When the door closed and locked behind me that afternoon, I wandered around the large house aimlessly, I never realized the way each room was intricately decorated and organized to the last detail. Each room was really like a piece of art work.
It was a beautiful place to live and as long as I stayed in it, I could pretend to be alive. No one could tell me otherwise.
The next day I settled into the upstairs bedroom and from behind the balcony doors I watched Litany Lane; as people came and went. Ms. Ginger came by but I didn’t answer, she sent Kayla then Emile next but I still didn’t answer.
I was never going to leave the house again.
I wanted to become my own fairytale, the beautiful and fair maiden who trapped herself in her house, away from corruption and selfish deeds. On the top floor in the highest room, watching.
Waiting
What I was waiting for was beyond me, but still I waited.
So Clara is just grieving now.
+++
I soon observed a large truck pull up to the Fierro residence, piece by piece two classic pianos were taken into the house. I resisted the urge to run out and protest but kept my place behind the blinds.
Even more interesting a petite redheaded woman showed up the next day, I watched as Mr. Fierro greeted her and invited her in.
The redheaded girl came by the next day, each at the same time.
I quickly gathered this was the new maid.
I have no idea why I wrote her in. I liked the name Illia and I kind of wanted Clara to be jealous.
One day when a thin layer of frost formed on the windows I decided to open the doors to the balcony, I took a hot cup of tea with me. The fresh air was cold bitter and welcoming. I knew no one else would dare venture outside today.
I pulled a blanket around my shoulders and watched as autumn turned to winter. After a few moments of watching and sipping I heard the sound of a door creaking.
Time passes. Even for
me.---wait.
The sliding doors on the balcony across from me slowly creaked open. Mr. Fierro stepped out with not so much as a coat and began to read the paper. Every now and then He looked over the paper at me.
So yeah the balconies face each other. They kind of want to apologize to each other but don’t know how.
I waited for him to speak but he never did. After a while he set the paper down and walked to the edge of his balcony, I was tempted to move closer but didn’t. I kept my eyes on the empty street below me.
It was getting colder and that no doubt meant holidays, by all accounts I should have preparing for married life. I couldn’t count the times my parents told how hard it was to find a decent man, and even after doing so I couldn’t even do the staying alive and get married part right.
From the corner of my eyes I could see Mr.Fierro was still standing there, watching me.
After a while the new maid came out and after a while and he went back inside. I did the same.
+2+
The temperature continued to drop, just before midnight when Litany Lane was usually its quietest. I opened the balcony doors a little and heard laughing and the splashing of water. Surprised, I approached the balcony.
Mr and Mrs. Oliver from down the street, Widow Mason from the around the corner and other residents of Litany Lane I didn’t recognize were outside setting up lanterns. Everyone was pouring water into the street.
You know those other residents who don’t get mentioned until this chapter. At this point I had already written the last few chapters and I came up with the idea of the “tunnel” from the Oliver’s to Mr. F’s house. Why I didn’t make in Ms. Ginger’s is beyond me.
Kayla and Emile were having a small water fight with a water hose while Ms. Ginger watched. Mr. Fierro was at her side. A light snow was began to fall.
“I think it’s ready”, Emile shouted, “Ready ?”
I saw Kayla nod and they sat down and fastened on pairs of ice skates. Emile clumsily stood up and they stepped onto the now frozen street with Kayla and they skated in small circles around each other.
I don’t think you can actually do this.
Hesitantly Ms. Ginger stepped onto the frozen street with an arm securely around Mr. Fierro.
“I’m to old for this!”, she insisted while laughing.
“I have you, Mollie”, he assured her and led her onto the ice.
I mean I guess It’s possible he might have dated Ms. Ginger at one point. I don’t know
The sound of Kayla’s laughter made me smile, it made me think of my class. Of the kids I would never have, of the wife I would never be. It was thinking like that which had drove me into the house.
Kayla skated circles around Ms. Ginger as Emile came to her aid as well. I watched Mr. Fierro carefully, why wouldn’t he smile ? A wind blew and Mr. Fierro’s silk scarf was carried away by the wind and into my yard.
“Clara”, Emile shouted noticing me on the balcony, “Come down, we miss you. Clara ?”
I reached to close the window but I still wanted to hear the laughter.
