Love's Song

Please do not read if you are under 18 or if reading this story is illegal where you live!

This is not a quick sex story; if you are looking for that, you will be disappointed. This is a romance story that will eventually lead to sex.

This is my first submission, so please be kind! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome.

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Chapter 1

JOEL

Sometimes I think about the images that will flash back to me when that moment comes that I'm about to take my last breath, the memories that will stand out to me amid the sand of the moments of my life. I know without a doubt that one of those memories will be the day I first saw Jill Warren.

I was fresh out of college and had accepted a position teaching government and history to students at a private, well-respected school for the blind. The school accepted students from all over the country and housed them on the campus. As a teacher I was given the option of living off campus or accepting a room and board as part of my salary. Having no family or friends in the area, I happily accepted the offer to stay there.

Jill caught my attention from the first class, and not just because of her beauty, although she was very beautiful. She seemed detached from the class, as if she had built up a wall between herself and the other students. At first I didn't think she was even listening because she failed to even pretend to laugh at my lame jokes like the other students, but every time I asked a question and called on her, she was ready with the correct response. She never supplied anything more than the bare minimum answer, however, and never participated in class discussion.

That isn't to say she seemed aloof or haughty. I never heard an unkind word come from her mouth and if anyone spoke to her, she was unfailingly polite, if a bit cool. Of course, those instances were a rarity since her fellow students seemed to sense the same wall and never felt welcome to disturb her from her own space.

As my first week wore on, I saw that the same trend continued outside of my classroom. She was always alone and never seemed to participate in any activities.

On Friday I was grabbing my lunch when Stacy Reynolds stepped up behind me. "So, how do you like it here so far?" she asked. It was hardly an original question; I had fielded the same inquiry multiple times every day and was having trouble coming up with responses that didn't sound rehearsed.

"It's great, so far," I replied. We made small talk as we waked through the line and paid for our meals. Remembering that Stacy was the guidance counselor, I decided to take the opportunity to ask about the student who had me so intrigued and concerned. "I've been curious about one of my students . . . can you tell me anything about Jill Warren?"

By this time we had reached a table and took our seats across from each other at a faculty table. "Jill? She's not giving you any trouble, is she?" Stacy asked with surprise.

"No, not at all," I quickly assured her. "Far from it . . . it's just that she seems so isolated and never engages with the class like the other students. She seems to be extremely bright and always turns in her work with perfect punctuality and correctness, but there's no life there, no spirit."

Stacy took a deep breath and set down the fork she'd been using. "Yes, Jill keeps to herself mostly. Three years ago she was in a serious car accident that killed her parents and left her blind. She came to us soon after that. I thought at first that she was just mourning the loss of her family, but even therapy has done little to bring her out of her shell."

"So who cares for her now?" I asked.

Stacy shrugged. "Technically, she's a ward of the state . . . at least for the next couple of months until she turns eighteen."

"So she has no family to care for her?"

"Nope. Her parents left her a trust fund, which is used to pay for all of her schooling and needs, and the state relies upon us to look after her."

I shook my head. "That sounds like a very lonely existence. What does she do on holidays?"

Stacy shrugged again. "She stays here for short breaks and goes home for longer ones. Most of the kids go home for school breaks, but a few stay here and we always have enough faculty here to look after them. When she goes home, there are people to look after her there."

I wondered at the use of the word people. It sounded like a very lonely and impersonal. "Is there anyone here who particularly looks after her here?" I asked.

Stacy's face was blank. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath to ponder how to ask my question without seeming disrespectful. "I mean, this is a girl without any family, who spends most of her life at this school. Are there any faculty members who try to spend time with her like a parent or guardian would, who talk to her and tries to make her feel cared for and not just like another student?"

Stacy's eyes blazed into me for a moment. "That's my job. I look out for her. I meet with her regularly and talk to her about what's going on with her life."

I could tell I had stepped on her toes by implying that Jill's introversion might be due to a lack of concern from the school. "Of course," I replied. "I didn't mean any disrespect. I'm just trying to understand Jill's situation."

I focused my attention on my lunch and we ate the rest of our meal in relative silence.

JILL

I know Joel thinks I was living inside a self-constructed wall when he met me, but that's not exactly how I think of it. It felt more to me like I was sleepwalking through life. I kept myself numb from everything that was going on around me so I wouldn't have to feel all the losses I had experienced. One day I was a daughter with loving parents, I lived in a nice home, and I had a close circle of friends . . . and the next day I was very alone. Life had lost all of its meaning for me, so I just lived inside myself, silently watching my days pass by, one by one, through unseeing eyes.

