by Cushnie-mansour, Mary M. ; Jamieson, Bethany (EDT); Tanguay, Danielle (EDT)
something to tell you, Cindy.”
“Later, auntie, you need to rest.”
“You have a gift and he will teach you,” she stated.
“What gift, and who will teach me?”
“Your voice, Cindy,” Eliza sighed. “He is the Master.”
“You have the beautiful voice, auntie—God given, my mama used to say.”
Eliza pointed to her night table. “There is a brown envelope in there…”
“Auntie, you really must rest,” Cindy insisted.
“I will rest later; now I must settle this matter. Pass me the envelope—it holds my will.”
Cindy did her aunt’s bidding.
“Now, pull up the rocker and listen carefully. I’m leaving you my home.”
“But, auntie, surely there are others more worthy!” Cindy protested.
“The decision is not mine alone—this is a unique house.”
Cindy thought her aunt was hallucinating. “The most unique entity in this house, Aunt Eliza, is your beautiful voice!”
“Remember the third floor, where you children were never allowed to explore?”
Cindy nodded.
“Now, I will tell you its secret…
“It happened when I came to Brantford. Your mother took me in. I’d had a breakdown while studying voice at the Toronto Conservatory of Music and I had vowed never to sing another note as long as I lived!
“While walking one day, in an older part of town, I was drawn to a large brick house. A for sale sign was on the front lawn. I gazed up at the third floor and noticed a cat in the window. I thought this strange since the house appeared empty—who would leave their pet behind?” Eliza paused. “Hand me my juice, dear.”
“I just knew I had to have that house,” she continued. I used the money from my parent’s estate to buy it. The first thing I did was venture to the third floor. I was surprised when I saw a grand piano, sitting in the middle of the room, with not a spec of dust on it. Also, on the wall, directly in front of the piano, were several portraits—all young women—watching over the instrument.
“I thought to call the realtor, but then, ‘don’t do that—the piano is for your lessons.’ I was frightened! I called out, ‘who’s there?’ and then this beautiful white cat appeared from nowhere and jumped onto the piano bench.
“Of course, not really expecting an answer, I asked the cat where his master was. ‘I have none,’ he answered. ‘I am here to teach you. She,’ his paw pointed to one of the portraits, ‘has chosen you.’”
Eliza took another sip of juice, her hand shaking slightly as she returned the glass to her night table.
“The cat nodded his head. The piano opened. ‘Let’s hear your scales, Eliza,’ he said. He waved his paw over the keys and the familiar scales I had been practicing for the past five years soared through the room. I opened my mouth and the notes came out, bright and clear, like never before. I glanced at the portrait and noticed the lady smiling at me.
“Finally, the piano stopped playing and the cat turned to me, ‘not bad,’ he said, ‘we have a lot of work to do on the lower scales, though. Belinda had the same problem,’ he pointed to the portrait. ‘Be here tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. sharp—we’ll practice till noon, take a break and then continue ‘til supper.’ As I turned to leave he said, ‘by the way, you may call me Master Arpeggio.’”
Eliza leaned back on her pillow. Her face was ghostly. Cindy reached over and caressed her cheek. “Enough for today, auntie; you can finish the story tomorrow.”
“There is no tomorrow for me, dear.” Eliza reached for Cindy’s hand, grasping it with her blue, spider-webbed fingers.
“Master Arpeggio told me it was time to choose my successor—I’ve chosen you. After the funeral, go up to the third floor, the key is in my safe. Go to him, my dear, and fulfill your dream.”
“But, auntie, I’ll never sing as well as you!”
“You will. Arpeggio will see to that. But, guard this secret with your life. When your time comes, you will have to choose your successor.” Eliza closed her eyes.
Cindy sat with her aunt ‘til the wee hours of the morning. She watched as her breathing became shallower. She stroked her cheek and whispered words of endearment. She sang their favourite song, Evergreen, and brushed away her dear aunt’s final tears.
attended. Cindy’s heart was heavy as she returned to the old house. She stood outside and stared up at the third-floor window. He was there—Arpeggio—she could sense him.