Hurrying down the steps and toward the front door, I was just an arm’s length away but I stopped. I was very well capable of opening the door but I couldn’t. It would mean accepting that I had no choice but to be apart of what was on the other side of the door. That nothing was going to change.
I wanted a choice.
I stood at the door for an hour, till the laughter died down and voices dissipated.
When it was quiet I pulled the curtains from the downstairs windows and saw the street was practically empty. I watched as Mr. Fierro skated along the street alone, lost in thought.
Closing the curtain I stood by the door till the sun came up and washed the ice away.
So I totally only wrote this because of that Sara Maclachlan song “River”
+3+
I propped open the kitchen window and listened as Mrs. Oliver told Ms. Ginger about a group of Art students who were visiting Litany Lane as subjects for their showcase. The group of young men set up easels on the street and began crude sketches of the houses.
Ms. Ginger bought them out some hot drinks and chatted with them for a while, I took little interest.
“Ms. DeLune?” I dropped the glass I was holding when I heard someone at the door. I walked out the kitchen and stood in the hall.
“Ms.
DeLune ?”, Mr. Fierro repeated through the door, “Emile and Ms. Ginger insist I
get you out of the house”
Cause
I tried to kill you, then yelled at you and made you all sad.
Also they didn’t really send him he just needed an excuse.
I double checked the locks and stood at the door.
“I have a key”, he said
“I never—“
Gave you a key
I stood back as the door clicked open and he broke through the door chain.
“Should I start the fireplace or do you just want to throw accelerant on me ?”, I asked
“I overreacted”, he admitted. Looking around the house, “Even still Ms. DeLune I need you to come out the house. Emile seems to think I have driven you in here.”
“That’s not what I want to hear”, I said pacing around the halls, “I want to
know what I have ever done to you and about these rumors I've heard about”
“Will you at least come to see Ms. Ginger. You are aware she does not like to leave her house often--”
Cause she’s agoraphobic and all. Was what he was going to say
“I just want more time to myself.”
He looked at his watch; this excursion was clearly interrupting his schedule. I reached for the key in his hand but he took it back.
So Mr. F walked into a Clara’s house with a key. Victor’s henchmen deduce that he must live there.
“If you must be this way, Ms. DeLune, then I will not leave this house until you do.”
“You tried to throw me into a fireplace”, I reminded him.
“Unnecessary precaution”, he rationalized, “Victor was very disappointed to see you had failed. Many of the Assemblymen seemed to consider my point of view. Once Emile fixes the damages you caused printing will start in the spring. Everyone will see that we can not let this inhumane process continue.”
See, it’s all rational.
“You can’t just stay here”, I ignored his monologue and contradiction.
Wait. What
Okay, so here Mr. F is trying to stop this “inhumane process” when he tried to do it to her.
“Actually, Ms. DeLune. I own this house. Your grandmother left it to you without my expressed permission. I did not think you would be any trouble, so I overlooked it...”
Leaving an unbaked pie in the kitchen I walked up the stairs as if I were going along with him and locked myself in the upstairs bedroom. I pushed a wardrobe in front of the door and looked out the window, waiting for him to leave.
When he didn’t, I picked a copy of Romeo and Juliet from the shelf and started to read, I threw that one aside and skimmed through Vanity Fair, Counte de Monte Cristo and The Secret Garden.
Yay ! More biology major literature
As night began to fall I could make out Mr. Fierro standing on the porch watching as the painters packed their supplies. Squinting one or two of them looks familiar, but I can’t place it.
The palace guards who were laughing at her in the previous chapter.
I decided to take a nap on the unused bed. I usually slept (if ever) downstairs. The silk sheets and soft duvet cover smelled like my grandmother. I had been spoiled being the baby of the family it was no wonder I couldn’t function on my own
“Daddy”, I said as if he could hear me, “I miss you and Mom”
I grasped the sheets and let myself fall deeper into my fantasy. My family had lost one daughter but I’d lost all of them. I let out a stifled cry, it wasn’t like I had died I’d been killed.
It didn’t have to happen.
I folded myself under the covers and waited for my unhappy mood to past. The door knob began to turn but I ignored it.
“Go away”, I shouted
“Ms. DeLune you have to come out—“
“I said-“
“The house is on fire”
“What!”
You guys know I hate using “!”. So this was one of my few.
