Page 40 of Unlocking Melodies

“Nina, I can't–“

“You can. Your hands remember, even if you don't.” She gestured toward the baby grand piano that dominated one corner of the bar – a beautiful instrument that I'd been carefully avoiding since discovering my muscle memory was better at music than my actual memory.

“That's not–“

“Mrs. Henderson already told everyone you're filling in.”

I nearly dropped the glass I was still obsessively cleaning. “She what?”

“Oh yes.” Nina's smile was pure evil. “Called everyone in her phone book. Which, by the way, is everyone in town. And possibly several neighboring towns.”

As if summoned by her name, Mrs. Henderson materialized at the bar. “Jimmy, dear! So wonderful of you to step in. I've already told the bridge club, and Sarah's spreading the word at the diner, and I believe Riley's planning a special feature for the paper...”

“I haven't agreed to anything!” But even as I protested, I could feel the weight of expectations settling around me like a familiar coat – one that technically belonged to Past Jimmy but somehow still fit.

Officer Dawn chose that moment to appear, supposedly for a routine security check that absolutely wasn't timed to coincide with this crisis. “Everything alright here?”

“Jimmy's saving Piano Bar Friday,” Nina announced before I could object.

“Excellent! I'll just stick around. For security purposes, of course.” Dawn settled at the bar with a poorly concealed grin. “Town safety and all that.”

The regular crowd was filtering in now, and every single one of them seemed to know about my impending musical debut. Or re-debut. Whatever you called performing something you technically knew how to do but couldn't remember learning.

“I don't even know what songs–“

“Your old setlist is still in the piano bench,” Nina cut me off smoothly. “And before you ask, yes, you had backup setlists organized by genre, tempo, and 'likelihood to make Mrs. Henderson cry happy tears.'”

Of course I did. Past Jimmy's organizational skills were simultaneously impressive and annoying.

Sky appeared with what they claimed was “emergency performance coffee” but was probably just an excuse to witness my impending public humiliation. “I've got five bucks on you playing that sad song you wrote about–“

“Not helping!” Nina interrupted quickly, shooting them a look I definitely needed to investigate later.

The piano seemed to watch me from its corner, keys gleaming under the vintage stage lights like they knew something I didn't. Which, given my current situation, was probably true of most inanimate objects in my life.

“What if I mess up?” I asked quietly.

Nina's expression softened. “Then you mess up. But honey, that piano's been waiting for you. Maybe it's time to stop avoiding the things that scared Past Jimmy too.”

“Past Jimmy was scared of pianos?”

“Past Jimmy was scared of feeling too much.” She squeezed my arm. “Current Jimmy seems braver.”

Her words hit something deep in my chest, but before I could examine that too closely, the reality of what I was about to do slammed into me like a runaway horse. The last time I'd touched piano keys was at the ranch with Ethan, and that memory was still too new, too confusing, wrapped up in feelings I couldn't quite understand. My hands started to shake as I approached the piano, each step feeling like a mile.

The movement by the door caught my eye – Ethan had just walked in, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw me at the piano. Our eyes met across the room, and suddenly I couldn't breathe properly. There was something in his expression, something that made my chest tight and my pulse race in a way that had nothing to do with performance anxiety. I looked away quickly, but I could still feel his presence like a physical thing.

Nina appeared beside me, squeezing my shoulder as I sat at the bench. “Just close your eyes and let your hands remember,”she whispered, and there was something in her voice – a knowledge or understanding that made me wonder just how much of my past she wasn't telling me.

I stared at the keys, pristine white and black stretching out before me like a road I couldn't quite remember taking. My fingers hovered uncertainly, and for a moment, pure panic threatened to overwhelm me. What if I couldn't do this? What if Past Jimmy's muscle memory had expired like old milk?

But then I started playing – something simple, something my hands seemed to know even if my brain was completely out of the loop. The first few notes were shaky, hesitant, like trying to speak a language I'd learned in a dream. But then... then something clicked.

It was the strangest sensation, like my hands were having a conversation my mind wasn't invited to. They moved across the keys with increasing confidence, finding melodies I didn't know I knew. The usual Friday night bar chatter died away until all I could hear was the music and my own heartbeat.

In that quiet, something shifted. A fragment of memory flashed through my mind – not whole, not clear, but undeniably real. A different piano, bigger, grander. The same nervous energy thrumming through my veins. And a voice, warm and familiar.

Just play like no one's watching.

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