+1+
15 or was it 17
I concentrated on each keystroke while he flipped the hourglass again, after the tenth time he started to leave but somehow always came back just in time to pull my string and keep me dancing. The last few times I had played a funeral march and Beethoven’s 5th but I doubted he understood the context.
When Mr.Fierro turned the glass for the 16th or 18th time I considered my next choice and played Bizet’s Habenera. I played it slower and in a low C. After a few notes he came back in.
He came closer to the Piano and carefully removed the lid from the hour glass, I looked out the corner of my eye to see him pouring more sand in the glass.
I went back to the funeral march as he left. It wasn’t that I was growing tired but the constant movement of my fingers was threatening to throw me off balance. My body wanted to stop but my mind wouldn’t have it, or was it the other way around ?
I switched to playing with only one hand at a time, I was hitting the wrong key more and more, I knew I could quite possibly do this for years with no harm, but it was becoming mundane.
“Clara ?”, Emile came into the room, “Is that you ?”
“Yes, did I wake you. How are you ?”
“Fine, I took in a little to much smoke. I’m so sorry about the house”
“It wasn’t really mine. . . I think I will be okay though.”
Mr. Fierro walked back in and flipped over the glass and I just about lost it. Emile seemed to notice this.
“How long has this been going on ?”
I looked out the window, it must have been near Dawn.
“Almost a day, isn’t it amazing ?”, Emile shook his head,“ He thinks I can’t handle it”
“I’ll be visiting Ms. Ginger”, he said, “Where people are sensible.”
I heard the door open and Emile exchanging words with someone. When the door closed I heard a woman’s voice.
“Good Morning, Mr. Fierro”, the woman called, “That music is
lovely where is it—“
I came face to face with the redheaded maid. She had a lovely smile and equally lovely green eyes.
“I’m Clara”, I said
“Illia Moore”, she extended a hand.
“Nice to meet you”, I said and continued playing.
I missed another key, Illia extended a hand but I had to decline for now.
Illia backed out slowly and I assume went to work. I missed a second key and started playing random notes.
Mr. Fierro came back down and flipped the hourglass again. Our eyes met with determination that one of us would have to give up soon.
“You see Ms. DeLune, it is never good to choose to do one thing for eternity.”
“Shut up”, I wasn’t sure where that came from but he didn’t seem to care.
“Careful, Ms. DeLune you do not want to scare off Illia.”
“You are just upset because I have a passion and you don’t”
“Passion is
suffering that is simply
being acted on, Ms. DeLune. You do appear to be suffering
“No”, I said playing a little faster, “Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey.”
I missed another note and cursed under my breath.
“What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments”, I continued, “. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace... but we would be hollow... Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead.”
“Freud?” he questioned
I smiled
“Joss Whedon”
The sand continued to trickle down, With one hand still playing I reached over and turned it over.
+2+
My head hung just inches from the keys, I hated this piano. I never wanted to see another piano again. Mr. Fierro watched and if he could smile I’m sure he would have.
I started idly playing a few keys, I had decided this would be my last song. Perhaps I did have passion but that passion certainly had limits.
I let a finger trail over some flat keys, when I felt Mr. Fierro’s finger on top of mine.
He sat down next to me and followed the notes I had been playing. When he appeared finished, I continued when he began copying my melody. I played a slightly higher pitched melody after a second he played the same notes again.
I tapped my finger against the wood three times and we began to play together, not once did he look at me, or I him. For the first time it seemed he was listening to me but was carefully watching his hands, he clearly hadn’t been playing that long.
When the last measure had finish playing, I lifted my hands from the keys.
“I give up”, I said, “I’d pack my things but I don’t have any—“
He turned from the piano and towards the hourglass.
The sand had run out minutes ago.
I followed Mr. Fierro on down the hall and towards the front door, my legs quickly adjusting to walking.
“You said I could stay”
“Yes, I did”
Opening the doors to the grandfather clock he reached in and turned it off. I stood back and watched as he pushed aside the large clock. In the exact place the clock had stood there was a pair of panel of hidden doors.
“What’s this ?”
He opened the doors and they lead to a staircase.
“There is a basement?” I questioned.
“It was my wife’s sewing room”, he said,” a basement apartment, if you will. I used to distill roses down here so the smell is still rather strong.”
I could see Illia in the hall watching us as we descended
the steps, I found a light switch and the room buzzed to life with a strong
floral sent. There was a duvet and white vanity in the center and large ornate
tables each filled with jewelry, make up and numero
us other shiny pretty
things.
“Sewing?” I questioned.
He sorted through the table of jewels and trinkets.
