“You’re not a freak,” Nicole told her. “You’re…you’re…sexually challenged.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds better.”

“It’s not a horrible thing.”

“It is for me. It makes me feel like I’m not real. That I’m only part of a person.”

“It’s amazing,” Nicole murmured. “You’re so beautiful and successful. I would think you’d have men hanging all over you.”

“I wish. I seem to scare them off. Not Wyatt, though. So when he said he wanted to have sex with me, I thought maybe it would finally happen.”

Nicole swore. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

“No, and you’re not going to tell him.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. A virgin. Wow.”

Claire grimaced. “Stop saying that.”

“Sure. I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Shocked.”

“A little, but not in a bad way. Look, I don’t have personal experience, but I’m sure Wyatt is great in bed. If you don’t tell him, he won’t know to go slowly, but I don’t think that’s a problem. I’m sure he’s very considerate. You could hint that you don’t have a lot of experience. Jeez. I almost wish I could see the look on his face when he finds out the truth.”

Claire didn’t know if she should appreciate Nicole’s honesty or hit her in the arm. “You’re not helping.”

“Again, I’m sorry. I’m just dealing with this. Here I thought you were having all the fun.”

“Not that kind.”

“I guess.” Nicole smiled. “Got any questions?”

Claire laughed. “About a thousand.”

“Fire away.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

CLAIRE PULLED into the side parking lot at Amy’s school, then turned off the engine. “Are you sure?” she asked, speaking directly at the girl.

Amy nodded and smiled. “I want you to meet my teacher.”There was some signing that Claire didn’t catch, but she understood the major point of the conversation. Amy had mentioned her at school. Claire hoped the topic had been more about how fun she was and not about anything significant…like the fact that she was a concert pianist.

Claire still hadn’t figured out how she was going to deal with her “other” life. Walk away completely? Until she got her panic under control, did she have a choice? People came to see her play, not have a total breakdown. While the writhing and screaming might have some minor interest the first time around, it would quickly get boring. None of which had anything to do with Amy.

“I’d love to meet your teacher,” Claire told the girl.

Amy led the way through the bright and open school. There were wide corridors and skylights. Big signs reminded students that hearing aids were required to be worn in classrooms. That and the students signing with each other were the only indications this school was different from any other Claire had been in.

Amy led the way to the main office where she asked the woman behind the desk to get her teacher.

“They have a meeting every Tuesday,” Amy said, speaking slowly. “They should be done now.”

A meeting? As in more than one person in a room?

Claire told herself not to worry. That Amy would call her teacher over, they’d be introduced and it would be over in a matter of seconds. No biggie. But couldn’t Wyatt have asked her to take Amy to school on a nonmeeting day?

A dozen or so adults filed out of a room behind the main counter. Amy waved and began signing at the speed of light. Her proficiency reminded Claire that her signing still had a way to go before it even got close to being basic.

A woman in her midthirties walked toward them. “Hi,” she said as she signed. “Amy, it’s good to see you. Who did you bring with you today?”

“My friend, Claire,” Amy said. “This is my teacher, Mrs. Olive.”

Claire smiled. “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve been looking after Amy while visiting my sister.”

“I heard about Nicole’s surgery,” Mrs. Olive said as she signed. “How is she doing?”

“Better,” Claire signed, feeling awkward and slow. She was really going to have to get better at the whole deaf communication thing.

Amy tugged on her teacher’s sleeve. “Claire plays piano. She played for me. It was beautiful.”

Mrs. Olive looked at Claire. “That’s great. A lot of hearing people assume the deaf can’t appreciate music, but that’s not true. There are a lot of…” She blinked. “Oh my gosh! Are you? You couldn’t be. Are you Claire Keyes?”

Claire stifled a groan as she nodded.

“I have a couple of your CDs. I love your music. I saw you on PBS. I can’t believe it.” She turned to the other teachers still in the area. “Sarah, you’ll never guess. This is Claire Keyes, the famous pianist.”

The other women hurried over and introduced themselves. Claire found herself answering questions.

“Yes, I do travel all over the world,” she admitted. “It’s a lot more work than you’d think.”

“Still,” one of them said. “You’re so lucky. Have you really played with those singers? The three tenors?”

Claire nodded. “They’re charming men.”

“I can’t believe this. A world-famous musician—at our school!”

The crowd increased. Claire grabbed Amy’s hand to keep her close. Mrs. Olive continued to sign the conversation so the girl could follow. She seemed to be doing it unconsciously.

An older woman joined them. “I’m Mrs. Freeman, the principal. What a pleasure, Ms. Keyes.”

Claire shook hands with her. “The pleasure is mine.”

Mrs. Freeman touched Amy’s head. “She’s one of our favorite students. So smart and motivated.”

Claire smiled at Wyatt’s daughter. “She’s pretty special,” she said.

Amy beamed.

“We’ve all heard about you,” Mrs. Freeman continued, “But we didn’t understand exactly who you were. Would it be too much to ask you to play for us?”

Too much? Those weren’t the words Claire would have used. Bone-chillingly horrible was a better choice.

“I know you’re on vacation,” the principal continued. “It’s just most of us will never have the opportunity to hear you play live.”

They weren’t alone, Claire thought, fighting the need to throw up. Until she conquered her fears, no one was going to hear her play live ever again.

“I, ah…”

She looked at all the teachers staring at her. They were so excited and hopeful.

“H-how many people are we talking about?” Claire asked cautiously.

