That evening, as John and Becky shared the stories of their lives over a candlelit dinner, their attraction for each other began to turn into a special bond. Becky’s eyes sparkled with admiration for John. Time got away from them as they talked longer than they had anticipated. And the soft illumination of the burning candles dwindled to flickering flames.
As dinner came to an end, they couldn’t ignore the fact that, having been total strangers just a few hours earlier, they shared a common thread. The stockbroker embraced the story of Elsa’s past while the nurse patiently tended to the present needs of her frail and aging state. Indeed, the lives of John and Becky, though separated by great distance, were fated to a special bond. Upon leaving the restaurant, John and Becky spoke of seeing each other again, with possibilities of a promising future.
However, John informed Becky that his staff ’s vacation schedules would keep him busy throughout the summer. They agreed to write each other until the end of summer.
~
The next morning, John’s spirits surged with excitement. The sunrise over Kingston promised a wonderful day. He left the motel and headed for the old Victorian neighborhood to visit Ilene Crib. After a short commute across town, John parked in front of 301 Roosevelt Street. He passed through the black iron gate, stood on the porch, and knocked.
Ilene, noticeably happy to see him, opened the door and said, “Well hello, Mr. Weisman. Please, come in.”
“Thank you.”
“So, how has your search been going?” she asked.
“Well, I found her!”
“You mean you found her grave, right?”
“Nope!”
“You mean she’s still alive?”
“Yes!”
“Really?” she shrilled. “Come sit in the kitchen and tell me all about it!”
“I’ll be glad to!”
“So, how old is she?” Ilene asked with enthusiasm.
“She’s one hundred and six!”
“Wow—that old—and still living! So where did you find her?”
“In a convalescent home, here in town.”
“What did she say when you presented the box to her?”
“She became very emotional—the box moved her to tears.”
“And what about her piano?”
“Actually, she told me that she missed it dearly and that she would have loved to sit at it for a while and run her fingers along the keys just once again.”
“It would be so nice if she were given that chance—here in her old home, and in her living room where she used to play,” she openly suggested.
“Hmm,” John said as he pondered upon that thought.
“Did you find out why the piano was sold?” she asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Let me call Robert. He would like to hear this. He’s trimming the roses in the back.”
Moments later, Robert entered the kitchen and greeted John. “So, I hear you have some information for us,” he said.
“Yes, that is right.”
“John, would you like toast, jam, and coffee?”
“Sure, that sounds great, thank you!”
Once everyone sat down, John imparted the intriguing details of the story that had unfolded in the Cribs’ home years ago.
“John, you possess an incredible gift of kindness.” Ilene complimented him with misty eyes and a growing sense of respect for him. “Few people stop their world and put their lives on hold to go the distance that you have—just because you stumbled across a significant heirloom and wanted to return it to its rightful owner.”
“Thank you,” John said, flattered by her kind words. “Well, I should be leaving. I need to meet my daughter in New Jersey.”
“It was certainly nice seeing you again, John,” Robert said.
“You too, Robert.”
Ilene embraced John when she said, “Thank you again!”
“My pleasure.”
Ilene then allowed John to depart. John turned around and left the porch. Ilene closed the door. From inside, she stared through the glass and admired him—a man whose mission had brought deeper meaning to her home, revealing a hidden past that she otherwise would never have known.
John lifted the latch of the iron gate and pulled it open. After passing through, he stopped, turned around, and looked up at the old Victorian home, silently saying a final farewell. This was the closure to Elsa Thompson’s life and the ending of her legacy. As he examined the architecture of the old house, the red brick wall, and black iron bars, he couldn’t deny that a mystical feeling continued to emanate from the old residence, and John sensed that the aura of Elsa’s past still lingered about the old home and refused to be hushed. The voices of the lovers’ past seemed to echo through the silence surrounding him. But he knew it wasn’t so. Rather, it was the emotional attachment of the whole discovery: the piano, the letters, the mystery, and the answers—all of which had impacted him so. And the woman’s past, decades apart from John’s present, brought a dramatic change to him and his daughter. Laughter and the love of life returned. John had missed his wife dearly during the last eighteen months and had painfully longed for her. He regretted how he had allowed his business world to dominate his time, causing him to miss those moments that were important; mainly, the caring mother Maria had been to his little girl, the treasures she had placed in Melissa’s heart, and the work she so loved. After Maria slipped from his world, John had thought that no other companion could ever replace her. But strangely, the old piano that Maria passionately rescued contained hope for her husband—through the story he embraced. And having felt so close to his wife one last and final time, he knew he could let Maria go. John had learned much from her.
The widower sighed as his compelling efforts brought closure to this phase of his own life—along with new beginnings. And Becky, John knew, being patient and caring like Maria, would bring happiness for him and his daughter.
Maria would have been proud of what I have done. Somehow, this whole ordeal was meant for me, John mused.
(Excerpt from The Silent Note reprinted with permission from the author, Patrick Davis).
(Originally published at GoArticles and reprinted with permission from the author, Patrick Davis).
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