“I enjoyed making her happy... Well there are some clothes in the closet”
“If I didn’t know any better I would think you were hiding
me from Victor”
“Nonsense, Ms.DeLune. He was a fool to believe you could be easily swayed. Just please try to stay out my way.”
I sat down as he went back upstairs. Every gem and diamond in the room seemed to sparkle, tables overflowed with cosmetics, perfume and fresh flowers. I suddenly felt like I was trampling on someone’s grave. The odd part was I’d never felt more comfortable in this house.
+++
Most of the late Mrs. Fierro’s clothes were elegant dresses, they were a bit loose but I fitted them with pins. After spending some time in the sewing room I went upstairs and found Illia in the sitting room.
She was laying perfectly still the couch with her hands behind her head, she didn’t move when I entered or make any acknowledgment. I sat a across from her and with a sigh she moved her hands to her side.
“Um, are you taking a break ?”, I asked
“Hm?”, she said as if she didn’t hear me, “Oh, no”
“I thought you were the maid.”
“Oh, I am”, she moved her hands again, “. . .I thought you used to work here”
“I did”
“So. . . isn’t it obvious ?”
“What?”
“Clara, look around the house is spotless. . . Nothing is ever out of place. Except for the occasional request Mr. Fierro doesn’t actually need a maid.”
“Um—really ?”
“Clara”, she said, “Don’t you realize, he just wants the company.”
I considered this, I more than considered this, I should have realized it.
I left Illia to her lounging and went into the kitchen. The stacks of cups, plates and kettles looked so familiar. I distanced myself from it as I made a pot of tea and took it out to Illia.
She stretched from her position and took the cup.
“So, I have a ridiculous question”, I told her
“Shoot”, she said
“Why does Mr. Fierro call you by your first name?”
She laughed—no she giggled.
“Um, you know Clara I just asked him too.”
“So it is me”, I blurted out
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not just women; it’s something about me he doesn’t like
“I don’t know Clara you get what you give.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you seem to really love that Piano just like Mr. Fierro seems to really love his work but it’s not going to fill the void of anything real."
It was true, I had taken this job only to get the piano. I had been partially blinded to that fact that I had overlooked a possible friendship. Illia smiled as if she could read my thoughts.
I decided to put this to the test.
+++
I stood outside the door of Mr. Fierro’s study, pacing back and forth before knocking. I heard a chair scrap across the floor and the door open.
“Ms. DeLune ?”
He quickly looked me over, realizing I was wearing his wife’s clothing. He seemed a little shaken by it but it was only temporary.
“I wanted to borrow a book”, I said remembering the shelves of books behind his desk, and “It’s how I spent my time before the fire.”
“Alright”
He opened the door wider and let me in. I scanned the titles they were mostly political novels and a few versions of Juluis Cesar and Henry VIIII
Nothing which really interested me.
The other piano from the shop was in the corner of the study, it too was unused and full of irony.
“Mr. Fierro”, I asked sitting at the chair on the other side of the desk
“Yes, Ms. DeLune.”
“You owned my house ?”
“Yes, it was my country house”
“And this one”
“. .. is my other country house. I usually live in Bordeaux”
“Three homes? I didn’t realize you had so much money. I guess I don’t really know what you do. “
He looked up from the paper; he seemed to be considering the best way to get me to leave.
“I work for the residents of Litany Village. Creating laws, regulation, answering request”, he held up one of the letter, “In short ensuring domestic tranquility.”
“Is that so—“
“Ms. DeLune I asked you to do one thing, what was it ?”
“Stay out of your way”, I remembered
He walked over to the end of the book shelf and pulled a book from one of the shelves
“Read this; royalty, class, parties even violence. ”
I flipped open the front cover.
“War and Peace ?”
He stood by the now open door.
This should certainly keep me busy.
+3+
The soft sounds of the piano keys awoke me in the night. I looked down expecting to see a piano at my hands.
I slipped on a pair of shoes and slid o crept up the stairs, Pressing my ear to the door I could hear a sad song playing.
Mr. Fierro’s still figure laid rest to the piano, unlike before his keystrokes were quiet and unsure. I watched once again wondering why he never told me he could play.
The music stopped mid note and I watched as he snapped off one of the flowers in the vase and stuck it between the keys. Without a sound he went out the backdoor, curious I followed.
Behind the screen doors I saw him laying on the grass, ankles crossed and eyes closed. the light played l across his alabaster skin, strands of white hair lay across his face His lips moved in a silent litany that I couldn’t make out..
