Return of the Song

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  Sam knocked on Caroline’s door and shouted as though she wouldn’t recognize his knock. “Caroline, it’s the judge with a summons.”

  “Hello, Judge.” She opened the door and took the basket from him. “Is this your peace offering for that wisecrack you made when I ran to answer the phone?”

  “I guess it is if it needs to be.”

  “You’re just dying to know if that was the Kentucky gentleman, aren’t you?” She reached for a fruit bowl and began to remove the peaches from the basket.

  “I confess the thought did travel across my mind. Just keep the basket. You can bring it up later.”

  “I’ll not do it. It would embarrass my mother.” She lined the bottom of the basket with fresh paper towels. “You know this basket will not be returned empty. How about some tea cakes?” In seconds she had the basket filled with cookies. “And just so you know, the phone call was from Betsy.”

  “Well, how is Betsy and how is . . . what did she call the baby? Booger?”

  “Betsy’s fine. And according to the doctor, Mason needs to come up with a new name for this one. You can’t call a little girl Booger—not even in South Georgia.”

  “So, Booger’s a girl?” Sam smiled.

  “Seems so.”

  “Ned and Fred told me about your episode with Bella this morning.”

  “Oh, Sam, she is the most amazing person. She sat at the piano this morning and played for nearly an hour. I played a couple of pieces, and then she repeated them almost perfectly. Then she started playing all my students’ recital pieces, which she had heard only once at the recital.”

  “Really? I wish I could’ve heard her.”

  Caroline put away the cookie tin. “No doubt that Bella was our intruder.”

  “I came to the very same conclusion when Ned told me what happened. I hope it’s all right with you that I told them about Bella. I swore them to secrecy in my best judge’s voice.”

  “That’s no problem, Sam. After all, if you can’t trust those two . . .”

  “Yep, they’re mighty fine men. Wouldn’t even let me pay for repairing and painting the window. Said if they hadn’t tried to be heroes, none of this would have happened.”

  “Speaking of fine, Gretchen is another fine one. She told me this morning that Bella’s her grandchild. She told me about Karina and how she had the baby and left home shortly after Bella was born. Gretchen hasn’t seen her since. She gets an occasional letter, but one of Karina’s high school friends has to deliver it when Mr. Silva is out of town.”

  Sam hung his head and shook it. “That poor woman. What she must have had to bear!”

  “Oh, but it gets worse. Mr. Silva apparently abuses Gretchen. She says he’s never touched Karina or Bella.”

  Sam raised his head. “I knew it. I knew it. That man’s just a dump-truck load of devilment. Some of the boys and I need to pay him a visit.”

  “Now, Sam, don’t go and get all worked up over this. He’s a truck driver, and he’s on a run for a few days. Gretchen and Bella are coming back tomorrow, and I’ll get a few more pieces of this puzzle. You know, when I think about it, I can hardly bear the thoughts of what that precious woman and child live in day after day, but she’s convinced herself that her life is good.”

  “I can guarantee you one thing: one way or the other that woman’s life is going to get better.”

  “Gretchen’s been entrusted with this rare child. I believe Bella truly is a musical savant. And from what I have read, there are fewer than one hundred savants alive out of billions of people on this planet. That’s what I mean by ‘rare.’ When word gets out, life as Gretchen and Bella know it will be history.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so. And I’ll need your help and your wisdom. For twelve years, Bella’s been a secret. But when this secret becomes news—we’re talking national news, psychologists, neurologists crawling all over Moss Point, and who knows what else?”

  Sam put his hand in his pocket and started to rattle his change. “Hmm, hadn’t even thought about all that.”

  “I can’t even begin to put my mind around all of it yet. But I know there are some life-changing decisions just around the corner.” She handed the basket to Sam. “What bothers me right now is Gretchen’s reaction when I tell her about our intruder. She’ll need me in the future, and I must be worthy of her trust, Sam.”

  “So Gretchen was entrusted with this gifted girl. Looks like now you’ve been entrusted with both of them, and I know of no one more trustworthy and sensible. Your motives are pure, and you’ll do what is right.”

