby feel marginally less apprehensive about the offer. “Oh, yes, please, Miss Reed.”

Abby smiled at her. “When we’re not at school, you can call me Abby.”

Jaye smiled back. “Okay, Abby.”

“Now are you ready for the lesson?”

Jaye nodded.

“Settle the instrument into playing position and let’s do a D scale. Remember to keep your fingers curved and the bow flat on the strings.”

Her lower lip thrust forward in concentration, Jaye did exactly as she was told.

For the next forty-five minutes, Abby tried to focus on the techniques involved in giving a student her first lesson. But every time Jaye played a scale, Abby’s mind wandered to Connor and the conversation she’d promised to have with him.

She wasn’t sure why, but she had the strong impression it wouldn’t go her way.

CONNOR STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOOR of Abby’s duplex a few minutes before he was due to pick up Jaye, listening to the sounds of his niece playing the violin.

She wasn’t anywhere close to a performer’s level of proficiency, but he recognized that she was playing a song.

He felt an odd pride that Jaye could coax any sound at all from the instrument, let alone identifiable notes. Maybe Abby was right. Maybe she did have a talent for the thing.

Not wanting to interrupt the lesson, he tried the door and found it unlocked. He slipped inside, making a mental note to tell Abby that she really should use her dead bolt. Jaye stood in front of a music stand, her concentration fully engaged. Abby was off to one side, looking over her shoulder.

Her eyes met his and held. The air between them seemed to charge with awareness, but then she put a finger to her lips. Maybe he’d only imagined the connection because he wanted it to be there. By adamantly refusing his dinner invitation, she certainly hadn’t given him any reason for hope. But hope he did.

Jaye finished the song, a small smile of triumph on her lips. It faded when she caught sight of Connor.

“That was good, Jaye,” Connor said, but the girl didn’t respond. He stifled a groan. What was it going to take for him to build a relationship with her?

“Your uncle’s right. It was good,” Abby told the girl. “You’ll be graduating to more difficult songs before you know it. Just remember to practice at least twenty minutes every day so you don’t forget what we went over.”

“I always practice more than that.”

“That’s great. You know what they say. Practice makes…”

“Perfect,” the two of them said in unison, then laughed.

When Jaye started to pack up, Abby came directly toward him. His pulse sped up until he realized she only meant to hand him a sheet of paper.

“I wrote down the name of a beginning violin book I’d like you to buy before the next lesson. Any of the area music stores should have it in stock.”

“I’ll do it,” he promised, even as he wondered when he’d have the time.

She’d started to retreat when Jaye stopped her with a loud whisper. “Aren’t you going to ask him?”

“Ask me what?” he said.

“Can I use the bathroom, Abby?” Jaye said before she could answer. It didn’t escape Connor’s notice that she used her teacher’s first name, which Abby must have authorized. Good. The child needed a female role model in her life, and Abby fit the bill. The more comfortable Jaye felt around her, the better.

“Sure. It’s upstairs, first door on the right.” Abby waited until the girl was halfway up the stairs before turning to him. “Jaye wants me to talk to you about her after-school care.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why can’t she talk to me about it herself?”

Abby shrugged. “I get the impression she thinks you’ll pay more attention if it comes from me.”

He frowned, troubled by the notion that Jaye thought he wasn’t paying enough attention to her. He knew firsthand how that could undermine a child’s confidence. Connor had grown up in the shadow of a younger brother so athletically gifted he’d stolen the spotlight whenever he’d taken a field or a court.

Their parents had dwelled so heavily on J.D.’s accomplishments that it often seemed as though they had little time left for him and Diana. After J.D. had died, they’d become even more hyper-focused on him. Not that Connor had resented his brother for any of that. He’d loved J.D., too. Everybody had.

“What about Jaye’s after-school care?” he asked Abby.