I stepped into the backyard, but still heard nothing. I stepped over the deck and into the garden, first kneeling then laying beside him. Propping my head on my hand I listened ;
". . .I hold it true, whatever befall; I feel it when I sorrow most; Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.. . With all my will, but much against my heart, We two now part. My Very Dear, our solace is, the sad road lies so clear. It needs no art, With faint, averted feet And many a tear, In our opposed paths to preserve. Go thou East, I West."
I laid flat against the grass, I felt his breath as he turned to me and back to the sky.
"Let's see", I tried to remember where to start, "Well, my grandmother and I were very close, she was around a lot when Grandpa left. . . he drank a little to much. He was a musical genius thought, it is were I get it from, he taught me to play."
"You were to be married ?"
"Yes, everyon thought we were a good match. I would have been the first daughter to get married. Everyone was so excited. . . my father even set aside a trust to make our first year of marriage easier. . . he was smart like that."
"A dowry then"
“It wasn’t like that”, I protested though he hadn’t seem to form an opinion, “My father is just very traditional”
I nervously twirled the ring on my finger.
“With reason”, he reached over and slid the ring off my finger, “Well, you are no longer in your father’s house.”
I turned my attention back to the night sky, it was brighter than it had been in Bordeaux. We really were out in the country.
“Is that really the moon?”, I wondered, “Are we seeing the same moon as everyone else back home? The same stars? Please say yes, I don’t care if it’s true or not.”
“I have seen very little to convince myself otherwise.”
“It’s beautiful. I’m never sleeping through another night again.” Mr. Fierro didn’t seem to be listening.
“Look, Ms. DeLune”, he extended a hand towards the sky, “That is Orion, in the stars. It is God’s creation, we are still under his will. Do you see it?”
Mr. Fierro reached up and traced it in the sky again but all I saw was a cluster of bright spots, nothing seemed to take shape but I believed him.
“Ms. DeLune when one becomes a Specter more often than not they will gaze at the stars alone. That alone can drive a person mad. Mad enough to hurt and terrorize humans. . . in their own homes. They turn from Ghost to Evil spirits. Imagine if thousands of them came together, what supernatural havoc they could cause.”
“What about your wife—“
“I tried to stop her. I was too late. I called to her just as the flames touched her body. The pain must have caused her to regret her choice. She begged for me to save her but it was too late. She called for me over and over again until . . ..”
He closed his eyes and returned to reciting poems.
"You really loved her.""More than you will ever know or be able to comprehend. No one, not even for a second, will take her place."
+++
I flipped back and forth through the Calendar, checking the date and month over and over again.
It was Christmas.
The house was surprisingly quiet Christmas Morning and except for Illia having the day off it was like any ordinary day. I walked in on Emile setting up for a game of scrabble.
“And to think Halloween was such a blast”, I said
“I guess it’s a little hard to get into the spirit.”
“If I was at home I’d been married by now,”
“Is that so ?”,
“I figured if I became pregnant I wouldn’t miss any school.”
“You seem to have wanted the simple things in life, that’s admirable.”, he said.
He stopped mid-letter as Mr. Fierro came down stairs and started towards his office.
“Fierro”, he called, “Come here we are about to exchange gifts.”
“I am sorry, Emile”, he said, “I only ordered a gift for Ms. Ginger this year.”
Emile pulled him over to the sitting area.
“We’ll be creative, how does that sound Clara.”
“Okay”, I agreed, “How about for my gift I make breakfast ?”
I put together a quick breakfast and carried it out to the sitting room, Emile seemed ecstatic over his idea.
“Now, Fierro”, started Emile, “I will give you 24 hours of my undivided attention on fixing the book.”
“And in return I will always you another year in my home”
Emile clinked his cup against Mr. Fierro in agreement and then they turned to me.
“Fierro”, said Emile, “I think . . .you should give Ms. DeLune a kiss.”
“I don’t think so”, I interrupted.
“I do have something a bit more appropriate I found for Ms. Delune”, he handed me a book. I looked at the title.
Alice in Wonderland
“Thank you”, I said.
A calming silence overtook our little holiday. Emile and I
continued our game of Scrabble while
Mr. Fierro watched.
I knew I had cried enough but something about spending the holidays this way began to physically hurt a little.
Late in the afternoon the three of us went over to Ms. Ginger’s. She was in the midst of baking gingerbread cookies, a full fledged Christmas tree in her living room. Kayla was underneath it playing with some new dolls.
“She is growing weary”, said Mr. Fierro taking my coat. Looking towards Kayla.
“What do you mean”
“Kayla, she like many unfortunate children she will likely become a Specter and
go searching for their lives, parents and become lost. They are the most volatile. . .lost children.
“Why would you say that.”
“It is true, I understand people from your time considered watching such things as entertainment.”
