No more silent tears

Knowing we must … Say goodbye


= Wednesday 08 March 2000 =

 

That same afternoon, Isaac, Taylor, and Zac had a photo shoot appointment in Central Park. Laurel spent some of that time playing with Zoë and Mac. Mac had been overjoyed two days before when he woke to find that Laurel was staying with his family for the majority of their visit to New York City.

While Mackenzie and his sisters watched cartoons, Laurel slipped out to the lounge and sat down at the piano. Reaching across the top for the music she’d left there the previous evening, Laurel grabbed the first sheet of paper her hand found. It looked unfamiliar; it must be the new song Taylor and Zac were working on, she thought. She scanned the sheet, set it down, and began to play. The melody was tender and wistful, although she noticed that there were no lyrics. Apparently Taylor and Zac had nixed the set she’d heard the previous day.

As she played what she assumed to be the verse accompaniment repeatedly, Laurel began to sing a set of lyrics she’d been working on for quite some time. The lyrics she’d written for the chorus didn’t quite fit what Taylor had written had written for the chorus; but she slowed down the tempo of the music and the two fit together almost perfectly.

Laurel wasn’t entirely happy with the lyrics she had, so she decided to work primarily on them. She kept her voice low as she sang, occasionally going back and changing a line and trying again. After a fair amount of time, she settled on a set of lyrics that she felt she could be satisfied with. She’d abandoned the music so that her song would not be affected or restricted by what someone else had written; this was her song for Joelle, and she wanted no one else’s influence in it.

Once the lyrics were set, Laurel returned to the piano and tried to write an accompaniment part to match the tune of the verse she’d just completed. It didn’t take her long to realize that what she was playing was part of what she’d been playing before, the song that she’d been hearing take various forms over the past two days.

"I can’t steal his work," Laurel told herself. "I need to find my own. Oh, I wish Joelle were here; she would instantly know what would work." Just for something to do other than make another meager attempt at the song, Laurel glanced down at her watch to read the time. When she did so she also caught notice of the date, and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the significance of that day, but that of the next, March 9th …Joelle’s birthday.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

After a few times through, the song felt concrete to Laurel. Little did she know, but Walker Hanson and his sons had returned earlier than planned, and Taylor was listening from the doorway, his elbow at about his eye level and his head resting on his hand. He was unable to distinguish the words Laurel was singing, because she was keeping her voice as low in volume as in pitch. And he had to admit, the depth of her range was impressive. When his arm began to fall asleep, Taylor adjusted his position leaning against the doorframe.

The sound of a slight movement from behind caused Laurel to jump. She hadn’t been aware that anyone was listening. Immediately she segued into the first song she could think of that was in the same key. Continuing to sing, she raised her voice gradually. This piece was a little bit difficult for her, because of some notes that were too high for her capabilities.

Taylor didn’t know how far into the song she was when he was able to hear "…Wishing you were / Somehow here again… / Wishing you were / Somehow near… / Sometimes it seemed, / If I just dreamed, / Somehow you would / Be here… / Wishing I could / Hear your voice again… / Knowing that I / Never would… / Dreaming of you / Won’t help me to do / All that you dreamed / I could…" He recognized the song as being from one of his parents’ favorite musicals, ‘The Phantom of the Opera’. Taking the familiar song as an invitation to enter the room, he did so.

Hearing Laurel from the next room, Zac also was drawn to where his brother stood, listening as she sang the rest of the song. It was the first time either of them had heard her sing within a normal woman’s range, and she was almost as good as she was in the lower octaves. Neither Hanson said a word until the piano and its player fell silent.

"Wow," Zac whispered as Laurel spun to face the intruders into her private universe.

"He means that as a compliment," Taylor clarified in a voice equally soft. "And I agree with him."

"There’s no need to whisper, and thank you."

"Sorry," Zac whispered, then giggled. He began again, speaking louder. "Sorry. It was like there was a mood in here, and I didn’t want to break it. Your performance was awesome. I was never that into Broadway showtunes, but that was …well, it was awesome." His lopsided grin was infectious.

Laurel blushed and looked down at her hands, resting in her lap.

"What song was that?" Isaac asked. He’d been listening as well, but hadn’t had his brothers’ courage to enter the room until this point.

