Her eyes focused on the diminutive ballerina that had stopped twirling and faced the mirror sideways. “That’s beautiful. But did you ask Mallory how much it is?”
Laura looked at the woman sitting at the table next to a cash box. Mallory leaned forward and picked up the tag tied on with a string to the handle of the box. “Henry made me promise not to sell this unless I could get at least ten dollars for it.”
Laura’s mother pursed her lips. “Hmmm.”
Sterling’s blood rushed in his ears and his mouth grew dry as he considered what he could do. He had to act before the woman gave in to her daughter. He leaned toward the music box and addressed the lady sitting at the table.
“I’m willing to pay you double the price for this music box.” He pulled out his wallet and retrieved two crisp ten-dollar bills.
They all stared at him. Laura’s lip trembled and her mother frowned.
“Please,” he said.
The wind flicked the girl’s ribbons around her face, and the mother seemed to relax. “It was too much at ten. Don’t whine, Laura, we’ll find you something better.”
Mallory pointed to the end of the table. “Laura, why don’t you look at the treasure box Sabrina donated to the sale. I bet it will be perfect for your dolls.” Then she extended a hand to Sterling. “I’m Mallory Chase.”
“Sterling Dennison.” He shook her hand and then laid the twenty dollars in her palm.
“You don’t need to pay double.” She moved to return one of the bills.
“No, I want to. Thank you so much.” Sterling closed the lid of the music box, cradled it in his arms, and treaded back through the menagerie of sale items to his car. He didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing the music box and desiring it. By the time he slid into the driver’s seat, his hands felt sweaty and his brow glistened.
The Cadillac maneuvered easily back out to the main road, and Sterling drove for five miles until he found a good place to pull off to the side. With trembling hands he wound the brass crank on the back of the box. He opened the lid and his heartbeat quickened. The tinkling music played, and his head filled with the sound of her voice. It had been almost thirty years since he’d heard her sing, but her voice rang clear in his mind as if he’d heard it only yesterday.
He remembered the story Evelyn had told him about the special music box Jim had given her before he left for the war. She had given it away, but the song playing now was the same one that had brought them together and ultimately torn them apart. The song had never left him, and he would not believe it was only coincidence that he had just purchased a music box that played the same tune.
Perhaps it wasn’t the same music box, but he knew that at one time Evelyn had regretted the decision she made to give it away. After thirty years, would she still remember the tune as well? Would Jim have found her a new music box?
Sterling listened to the song one more time and then started the engine and continued his drive home. The isolated town of Aspen Falls held no family ties to him and most would have assumed that he would want to leave after Evelyn chose Jim, but he had stayed. They had left.
Colorado Springs was a big city compared to Aspen Falls. Although Sterling knew they occasionally visited Evelyn’s parents, he’d never seen her again. And Sterling had avoided Evelyn’s parents because the one time he’d run into Harold and Marie they’d been so flustered and apologetic about the situation that they’d all felt uncomfortable.
When he got home, he dialed the operator and asked her to help him locate James Patterson in Colorado Springs. There were two of them and he jotted down the addresses and telephone numbers. For the next week, he tried to work up the nerve to place the call. When he finally did dial the number, he found that the first Jim Patterson had never been married to an Evelyn.
Sterling ran a finger over the address of the second Jim Patterson. He looked at the music box, the gold lining around the edges had been worn off in most places and a smudge of dirt discolored the top compartment.
There was no jewelry inside, and the fuzzy red paper lining the drawers and compartments was worn smooth in most places. He chewed on his bottom lip wondering if Evelyn would even want it. But every time he thought about it, the melody would dance through his mind and he would see her beautiful face, hear her lovely voice, and feel compelled to return the music box to its rightful owner.
He bought a newspaper from Callaway Grove that covered Colorado Springs and some of the bigger news around the state. He scoured the classifieds until he found his reason to travel two and a half hours to the big city.
