“I wasn’t trying to… I just meant… ” She stops, catching herself. “But what if Trey… ” Once again, she stops. She’s trying not to judge. She looks away, then back at me. Eventually, she asks, “You’d really give up meeting Vaughn for a friend?”
It’s a silly question. “You think there’s a choice?”
As the words leave me, Nora doesn’t reply. She just sits there-her mouth barely open, a crinkle on her forehead. Slowly, though, her lips start curling. A grin. A smile. Wide.
“What?” I ask.
She leaps to her feet and moves toward the door.
“Where’re you going?”
Putting up her pointer finger, she gives me the
As we step inside, one thought enters my brain:
There’re some autographed pictures on the wall from famous musicians, as well as a glass case with one of Clinton’s saxophones. For some reason, there’s also a carpeted three-foot-wide platform that runs along the interior of the room and is set off with a railing. I guess it’s supposed to be a tiny stage. The Music Room-where Clinton used to practice.
I’m about to ask Nora what’s going on when I see her open the black cabinet with the seal on it. Inside is a pristine, highly polished violin and a bow. Using the stage as a seat, she hops up so her legs are dangling over the edge and rests the violin on her shoulder. Placing the bow on the A string, she spends a moment tuning, then looks up at me.
Since when does she…
With an elegant slide of her arm, the bow glides across the strings and a perfect note engulfs the room. Holding the instrument in place with the bottom of her chin, Nora closes her eyes, arches her back, and starts playing. It’s a slow song-I remember hearing it once at a wedding.
“When did you learn to play the violin?” I ask.
As before, her answer comes with the song. Her eyes are shut tight; her chin’s clenched against the instrument. She just wants me to watch, but despite the calm that the music brings, I can’t shake the feeling I’m missing something. When Hartson first got elected, I-like the rest of the country-was force-fed every detail about the First Family’s life. Nora’s life. Why she went to Princeton, her love for peanut-butter cups, the name of her cat, even the bands she listened to. Yet no one ever mentioned the violin. It’s like a giant secret that nobody-
Her chin stays down, but for the first time, Nora looks my way and grins. I freeze. Of everything she does, everywhere she goes, it’s the only thing she’s still in control of. Her one real secret. With a subtle nod, she tells me the rest. She’s not just playing. She’s playing for me.
Suddenly light-headed, I take a seat in a nearby chair. “When did you start?” I anxiously ask as she continues to play.
“Whole life,” she answers, not missing a beat. “When my dad first became Governor, I was embarrassed about it, so he promised to keep it quiet. As I got older… well… ” She pauses, thinking it over. “You have to keep something.”
Up close like this, the vibrations bounce against my chest, almost pushing me back. I lean in closer. “Why the violin?”
“You’re telling me
I laugh out loud. As the song peaks, her fingers dance against the strings, pulling the music from its resting place. Slowly, it grows louder, but it never loses its light touch.
With one final, gentle tug, Nora pulls the bow back across the A string. The moment she’s done, she looks to me, searching for a reaction. Her eyes are wide with nervousness. Even at this, it’s not easy for her. But as soon as she sees the grin on my face, she can’t help herself. Lifting herself up on her toes, she bounces up and down on the balls on her feet. And even though she covers her smile with her fingers, her bright eyes blaze through the room, making even the Graceland curtains look like Renaissance art. Those beautiful, beaming eyes-so clear, I can practically see myself. I was wrong all those other times-this is the first time I’ve seen her truly happy.
I jump to my feet, clapping as loud as I can. Her cheeks flush red and she takes a mock bow. Then the applause gets louder. “Bravo!” someone shouts from behind me-outside, in the hallway.