  “I just hope I’ll know what is right. I know so little right now, but I know enough to be frightened. Gretchen naively knows that Bella is different but has no clue what could happen very soon. Doctors who want to study her brain . . . There’ll be media exploiting her. And people in line on the Silvas’ doorsteps—people who’ve figured some way to profit by using Bella. What’s right for Bella and Gretchen? What’s right for science and medicine? Oh, Sam, this can get sticky so fast.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. When the time comes, you’ll know what to do. You’ll do what’s best. Like old Ned said today, ‘Sometimes there’s right, and sometimes there’s righter.’ You’ll know what’s righter.”

  “And if I don’t, I’ll ask you.” Caroline hugged Sam.

  “I’d best get back up to the house. Angel’s lemonade will be gone before I get that sprig of mint she wanted.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you. Guess I didn’t want to carry this load by myself.”

  “Caroline, I’m a little concerned about my Angel. She’s been slowing down a bit lately—having these weak spells. When I talk to her about seeing the doctor, she always changes the subject. How about keeping your eye on her when you’re around?”

  “I’ve noticed it, too, but I didn’t want to say anything.” She walked Sam to the door. “But you don’t worry either, I’m right here. We’ll take care of Angel. After all, the peaches are coming in, and she has cobblers and peach brandy to make.”

  She stood at the door and watched him pick a few mint leaves and then saunter up the path until he disappeared through the porch door. That heart-wringing dread that had gripped her when Gretchen and Bella left this morning returned.

  Interrobang

   Caroline was glad for the light of morning. The night’s restlessness was like pushing her mind through a sieve and then pulling it back through, only to start all over again. The heaviness of responsibility and the burden of this secret were weighing on her. Fortunately, yesterday’s episode with Ned and Fred opened the door for her talk with Gretchen. She would claim the moment and proceed gently.

  Gretchen phoned early to tell Caroline not to eat breakfast. She was bringing homemade pastries. Relieved not to have to wait all day to see them, Caroline turned on the kettle and imagined Gretchen putting on her gray sweater. They lived only a short few blocks away, but there was a great chasm to cross to bring them both to the same side, wherever that might be.

  The simultaneous whistle of the teakettle and the doorbell summoned Caroline from the kitchen sink. She removed the kettle and went to the door.

  “Good morning, Gretchen, and good morning, beautiful Bella.” She hugged Gretchen and turned to Bella, not attempting to hug her today. Instead, she stood near and stroked Bella’s silky blonde hair. “Bella, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. It’s just as lovely as your grand—”

  Bella’s penetrating gaze halted her.

  Caroline did not know if Bella thought of Gretchen as her grandmother or her mother, and she decided quickly to change the subject. “Now what did the two of you concoct for this charming package?” she exclaimed as she took the pastries Gretchen now handed her. She observed the elegant way the goodies were covered in clear plastic wrap and then covered in wrapped layers of pink netting secured with white ribbon. Nestled in the bow was a delicate bouquet of white wood violets. The packag
e was proof that Gretchen had a gift for making simple things elegant. “This is entirely too lovely to unwrap, but something tells me what’s inside is just as delicious as the wrapping is lovely.”

  Gretchen stood with Caroline at the counter as Bella kept her distance. “Caroline, you’ve been such a kind hostess to us, always serving tea and cookies. So we wanted to bake you our favorite pastry. It’s my grandmammá’s recipe from the old country. It’s not quite the same as my grandmammá made it. The butter here is a bit different, and so is the milk, but we like it very much, and we want you to like it too.”

  “Oh, my, this looks like something I’d have to pay lots of money for in a specialty bakery.” Caroline pointed to the plaited bread drizzled with icing and sprinkled with nuts.

  “My grandmammá used hazelnuts, but they’re not so easy to find here. So we use pecans from the tree in our backyard.”

  “I prefer pecans anyway, especially when they’re coated with sugar and butter. Come, let’s share this treat.”

