The Music Box

 

             Chelsea Arlington slowed her car to a crawl.  The construction equipment ahead blocked her view.  Impatiently, she blew her horn, but to no avail.  It was getting late, and she wanted to be at the cabin before nightfall.  As the traffic came to a complete halt, she shoved her gear shift into park, then turned the radio up.  Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, she tried to relax.

             But it was impossible.  That ugly scene with Scott last night flashed through her mind.  Hurtful words had been spoken, harsh, mean words.  Words that neither one of them could ever take back.

             The car ahead surged forward and jerked her out of her reverie.  As she eased her car around the bulldozer, she saw the source of the traffic snarl.  An old house on the far side of the road was apparently going to be demolished the next day, and the construction crew was bringing in their equipment.  She studied the dilapidated building.  Broken stared lifelessly at her, their shutters clinging tenuously to the decayed wood.  The front porch sagged, and gaping holes dotted the roof.   A tattered curtain fluttered out of the broken window in the front gable.  A relic from the past, a different era, a different world.

             Yet, the ancient house appealed to Chelsea.  Something about it reached out to her and tugged at her emotions.  She felt a…well, a sort of melancholy emanating from the wooden structure, a loneliness, poignant and heart-wrenching.  Fleetingly, she wondered who had lived there and what unhappiness they had faced.  The Gable House.  She would always remember it as the Gable House.

             As she drove by, she tried to shake off the feeling that the house was reaching out to her, wanting her to stop.  She rolled her window down and sucked in the cool evening air, trying to clear her head.  She must be more tired than she thought.

             Chelsea turned left onto the dirt road behind the house. It was funny but she had been this way to the cabin many times before but had never noticed the house.  But then she’d always come with Scott, and he usually demanded all of her attention.  But still….

             A glimmer of white near the house caught her attention, and she peered out the window.  A young woman dressed in an old-fashioned white gown, its skirt billowing behind her, walked down the steps of the house.  Her long dark hair laced with flowers streamed behind her.  She carried a small dark object.  The girl waved at Chelsea and motioned for her to come nearer.  Compelled by some unknown force, she pulled her car over onto the shoulder of the road.  Glancing toward the highway, she saw that the construction crew had left for the day, and there was no traffic on the main road.  With hesitant steps, she walked toward the girl.

             The barefooted girl was very pale, her skin almost translucent.  An almost ethereal quality hovered about her.  Her eyes were the color of lilacs, the color of the flowers woven into her hair.  She carried a dark wooden box in her hands.  When she spoke, her voice was soft and faint. 

             “Welcome, Chelsea.  I’ve been expecting you.”

             “Expecting me?  How did you know my name?  Who are you?” 

             “There is no time for questions.  Listen carefully.  My name is Daphne, and I have a gift for you.”  She held out the box and placed it in Chelsea’s outstretched hands.  “It is a music box, a gift from my one true love, and now my gift to you.”

             “But I can’t accept this.  It’s a valuable antique.  And I don’t know you.”

             “But I know you, and I want you to have it.”

             Chelsea examined the music box.  Made of rosewood, ornate scrolls had been etched into the wood.  The brass clasp had tarnished but remained intact.  She opened the box, and the music began.  A haunting tune wafted through the summer air.  She had heard that melody before, but where?  The mirror on the inside of the lid caught and reflected the setting sun.  “Oh, it is so beautiful, but I don’t understand.  How do you know me?”  She glanced up, but Daphne no longer stood before her.  She saw the girl climbing the steps of the ancient house.  At the top, she turned to Chelsea and smiled, a sad smile, then she disappeared into the house.

             “Wait, come back.”  Chelsea ran toward the house and dashed up the steps.  She jerked the door open and darted inside.  “Daphne, where are you?”  There was no answer.  She searched every room, but there was no sign of the girl.  In fact, it looked as through no one had been in the house for a very long time.

             Thoroughly mystified, Chelsea returned to her car.  If not for the music box in her hands, she would’ve thought she’d dreamed the whole episode.  She waited for several minutes to see if Daphne reappeared, but the house stood silent.  As the dark fingers of night closed around her, she started her car and drove away.

             Later that night, when she arrived at the cabin, she was too exhausted to do anything but unload her car and fall into bed.  Daphne, and Scott, were forgotten.