“Just a few of the teachers and some students.”

She could handle the students, she thought. It was the adults that made her nervous.

She wanted to tell them no. She wanted to bolt for the car and never look back. She wanted to not be afraid anymore.

It was the last one that got her attention. Not being afraid would be a miracle. She knew she’d made some progress—she could now work at the bakery without having a panic attack. She’d conquered driving. But did any of it matter if she couldn’t play the piano?

“Only a few people,” she said reluctantly. “I’m ah, resting, and I don’t want to have to deal with a large crowd.”

Mrs. Freeman clapped her hands together. “Of course. How wonderful. Absolutely. Shall we say two-thirty this afternoon? In our music room. There’s seating in there for about thirty.”

Claire nodded. “Sure. I’ll be back.”

She crouched down and smiled at Amy. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Amy nodded, then hugged her. Claire hugged her back, feeling an uncomfortable combination of affection and terror.

NICOLE WENT UP the stairs without holding on to the railing but mostly dragging herself. Progress, she thought. At least she was making progress. She wasn’t supposed to go back to work for another couple of weeks but she could probably pop into the bakery on Thursday or Friday.

She missed her life. While she appreciated that the surgery had gotten rid of the pain in her stomach, it hadn’t done anything for the pain in her heart. That still burned hot, like a fresh wound.“Don’t think about it,” she told herself aloud, wishing she’d asked Claire to stop at the grocery store and pick up a movie. Anything that could be a distraction. Because the alternative was to sit in the house missing and hating Drew and Jesse in equal measures.

She heard Claire’s car in the driveway. Seconds later her sister burst into the house. She was pale and wild-eyed.

“I have to play,” she said as she headed for the stairs. “I have to play. I said yes. What was I thinking? I can’t do this. It’s too soon. I’m never going to get better. I should just face it. I can work in retail, right? Like the bakery. Do people make much doing that?”

Claire raced up to the second floor and dashed into her room. Nicole followed her. By the time she’d made it to the landing, she could see Claire kneeling on the floor flipping through what looked like hundreds and hundreds of pages of sheet music. Who traveled with sheet music?

“What are you talking about?” she asked

Claire glanced up at her. “Amy’s school. She told her teacher I play piano. She put it together with my name. The principal asked me to play for a few of the teachers. Today.”

She flipped through dozens of pages, looking at them once and flinging them over her shoulder. One fluttered to Nicole’s feet.

She looked at it, at what looked like thousands of notes. How could anyone make sense of that?

“What’s the big deal?” Nicole asked. “You play all the time.”

Claire sat back on her heels. “Wyatt didn’t tell you?”

“Didn’t tell me what?”

Claire rolled onto her butt, then dropped her head to her hands. She hated having to confess the truth to her überpractical, confident sister. “I’ve been having panic attacks when I play. It started a few years ago. I faked a panic attack to get Lisa off my back. But somehow I lost control and instead of me controlling them, they’re controlling me.”

“Panic attacks? Like what you had at the bakery?”

Claire nodded. “Only worse than that. I collapsed the last time I performed. They practically had to carry me off stage. It was horrible.” She shook off the memory.

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“What? No. It’s why I didn’t have to cancel performances to come here.”

“Okay. So what happens now? Are you in therapy or something?”

“I have been. I know what’s wrong, I just don’t know how to fix it.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Music is who I am. It’s my life. I’ve been so empty without playing. I’ve tried to enjoy my time off, but the truth is I miss playing. Last night instead of reliving my date with Wyatt, I found myself imagining Mozart. I lay there in bed, playing the piece in my head.”

“Not anything I would do,” Nicole muttered. “Do you want to go back to playing?”

Claire looked at her. “Every minute of every day. But I’m terrified. Worse, I doubt myself.” She put her hand on her chest. There was a feeling of tightness. Adrenaline poured through her body. “I can’t breathe.”

Nicole crossed the floor and sank down on the bed. “Of course you can. Take a breath and focus. In, out. In, out. You can breathe.”

“It doesn’t…” She gasped. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“That doesn’t matter. You can breathe. You’re talking. You’re not turning blue.”

“Okay. Okay. You’re right. I’m fine.” Claire’s eyes filled with tears as she tried to convince herself. “It doesn’t feel fine. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t go back?”

“I’d probably give you a job in the bakery. I hear you’re terrific on the cash register.”

Claire started to laugh. Nicole joined her. They laughed and then Claire was crying.

“I hate this,” she admitted, wiping her face and wishing her emotional weakness involved getting hives or throwing up. Anything but this awful sense of dread and panic. “I feel so weak and stupid. I want to be able to do what I love.”

“Look, we’re talking about a bunch of regular people,” Nicole said. “Teachers can’t afford to go to the symphony every week. They won’t know if you’re playing well or not. They’ll just be excited to see you. You’ll be the biggest star they’ve ever seen.”

Claire wiped her face. “They have CDs. They’ll know if I mess up.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point. But you’re playing on some school piano. My point is they’re not going to judge you.”

“Probably not to my face.”

“Does the rest of it matter? Do you think the people who pay to hear you play aren’t being critical.”

Claire winced. “I so didn’t need to think about that.”

“Have you played for anyone since you’ve been here?”

“Amy. She stood with her hands on the piano, feeling the vibrations.”

“And you were okay with that.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “She’s deaf.”

“I know. You didn’t answer the question.”

“I was fine with it.”

“Then have Amy stand where she stood before and play for her. Ignore the rest of those bitches.”