The only time I really felt alive was when I was playing the piano. It had been my passion before the accident, and afterwards I had learned how to play from feel rather than sight, which wasn't as big of a leap as it might seem. I wasn't the pianist I used to be, but it still was my comfort zone where, even though I couldn't see the keys, I still felt like I knew what I was doing and could do it well. There was a piano in the school auditorium and I was allowed to go there whenever I wanted to play. I spent endless hours there with only Beethoven, Mozart, and Schumann as my companions, and while I enjoyed playing more than anything else, I know that time alone only added to the seclusion I was falling further and further into.

Not much about my classes made an impression on me. I was blessed with a good memory, which meant that I had to do little studying other than basic reading in order to be able to recall anything I needed to know to get an "A." I had the ability in class to be able to listen to what the teacher was saying with just enough concentration that I could answer questions while leaving the rest of my brain otherwise occupied. I didn't exactly daydream, because I thought very little about the future, but I would go over music in my head or just try to zone out.

Given this pattern of inattention, it is surprising to me that I can still recall the very moment I first heard Joel's voice. I don't know if it's because he so quickly became important to me that I didn't allow the memory to pass, or as I like to imagine, something in his voice called out to me from the first instant. There was a musical quality to his voice, something that my trained ears found very pleasing. He taught with a mixture of drama and comedy, and kept all of his students enraptured by his lectures. I generally kept with my pattern of paying only a little attention at first, but as time wore on I found it more and more difficult to distance myself from his words.

Then, during the second week, he surprised me by asking me to stay after class. I knew I hadn't failed to answer any questions or turn in any assignments, and my attention was better in that class than in most of my others, so I couldn't imagine what he wanted.

"So I hear you play the piano beautifully," he said after the last student had left the room.

"I do play," I answered quietly, "though not as well as I used to."

"Have you ever given lessons?"

I paused. "Yes, several years ago. Before . . ." I took a deep breath. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was wondering if you could give me lessons. I've been wanting to learn and now that I'm here at this school, I find that I have quite a bit of free time on my hands. I think learning to play would be a good use of that time."

I hesitated for a long moment. "I'm not sure, Mr. Wilson," I said. "It's been so long and I'm not sure I'd have any idea how to teach now. Besides, it would feel awkward, you being my teacher and all."

I could hear Joel taking a step closer to me. "I don't think it should be awkward at all. I teach you history and you teach me music. Sounds like a fair trade to me."

I don't know what made me say yes. I'd like to think I was self-aware enough to see that I needed more interaction with other people, but I think in the end I just didn't have the courage to say no, especially to a teacher. My will wasn't strong enough.

We made plans for Joel's first lesson to be in two days. As I lay down that night to go to sleep, I considered the task and a weight fell over me as I realized it could not go well. After all, I couldn't even read music anymore: how could I ever hope to be able to instruct someone when I couldn't even follow along? Besides, I knew I was awkward, quiet at best, around everyone and especially around teachers.

But no matter how convinced I was that this would end badly, my pride wouldn't let me give the task anything less than my complete effort. With that in mind, I spent the rest of the night planning my teaching strategy until I at last fell to sleep.

JOEL

I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was more than a little nervous about my first piano lesson with Jill. My intentions were good: I wanted to try to interact with her and see if I could bring her out of her shell a little bit. I thought that if I could earn her trust, maybe I'd be able to exert some kind of influence on her that would make her decide to engage with people a little more, make some friends, participate in activities . . . hell, I'd settle for her talking in class more. I didn't really stop to analyze why I had taken such an interest in her, I just knew that something about her made me want to try to help.

As I stood outside the auditorium door, I realized that all the good intentions in the world weren't going to change the fact that I had hardly spoken to this girl and we didn't know each other at all. I figured it was a long shot at best, but I really didn't see how I could make things worse than they already were. If I had only known!

I finally opened the door and stepped in, the music coming from the stage wafting over me like a familiar dream. I might not have ever learned to play an instrument, but I was raised by a mother who loved classical music and I instantly recognized the song as Tchaikovsky's.

I walked very slowly toward the stage, completely mesmerized as I watched Jill play. It wasn't her technique or the accuracy of her notes that amazed me, although perhaps they should have, but rather the emotion I saw in her expression and body language as she sent it to the keys and through the piano, and it came out in the music. By the time she finished I had reached the steps to the stage, but she didn't seem to sense my presence. She took a deep breath as if recovering from a physical battle and stretched her arms above her head.

"That was absolutely beautiful," I said softly and smiled at the way she jumped.