             As morning dawned, bright sunshine infiltrated the bedroom.  Reluctantly, she crawled from the bed, wrapped herself in an old plaid bathrobe, and plodded to the kitchen.  Half asleep, she rinsed the coffee pot, added water, then coffee and soon heard the familiar, comforting perk, perk, perk.  She grinned at the old percolator perking away.  No one used a percolator any more, but she refused to give in and get a coffee maker.  The percolator was part of her memories of this place.

             With a cup of the freshly-brewed coffee in her hand, she headed for the porch swing.  She sighed contentedly as she sat and sipped the steaming caramel liquid.  A remembered sense of well-being flooded over her.  This was why she came to the cabin, to work things out, to find her peace, to come to terms with events in her life.  When she and Scott broke off their engagement, her first thought had been:  I’ve got to go to the cabin.  The cabin had been built over 30 years ago by her grandfather, Robert  J. Arlington, on land bequeathed to him by his father, Thomas J. Arlington.  She had many fond childhood memories of this place.

             Tears pooled in her eyes as she thought of Scott.  They too had shared many good times here.  Their argument had been a terrible one.  They had argued about everything, from when they were going to be married, to where they were going to be married, to where they were going to live.  She had accused him of being domineering, he had accused her of not loving him.  And when she could no longer remain there, she had run away—to the cabin.

             She suddenly remembered Daphne and the music box.  She must have been so upset about her fight with Scott that her mind had played a trick on her.  Well, if the music box was not where she’d left it last night, that would be proof she was dreaming.  She sat down her cup and went to check.

             It was there.  Her heart pounded, and a knot tightened in her stomach.  She picked up the lovely box and retreated to the porch swing to examine it.  Her coffee forgotten, she opened the box.  That same haunting tune greeted her.

             She inspected the box but found nothing unusual.  It appeared to be a music box, nothing more.  There were no hidden compartments, no secret messages, just a music box.  As she closed the lid, a soft voice filled the air.  She jerked the lid open.  In the mirror, she saw Daphne’s reflection, and the image in the mirror spoke to her.         “Chelsea, Chelsea….”

             Chelsea screamed and jumped to her feet.  Coffee spilled everywhere.  She threw the box across the porch, then ran into the yard.  She grabbed a stick from the yard and poked at the box.  It lay still—and silent.

             It was a long time before she screwed up enough courage to pick up the music box again.  With trembling hands, she opened the lid, braced against what she would find.  The music played, but the mirror was blank.  The light must have been playing tricks on her. 

             “Chelsea, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

             “What?  Oh my God, I didn’t imagine it.  Daphne, is it really you?  But how can it be?  I don’t understand.”

             Daphne’s face appeared in the mirror.  She smiled.  “You need not understand.  You need only listen.”  Daphne’s reflection faded, then resurfaced.  “I have little time.  As soon as the house is gone, I shall be gone too.”

             “But, Daphne, please tell me what is going on?  How…how are you…how did you…?”

Her fears subsided, and she studied the image in the mirror with interest.

             “I do not know how it is that I am here.  I just know that I am here to tell you my story, and implore you not to make the same mistake I did.”  Daphne’s beautiful eyes reflected sorrow and pain.  “You must heed my words lest you too live a life of loneliness and emptiness.”

             Touched by the emotion in Daphne’s voice, Chelsea nodded.  “Speak, Daphne, and I will listen.”

             A wan smile was her reward.  “Very well.  Many years ago, I lived with my parents and two older sisters in the Gable House.”

             A shiver coursed down Chelsea’s spine.  “How long ago?”

             Daphne’s eyes clouded, and her forehead furrowed as she strained to remember.  “It was so long ago I have forgotten.  My two older sisters fell in love, married and had many babies.  But I met no one I could care about—until Thomas.  Oh, he was a fine man, my own true love.  He worked very hard to save enough money so that we could be married.  When he approached my father to ask for my hand, my parents were very happy.  We planned to be married the next spring.”  The voice grew lower, sadder, and Chelsea had to strain to hear the words.

             “Yes, Daphne, what happened then?”