“Yes, well most of it is fake”
“Is it?”
“Merry Christmas to you too”
I left him by the door went to join Kayla under the tree. Ms. Ginger came in triumphantly from the backroom
“I found it!”, she said holding a large box camera, “I knew it was somewhere in this mess.”
I declined to have my photo taken but eventually gave in. While Emile and Ms. Ginger fussed over developing techniques I watched Kayla and thought of Mr. Fierro’s hour glass.
+4+
As the last hours of Christmas Day slipped away, I sat in Mr. Fierro’s parlor and imagined what The DeLune family had done. They had probably visited my grave maybe put some poinsettia’s on it ?
I fiddled with the record player in the corner until it chimed on.
“Mr. Fierro”, I called him from the front porch, “Dance with me”
“Ms. DeLune I have already given you a presen—“
“I don’t want it, please”
I begged for a little longer until he finally came inside and took my hands into his cold ones. I followed his lead, stepping front and back slowly we were barley moving. He released my hand and turned me, then gracefully back.
I kept my eyes on my shoes as we danced, after awhile I closed my eyes and listened to the music.
For a moment I pulled away to correct my balance, his hand tightened around mine.
“I wasn’t leaving”, I said.
He silently ignored my comment and as the song came to end he twirled me away again, this time keeping me at a distance he let go.
“Stay there”, he ordered, “Right there”
He turned and went upstairs.
I stood there for a long time, my arm still outstretched as if he were holding it. I was to stay right there.
At arms length.
+5+
Well into the New Year a 34 inch mirror with an antique gold border had been installed in Mr. Fierro’s study. He called me in and asked me to play the piano.
The Steinway had been cleaned and tuned a slender vase of ruffled pink and white roses, that had been accented with ivy leaves, ribbon and strands of crystals was placed in the corner of the piano.
“What do you want me to play ?”, I asked
He continued to work like I wasn’t there so I asked again louder.
Still nothing.
I sighed with indifference and started to play Rhapshody in blue. I didn’t rush it but took my time. I knew he was very capable of ignoring me for hours. Talking only when it suited him—."
“Play something else”, he ordered
“Well, I am trained in contemporary it what comes natural—“
“Do you know Chopin.”
“A little.”
He gestured for me to play, so I did.
“Do you need to look at your hands ?”, he asked.
“No.”
“Look in the mirror.”
I hesitated at the strange request but continued. My eyes went from the ivory and white keys up the flower vase and to the gold mirror. The mirror was cast very low, In my reflection I could make out the shadow of the window behind me.
Mr. Fierro’s desk didn’t show.
In the reflection the flowers were placed on the side, my eye was constantly drawn to them, I played carefully only to move hands. I continued for an hour, staring in to the mirror. It was like I was trapped in the perfectly sized gold frame.
Inside the frame was a perfect painting, flowers depicting natural beauty the light of the sun and shadow of an unseen mirror, and in the center a lone woman. She wasn’t happy nor sad but looked out beyond her frame.
I hadn’t noticed Mr. Fierro move from his desk to beside the mirror, so his reflection did not show, he placed his fingers on the edge of a glass. Admiring the scene as if in an art gallery
It was all to perfect.
I abrubtly stopped and slammed the piano cover down, the flowers quivered a bit.
“What is this ?”, I said standing up, “I am not some object, you can’t make me into some twisted painting for your amusement.”
“I did not tell you to stop.”
“Leave me the hell alone… I have got to get out here”, I said more to myself
“And where will you go ?”, he cleaned the smudge with his sleeve, "I am more than sure Victor will gladly welcome you into his court and his bed”
I stood behind the piano but didn’t move, Mr. Fierro pushed me back behind the piano and placed my hands on the keys.
“Hideous ?”, he questioned re-positing the vase back in the frame, “Look, Ms.Delune”
I looked back into the terrible mirror, it was the same picture as before except a terrible creature looked down at me with with his arms around mine.
“Your are beautiful”, he was so close his lips grazed the side of my face and h whispered in my ear, “You know a woman should not simply rely on the fortunes of her father or husband as you have. That is why you will work for me.”
As quickly as he was there he took a single step back, I could still feel his hands on me. I opened the piano and put the flowers on the floor. I concentrated on the keys until I felt calm and began to play Rhapsody In Blue.
The next day the mirror was gone.
+++
Winter turned to early spring and I found myself still
living, at an arms length, in the red and green house on
+++
URGENT
CLARA C. DELUNE
The above has been
summoned to a solitary furtive meeting the weekend of Feburary 10th
pertaining the residents of
- The Honorable King, Victorious Bordeaux IV
I folded the letter twice and went back inside the house.