The 1964 Ford Mustang was the first of its kind, had loved the road, survived a few accidents, and needed work according to the ad. Sterling smiled when he gazed at the picture of the same model sports car hanging on his fridge. After he ascertained from the owner if the Mustang could make it to Aspen Falls and chewed around the price, he made arrangements to pick it up the following week.
The music box had aged, but the music hadn’t, and Sterling wound the crank each day, watching the dainty ballerina spin her perfect pirouette. On Thursday he listened to it once more, unsure if it might be the final time he would hear the music tinkling from the chambers of the box. Then he wrapped it in paper and put it in a box, tying a string around the flaps.
The bus left the station on time and Sterling gazed out at Aspen Falls whizzing past his window. It wouldn’t take him long to pick up the Mustang, and then he could deliver his package. When he thought of seeing her again, his heart sped up and his mouth felt dry.
It was risky if you considered the way he and Jim parted last, but hopefully time had lessened the jealousy Jim felt over his wife’s affection for someone other than himself. Sterling held the box on his lap and closed his eyes. The rumbling of the bus motor vibrated the floorboards under his feet, and he allowed his head to rest against the seat.
His mind traveled back through years of memories to the day twenty-seven years ago at the Silver Lining—the last time he’d talked to Evelyn. The conversation had replayed itself so many times in his head it was automatic. He even remembered her scent—the light aroma of vanilla in her perfume mingled with the baby oil she’d probably used on Danny.
She had stood close to him and whispered, “Thank you for being there for me, through all of this.”
And the words he had written to her in the letter still held true despite the outcome of that night. “I wouldn’t know what it feels like to laugh if it hadn’t been for you. My heart came to life when you let me in.”
Sterling had never heard from her again. Before he drifted to sleep against the vinyl bus seat, he wondered what she might have said if they’d had a little more time.
Chapter 41 ~ The Soldier’s Music Box
1972 ~ Evelyn
The warm breeze creeping in through the window announced that summer was on its way, and as Evelyn walked through the kitchen, she pushed the window open a bit more and inhaled. The balmy air felt good against her skin, and she closed her eyes for a moment and smiled.
Her smile faltered when the wind whispered past her ear and her eyes fluttered open. The voice had been there or was it just a memory? She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and listened. She pulled her hand back down and studied the diamond ring Jim had given her for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. One brilliant diamond shimmered in the bright sunlight peeking under the kitchen curtains, and the sapphires next to it twinkled. She always said the sapphires were as blue as Jim’s eyes, and they winked at her just like he did with his knowing smile.
She clasped her hands to her heart and exhaled, her shoulders slumping for a moment. Then with a shake of her head, she opened the fridge and pulled out the casserole she’d put together yesterday. There would be mounds of leftovers, but she had plans for those. Her sweet young neighbor was a new mother, and Evelyn couldn’t wait to see the twin girls who had been born a week ago.
The casserole would have to sit for an hour before she baked it, but t
hat would be perfect timing for dinner. She picked up her phone and began to dial her neighbor’s number to tell her she’d be bringing dinner. A knock at the door startled her, and she replaced the phone in its cradle.
The curtains fluttered as she walked out of the kitchen toward the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she smoothed out her blouse and ran a hand over her hair before grasping the knob.
A man with a crooked smile stood on her porch, and Evelyn felt as if she’d been sucked back in time to that day filled with pain, when her heart broke for the second time. It wasn’t Jim back from the dead this time, it was Sterling.
Her mouth opened but no sound issued.
Sterling stared at her and the tendons in his neck tightened and relaxed. “I promise not to stay long. I’ve brought you something. Something for you and Jim.” He motioned to a cardboard box in his hand. He hooked his index finger under the white string crisscrossing the box and pulled it taut.
He looked good—like every memory of him that Evelyn still held in her heart. His hair wasn’t quite as thick and the black strands were interwoven with gray, but the strength in his green eyes was the same.