  “No, no, not until you have eaten first. Then Bella and I will have just one slice. The sweets have come to your house to stay, and we return to our house with a clean, empty plate and the joy of knowing you liked them.”

  Caroline tasted and immediately thought of her own mother’s baking skills. “Why, Gretchen, I do believe this is the tastiest treat ever to pass my lips. I can’t decide if it’s pure heaven or just sin.”

  “Oh, no, please. Nothing I do can be compared to heaven, and please do not think of them as sin. I think God wants you to enjoy the sweetness of life.”

  Interesting from a woman who’s tasted of so much bitterness.

  “I like how you think, and I especially like the way you say things. I’m so glad you’re my friend.” Caroline turned to Bella, “And Bella, I’m so glad you’re my friend too. I’ve been waiting to hear you play the piano again. We had a grand time yesterday.”

  Caroline thought she noticed a slight grin as Bella approached the counter. “Bella, do you like chocolate milk? I hope you do. I just made some especially for you.”

  “Chocolate milk? What a treat! She loves chocolate milk, and we get it only on very special occasions.”

  “Good, then we’ll make today a special occasion. Let’s see, is it anyone’s birthday?”

  Gretchen and Bella shook their heads.

  “No? Is it a holiday? No? Well, what about . . . what about if we call it . . . Let’s call it ‘Interrobang Day.’ ”

  Gretchen straightened the blue ribbon on Bella’s ponytail. “That’s such an unusual word. It is a new word for me and for you, too, Bella. I know my English could be much better, but I’ve never heard such a word. What does this word mean? How do you say—in-terro-bang? Is that correct?”

  “That is correct. An interrobang is actually a punctuation mark—an exclamation point on top of a question mark. It’s like a big surprising question, sort of like our day.”

  “Interrobang.” Gretchen repeated the word deliberately and thoughtfully. “I like that new word, and so we celebrate Interrobang Day.”

  “Good. Here’s the chocolate milk, Bella. I hope you like it. I used my special good chocolate just for you.”

  They chatted, ate their goodies, sipped tea and chocolate milk. Caroline enticed Bella to play the piano while she and Gretchen went out on the terrace. They took their tea and sat at the patio table so Bella could see them.

  “Gretchen, I’m so glad you came early this morning, I have much to ask you and much to tell you.”

  “Not before I apologize for Bella’s behavior. I have searched my thoughts for why she might have misbehaved so yesterday, but I have no answer.”

  “I think I have an answer, Gretchen, but before I get into that, I need to ask you a few more questions. Did I understand that Bella doesn’t go to school?”

  “Yes, you understood. I tried sending her to school, but as I told you, she is different than the other children. The teachers did not know what to do with her, so they sent us a letter saying there was nothing they could do to teach her.”

  “What did they expect you to do? I thought there were laws requiring her to go to school. I’m certain the school has some responsibility to teach her.”

  Gretchen’s face had that faraway look again. “Maybe that is true, but their decision was quite satisfactory to me. They have many children in the classroom, and not much time to be with Bella. And it pleased Mr. Silva, for he does not like Bella to go out in public. He cannot see the beauty in her, and he thinks that Bella is our punishment for Karina’s bad behavior.”

  “Punishment?”

  “Yes. He does not look at Bella or speak to her—just as he was with Karina before she went away. But Bella is happy, and I am pleased, for she is with me every moment. She is a gift, a miraculous gift.”

  Caroline put down her teacup. “Gretchen, I’ve never heard Bella speak. Does she speak with you?”

  “Oh, yes, she speaks mostly through her eyes and her music. She speaks only when she really has something to say or if she’s repeating something she hears. She often hums and makes other sounds that let me know she is quite happy or frustrated.”

  Caroline wished she could memorize Gretchen’s answers. “Does Bella think of you as her mother or her grandmother?”

  “I do not know how to answer that question or how Bella thinks of me. I only know how she treats me. She is tender with my feelings. She hears my heart. Her spirit is peaceful when I am near her, and somehow she knows when my spirit is not peaceful. I see Bella is the same way with you. She knows that your heart is a good heart. There is much to learn about the mysteries inside her mind, that which is locked behind her beautiful eyes, and I hope you have the key.” Gretchen drank the last sip of tea.