She made her way to the third floor. Upon entry, she saw a new portrait on the wall—a young Eliza. There was a charming smile on her lips.
“Well, shall we get started?” A handsome white cat was sitting on the piano bench. The keys began to play.
“As you wish, Master Arpeggio,” Cindy said, then opened her mouth and sang like never before.
Aunt Eliza’s funeral. Cindy had excelled under the arduous tutelage of Master Arpeggio, amazing the greatest voices in the opera circles.
“Where did you come from?”
“What is your musical lineage?”
“Ah, you are Eliza’s niece—that explains the familiarity!”
“Who did you say your teacher was?”
Cindy would smile and avoid that question, keeping well the secret of Master Arpeggio. But lately, a rumbling restlessness to know how Master Arpeggio had come to be kept pulling at Cindy, demanding an answer to this mysterious puzzle. Besides, how could she tell anyone who her tutor was—who would believe her instructor was a cat!
“Cindy—you are not focusing,” Master Arpeggio spoke sharply.
“I am sorry, my mind wanders; I must ask you something.”
Arpeggio knew the time had arrived for him to tell his story again. He jumped off the piano bench. “Follow me,” he ordered.
Cindy followed him to a room off the studio. She looked around: three of the walls were hidden by books, stacked from floor to ceiling—many appeared to be time-worn. “This is my library,” Arpeggio began, jumping onto a chair. “When I am not teaching, I like to read. Have a seat—what’s on your mind?”
“How did you come to be?” Cindy questioned.
Arpeggio sighed deeply…
“It all began in 1694 when I was in service to a prominent Italian family. I was a Gypsy boy and had been left behind by my parents. They were singers with enchanting voices, so I was told, and they had no time to wait for me to recover from my illness, especially with audiences to please elsewhere.
“The family attended operas regularly. Their youngest child, Paola, was crippled from birth and had never known anything other than a wheelchair, or a sturdy set of arms to carry her. I was kept on after I recovered, for it was noticed how strong I was. One of my jobs was to carry Paola into and out of the opera houses. I was allowed to wait behind the curtain of the family’s private box, and I would listen intently to the singers.
“My mind absorbed each aria like a sponge! When my household duties were fulfilled, I would head to the woods at the edge of my master’s property and practice singing. I noticed my voice was easily trained and pleasurable to the ear—a bequest from my parents, I assumed.
“I began humming as I worked around the house. Paola loved to hear me and one day she requested I sing for her. I waited until no one was around. She was enthralled and demanded I teach her. I assured her I was no teacher, but she insisted—thus my first pupil.”
“But how did you become a cat, and how have you lived so long?” Cindy asked.
“Patience, Cindy. Paola excelled with her singing! One day, we decided it was time she sing for her family. They were not as delighted as we expected—they loved opera, but not for their darling daughter! I was cast from the house. Paola’s pleadings fell on deaf ears. We were devastated, Paola and I, for we were also deeply in love.
“I wandered aimlessly for weeks. One day I came upon a Gypsy fortune teller’s shop. I entered and met Madame Fiona. She warned me that she was not just any Gypsy; she h
ad great powers and I should be careful what I asked for. I had no money, but she didn’t care—‘sing Arpeggio,’ she’d demanded. I was startled she knew my name.
“As I finished, she smiled and told me I was the one she’d been waiting for, and how it was foretold in Gypsy legends that there would come a young man with a voice so pure it would be as though the angels had touched his vocal chords. He would be a great teacher for centuries to come, but his life would be shrouded in secrecy.
“Madame Fiona told me how I could be with the one I loved, but it would be at a high cost. I told her I would do anything to be with Paola…”
Arpeggio had a faraway look in his eyes. He pointed to a single portrait mounted on the ceiling—a young woman in a wheelchair with a white cat sitting on her lap. “Paola,” Arpeggio whispered. Cindy noticed tears trickling into the fur on his cheeks. “Upon her deathbed, she made me promise to continue teaching. As her successor, she chose a young woman she’d met in France.”
