Page 14 of Nantucket Longing

Now, it seemed to Madeline that Henry might become one of the most famous of the Copperfields, far outpacing not only his mother but also Bernard, Greta, and even Quentin Copperfield—and that was saying something.

As dinner went on, Madeline found herself growing quieter and solemn.She sliced her potatoes and scraped at her fish but hardly ate anything—something she knew Greta hated, since she was very proud of her cooking, and for good reason.But Madeline’s stomach was in knots.She couldn’t help but think about Henry’s incredible future, about the leggy blondes he would date out in Los Angeles, about the Oscar he’d assuredly win, about all the accomplishments she’d have to keep tabs on from wherever it was she hid herself away.

These had been the happiest days of Madeline’s life, and now they were over.

Greta passed by to clear the plates and bent down to ask Madeline, “Honey, are you feeling all right?”

Madeline was so startled that she got up, feeling flushed.Henry’s eyes were on her.

“I just need a minute,” she said, trying to smile.

“You’ll let me know if you need anything?”Greta asked.

“Of course,” Madeline lied.

As the Copperfields continued exchanging stories and laughing, Madeline hurried back into the house and locked herself in the bathroom, telling herself not to cry.This is Henry’s big day, she reminded herself.You already got your chance, and you failed.But telling herself that only made it feel worse.The room spun.She briefly considered going upstairs, packing her bags, and getting on the next ferry.But where could she go?She didn’t have a single friend.She supposed she could call Mrs.Everett—but hadn’t she put Mrs.Everett through enough as it was?Besides, she hadn’t called or written her since she was seventeen years old.Mrs.Everett had moved on to other “geniuses,” other “prodigies.”Because there was always someone else to train, someone who was up to the task of being truly great.Madeline was probably barely a memory to her any longer.

When Madeline emerged from the bathroom, the Copperfields were even more uproarious.Henry was on his feet, a glass of champagne raised.It caught the last of the glinting sun.From where she stood in the kitchen, Madeline thought she could see Julia’s tears.

It felt strange that Madeline had ever thought she could belong to a family like that.

With a glass of water, Madeline turned back and walked toward the living room, where she found the piano, sitting in the shadows, abandoned.Her heart throbbed.It occurred to her that this was why she’d come inside.She’d wanted to be near this old beast, touch its mahogany, spread her fingers on the keys, and press down just the slightest bit.For the first time in six years.Her hope was that it would heal something in her.But probably, it would just crack her heart even more.

But she had to.It was the only thing she hadn’t tried yet.

Slowly, Madeline shifted toward the bench, pulled it out, sat down, and opened the lid of the piano.The keys glowed softly, spread out before her like a tapestry she’d always known.Tears filled her eyes.She raised her fingers and set them to the opening chords for “Claire de Lune,” a piece she’d mastered at the age of twelve that had won her and her mother five thousand dollars at a contest in Kansas.It surprised her that the chords had come to her right away.She wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to press down.But when the Copperfields’ laughter burst again toward the darkening sky, she forced herself to play—quietly, tenderly.After the first chords, the next ones rang easily, seamlessly, as though the sheet music was written on the back of her eyelids.Now, although she was rusty, she knew the music had never left her, not really.She fell into it.It was like diving into a pool and swimming around.

For seven minutes, she played with her eyes closed.She wasn’t aware of anything but her fingers, her heart, the soft air on her face.When she reached the final chords, her cheeks were wet with tears, and her heart was racing.She couldn’t believe it.Silence rang after the last note was played.

And then, applause echoed through the living room and through the hallways of the great house.Madeline was shocked.She turned to find Henry, Greta, Bernard, Julia, Ella, Laura, Scarlet, and all the other Copperfields straining to see her, their eyes enormous.She hadn’t realized they’d come in.Henry stormed up to the piano and wrapped his arms around her, whispering, “What the heck, Madeline?What was that?”But when their hug broke, Madeline forced her eyes to Greta, who looked at her like,where was that the entire time?

Madeline’s smile was one of surprise, of shock.

Bernard called out through the applause, “The girl’s a star!”

It had been a long time since Madeline heard that.“I’m not,” she assured him.

But Bernard shook his head obstinately.“Never do that.”

“Do what?”Madeline asked.

“Never dismiss your talent.It’s yours for a reason,” Bernard said.“And you have to use it.You cannot waste it.Ever.”

Next to him, Greta bowed her head and gave Madeline a look that she thought meant,Where has that been?Now, we can really get started.

Madeline had the sense that everything was about to begin.When she turned to look at Henry, the light in his eyes had dimmed the slightest bit—as though he could sense what was coming and knew it wouldn’t make their love any easier.But she loved him so desperately.She really did.She had the sense that she always would.

What did love mean in the face of ambition?She wondered now, as the Copperfields swept her back into the fold and poured her a glass of champagne.What did talent mean when you were all alone?

ChapterNine

Diana

July 2007

Two years after Madeline first discovered the piano, Diana entered her into her first competition: a seven-and-under pianist contest that required the kids to have their pieces memorized and perform in front of an audience of about two hundred.Had it been Diana up against those odds, Diana would have fainted.But Madeline was made of different stuff.During the weeks leading up to the contest, Madeline worked diligently, rehearsing the same bars over and over again until her wrists and fingers ached.They went shopping for a simple black velvet dress and a bow to put in Madeline’s red hair.The night before the contest, Diana couldn’t sleep and poured herself a glass of wine and watched YouTube videos of her mother, performing with the USSR and, later, with the Berlin Philharmonic.Barbara was in her fifties with no end to her career in sight.Meanwhile, Diana continued to clean houses and took a late-night job at the bar across the street from where they lived, keeping one eye out the window to ensure there were no disturbances and Madeline slept through the night.It was a necessity.Piano lessons were not cheap.

The morning of the contest, Diana made them a light breakfast and drove them to the university, where they checked in and went to a practice room so Madeline could warm up.According to the program, Madeline was the fifth out of sixteen, which was a good thing.It meant that she didn’t have too much time to get nervous.Diana sat in the practice room, listening as her daughter went through her arpeggios and played the first half of the piece.Then, Madeline swung her legs around the piano bench and raised her chin to look at her mother.

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