The sheets twisted around my ankles as I fell out the bed, I approached the door and smelled smoke. I struggled to move the wardrobe, I threw the clothes and shoes out of it to make it lighter and finally managed to topple the giant piece of furniture over.
When the door opened, Mr. Fierro pulled me out of the room and went inside; he seemed to be looking for something
Just the love letters he wrote his wife when she first lived here.
“Mr. Fierro—“
“Leave before it spreads.”
From the stairs I could see the roaring flames entering from the back destroying everything in their grasp. I watched mesmerized as the beauty of my grandmother’s house was destroyed.
I wanted to save something but didn’t know where to start, maybe one of the pictures on the wall ?
The fire filled the kitchen, parlor and living room. There was still a clear path to the door, I walked down two steps and considered staying. My skin felt unusually light next to the fire, like paper.
I walked down a few more steps, the door was closed. I could easily lock myself in, and in a matter of minutes I could be home again.
Real home.
I took another step, the smoke and exhaust filled my nose and I began coughing, still the idea that this could be a sign. The fire continued its relentless path and made it to the last step and pull
I smiled at the thought and reached to pull open the door.
Emile grabbed me from the entrance and dragged me away from the burning house. Ms. Ginger and Kayla had evacuated their house and were standing in the street
“Where is, Fierro ?”, he asked setting me on the grass in Mr.Fierro’s yard
“Inside”, was all I could manage. Thick gray smoke began to pump out of every window, watching the fire escalate was surreal. It climbed and ate everything in it’s path. It was a little beautiful.
“Ms. Clara, Ms. Clara”, Kayla squirmed away from Ms. Ginger and gave me a hug.
“It’s okay”
We both toppled onto the grass as Emile went back toward my house.
“Emile” I called to him, “Emile don’t !”
He disappeared through the front door.
OMG, Emile ran into a burning building to save his friend ? You people need to give Emile more credit. I need to write another story just so Emile can get some more page time.
Muse : Well since you bought it up. . .
LiLe : NO
“There is a fire truck in the next town”, said Ms. Ginger, “They are on the way.”
I watched helplessly as the fire filled the windows. The Oliver’s had rushed over to help but I kept watching the door, fighting the urge to faint.
The fire lit up the sky, the entire neighborhood watched as the tragedy took place. Blazes consumed everything it touched, I knew once it hit the gas line. . .
“Emile !”, I yelled as if he could hear me.
Sirens began to get closer, when Emile and Mr. Fierro escaped from the burning house. They made it across the street just as Emile fell out of breath next to me.
“Are you ever going to stop being a good friend ?”, I rested his head in my lap.
“It must have been an accident”, said Mrs. Oliver
“You saw who did this ?”, I asked
A yellow fire truck swerved down the street, and set to work extinguishing the fire but there wasn’t much left to save. I imagined all the damage the water would cause.
“It looked like the painters”, Mrs. Oliver sounded unsure.
Ms. Ginger insisted we get inside Mr. Fierro’s house while the firefighter’s worked. I spotted Mr. Fierro leaning against his house coughing. He caught his breath and went to talk to the fire fighters.
I took one last glance as the house was extinguished
+++
The sun rose as it always did now over the ugly pile of burnt wood and ash that suddenly caused me pain just to look at it. I rested my head on the window sill and felt a strange calm at the destruction of the house. I had always fretted over how I’d take care of the 12 room house, now I didn’t have to worry.
That didn’t quite sit right with me either.
“Ms. DeLune?”
“Yes, Mr. Fierro”, I said not looking away from the window
“About your house--”
“I recognized the men, they were Victor’s security guards. He did this. . . because of me.“
“No, I believe they were under the impression that your house was mine, because I had a key. I suppose he felt this was a just way to do away with me.”
“Maybe that’s proof you should leave well enough alone.” I said, “I’m homeless now.”
I knew Ms. Ginger had an extra room, but her house was crowded with so many collectibles and items, there was barely room for her and Kayla.
“You can stay here for another night", he offered, ". . . Then you’ll have to earn your keep or leave”
I turned away from him and his inability to be kind without reciprocity.
“Alright”, I said just to get him to go away.
“Two houses burning down in the same neighborhood would be suspicious, once Victor realizes his mistake, I am sure he will find a more civil way to deal with me.”