JILL

I had been so caught up in my song that I didn't hear Joel enter the auditorium, so when he spoke to me it caught me by surprise. It wasn't an unpleasant shock though, because his voice was warm. He told me he had enjoyed the piece and I flushed, unsure how to respond. I think I managed a "thank you," before moving off the bench onto the chair I had set up and gesturing for him to take a seat.

I know I got out the Schaumm's level "A" piano book and started babbling like an idiot about how I had learned with this book, so even though I couldn't see the notes of the songs, I knew them well enough that I'd be able to follow along in my mind as he played. Through all of my babbling Joel was completely silent and I know my face must have turned beet red as I imagined he must be sitting there laughing at how nervous I was. It was a vicious cycle because the longer he was silent, the more my nerves made me babble.

Finally I got a hold of myself and decided to kick the lesson into motion by showing him the names for the keys.

I swear that every minute of every day from the time that Joel had first asked me to give him lessons until that moment, I was dreading playing the role of teacher and trying to think of a way out of it. That changed in the flash of an instant as I took his hand to place it up on the keyboard. I'm not going to say that I felt a bolt of electricity shoot up my arm, because it wasn't like that. What I did feel was a warmth that I hadn't experienced in years. In that moment I didn't analyze the fact that human contact had been extremely limited if not outright missing since my parents had passed away, but I did take a brief moment to drink in the feel of Joel's hands. His fingers were long and felt very strong. The warmth of his hand seemed to transmit to me and I know it was the seed of my attraction to him. It's not as if I wanted to reach up and kiss him at that moment, but the feelings that were beginning to stir inside of me made me glad to be there with him.

JOEL

From the very beginning, I could tell Jill was extremely nervous because she was talking very fast and tripping over her words. I sat there in silence, wishing I could do something to put her more at ease. I felt relieved when she began to change direction, but I was completely shocked when she reached for my hand and set it on the piano keys to show me the appropriate placement. I would have expected her to merely show me, but I realized quickly that she was teaching me not in the way she would have learned, but the way a blind person would learn – by feel rather than sight.

She kept her hand on mine and depressed my fingers on the keys as she told me the names. "This is C, D, E, F, and G," she said. "Can you tell me what the next key is?"

I smiled knowing she had probably used this trick on other students who would likely say "h," but I knew the right answer. "A," I said.

Jill smiled her approval. "So you do know something about music." I explained to her that I had learned how to read music in a junior high music class and she was pleased, acknowledging that she had been worried about how to teach me that skill.

The rest of the lesson passed quickly and Jill introduced me to her plan for our lessons. She would assign me two or three songs from the book and have me read the lesson aloud so she could follow along.

After going through the first three songs, she announced that our lesson was over and I thanked her. I offered to pay her the going rate for lessons, but she adamantly refused. I tried to slip some money into her hand and insisted that students could always use some extra spending money. Jill just shook her head and softly told me that she didn't need anything. "That was the deal," she reminded me. "You teach me history and I teach you how to play."

"But I get paid for teaching you," I countered. "It's not fair for you to do all this work and get nothing for it."

"It's okay, I promise," she said. "I enjoyed the lesson today and you can think of yourself as a guinea pig."

I laughed at the thought. "A guinea pig?"

Jill smiled sweetly as she explained that she was going to use me as a test to see if she still enjoyed giving lessons, and then if she did, she would take on more students in the future. I could tell she was thinking about a long-term goal, but as I thought back to what I had seen and heard when I first entered the auditorium earlier I thought she might be selling herself a bit short. "Giving lessons sounds like a great idea, but as good as you are, I would think that you could make your living playing professionally."

Jill's smile faded. "I couldn't do that now, Mr. Wilson. Before I lost my sight I wanted to be a concert pianist, and even then I knew it was going to take all my time and energy. My blindness is a handicap I can't overcome in that field." I started to protest, but as soon as I spoke, she interrupted. "I'm not being tragic here. I know I can still play well, but I also understand my limitations. There are too many people out there who have just as much talent as I do and all of the same will and energy, plus their sight. I can't overcome that."

I wanted to argue but knew I was out of my league and didn't possess the knowledge to be able to debate her on the topic. Immediately I thought of famous musicians like Ray Charles who were blind, but realized that being a concert pianist was different from being a singer/songwriter/musician. "I guess I'll just have to take you word on that, then." I acknowledged.

Jill smiled back at me and I couldn't look away from her for a moment. I had hardly seen her smile during the time I had known her, but she had sent several smiles my way tonight and I made a silent vow to myself that I would do my best to keep getting her to smile that way. I told myself that I was doing this for her sake, to try to get her out of her shell and interact more with other people and never stopped to consider that I was enjoying the effect she was having on me.