The Music Had Not Yet Ended

On a rainy night, a young pastor received an old upright piano that had been moved into the church. After the movers left, as she wiped its body, the middle C suddenly sounded on its own. Late at night, the same C rang out again, and the key even depressed by itself. The pastor woke, but never truly touched it—she only approached and retreated in the dark. She couldn’t sleep all night, and by dawn still hesitated to open the door. In the afternoon, she checked the keys, saw a scorch mark on the music stand, and felt a lingering resonance in middle C though no one played it. After service, the pastor sat alone at the piano and improvised a fragmentary melody. When her phrases stopped, the piano supplied the tonic and dominant on its own, as if someone were answering. She closed the lid and sat in the empty church for a long time, repeatedly studying her hands and knuckles, as though confirming a long-lost sensation. At midnight, she returned to the piano and sat in the moonlight without playing, only gazing at the lid and flexing her fingers. The piano softly sounded the same C again; she did not respond and rose to leave. Over the following week, the piano occasionally spoke by itself when no one was there. During Sunday service, the pastor played hymns for the congregation and added a grace note beyond the score. Hearing it, the “he” hidden within the piano tapped an E in the upper register in reply. The pastor paused for half a beat, then continued to finish the hymn. After the service, she slid her hand from the bass to the treble, and the keys seemed to depress one by one in tandem with “him.” At dusk, the pastor returned to the church alone and began an improvised melody she’d once heard on a winter night in a bar and had played only once. She stopped midway to wait; the piano filled in the missing measures, avoided the slack string, and caught her line with a bass arpeggio. She tentatively played a D; the piano answered with a D an octave lower. Then together they completed the piece: she played the main melody, “he” supplied the bass line and passing tones; when she erred, he waited for her to find her place; in the end, she tapered off in the high register with a long tremolo, and the piano struck a low C, as if setting everything to rest. When the music ended, the pastor sat at the piano for a long time, touching the keys and the case, feeling the wood and the aftertones. She turned off the lights and left, returning to her bedroom to gaze into the darkness toward the nave. In the night, the piano again sounded the tonic of C major by itself, as clear as an answer.