“Jonathan!” Mary cried and shot up, instantly clutching at her chest for the locket that was no longer there. The large room around her was completely silent, except for the rain lightly tapping against the window. Lightning flickered, illuminating it for a brief instant. She looked next to her.
Empty.
“Jonathan,” she whispered and rolled over to his side. She could still smell him. Reaching over, she took his reading glasses off the nightstand and delicately brushed the dust off them. Holding them gently in the darkness, she began to caress them, the mist forming in her eyes.
Thunder suddenly burst and she jumped. The glasses flew out of her hands and onto the floor, shattering.
“No!” she cried, reaching for them and then curled up in the darkness, shielding herself. Why did I come back here, she thought as another burst echoed.
She reached above the headboard for the light switch.
Nothing.
She tried it again.
Still nothing, save for the occasional flicker from outside. She pulled the covers tight around her and scanned the room. The piles of boxes scattered throughout formed odd shapes in the darkness, which seemed to move until she blinked her eyes. She shut them, determined to make morning come quicker, when she heard music.
Piano music.
Sitting up slowly, she listened, eyes wide, knuckles white, clutching the sheets. With quivering hands, she drew them up closer as the piano music, which was soft at first, spread throughout the house, slowly drifting up the great staircase, and into her room.
“Oh my God,” she whispered aloud, horrified. It was Beethoven’s Fur Elyse, Jonathan’s favorite.
Leaning over she reached into the nightstand drawer and grabbed the gun, the one Jonathan had given to her for protection. She’d never wanted it, and hadn’t even touched it until now. And as she got up and took her robe from the foot of the bed, it shook in her hand.
Holding it in front of her, she weaved through the boxes and pushed open the bedroom door, revealing the hallway. The darkness lay like a thick blanket and she glanced around nervously. The music grew louder, and she peered over the banister. It was coming from the great den, where the piano rested beneath a dusty white sheet.
With hesitation, she descended the creaking staircase, cringing, and reached the bottom. She walked forward and leaned up against the wall just outside the den, mustering up her courage. Then she turned and looked in.
“No!” she screamed, and dropped the gun just as thunder boomed and lightning stabbed through the great arched window panes.
Jonathan sat at his piano beneath the large painting of himself, his fingers dancing across the keys. His body glided across the bench, moving with the music, and his face was the picture of concentration, eyes closed, muscles taut, exposing every precious little line she’d loved so much. He raised one hand, fingers arched in the darkness, and paused, suddenly looking up at her and smiling warmly. She screamed again, the last words he ever spoke echoing in her mind. Lighting flashed as he struck the keys. She shut her eyes.
There was a loud knock at the front door.
She opened them. The room was empty. The great white sheet lay over the piano and the music was gone.
She fumbled for the gun and looked again. The room was just as she’d left it earlier that evening. She stood for a moment transfixed, her whole body shaking, when she heard the knock again. Gun in hand she walked into the foyer. The storm raged outside.
“Who…who is it?” she asked meekly, the words not quite coming out.
No answer.
“Who is it?” she asked again louder
“It’s the police ma’am. Please open up,” a muffled voice yelled above the rain.
She leaned forward and peered through the eye hole. A tall man wearing a plastic raincoat over a police uniform stood outside.
“What do you want?”
He held up his badge to the eyehole. “I was walking by and heard a scream. Is everything okay?”
“Yes…well no,” she said, undoing the lock and opening the great door. The man immediately jumped back, reaching for his holster when she realized she was still holding the gun.
“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said and quickly put it down on the stool resting next to the doorway. “Please, come in.”
He stepped in, wiping his feet on the mat. She immediately felt comforted. “You almost made my dinner come up,” he said with a chuckle. “What, did the storm scare you?”
She nodded, remembering her frightening vision.
“Then it was you who screamed?”
“I thought I saw something but it turned out to be nothing,” she said, glancing at the empty den.
“Good, I didn’t feel like messing with any bad guys tonight anyway. Especially after all the chili I just ate,” he said, patting his stomach with a smile.
She felt an immediate like for him, despite her anxiety.
“Listen, if you want, I’ll stay and keep you company for a while. I take it your electricity is out,” he said, looking around at the darkness.
She nodded. “That’s nice of you, but I know you’re probably busy,” she said, despite the fact that she really wanted company.
“Actually I’m not. I’d just got off duty and was walking back to my car when I heard you scream.”
“Oh…”
“By the way, my name is Jack,” he said and extended a hand.
“Mary,” she said and they shook hands. His hands were leathery, tough, and big. “Listen, I really appreciate this. Why don’t you take off your wet coat and hang it here,” she said pointing to the coat rack.
“Thank you.”
She watched him as he hung it up, his tall, dark frame moving surprisingly graceful for a big man. His dark hair was matted slightly, and his light eyes gleamed. His face, although a maze of lines, was ruggedly handsome. Suddenly she felt very guilty. It was the first time she had noticed a man since the accident.
