Page 89 of Heart Sick

“I know you said it’s dangerous, but I don’t see there being any other way. You said there was someone at Parkfields who might be able to help?”

“I don’t know that he will.”

“We have to try,” I press, refusing to take no for an answer. “I don’t care what I have to do. I can’t live this way anymore.”

Dutch still won’t look at me and I hate it. “I don’t know what you’ll have to sacrifice to get what you want.”

His ambiguous comment is laced with an undertone of worry and sadness. Something dire looms—I just don’t know what.

“I don’t care anymore. I have nothing to lose.”

And I mean that in every sense of the word.

Dutch nods before getting out of the car without a word.

I hate this. I hate feeling powerless because that’s what I am. I’m relying on him for everything which I shouldn’t because we met in an asylum, for God’s sake. Dutch is hearing voices from a dead man whose heart beats within his chest. And me, I might have killed that man.

There is nothing normal about this entire situation. Maybe we’re just as crazy as the other.

When I peer out my window, I see Dutch walking toward a church. Instantly, a bitter taste lingers on my tongue. I guess I wasn’t a devout Catholic.

I exit the car, curiosity once again getting the better of me as I follow Dutch into the small bluestone church. I’m surprised the doors aren’t locked, but when I see Dutch walk confidently down the aisle, it’s apparent he’s been here before.

Must be nice to remember…

I stop in the middle of the aisle, watching Dutch as he makes his way toward a white piano. He stops in front of it, and I can see he’s deep in thought. Reaching out, he places his palm on the top of it, before running it across the gleaming surface.

I watch, utterly mesmerized as Dutch goes to that place he usually does when music is involved.

It’s beautiful.

“I was a choirboy here.” Explains why he knows the layout so well and also the crucifix necklace he never takes off. “I always knew piano was my destiny, though. My parents thought if they introduced me to other aspects of music, I’d stop obsessing over the piano.

“It didn’t work. I’ve always felt music understood me better than any human being could. Music could speak for me when I couldn’t. That’s why I need it back. To not hear it…I may as well be dead. It’s like Jack’s voice has replaced the notes in my head.”

I don’t speak because this feels like Dutch purging all the secrets that plague him.

“The music stopped the moment I awoke from my operation and the only time I hear it…is when I’m with you,” he confesses, finally meeting my eyes. “That means something. I knew it from the first moment I saw you.”

My heart swells.

“Being without music is like being without breath and each breath I take feels borrowed, like my time is running out. So, I need to show you something just in case this is the last time.”

“The last time for what?” I’m afraid to ask, but I need to know.

Dutch stares at me, nothing but sorrow blanketing us both.

“Why do I feel like this is goodbye?”

A heavy breath leaves him before he takes a seat behind the piano.

I don’t dare move.

He strokes the piano as he would a lover—I know how that feels firsthand. I wonder what’s about to happen because Dutch said he hasn’t been able to write since the operation. But when he places his fingers on the keys, it seems something has shifted because music fills the silence and nothing else exists but this.

Dutch’s eyes are closed, but the piano, the music is an extension of him. He doesn’t need sight. He has a heart, and although he doesn’t think it’s his, this proves that it is. Each beat of Jack’s heart gives Dutch life and that life gives birth to the most beautiful music.

Dutch is a true maestro, and this is the only time I’ve ever seen him at peace. I get it now. I understand why he so desperately needs to solve this mystery because it’s killing him inside. Each silent note is driving him insane.

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