“Everything I had left was in that house, I should have saved something. . . just one little something. No one has ever given me a gift like that house a place to just . . . be . "
Out of the corner of my eye I could still see he was standing there. I pressed my hand against the glass to cover the scene before me and took it away quickly. As if that would somehow bring the house back.
“Why did you go back inside?” I asked. Then I remembered who I was talking to, “It’s not like you’ll tell me”
“Correct. Now then, the spare room upstairs is empty, you may rest in there for now”
I didn’t feel like moving but continued to watch the debris, occasionally some ash would blow in the wind. Carrying more of the house away.
“Come along, Ms. DeLune”
He took my hand and I carefully unfolded my legs from under me and followed him up the stairs.
“Tell me one thing”, I said as we reached the top and took his other hand, “Tell me one thing about you”
*HOLDING HANDS* *BOTH HANDS* is what I’d say if I wasn’t fangirling over Victor
"I am very sorry about your house ?”
“That’s not really about you”
Well, it kind of is. This is kind of funny and I don’t know if it’s intentional but Clara’s all. Tell me about yourself and his answer is in the form of an off-topic question.
“I
trust you can find your way”, he gestured towards the open bedroom door.
“Just
one thing”, I tired again
He
seemed to be considering this
“I
was not born like this”
Okay, so not the best line. I was still considering bailing on the storyline as I had it set out. I’m re writing this .
“I trust you can find your way”, he gestured towards the open bedroom door.
“Just one thing”, I tired again
He seemed to be considering this
“My wife she. . . I . . . I loved her very much”
He headed down the stairs before I could ask what that meant. I turned from the spare room and touched a finger to the room I knew was Emile's and the room next to it was an additional sitting room. I walked down the hall to another door, this door was slightly ajar and I saw the room was empty except for the piano from the shop in the center.
I ran my hands through my hair and began to laugh quietly, it was mostly the irony of the situation. I closed the door to the room and continued laughing down the hallway
Cause if Clara had bought the piano it would have burned down. Irony FTW
+++
“Where do you want to start ?”
Ms. Ginger seemed terrible out of place in her red peacoat and matching shoes, holding an empty apple crate. We both stood in the remains of 21 Litany Lane, The ash a had turned into a collection of dirt and mud around the entrance. I searched frantically for anything in the remains
Side note Mr. F’s house is 24 Litany Lane.
It was apparent the only clothes I had left were the ones on my back, a few chipped tea cups and burned pillows had survived. Even the lemon trees didn’t escape the fire, all that was left were their ceramic pots.
Even my little yellow bike had been destroyed by the fire
Wow, the bike burning seems harsh.
“I-I don’t really see anything”, I told her, “And everything is all wet”
Ms. Ginger set the crate down and put an arm around me.
“It’s okay dear, you know me I have plenty of things you can have.”
“Thank you”, I returned her hug, “I’m just glad it didn’t catch on to your home.”
She smiled at my words and together we continued to sift through the remains.
I think Clara is cracking but not broken. She’s lost some of her chipperness.
+4+
The grandfather clock ticked away, I sat and watched it. It was strange being inside the house and not working. I let out another loud sigh.
That clock
“Ms. DeLune, come this way”, Mr. Fierro came down the stairs his usual stoic self and gestured for me to follow him into the piano room.
“You want me to play for you ?”, I asked sitting on the bench.
“I want to know if you are any good, if you want to be my pianist . . . that is if you want to stay here”
Mr. F POV : I can’t have you thinking I’m letting you stay because I like you
“For now.”, I added
Clara POV : And I can’t have you thinking I want to stay because I like you
He stepped out the room while I tuned the piano, and came back with a polished wood hourglass filled with clean white sand.
“You may stop playing only when the sand runs out. If you can not do that then I doubt you are the type of pianist I want around. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir”, I said mentally kicking myself for falling back into my routine
Clara really should have said “Yes, sir” a lot ironically in other installments
He turned over the hourglass and as the sand began to trickle down I set my fingers to work on the keys. It had been so long since I'd played but it all came back to me. I missed a few notes at first but he didn’t notice.
I suspected there was an hour's worth of sand in the hourglass and I had played longer than that before. I played 2 slow songs first, both Beethoven and shifted into some quicker self-composed pieces.
I kept an eye on the sand, until there was only about a few grains of sand left.