Jack pulled a flashlight off his belt and shone it through the darkness. “This ought to help.” He slowly scanned the place with the light. “Lotta boxes. Moving out?” he asked and she nodded.
Suddenly, the beam struck the portrait hanging above the piano. Jonathan’s painted face stared down at them, his eyes on hers, his strong jaw locked in a stern expression. She looked away, feeling ashamed. Jack withdrew the beam, letting his arm hang down to his side.
“Umm…why don’t we go in the kitchen and I’ll fix you something to drink. It’s this way,” she said gesturing, eager to leave the den, and he agreed. They walked side by side, flashlight in front, until they came to the kitchen. Most of the glasses were boxed but she had left some paper cups out. She offered to unpack a glass but he said a cup was fine. All that he wanted was water.
She suggested they move out into the dining room. A candelabra rested on a table and he lit it. They sat across from each other and she stared over his shoulder nervously at the gaping entrance way to the den. He sat holding his water, staring down into it, but never lifting it to his mouth. The candlelight gave his face a healthy red glow and the tiny tongues of flame reflected in his eyes. She found herself reluctantly admiring him again.
“So where are you moving too?” he asked.
“Boston, back with my family.”
“Hmm,” he said, knotting his eyebrows. “You know I cover this part of the District often and I never recall seeing a for sale sign.”
“That’s because it hasn’t been put on the market yet,” she began but he quickly interrupted.
“Oh I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I was just thinking out loud.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” she said and jumped. A shadow moved near the den.
He turned.
Nothing.
“Still jumpy I see. Relax, the storm is subsiding. The crews are already out and your electricity will be restored in no time.”
She smiled.
He put down his cup, leaned forward, and rested both hands on the table. “Why are you leaving such a gorgeous house?”
“My husband was killed a month ago. This was our house. I don’t want to be here without him.”
“I’m sorry,” he said and looked down. “I didn’t mean to bring anything up that was uncomfortable.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, feeling a sudden need to talk about it. “I loved him. He was good to me. After the break-up of my first marriage, I thought I’d never trust a man again. Jonathan and I were…”
“Jonathan Earlington, the Senator!” he interjected.
“Yes,”
“I remember now. I didn’t connect you. You’re Mary Earlington. You two were recently married, weren’t you? The accident was in the local papers. A boating accident wasn’t it?”
She nodded, biting her lip, holding back her emotion. It was a moment before she could speak. “It was my fault. He didn’t want to take the boat out but I insisted. It was such a pretty day and all the other boats were out,” she said and paused.
He stared at her intently, the warm smile still on his face.
“We got in our bathing suits and walked out to the dock,” she began again, feeling the sudden need to share her grief, and stared blankly into the flames. “I remember him scolding me, telling me to take off the locket. He never liked me to wear my jewelry when we went near water,” she said and touched her chest where it used to rest. “He had just bought it for me a week before. It was heart shaped and I put a picture of us in it, one we took on our honeymoon.”
“That’s nice,” he said.
“We went out and…,”
She swallowed hard.
“…caught a bad wind. The boat capsized. I wasn’t hurt, but my locket was lost. Jonathan was struck unconscious by the mast. The life preserver kept him afloat. Help came quickly and we rushed him to a hospital. He was bleeding badly.”
She stopped. The tears flowed freely now and she wiped them away.
“It was all my fault,” she said, voice cracking. “If only I hadn’t insisted. He was in a coma for a few days and the doctors said he was brain dead. I finally accepted it and went to spend my last moments with him before they shut off life support, when he awoke suddenly.”
She looked up with a strange, almost quizzical, expression on her face.
“He looked me in the eyes and said ‘Mary, I love you and I’ll always be with you. Never be afraid. I’ll always protect you.’
“But they never had to take him off life support. He died right there. Afterwards, I didn’t come back here. I couldn’t. I went to my sisters. Jonathan’s family recently agreed to sell the house for me. I came back here for the first time late yesterday and packed everything up for the movers to take back to Boston. My sister and brother-in-law offered to come here with me but I had to come alone. I just had to,” she ended wiping her eyes.
“I understand,” Jack said.
Suddenly, the lights came on and he let out a laugh.
“Hey, hey,” he said. “What’d I tell you?”
He blew out all the candles. “I really have to be going,” he said, standing up and touching her shoulder lightly and smiling warmly. “I’m sorry for your pain, but it sounds as if you had a special love. You’ll always have that to treasure.”
She looked up and smiled. “Thank you, Jack.”
The lights went off again, but quickly came back on. Jack was gone.
“Jack?” she said looking around.
Suddenly a single, high pitched piano note echoed throughout the house.
Her head shot up, eyes wide, as she stared at the dark entrance of the den. But her eyes were drawn downwards to the table. Lying next to Jack’s untouched cup of water, coiled beneath its golden chain, was her locket.
Transfixed, she reached forward, and opened it, staring at the faded picture.
“Oh, Jonathan,” she whispered.
His last words echoed through her mind one final time.