Chapter 3: Ministrations and Frustrations

After lunch, Emma had sat down with Mr. James to work on the calendar for the month. They wrote down the dates for several children's activities and then she set back to work on her grand master piece work in the children's area of the bookstore.

As she worked her magic, Emma picked up the pink scarf that had been so ornery earlier on. It was the same scarf that was returned to her by... "What was his name?" she thought. "What had he called himself? Prince Charles? No, that's the guy across the pond... Ah yes. Chip. Prince Chip of Kansas City," she smiled in recollection of him. He'd been nice enough. And he clearly had a fun personality. And dang it, he looked so familiar. Emma racked her brain trying to place him. He wasn't one of the store's regulars. He didn't look like he was in one of the local bands that Joel was so fond of making sure they all kept up with. She finally chalked it up to him being one of the "in and out" customers. Sparse visits and when they did come in, they were always on a mission and out as quickly as they came in. Perhaps she'd seen him in passing in there before.

As the day came to a close, Emma put finishing touches on her handiwork in the children's area. She had to make sure things were ready for Saturday morning when they did a special reading for the kids. As Mr. James worked on closing up in the front, she took a bottle from the box set on the floor. "A little glitter here and there won't hurt, will it? After all, all fairy tales have that special something that awakens the magic, right?" she reasoned with clear amusement as she sprinkled silver glitter around the small stage that jutted out from the wall in the corner of the children's area. She covered the little castle and the thrones, she herself getting glittered as it fluttered in the air.

After she finished, she stepped back, taking in everything. Mr. James came up beside her, also observing the glittered scene. Putting his hand on her shoulder, he gave her a thumbs up adding, "Nice work, princess. Nice work. The kids will love it."

"Thank you," Emma responded.

"See you tomorrow, Emma," he said, walking towards the office.

Satisfied with what she saw, Emma retrieved her belongings, including several papers pertaining to the reading on Saturday and headed out the door.

The wind had picked up and now rain was falling. Ever prepared, Emma reached to pull her small umbrella out of her bag, shuffling the papers in her hands in the process. She successfully managed to open the umbrella and started walking to her car.

Emma walked with her head bent down a little bit, not looking directly in front of her, keeping the wind and rain from stinging her eyes.

A few moments later, papers were everywhere.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!", a man yelled at her after she'd accidentally bumped into him.

Emma knelt to pick up her papers which were now getting soaked, her umbrella no longer covering her, but instead turned inside out.

"Seriously, open your eyes and look where you're going! What's wrong with you? It's a sidewalk meaning people walk on it and not just you, other people as well! For goodness sake!," he went on and on.

Emma looked up at him, beginning to apologize. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," she kept saying.

He paid no attention and continued his rant while she picked up her things with tears stinging in her eyes.

"Look at me! I'm talking to you," he said, grabbing her arm.

Emma pulled her arm away, now adding fear to her reasons for the tears spilling down her cheeks.

The man pulled out his phone, still ranting and raving at her. Emma became more frustrated by the second and eventually couldn't take it anymore and ran toward her car several yards down the sidewalk.

Once safely inside her car, she hit the steering wheel with her palm in anger several times as she let the tears fall and once she calmed down she began to drive home.

On her way however, she stopped. There was a music shop about a block from where she and Harper lived. It was in that shop that her baby was kept, the baby grand piano that she dreamed of one day buying, that is. She frequented the shop on her way home from work many times, just to be surrounded by instruments. They gave her a sense of comfort and brought her peace.

Emma walked in, her eyes now dry, but red and puffy all the same. She walked over to the piano she dreamed of one day calling her own. Making sure she was not going to ruin the precious wood of the bench with any wet clothing, she sat down and ran her fingers over the ivory keys. They were cold to the touch and she couldn't wait to warm them up with her playing.

Eventually, she began to pound out a song, setting free all of her frustrations as they became a melody of notes that drifted across the space.

ACROSS THE ROOM

David stood in the back of the music shop looking at the acoustic guitars. He wasn't looking for a new guitar, but instead helping Michael Johns find a new one. Michael's had been busted in transit between stops on the tour.

"Any suggestions for me?" Michael asked him.

David took a moment, looking them over. "You weren't terribly attached to the one you had?" he asked.

"Well, no, not really. To be honest, it was just a cheap thing I picked up at a flea market once just so I could learn how to play. At this point, I'm thinking it'd be a better investment to find a better quality guitar," Michael responded.

David nodded. "Ok... Well. Fender and Gibson are both some of the best."

"Alright..." Michael said, walking toward the Fender guitars.

Piano music drifted to the back of the room. It sounded like someone was actually playing one of the pianos at the front of the store. "And rather vigorously," David thought, walking past the guitar cases and violins to see who might be playing with such intensity.

It was her! The girl from the bookstore! "The princess of intrigue," David reminded himself as he had thought of her earlier upon his departure from the establishment. From his position, David could see her sitting at the piano, playing like the only thing that mattered at the moment was the music. Everything else could be going to hell in a handbag and she'd be fine as long as the music engulfed her.

"Again," he thought, "Intriguing."

David continued to watch her from a distance. He saw her hair was a bit damp and wind blown, perhaps from the weather outside. Her eyes though... Even closed, he noticed a bit of redness. Upon further observation he also recognized the concentration in her expression all too well and the frustration and comfort she was seeking. He'd been there many a time. Upset, saddened, frustrated, happy, it didn't matter, David had always turned to his music to express himself when words were not enough. Here was another soul doing just the same. And he couldn't help but wonder, "Why...and how?" Several hours ago she seemed like one of the most calm, joyful people he'd ever met. Now here she was serving her frustrations to the world from a black and white palate in the form of a song.

FROM THE PIANO

Emma played the final notes of the song, easing up on the pedals below and letting the music fade out. She sighed and finally opened her eyes.

Looking down at the keys, she thought, "As always...just what I needed. Let it out and let it go." She recalled those words from one of her piano teachers when she'd taken lessons. It had been advice she'd come to live by. She laughed to herself, "Heck, it practically saved my life." She didn't know where she'd be without having music in her life, whether by someone else or that she played.

"Just another day in the life of Emma Lane," she thought, getting up from the piano. "An unfortunate thought on one hand, yet hopeful on the other." She hated that knowledge. Knowing some things got the best of her, got to her. She should be over it by now. She had her defense mechanism and she had her escape. But even playing out your frustration can't take away the fact that you still have to go back and face reality. "The harsh reality," Emma muttered under her breath as she considered these things for probably the bazillionth time in her life. She could usually make the best of things, but sometimes people were so hurtful, spiteful, and frustrating. The worst part about it was that they either knew it or didn't know it. Both scenarios were equally hard to deal with.

Such are the ministrations and frustrations of Emma Lane, a young woman doing her best to remain optimistic, happy, and hopeful in a world that could easily frustrate her. This is life. Wait. Correction: this is life for Emma Lane, living with the constant reminder that she's partially deaf.