then stopped and cocked her head to the side, her eyes narrowing on him. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
Ben raised a hand defensively. “Well, I can’t promise I won’t laugh if you say something like ‘elevator music.’”
“No, definitely not,” she shook her head. “It’s Bach.”
Expecting a look of disdain, Andy was surprised by the flicker of interest that crossed Ben’s face instead.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Which symphony?”
“No, I mean which Bach? Wasn’t there more than one composer named Bach?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said with surprise. “This is Johann Sebastian Bach. He was the father. The famous one.”
“That’s right. But weren’t there others? His sons or something?” he replied, scouring the depths of his memory. “Was it fifth grade? No…sixth grade. Mrs.…Mrs.…God, what was her name?” He snapped his fingers in an effort to force it to come to him. “Mrs. Johnson! That’s it!” Ben lightly smacked the top of the steering wheel upon remembering. “Mrs. Johnson was my music teacher. God, I haven’t thought about her since…well, school. She was this sweet, older lady—at least sixty. But she loved music, especially Bach. She called him ‘Herr Johann,’ and she would go on and on about the greatness of the ‘Bach musical dynasty.’ Jim and I used to joke that she was in love with him.” He shook his head and smiled at the memory. “We were pretty stupid back then.”
“You and Jim were in the same class?”
“No, I was a year ahead, but we had all the same teachers.” Ben combed his fingers through his hair once again. “Can I listen for a sec?”
Andy shrugged at the unexpected request. “Uh, sure. Here.” She passed the earbuds to him and moved the iPod closer. As he secured the speakers in his ears, she resumed the music. She watched him closely as he listened, but his expression never changed and his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
“What’s the name of this one?” he asked after more than a minute had passed. “I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s one of his cello suites…Suite Number 1 in G major, the Prelude ,” Andy read off the small screen.
Ben nodded slightly, then added after a long pause, presumably once the music ended, “It’s just one instrument.”
“It’s the cello.”
“It’s beautiful.” He passed the earbuds back to Andy. “It’s too bad it’s so short. Just when you get into it, it ends.”
“I know…it’s my favorite.” Andy was amazed by Ben’s interest. “My mom used to play it at concerts. She was a cellist with the Chicago Philharmonic. That’s where I’m from.”
He let out a whistle. “Wow. She must’ve been really good.”
“She was. Before she died, she was the principal cellist. That’s the lead cellist in the entire orchestra.” Andy glanced down at the iPod in her lap. “Anyway, a few weeks before my thirteenth birthday, she played this piece during a concert that was being recorded. As a birthday present, she and my dad bought me this iPod with the recording already loaded onto it.”
“So what I just listened to is actually your mother playing?” Ben asked with mounting astonishment.
Andy nodded and smiled proudly. “I was in the audience when she played it. She was perfect.”
“It sounded perfect. I can’t believe that’s your mother playing.”
“It is.” After a pause, “She was killed in a car accident a few months later.”
Ben took his eyes off the road and turned to her. “She didn’t die from the virus?”
“No. The accident was the autumn before. I was in the car with her.”
“I’m sorry.” He returned his eyes to the road. “Were you hurt?”
“No. Barely a scratch.”
Neither said anything for a moment. Then Ben asked, “Did you ever play?”
“What, the cello?”
“Or any instrument?”
“No. I didn’t like sitting inside and practicing. I liked playing sports instead.”
“So more of a tomboy then, huh? No surprise
Ben raised a hand defensively. “Well, I can’t promise I won’t laugh if you say something like ‘elevator music.’”
“No, definitely not,” she shook her head. “It’s Bach.”
Expecting a look of disdain, Andy was surprised by the flicker of interest that crossed Ben’s face instead.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Which symphony?”
“No, I mean which Bach? Wasn’t there more than one composer named Bach?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said with surprise. “This is Johann Sebastian Bach. He was the father. The famous one.”
“That’s right. But weren’t there others? His sons or something?” he replied, scouring the depths of his memory. “Was it fifth grade? No…sixth grade. Mrs.…Mrs.…God, what was her name?” He snapped his fingers in an effort to force it to come to him. “Mrs. Johnson! That’s it!” Ben lightly smacked the top of the steering wheel upon remembering. “Mrs. Johnson was my music teacher. God, I haven’t thought about her since…well, school. She was this sweet, older lady—at least sixty. But she loved music, especially Bach. She called him ‘Herr Johann,’ and she would go on and on about the greatness of the ‘Bach musical dynasty.’ Jim and I used to joke that she was in love with him.” He shook his head and smiled at the memory. “We were pretty stupid back then.”
“You and Jim were in the same class?”
“No, I was a year ahead, but we had all the same teachers.” Ben combed his fingers through his hair once again. “Can I listen for a sec?”
Andy shrugged at the unexpected request. “Uh, sure. Here.” She passed the earbuds to him and moved the iPod closer. As he secured the speakers in his ears, she resumed the music. She watched him closely as he listened, but his expression never changed and his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
“What’s the name of this one?” he asked after more than a minute had passed. “I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s one of his cello suites…Suite Number 1 in G major, the Prelude ,” Andy read off the small screen.
Ben nodded slightly, then added after a long pause, presumably once the music ended, “It’s just one instrument.”
“It’s the cello.”
“It’s beautiful.” He passed the earbuds back to Andy. “It’s too bad it’s so short. Just when you get into it, it ends.”
“I know…it’s my favorite.” Andy was amazed by Ben’s interest. “My mom used to play it at concerts. She was a cellist with the Chicago Philharmonic. That’s where I’m from.”
He let out a whistle. “Wow. She must’ve been really good.”
“She was. Before she died, she was the principal cellist. That’s the lead cellist in the entire orchestra.” Andy glanced down at the iPod in her lap. “Anyway, a few weeks before my thirteenth birthday, she played this piece during a concert that was being recorded. As a birthday present, she and my dad bought me this iPod with the recording already loaded onto it.”
“So what I just listened to is actually your mother playing?” Ben asked with mounting astonishment.
Andy nodded and smiled proudly. “I was in the audience when she played it. She was perfect.”
“It sounded perfect. I can’t believe that’s your mother playing.”
“It is.” After a pause, “She was killed in a car accident a few months later.”
Ben took his eyes off the road and turned to her. “She didn’t die from the virus?”
“No. The accident was the autumn before. I was in the car with her.”
“I’m sorry.” He returned his eyes to the road. “Were you hurt?”
“No. Barely a scratch.”
Neither said anything for a moment. Then Ben asked, “Did you ever play?”
“What, the cello?”
“Or any instrument?”
“No. I didn’t like sitting inside and practicing. I liked playing sports instead.”
“So more of a tomboy then, huh? No surprise
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