             “Thomas came to the house one day.  He was very excited.  He had an offer of a job in another state.  So far away it was.  He wanted to ask Papa’s permission to change our wedding date, to move it up, so I could go with him.  Papa said it was my decision, but I didn’t want to leave my family, my sisters, nieces and nephews and move away.  I was scared—and selfish.”  Tears gathered in Daphne’s lovely lilac eyes and rolled down her cheeks.  The tears looked so real Chelsea stretched out her finger and gently traced the tear’s path down Daphne’s cheek.  The mirror was dry.

             “Then what happened?” 

             “I refused to go.  I thought if I did not go, Thomas would not go.  I was selfish.  But Thomas did go—alone.  It was too good a job to turn down.  And three years later, when he returned, he was not alone.”

             “He was married?”

             “Yes, and he had a son.  My heart was broken.  I still loved him, as I love him now.  I had dreamed he would come back to me, but I was wrong.  I had other suitors in the years that followed, but none that measured up to Thomas, none that I could love.  So I never married.  My sisters and their families eventually moved away, my parents died, and then I was alone.  Alone in the Gable House.”

             “How sad.  I’m sorry, Daphne.”

             “You must not make the same mistake, Chelsea.  To grow old and alone is to know despair.  Your Scott is your one true love, and you must go to him.  You must not do as I did all those many years ago.  Nothing matters but that you are with the one you love.”

             “How do you know about Scott?  How do you know so much about me?”

             “We are kindred spirits, of a sort.”

             “I don’t understand.  Daphne, what did you mean when you said when the house was gone, you’d be gone?”

             “The house is to be torn down today.  Then my spirit will be free.  I will no longer be tethered to this earth.”

             “Are you…a ghost?”

             “Do you not believe in ghosts, Chelsea?”

             “I do now.”

             Daphne’s image began to fade.  “I must go, Chelsea.  I am so very tired.  It has been so long….”

             “Daphne, don’t go.  I have so many questions.”

             “I must…the house….”  Her image flickered in the mirror.  “Go to him, Chelsea.  Do not let your one true love slip away…away….”  The image disappeared.

             Saddened and confused, Chelsea clutched the music box to her chest and wept.  She wept

             As she grabbed the phone, it rang.  She was so startled she almost dropped the receiver.  Scott’s voice sounded on the other end.  “Chelsea, I knew you’d be at the cabin.  Listen, honey, I’m sorry.  I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

             “And I love you, Scott.  I’m sorry too.  I want to be your wife and be with you forever.”

             “That’s what I wanted to hear.  Listen, honey, I had this strange dream last night.  There was this girl with funny colored eyes….”

             “Were they the color of lilacs?”

             “Well, yeah.  How did you know?”

             “Just a guess.  Go on.”

             “In the dream, she was sitting on the front porch of this big old house.  There was music playing somewhere.  And this girl told me to ‘seek you out.’  It was so real.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

             “No.  Listen, I’m coming home as soon as I can pack.”

             “Good.  I want to hold you in my arms and show you how much I love you.”

             After saying goodbye, Chelsea packed the few things she’d brought and climbed back into her car.  As she neared the spot where the house had stood, she saw that it was gone.  The demolition had not taken very long.  It was now a pile of broken glass and wood.  Gone was the magnificent place it used to be.  Gone were the memories it held.  And gone was Daphne.

             Chelsea could only hope that now Daphne could find her peace.  As she drove by the house, her eyes filled with unshed tears, she noticed a small cemetery on a small rise a few hundred yards from where the house had stood.  On impulse, she stopped her car.  She grabbed the music box from the seat beside her, then climbed out of the car.  Slowly made her way up the hill to the cemetery.  .

             Three graves nestled in a sea of lilacs.  John and Martha Butler.  And Daphne Butler.  Chelsea’s heart rose in her throat as she knelt beside Daphne’s grave.  She opened the music box, and music floated among the lilacs like a butterfly.  She saw a small piece of paper stuck in the bottom of the box.  It had not been there before.  She opened it and read the words aloud:  “To Daphne, my heart, from your husband-to-be, Thomas J. Arlington.”

             Thomas J. Arlington.  Her great grandfather.  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away.  Daphne had loved her great-grandfather with a timeless love, a love that refused to die.  With a soft smile, Chelsea said, “Goodbye, Daphne, and thank you.”

 

The End