You know I had always found it weird that my aunt would have a music room.
I'd always found the fact that she had the music room in this mansion of a house funny because I know she never plays music.
It was only when I had realised through some stroke of luck that she had actually bought this place shortly after my parents died to make room for us that I knew exactly why she had bought it. But it seems now, I know of that reason even more.
It was really strange to me when I came in and I found a music room, a music room that practically nobody used but yet the same room in which my brother would wander off to in the afternoons, and simply run his hands over the instruments in there. I'm pretty sure that an whole orchestra could take place in there with the amount of instruments she has.
The instruments that I am hearing is quiet familiar to my ears, even the tune is a familiar one and I am practically shiver to my bones.
I'm guessing the fact that my brother told me was in a music class should have informed me of the fact that he played music, but yet it seems only now do I actually realise it fully. The sound that is drifting into my ears is that of the piano being played masterfully, and elegantly by skilled hands.
A skilled hand which makes no mistake and is coupled with a voice so calm and soothing that I felt like melting right there on the front porch.
I wonder exactly how strong Scott's voice is for his voice to be drifting down this far. I realise that will practically be because the door to the music room is open and I wonder how that is possible. Even when he went in there and he didn't play anything he always made sure to lock the door securely like he are afraid of anyone seeing what he did in there.
At first my mind had strayed to some unusual things, unusual things which I knew he can do practically anywhere else in the house, but now now I realise the practically closed it just so I could not here him practicing. I'm guessing it just so happened that the music room must also soundproof along with all its other special modifications, like a piano set that could by hidden in the decking of the house.
I wonder exactly how my aunt came up with such a crazy idea. The look on Oakley's face is one of surprise, well not so much surprised, as much as it's delighted fascination.
"You haven't heard him sing before?" I asked her quietly, like I was afraid my voice would ruin the pure melody that was floating into my ears.
"I haven't even heard him play!!" She says and I am practically in awe at this. I am in awe that I am finally getting to hear what would practically be my brother's first outward display of emotion.
A pleasant laughter floats into my ears.