“How did you come to Brantford?”
“I came here from Spain in 1902. Your aunt was chosen by Belinda DeSousa—how this happens, and all the other stories in between, are detailed in the diary. You may take it and read at your leisure.” Arpeggio jumped down from his chair. “I am tired now; I’ll see you in the morning.”
Cindy found the diary on the shelf, and as she plucked the book from its resting place, she noticed Master Arpeggio disappear through the still-closed door.
nailed to the window of the old farmhouse. Kevin stood back and observed his handiwork. Three years were enough to have endured the trials he had suffered inside those walls. Of course, he wouldn’t tell the realtor the reasons why he was moving; he would just say it was because of his health.
The wind picked up and was toying with the swaying branches of the willow trees that surrounded the property. The long-standing trunks creaked. The barn behind the house, empty now, moaned. A single, black crow cawed a good riddance to Kevin as he got into his car. He wondered if it was the same one that had greeted him on his arrival. Time would heal, with the help of Doctor Mona at the hospital. As he drove past the front of the property, he glanced at the For Sale sign and breathed a sigh of relief; maybe the next owner would have better luck.
Kevin was a walking bundle of nerves. Doctor Mona had suggested he check himself into the hospital for a few weeks, or for whatever it took to rid himself of his nightmares. She had also suggested he sell the property because it appeared to be the greatest source of his anxiety. He had finally decided to follow her advice—actually, he no longer had a choice.
impersonal. The walls were grey; the furniture was grey; the sky, outside the small window, was grey. Kevin’s mood was black. He had been at the hospital now for three days and Doctor Mona still had not seen him. A nurse handed him a small white cup of pills three times a day, and he was expected to mingle in rooms filled with crazy people. He still hadn’t written himself off as crazy yet, though.
Kevin heard footsteps approaching his door. “Good morning, Kevin,” Dr. Mona entered his room. “Sorry I have not been in to see you yet. I trust they are treating you well here?”
Kevin wasn’t sure what the proper answer was to the question—an answer that would not get him another dose of pills. “Yes,” was what he decided.
“Good. Stella will bring you down to my office for ten o’clock so we can get started on your treatment.”
“Doctor…” Kevin began.
“Save your questions for our session, Kevin. See you at ten.”
Kevin paced back and forth across his room. “These damn pills are making me more edgy than I was when I was living in that house!” he muttered under his breath. At 9:55, Stella knocked on his door and entered without waiting for an invitation.
“Are you ready, Kevin?” Stella never smiled—not once in the three days he had been here—that he had noticed.
“Sure.” Kevin followed her out.
Doctor Mona’s office was large and had a huge window that looked out over the facility gardens. She was staring outside when Kevin entered. Stella directed him to a chair in front of the desk and then left. Finally, Doctor Mona turned around. Her face looked different somehow, Kevin thought to himself. There was a harshness to it that he had not noticed before. She smiled—maybe a hint of softness in her eyes. She sat down at her desk and took out a pen and paper.
“Let’s go back to the beginning. Our phone session, before you came here, was quite informal, so I just want to check the accuracy of my notes.” She paused. “When did you purchase the farm?”
“February 2006.”
“Where was it you lived before?”
“Calgary.”
“Why did you move to Brantford?”
“I was actually born here, so it is home to me. I met a girl in Calgary; she was from here too, and wanted to move back.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after you did?”
“Same time.”
“Did you live together?”
“For a time.” Kevin sighed and stared out the window. The memory of Cara’s exit was still painful.
“Whose idea was it to buy the farm?”
“Hers.”
“But she left?”
“Yes.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the room. Doctor Mona tapped her pen on the pad of paper. She looked into Kevin’s eyes—hers were grey and cold, like the furniture in his room. “Why did she leave?”
“She didn’t like the house anymore—didn’t like me anymore either.”