Then he turned it over
“Keep playing”, he reminded me
I shrugged it off and played through my death, I played through the car accident, I played through losing my marriage, I played through the house burning, I played right through everything that I didn’t want to deal with. I looked back at the hourglass to see it had been turned again.
“How many times are you planning on doing that ?”
He didn't answer
I gritted my teeth and kept on playing.
So Mr F’s back to being mean to her.
Chapter 10
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.
Right, Beethoven's 5th is what plays when Dark Vader makes an appearnce in Star Wars. Okay Clara not only are you pretty, talented and smart but you are also nerdy.
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 ?
Since you know I don’t really have a body
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.
Yeah, I just liked the name I had no other reason to write her in.
“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.
DRINK. Kind of ?
“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.
Emile : Now KISS
+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.
Awww, look they are playing the piano together.
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.
Nope, just the two years his wife taught him.
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.
Yeah, he actually did not mean for that to happen. It just happened to be one of the songs Lucie taught him to play so he wanted to join in.
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 numerous 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.
And we all know why
+++
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.
Yes, someone had to tell Clara (who is a teacher) to try and make friends with Mr. F. Something neither of them has really tried. These two.
+++
I stood outside the door of Mr. Fierro’s study, pacing back and forth before knocking. I heard a chair scrape 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
Mr. F POV : It would be really unfortunate if I started to fall in love with you.
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.
He just gave her the biggest book he could find
Muse : If you know what she means
LiLe : NO
Also this comes back later in HOF.
+3+
The soft sounds of the piano keys awoke me in the night. I looked down expecting to see a piano at my hands.
Seriously Clara is playing in your sleep something you do ?
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.
Cause it reminded him of his wife. I use the term ex-wife a lot I wonder if that’s fair.
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.
This is Mr. F’s equivalence to pouring one out
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..
TITLE DROP---wait
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.
"I remember everything I read. . .everyone and everything.", Began Mr. Fierro. He turned to me, "Tell me about your family."
Has an eidetic memory. Which is why he can recite old-timey poetry he used to recite to his wife from memory.
Looks
like someone is lowering the guards.
"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 I
get it from, he taught me to play."
Mr F POV : *cringe*
"You were to be married ?"
"Yes, everyone 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.
Mr. F wants to put in perspective how things may have been if he had be able to raise Clara’s father.
“With reason”, he reached over and slid the ring off my finger, “Well, you are no longer in your father’s house.”
He takes her promise ring. So . . . yeah.
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.”
See, I really wanted there to be some sort of
post-apocalyptic war type thing in HOF.
“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."
Even though you are kinder, selfless, talented and younger than she is.
+++
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.”
Lol, Emile
“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.”
Incidentally this does happen. Clara does get pregnant in
December. That was so not intentional. What she is saying is that she would
give birth in the summer when she wasn’t teaching/getting her PHD. She just imagined this perfect life for herself.
“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.
This was just an odd thing. I did it because I
couldn’t figure out what else for him to get her. He should have just kissed
her hand or something. Oh, well it comes back later in DSI.
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”
OMG it’s that line again, SH. I’m calling this the LiLe-SH Paradox Line.
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”
Please ? I found the most awesome Nora Jones song. (Come Away 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.
Oh, I’m doing that thing where characters slow dance to create intimacy. I invert this in N:AF.
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”
At a distance because he’s trying to avoid that whole getting close to someone for them to leave.
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+
Yep, this is totally filler. I wanted to do something about beauty and mirrors but it didn’t really work
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 Litany Lane, playing the piano as directed. Although the roses began to bloom, nothing else did.
Yeah, so I totally limited my DEPTH. No 10,000 word chapter here. Also I wanted to leave this time open for one-shot adventures. You know like Will’s End. So yeah. That can totally fit in here.
+++
URGENT
CLARA C. DELUNE
The above has been summoned to a solitary furtive meeting the weekend of Feburary 10th pertaining the residents of Litany Lane. Your presence is requested at Litany Village, instructions to follow.
- The Honorable King, Victorious Bordeaux IV
Muse : Where did you learn the word furtive ?
LiLe : Um, I think I right-clicked Synonym Secret.
Hmm, I feel like this is pretty close to the end. I could have maybe had one story of DEPTH
Chapter 9 - http://lindaleighblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/few-connections.html
Chapter 10 http://lindaleighblog.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-month-already.html