She returned home and immediately peeled off the dress. “I miss hearing you play,” her mother said gently. “Your father has been in agony all day. Won’t you help clear my head with something beautiful?” At first, Elodie wanted to resist her mother’s maneuverings. She didn’t need another person directing her actions, but her frustration caused her entire body to stiffen. She knew the music would be the only thing that could pacify her. Elodie unsnapped the case, withdrew her cello, and settled into a chair. For a second, there was a silent exchange between the girl and her instrument, the privacy upheld through a curtain of her black hair. Orsina held her breath until her daughter finally lifted her bow. She started with the main theme from the second movement to American String Quartet, and did not look up once to meet her mother’s approving gaze. She played with her head to the side and her eyelids closed.
