Esi Edugyan - The Second Life of Samuel Tyne

She hadn’t even realized the girl had left her seat. More bewildering was that neither twin had taken a single piano lesson, neither Maud nor Samuel knew how to play, and yet Chloe’s playing was so dexterous it seemed the product of years of study.

Tara Chodzicki nodded along with the music, tapping a finger on her knee. “Bach,” she said to Maud, smiling.

Maud rose from her seat and walked to the piano. Placing a firm hand on Chloe’s shoulder, Maud hesitated before the staring audience, whispering to the girl, “I think we should go back to our seats now.” With complete indifference, Chloe closed the lid of the piano and followed Maud up the aisle back to their chairs. When Chloe was firmly seated between her sister and Ama, Maud nodded in general apology to the audience, bowing a little. From the back doors, Porter’s wife stared at her, and Maud imagined she saw contempt. Blood rushed to her face.

People murmured to each other. Ray frowned, walking around on stage as though he did not know what to do with himself. The mayor nodded at the constable to continue, and clearing his voice, he said, “As I was saying, what we don’t need in this town is a witch hunt.”

A man in dungarees near the front stood up. “I heard this fire was different from the others. Like it started differently.”

The mayor took the microphone from the startled constable. “Open forum is finished, Mr. Jennings. Please be seated.”

Another wave of muttering went through the room, and Ray made no attempt to hide his anxiety. Maud was mortified. Even Eudora seemed to regard Chloe with apprehension.

Maud was aware of an aversion growing in her, an inability to even look at Chloe, and her guilt over it made her cheeks burn. “Sorry,” she said in a soft voice, but to no one in particular.

“Oh, dear, we know.” Tara Chodzicki placed a cold hand on Maud’s arm. It was as though the woman had known embarrassment and grief, and gently sought to tell her so.

Eudora shot Maud a look. She turned and continued to listen to the constable’s speech, which had weakened and digressed. He was so green a public speaker he couldn’t overcome being interrupted. He sputtered, calling on the people to be vigilant, but not overly so, to report any “strange business,” to “do their bit in the way of good Samaritans.” When he finally stepped back from the microphone, his hands were so white from clutching it that those seated as far back as the twelfth row noticed they glowed like ice.

When the meeting ended, Maud rose to leave as quickly as possible. Tara Chodzicki, her earrings swinging like horseflies about her cheeks, touched Maud’s shoulder.

“It’s so rare to hear the piano played with such talent, especially Bach, and especially by one so young,” she said, with a great deal of breath in her voice. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I used to teach at a conservatory. I should very much like to have the chance, of course, providing she’s not already in someone else’s hands, to train that little girl. I know you were embarrassed, but really, she’s quite astonishing.”

Maud felt a mixture of pride and dread. “I don’t know what to say.” She glanced at Chloe.

“How about ‘yes’?” laughed Tara Chodzicki.

Eudora took hold of Maud’s wrist. With an artificial smile, she said, to Tara, “We got to get going.”

Tara held up a slender pink finger. “Ah, one minute, Eudora.”

“We’re leaving,” said Eudora. Her face flushed. “Chloe’s too busy with housework and prepping for school next fall to have lessons.”

“Eudora,” admonished Maud. She felt appalled at having someone answer for her.

“Well,” said Tara Chodzicki, clasping her heavily jewelled hands. “At least do me the honour of having dinner with me? I live on the outskirts, near Athabasca.”

“No,” said Eudora. And gripping the bewildered Maud by the arm she tapped the children awake and led them away from Tara and into the crowd.

Maud was furious. “That’s too much! That’s just too much! I have never felt so rude in my life. What on earth is wrong with you?”

Eudora muttered something, but in the throng of people Maud couldn’t hear her. “What on earth are you saying?”

Eudora craned her head back. “An untouchable. Chod-sikey’s off bounds. When she was married, she slept around with Eric Davids, also married. His wife had cancer, for God’s sake, and even died. Her own husband died not much later, a suicide! No, Maud, don’t bother with her.”

Maud grew thoughtful. These were serious charges. She couldn’t condone adultery, especially under such circumstances, and suicide was a sin. But the woman had shown her such kindness that it was difficult to wholly condemn her. And yet, the Tynes hadn’t found their footing in Aster society, so Maud had to concede she’d been saved from a most unfortunate friendship.

Outside a thin moon softened the darkness, casting a sensitive glow on the foliage. The crisp air was a relief after the teeming crowds, and Maud breathed deeply. She shuffled the girls together and put her arms around them.

“You cold?” she asked, and they replied by nuzzling against her. She was pleasantly shocked at the comfort they took in her, and pulled them closer. Something occurred to her. “Hey, have you seen Porter’s wife?” She looked around her.

“Over there,” said Eudora, nodding towards the doors where the tall woman stood, her face now fully in the shade of her headdress.

Maud began to disentangle herself from the children. “Will you take them? I’m just going to go over and speak to her.”

“Isn’t one narrow escape enough? Oh, here’s Ray.”

The red truck squealed to a stop before them, and Ray yelled out the window, “Last one in’s a rotten fish.”

Eudora laughed. “He’s so good with children, isn’t he?” Something painful entered her expression. “He would have made a brilliant father.”

Maud wasn’t listening. Across the field the last stragglers were getting into their cars. Porter’s wife was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, Maud climbed after Eudora into the cab.

It was full dark when they reached home. Samuel had parked in the street, and in the veiled glow of lamps Maud observed just how shoddy their old Volvo looked. Ray and Eudora kissed the children goodbye and stayed in the road until they’d all entered the house.

Samuel sat at the kitchen table, dolefully picking lint from a handful of change.

“Is this business?” said Maud. “Is this why you didn’t come?”

Samuel sucked his teeth, but didn’t say anything.

After rushing the children up to bed, Maud went to the living room to relax in front of the fireplace. Though a fire was never set, she loved the wistful sound of wind in the chimney; it reminded her of the neem trees of Gold Coast. Settling into a creaking chair, Maud looked out the window, lamenting the fact that it already needed to be cleaned again. Drawing in a sudden breath, she got to her feet and pulled open the bay window.

The lawn had been cropped. Once so tall, Maud had feared losing the children in it, it now ran so smoothly into Porter’s property that the most skilled eye would have trouble assessing where one property ended and the other began. The grass looked blue under the porch light. Staring at it gave Maud the impression that time had stopped, for without its usual movement, she felt like she was staring at stone, like she herself would freeze to stone by looking at it.

Maud returned to the kitchen, where, finished counting his change, Samuel had abandoned himself to daydreaming. Having peeled off his socks, he’d put his feet on the table and sat with a faraway look on his face. Seeing Maud in the doorway, he quickly lowered his heels.