Page 50 of Rock and a Hard Place

After that, the day improved. He played cards with his brothers and cousins.

“Take that!” Peter slapped his last card on the pile and won the hand.

Carly sat next to him, clinging to his every word. She glowed each time Peter looked her way. He knew he shouldn’t encourage her, but it felt good to laugh and have fun for just a little while.

“Ready for pie?” his mom asked. Hungry voices cheered. “It’s ready in the kitchen. You can join the adults in the living room.”

The mob of kids bustled past; Peter and Carly shared a joke as they walked by.

A few minutes later, everyone sat in the great room. The room overflowed with comfortable furniture and oversized potted plants; a baby grand stood in one corner. He and his brothers often used the room to practice or justsit and play whatever instrument they were in the mood for. On one side of the room, Adam’s camera sat on a tripod waiting for the traditional family photos.

“Peter, would you play something for me? It’s been so long,” Grandma Jamieson asked.

“Sure, Grandma,” Peter said from his seat next to Carly. He stood and placed his empty plate on the coffee table. He flexed his fingers. Carly smiled, clearly excited to see him perform. He wasn’t really sure what to do with that.

He sat behind the piano. “What would you like to hear, Grandma?”

“How about something new? Are you working on anything?”

“Mom, Peter is always working on something new. He can’t seem to turn his writing off.” His parents shared a proud look. He ignored them.

“All right, play something pretty for me,” Grandma said.

Peter rewarded her with a loving smile. The two of them always shared a special connection. He remembered the story about when his mom was in the hospital delivering Adam several weeks too early.

While Adam stayed in the hospital for more than a week, his grandparents took care of him and Garrett. During that time, five-year-old Garrett watched television and played outside with neighbor kids. But Peter stuck by his grandmother’s side.

If she worked in her flower beds, three-year-old Peter was withher. When she made beds, he tried to help. He insisted that Grandma teach him to play the aging upright piano in the living room. A few days later when his parents picked him up, he had already mastered “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

Peter drew in a breath and released it, then began to play. At first, his fingers barely touched the keys. A beautiful melody rose from the piano. The room quieted as he artfully mastered the instrument.

He became one with the music. His body moved gently as he played, lost to the world around him. The tender piece filled the air with its beauty and the loving way he performed.

“This sounds familiar, but I can’t place it,” he heard his mom comment.

Pride beamed on his grandmother’s face. He smiled at her. Carly sat alone on the love seat, with a look of awe.

“Mom,” Adam spoke up. “It’s the song he wrote about Libby, ‘Angel Kisses.’”

And then sadness filled his heart again. The energy of the music intensified as the angst of the tune built, and Peter laid bare his broken heart. One thing he’d learned over the years is that music is what feelings sound like. And his feelings were all about Libby.

The beautiful piece slowed and returned to the beginning melody. Peter’s emotion filled the room. He was a master at moving an audience. When his long fingersstruck the final chord, his head dropped to his chest. First, the room echoed in silence, and then burst with applause. Peter reached up and brushed away a single tear. He missed Libby so much. And then he heard his mom speak to his dad.

“Jett, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get Peter together with Libby for just a day before we leave for Europe.”

“I suppose. If it lifts this depression he’s in, fine,” his dad gave in.

Little Ryan turned to his mother and asked, “Why is Peter crying?”

Carly looked despondent on the love seat, her joy aned awe replaced by reality.

Peter’s heart belonged to someone else.

18

Three weeks later, Libby stepped quietly through the door of the Milwaukee group home. Could she be lucky enough that her housemates would be asleep?

“You bring me anything good?” Michael, a tall, skinny kid, asked from the couch where he lay watching some show featuring monster trucks.

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