  “Oh, Gretchen, how I wish I had the key, but maybe we can find it together. Have you tried to teach Bella to read?”

  “Yes. When the teachers decided that she could no longer be in the classroom, they gave me books at my request. They told me I would be wasting my time. I tried, but I am not very good at teaching. Bella knows all the books I read to her. I’ll show you sometime. Bella knows many things, many things girls her age do not know. She knows how to do stitching, and knitting, and crocheting. And she makes things. You will see one day what she can do. And Caroline, you’ve heard her music. She makes such beautiful music. Who can do that but my Bella?”

  They stopped to listen. Bella was playing “David’s Song.”

  “That song . . . Bella hums that song at home, but she only plays it on your piano. I do not know this song, but it is so beautiful. I think my Bella has created her own song.”

  Caroline knew it was her time to speak. “Gretchen, you’ve been open with me, answering my questions, and I’m grateful. That is a sign of our new friendship. Now there are some things I need to tell you; but before I do, you must know that I agree with you about Bella’s special abilities and I only want to help her and you.” Caroline paused. “So, where do I start?”

  “You start at the beginning, my friend.”

  “That’s always a good place to start, but in this case I’m not certain where the beginning is. Let’s start with the song Bella is playing. It’s ‘David’s Song,’ a song I’ve been writing for years.” She noted the puzzled look on Gretchen’s face. “You see, about six years ago, I fell very deeply in love with a young man, and we were to be married.” Caroline paused. “Our wedding was only six weeks away when David was killed. He was delivering medical supplies to an Indian tribe in Guatemala, and his vehicle was washed away in a flood and mud slide.”

  Despite herself, her eyes became glassy with tears. How long will I feel the freshness of grief when I tell this story?

  “Oh, my precious friend, I am so sorry. Your pain is still great. I only wish I could make it go away. David must have been a rare man to have won your heart and kept it all these years.”

  “Yes.” Caroline wiped a tear from her cheek. “He was a rare man and a gift to
me like Bella is to you. His death changed the direction of my life, and I’ve had many questions about that. Time helps a bit, but the loss is always with me.”

  “It seems life brings us some . . . in-ter-ro-bangs, but God brings us interrobangs too.” Gretchen paused. “But I don’t understand about the song. Why does Bella play this song?”

  “As I was saying, this is a song I was writing, and it was to be my wedding gift to David. I would have sung it at our wedding had there been one. I’ve never been able to finish it. Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I play the piano. The other night, for the first time in a very long time, I played this piece.”

  Caroline felt the knot in her stomach grow tighter. “One morning, several weeks ago, I had breakfast with the Sam and Angel—that’s the Meadowses, the owners of Twin Oaks here—and I was walking home. When I neared the studio, I heard someone playing my piano. I must tell you, it was quite startling, because as I listened, I heard ‘David’s Song.’ I was frightened, but more curious than afraid, so I opened the door. When I did, the intruder ran out the terrace door, leaving it open.”

  “Someone was in your studio?” Gretchen twisted the napkin in her lap.

  “Yes, but no harm was done and nothing was taken. The person only came to play the piano.”

  “It was Bella? You think it was my Bella?” Gretchen pulled at the napkin in her hand and moved to the edge of her chair.

  “I do, Gretchen. But it’s okay. Everything’s fine. No harm’s been done, and the mystery has been solved. But I must finish. I told no one about this, but a few days later, Sam reported that the Pendergrass brothers had found a hole in the fence and signs that someone had been hiding in the bushes next to the studio windows.

  “These are the men who were here yesterday?” Gretchen kneaded her knuckles and rocked back and forth in worry—moving much like Bella.

  “Yes, Ned and Fred repaired the fence, and a few days later they found the boards were removed from a different spot. We had an incident a few nights later that answers why Bella reacted the way she did yesterday.”