Chapter 11

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Charlotte soon got into the rhythm of teaching Miss Wilder the piano. She enjoyed the other woman's presence, and often, she would stay at her home longer than the agreed-upon hour to chat. Miss Wilder did most of the talking, usually about her day or her students, which was not terribly exciting, but Charlotte enjoyed listening.

The simplicity helped Charlotte forget the heavier aspects of her life. And she enjoyed helping the woman improve her musical skills, which indeed had become more impressive over the weeks. Eliza Jane soon went far beyond Camptown Races and instead learned some of the more intermediate pieces of Beethoven and Mozart.

Occasionally, Eliza Jane's brother Almanzo, a strong blond man, would arrive to have dinner or rest, but he spent most of his time out working. Charlotte never felt nervous at Eliza Jane's house, likely because of its persistent lack of guests. She could relax without the fear of being watched and judged by others, not even Eliza Jane, who admired her.

That day, Eliza Jane was happy to see that she was halfway through her old piano music book. "I've never made it this far before."

"It isn't too hard to progress quickly when you've mastered the basics," Charlotte said, sitting in an upholstered armchair that she had pulled up close to the piano. "I think we'll move on to some of Vivaldi's pieces."

She taught for some time, but half of her mind was elsewhere. Usually, she was as focused and sharp as a razor's edge while teaching. But she kept thinking about her fishing trip yesterday.

She kept thinking about Mr. Oleson.

The thought of him made her chest feel tight and her head cloudy. She tried to shake the feeling away, but it would always come back, buzzing around her and inside her like a pesky fruit fly.

She had never felt so peculiar. She had a few beaux in her past; her father had set them up with her in hopes that they would marry her. Some had been somewhat handsome and somewhat wealthy, but very dull and cold. They would bring her flowers and compliments, but grudgingly, and they'd soon get bored of her after discovering the severity of her ills.

She never felt much for them. She would dance with them, and let them steal a kiss from her sometimes, but she never felt love or longing for them. When they were cold, she returned their coldness.

But now, she felt warm. She remembered the warmth of Mr. Oleson's hand as he helped her across the stream. She remembered trying not to look at him, despite wanting to so badly.

She was confused.

Mr. Oleson is becoming a good friend to me, she thought. I enjoy his kindness. Few have been kind to me the way he has, in an authentic way, and kind to Uncle Samuel. I appreciate him for that, and I enjoy his company.

"How was that?" asked Miss Wilder.

Charlotte had been so deep inside her head that she didn't hear anything that Eliza Jane played. "Very good," she replied, somewhat absentmindedly. "As usual, let's focus on the tempo. Try it again."

They continued the lesson until their hour was up, and they both stood to their feet. "I'm excited by the prospect of soon being able to play the songs at the back of the book," said Miss Wilder.

Charlotte smiled. "It won't be too soon. Those songs are advanced enough to require many months of practice."

"Well, yes, of course, but it is still a very tangible possibility.... Miss Richmond, before you go, I have one thing to ask. I'm sure you've already heard of the harvest festival the town will be having once fall rolls around. I was wondering, because there will be a piano there for music, if you might play?" When Eliza Jane saw the trepidation in Charlotte's face, she quickly continued. "Not to play the whole time, of course. But perhaps you would play a song to close the evening? I think your playing is so wonderful, and I'm sure everyone in town will agree."

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