stairs. Beyond them was the living
room with its scuffed wood floor, sooty stone fireplace and un-matching
furniture. Next was the dining room with the widest, longest table Christa had
ever seen. Then there was the big kitchen with the empty cabinets, warped
floors, and dusty, unplugged appliances.
"How
come everything here looks so old?" Andy asked. She was eyeing the torn
and faded wallpaper, not roses but little white flowers here in the dim hall.
"Because
it is," Christa answered. Even the brown braided rug beneath their feet
was so faded it seemed almost gray. "See the lines, Andy?" She
pointed. "We can use those as a road for Barbie's car. Like a
racetrack."
"Yeah,"
Andy said with interest. Then she lifted her head. "Are we going
upstairs?"
"Where's
Uncle Nolan?" Christa replied.
"Talking
to Cal."
Christa
glanced toward the living room. "He's cute. I like boys with blond
hair."
"Like
Uncle Nolan," Andy said. "Christa, are we going up there?"
Christa
looked up. There was no rail, only wooden steps and the walls to hang on to.
The stairs looked steep. She counted twelve steps. At the top she could see
nothing, but she knew what was up there. Uncle Nolan's room was up there. And
something else was up there too. Christa suddenly changed her mind about
exploring the upstairs part of the house. It might not be safe. It would be
even hotter and stuffier up there and Andy might fall and get hurt on the
steps…and whatever was up there might get them
She
turned to her sister. "Let's go find Uncle Nolan instead."
Andy
looked relieved. "Okay. I want a sandwich first, Christa, I'm hungry. I'm
thirsty too. It's too hot in there."
Christa
pushed her away from the stairs. "It's hot because there's no
air-conditioner. And we don't have anything to fix a sandwich with. We'll eat
when Daddy gets back."
"Oh
yeah. I forgot." Andy followed her through the living room then paused.
"What’s that? I was going to ask you before but we—"
"What?"
Christa turned. "Oh. That's a piano. See, that thing on the front lifts up
and you play the keys underneath. We had one in music class at school."
"Can
we play with it?" Andy asked.
"Daddy
said not to touch anything until he got back from the store."
"I
just wanna look at it. Can't we just look?"
"Okay."
Christa heaved an exaggerated sigh and went to lift the lid on the piano. The
keys beneath were yellow with age. She plunked one and smiled. Andy giggled and
moved to stand beside her. "Play it."
"I
don't know how to play it," Christa said.
"I
do," said a voice behind them.
Christa
couldn't stop the shriek that came out of her throat. Andy instinctively
clutched her arm.
"Did
I scare you?" Nolan said with a laugh. "Here, move over and let me
get that bench out. Damn, it's hot in here. We need to open some windows and
find a fan."
He
pulled the bench from beneath the keyboard and sat down. "I used to have
an old upright like this. Not as old as this one, though. It probably hasn't
been tuned in years. Remember the one we saw in Dodge City?"
"No,"
Andy said.
"Can
you really play?" Christa asked.
"With
these bandages, probably not. Let's see."
It
sounded like playing to Christa, and Andy squealed in delight as a tune rolled
out from beneath his fingers.
Then he
stopped. "Shit. Can't play these mitts. How about a little Jerry Lee
Lewis?"
He
pounded out part of another song and then stopped again. "Worse than I
thought. And my guess is that there aren't many piano tuners in this part of
the world. Not that it would help, as ancient as this thing is. Your dad could
probably peddle it as an antique. Did you girls get all your stuff put
up?"
"Yes,"
Andy said. "Play some more."
"Later,
maybe. I'm going out to look at your grandpa's car. Why don't you watch some TV
until your dad gets back?"
"There's
no television," Christa informed him. "We looked when we first came
in."
"No
television? Damn. That means no baseball. Why have that big satellite dish in
the back if you're not
room with its scuffed wood floor, sooty stone fireplace and un-matching
furniture. Next was the dining room with the widest, longest table Christa had
ever seen. Then there was the big kitchen with the empty cabinets, warped
floors, and dusty, unplugged appliances.
"How
come everything here looks so old?" Andy asked. She was eyeing the torn
and faded wallpaper, not roses but little white flowers here in the dim hall.
"Because
it is," Christa answered. Even the brown braided rug beneath their feet
was so faded it seemed almost gray. "See the lines, Andy?" She
pointed. "We can use those as a road for Barbie's car. Like a
racetrack."
"Yeah,"
Andy said with interest. Then she lifted her head. "Are we going
upstairs?"
"Where's
Uncle Nolan?" Christa replied.
"Talking
to Cal."
Christa
glanced toward the living room. "He's cute. I like boys with blond
hair."
"Like
Uncle Nolan," Andy said. "Christa, are we going up there?"
Christa
looked up. There was no rail, only wooden steps and the walls to hang on to.
The stairs looked steep. She counted twelve steps. At the top she could see
nothing, but she knew what was up there. Uncle Nolan's room was up there. And
something else was up there too. Christa suddenly changed her mind about
exploring the upstairs part of the house. It might not be safe. It would be
even hotter and stuffier up there and Andy might fall and get hurt on the
steps…and whatever was up there might get them
She
turned to her sister. "Let's go find Uncle Nolan instead."
Andy
looked relieved. "Okay. I want a sandwich first, Christa, I'm hungry. I'm
thirsty too. It's too hot in there."
Christa
pushed her away from the stairs. "It's hot because there's no
air-conditioner. And we don't have anything to fix a sandwich with. We'll eat
when Daddy gets back."
"Oh
yeah. I forgot." Andy followed her through the living room then paused.
"What’s that? I was going to ask you before but we—"
"What?"
Christa turned. "Oh. That's a piano. See, that thing on the front lifts up
and you play the keys underneath. We had one in music class at school."
"Can
we play with it?" Andy asked.
"Daddy
said not to touch anything until he got back from the store."
"I
just wanna look at it. Can't we just look?"
"Okay."
Christa heaved an exaggerated sigh and went to lift the lid on the piano. The
keys beneath were yellow with age. She plunked one and smiled. Andy giggled and
moved to stand beside her. "Play it."
"I
don't know how to play it," Christa said.
"I
do," said a voice behind them.
Christa
couldn't stop the shriek that came out of her throat. Andy instinctively
clutched her arm.
"Did
I scare you?" Nolan said with a laugh. "Here, move over and let me
get that bench out. Damn, it's hot in here. We need to open some windows and
find a fan."
He
pulled the bench from beneath the keyboard and sat down. "I used to have
an old upright like this. Not as old as this one, though. It probably hasn't
been tuned in years. Remember the one we saw in Dodge City?"
"No,"
Andy said.
"Can
you really play?" Christa asked.
"With
these bandages, probably not. Let's see."
It
sounded like playing to Christa, and Andy squealed in delight as a tune rolled
out from beneath his fingers.
Then he
stopped. "Shit. Can't play these mitts. How about a little Jerry Lee
Lewis?"
He
pounded out part of another song and then stopped again. "Worse than I
thought. And my guess is that there aren't many piano tuners in this part of
the world. Not that it would help, as ancient as this thing is. Your dad could
probably peddle it as an antique. Did you girls get all your stuff put
up?"
"Yes,"
Andy said. "Play some more."
"Later,
maybe. I'm going out to look at your grandpa's car. Why don't you watch some TV
until your dad gets back?"
"There's
no television," Christa informed him. "We looked when we first came
in."
"No
television? Damn. That means no baseball. Why have that big satellite dish in
the back if you're not
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