Evelyn’s heart fluttered. The pause lengthened and Sterling held the box tightly. He didn’t know. She shook her head. “Jim’s gone.”
Sterling relaxed. “That might be for the best. I wouldn’t want another black eye.”
“No, I mean he’s gone, he passed away last year.”
His face paled. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”
“It’s okay. Why don’t you come in?”
As Sterling walked through the door, she felt a tingling in her arms. Before she could close the door, a gust of wind pushed through, brushed her cheek, and rustled the strands of Sterling’s salt-and-pepper hair.
The newspaper on the coffee table rippled and Evelyn shut the door. The latch clicked and her soft-soled shoes made no sound as she padded toward the brown plaid sofa. Sterling placed the box on the coffee table, swallowed, and glanced at her.
“I’m really sorry about Jim,” he said.
Evelyn sank onto the cushions and then patted the seat beside her. “It was an aneurysm. Possibly related to the head injuries he sustained in the war.”
Sterling sat next to her and frowned. “Even though the war’s long over, it will never stop taking from us.”
The ticking of the clock added a staccato sound to the silence.
“He was here one minute and gone the next.” She clasped her hands together. “I didn’t have any warning, but I’ve tried to be grateful for the second chance I got with him thirty years ago.”
“Twenty-seven,” Sterling said, and then pressed his lips together.
“You’re right. I was just thinking about him. It’s been a little over a year now and I’m not quite sure what to do.”
He nodded and Evelyn blushed at how easily she’d just shared her heart with him again. He touched the box, and she noticed his left hand was void of a wedding band.
“What about you? Did you marry?”
He clenched his jaw. “I stayed in Aspen Falls and kept my shop running. I met Lydia about five years after you left. We were married for eighteen years before the cancer took her. We had a daughter, Sonya. She just turned twenty and she’s a wonderful girl.”
“Oh, I’m sorry about your wife.” Evelyn put a hand over her heart. “I’m so glad you have a daughter, though. Sterling, the years have been good to you.” She stopped short of touching the silver streaks in his ebony curls.
He looked at her meaningfully. “It’s been a long time.”
“But with you sitting here, it doesn’t seem like so long ago now,” she murmured and interlaced her fingers on her lap.
“I know what you mean.” He studied the soft lines of her face.
She looked at him and sighed. “My children are grown. I had two more after Danny.”
“You’re a lucky woman.”
“I’ve been thinking of moving back to Aspen Falls. My mom’s health is failing. Dad’s been gone for eight years.”
“I was sorry to hear he had passed. The old house still looks good,” Sterling said. “I drive by there occasionally.”
He picked up the box. “I went to a farm sale the other day, and I found something I knew you’d like.” He handed it to her. “I’ll let you open it.”
“It must be something good for you to make a special trip.” Evelyn smiled and picked at the string. With a gentle tug, the string came loose and she pulled up the flaps of the box. Moving aside pieces of crumpled newspaper, she put a hand over her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes and trickled down her cheek.
The music box felt empty, and she lifted it out and set it on her lap as Sterling pulled the paper away. She pushed the button on the middle compartment, lifted the lid, and gave a soft cry as the ballerina sprang to life.
Music filled the room, and Evelyn was aware of Sterling’s quiet form next to her. She clutched his hand as the music played and watched the miniature dancer circle before the mirror. She trembled as a sob broke free. Sterling tentatively put his arm around her and offered her his handkerchief.
Her breath caught, and she reached for the side compartment. The red velvet paper was torn and Evelyn’s fingers fluttered with anticipation as she began to peel the paper back.
“What are you doing?” Sterling asked, and then he remembered the story of how Jim had left a note pasted inside the music box. Evelyn had told him, but he never knew the exact details.
The paper lining came away easily, and she cried out. “Oh, it’s still there. After all these years, it’s still there.”