“Why? What had changed?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
Doctor Mona raised her eyebrows. “But you stayed.”
“I had invested every penny I had on that property. It wasn’t as easy for me to walk away.”
“But you are walking away now.”
“I no longer have a choice.”
“Why is that?”
“The place is haunted.”
Doctor Mona drew in a breath at the word haunted. “How do you mean haunted?” she queried.
“Is there another word I should use, doctor?” Kevin’s words were tinged with sarcasm. “How about possessed, or ghostly, or eerie, or maybe preoccupied—yeah, that’s what it is, or should I say, was—the house was preoccupied and whoever it was that preoccupied it decided not to leave!”
“Have you actually seen a presence in the house?” Doctor Mona questioned, ignoring Kevin’s cynicism.
“Yes.” Kevin winced, just thinking about the last sighting.
“Shall we talk about it? Where did you sense this presence?” Doctor Mona tapped her pen on the pad of paper. Her constant pen tapping was beginning to annoy Kevin.
“Everywhere.” Kevin didn’t think he was really ready to talk about the thing that was in the house. Not yet, anyway. The last episode had been too unsettling.
Doctor Mona noticed the tension in Kevin’s face. “Maybe we should talk about that later,” she suggested. “Tell me about your dreams. Where do they take place? Is the location always the same?”
“Yes…in the house…sometimes the barn…sometimes the woods beyond the barn…sometimes all three…but, yes, all there…on the property where that house is.” Kevin looked down. He was shaking visibly now. He wanted some Scotch on ice, what he knew he would probably get was another pill!
“Are there people in your dreams?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Different each dream.”
“Are any of them in all of your dreams?”
“Two of them—maybe. They seem to be the same, but I cannot ever see their faces.”
“How do you know they are the same people then?”
Kevin shook his head. “I can’t explain how I know, but I just know.” Kevin hesitated and began rubbing his hands on the arms of the chair. “I think I would like to go back to my room now,” he said. “I am tired.”
Doctor Mona
smiled and set her pen down. She picked up her phone and dialled. “Stella, could you please come and get Kevin…yes, give him an extra dose…no, that won’t be necessary…no, I don’t think he will be up for that…” Doctor Mona laughed lightly and then hung up the phone.
Once back in his room, Kevin curled up on his bed. He didn’t want to close his eyes. He didn’t want to face what it was his dreams would show him. But he did need to sleep. Maybe, the extra handful of pills Stella had given him would help.
to her red Corvette. Just as she was ready to slip inside, Stella came running up to her.
“Doctor, a word with you please.”
“What is it, Stella?” Doctor Mona really did not like Stella; the woman was irritating. She was nosey too—too nosey. She would have to start thinking about replacing her soon. But that wouldn’t be an easy thing to do, especially now that the workers had unionized a few months ago.
“I gave Kevin the extra pills you ordered, but I think maybe it was too much medication for him? He doesn’t really seem all that disturbed, not like some of the others here.”
Doctor Mona’s muscles tightened. How dare this nurse question her orders! “On the contrary, Stella,” a rigid smile accompanied the words, “he was quite disturbed when he left my office.” She paused. “Is he sleeping now?”
“Yes, still.”
“Good. If he sleeps through supper, make sure you leave orders for him to get something to eat later. I don’t want him woken up. Will that be all, Stella?” Doctor Mona’s words had a dismissal tone to them.
“Yes, doctor.” Stella turned and headed back to the hospital.
Doctor Mona got in her car and drove off. She was upset at the delay. She was supposed to have met Joe at 5:00. Joe did not like to be kept waiting. She hoped he would still be there. She pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. The car finally reached the dirt road. She turned onto it and slowed down. There were too many potholes. As she approached the farmhouse, she noticed Joe’s car was still in the driveway.
Just as she pulled her Corvette to a stop beside his car, Joe walked around the corner of the house. “About time you got here,” he yelled to her. “I was just about ready to leave.”