Chapter 11
Charlotte
I could hear it, the rich, stately sound of a cello playing far away in the distance. It reached for me, wanting to envelop my soul and create a hunger in me to play, touch the strings and allow its music to carry me away.
It reminded me of her—of how she’d play for me every night before bedtime. It was the most beautiful music I had ever heard, not because of the instrument, but because of her—how her love for playing echoed in every sound.
My mother had been my tutor from the day my arms were long enough to hug the cello. The first lesson she taught me was that the cello could not be mastered, it could only be danced with while its music effortlessly guided you to where it wanted to go. Not to where you wanted to take it.
I opened my eyes and stared at an unfami