"‘Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again’," Laurel told him. "It was my sister’s and my favorite song from ‘Phantom’ …Excuse me," she said as she got up and hurriedly escaped to her room. The thought of Joelle was something she didn’t want to share with anyone, much less the three men she least wanted anything to do with.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"What was that all about?" Zac looked puzzled. Is there a problem between her and her sister that she got weird like that? he asked himself.

"Long story, and one I don’t think I have the liberty to tell," Isaac told him.

Taylor, meanwhile, had commandeered the piano and was staring hard at the makeshift sheet music he’d drawn. The wheels in his head were spinning at an almost alarming rate.

"How did she do that segue?" Taylor mumbled to himself. "That could work really well for the bridge…" He began playing what he could remember hearing, trying several different things and making scribbled notes on the page.

It was a few minutes before Taylor resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t make his idea work. He was at a loss …but not yet willing to surrender. He picked up all of the music from the piano, including that which belonged to Laurel, and made his way down the hall. Isaac and Zac had long since left him to work alone and joined Mackenzie and their sisters in the adjoining room.

Knocking softly, Taylor slowly pushed open Laurel’s door, which she’d left ajar. "Um, I think this is yours." He handed over the extra sheets of music he’d picked up from the piano. He hadn’t really looked at them, but he did notice that one page contained a set of lyrics; he didn’t realize that they were the ones he’d been hearing before Laurel became aware of his presence in the lounge.

"Thanks," Laurel saw that Taylor still held a few pages in his hand. "Those yours?" she nodded toward them.

"Yeah. By the way, you had it sounding really good."

"You heard it?" Laurel asked, ashamed for having been caught.

Taylor nodded in affirmation, his eyes conveying a complete absence of anger.

"I’m really sorry about that; I didn’t mean to try to steal them or anything. I was looking for these—" Laurel held up the music he’d just returned to her "—and I came across it instead. I didn’t mean to do anything with it or to it, I just glanced at it and couldn’t help but want to play it. Is this the one you were singing yesterday?"

"Yeah, but I had to scrap the lyrics I had. They were flat-out horrible. Zac said they sounded too forced and I agree with him. But I have no idea what I’m going to do about it. I have no other ideas."

"Writer’s bloc. I know how that goes…I hate it." Laurel rolled her eyes for emphasis of her point.

"Ditto," Taylor grumbled. As he sat on a chair situated about seven feet from the bed where Laurel sat cross-legged, he asked, "Do you think I’m trying too hard with it?"

Laurel didn’t know what to think. Her original goal from the first word she’d spoken to this young man was to avoid him at all costs, and here he was seeking her advice. And he was the one who was the professional! "I don’t know," she finally said. "I don’t know what your usual writing style is, so I honestly don’t have a clue if this is any different from the way you normally work."

"This week was supposed to be a break for us; after Sunday night’s concert, we were supposed to have six days off at home. Monday morning we were told that we would have to be here, working. We’re taking the advantage of the free time we have tomorrow and Saturday to get some extra hours in the studio to demo the stuff we’ve been working on since the last album, and I can’t help but feel like I can’t go into the studio without something new each time." Taylor couldn’t understand why he felt so comfortable talking to this uptight girl; she was practically a stranger to him yet.

"Sorry, but I still can’t help you there. I feel like I would be way out of my league to even try. I mean, I’m just an average person who happens to like music, and you’re a professional." Laurel, too, noticed that conversation was coming more easily than she would have liked. But she couldn’t be discourteous to any member of this family who’d graciously given her a place to live until she could get back into the dorm.

"Give yourself some credit. You’ve got talent, and a lot of it." Taylor playfully scolded. "In fact, …I — I was thinking that maybe you could help me out with this? I couldn’t hear all of what you were doing with it, but it sounded good. Really good. Please?"

Laurel’s initial reaction was to say no, until she looked down to the lyrics she’d written that afternoon, and incorporated with Taylor’s music. She wanted so badly to see them come to life, and she was certain that she could not compose any music that would fit better. "All right, you twisted my arm," she sighed.

"Thanks, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Should we start tomorrow morning?"

"Sounds good." Only the prospect of seeing her tribute to Joelle complete kept the reluctance at bay. Laurel didn’t know what she was getting into, and quite frankly, she didn’t really want to get into it. But she’d given her word, now she had to keep it.

 

 

 


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