Sterling peered at the faded blue paper with the same words Jim Patterson had written to his wife. And suddenly his heart felt as if it was beating anew. He opened his mouth and spoke the words aloud. “Don’t die with me.” Then he gazed at Evelyn. Her brown eyes filled with tears again, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder.
Sterling held Evelyn but stared past her, his mind spinning with the possibilities. And he knew. It wasn’t a coincidence he had found the same music box—that he had found Evelyn. He hadn’t found the box a year ago when Jim was still alive, he had found it now.
Jim spoke from the grave—his message still guiding Evelyn. Sterling had found this music box because Jim didn’t want her to be left alone when someone still lived who loved her. It had to be true.
“Sterling, I can’t believe it,” she cried. “Thank you so much.” She turned her head to watch the ballerina take a final twirl before the music stopped. “You say you found this at a farm sale?”
“About an hour south of Callaway Grove. I had to pick up some parts out that way and saw a sign and stopped by.”
“It’s impossible, but here you are and you’ve brought my music box,” she said.
“But look.” Sterling pointed at the box. “There’s something else written there.”
Evelyn wiped her eyes and leaned toward the music box. Her finger brushed over the mint-green paper on which Rhonda had written a message to Leland. “Forgive yourself—allow God to forgive.”
“That’s powerful,” Sterling said.
“And another here, this looks like a scrap of paper glued in. It’s written in pencil.” She squinted. “I need my glasses.”
“Wait I can see it. It says, ‘Live to dance again.’” He smiled at Evelyn.
“This paper’s been folded lots of times. It’s hard to see.” Sterling unfolded a bright green piece of paper and smoothed out some of the creases.
“Wait, I have to get my glasses. I want to read them all.” She set the music box on the coffee table and hurried into the kitchen. When she returned she chuckled. “I never thought age would catch up to me, but it has.” She put on her glasses.
Sterling brushed back the edge of his silver-streaked hair. “I know what you mean.” He handed her the crumpled piece of green paper.
“This looks like origami paper,” Evelyn said. “Listen close enough
and you can change the world.” She gasped. “It can’t be.”
“What?” Sterling examined the paper.
“But that’s what Jim told the little girl he met in the hospital. She had polio and she had . . .” Evelyn’s breath caught. “She had a music box that she loved to listen to. The tune sparked something in Jim’s brain, helped him remember who he was.”
“And that girl or someone wrote down what he said.” Sterling peered at the different scraps of paper and shook his head. “There’s one more.”
She swallowed and focused on the last scrap of paper glued behind the lining of the compartment. “To every thing there is a season.”
“Like the scripture in the Bible,” Sterling mused.
For a moment all was still except for the gentle flapping of the kitchen curtains as the summer breeze continued to waft through the room. Evelyn read through each message again and tucked the folded origami paper next to the others.
“It’s as if each person who owned the music box found the messages and added one of their own.” Her eyes glistened with tears again. “I wonder if the music box touched them the same way it did me. Sterling, this is a miracle.”
“I know.”
“After all these years, you came back,” Evelyn murmured.
He covered her hand with his and swallowed. “You left without saying good-bye.”
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to, but then I thought it would make things worse.” She covered her face with her hands, breathed in, and then clutched Sterling’s hand again. “I thought of you every day for the first year, until James was born.” She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip.
“James was a blessing in so many ways, but also because I was finally able to set you free from my mind, though there has always been a part of my heart that has belonged to you.”
Sterling’s heart ached to hear her say the words, but once he saw Jim’s message inside the music box, he’d vowed in that second not to let another opportunity pass him by.
“I said I would set you free and I did, but it took some doing. I lived those next five years of my life in the shadow of your memories.” He turned toward Evelyn as she uttered a painful cry. “I saw so much love around me and wanted to take part. I attempted a few times, but my heart was still shackled. I knew that you wouldn’t want me to be unhappy, so I tried again. That’s when I met Lydia. I’ve been blessed with a good life.”
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