Page 13 of One Last Regret

As the next movement begins, that fright takes a visceral turn when a flash of memory fills my mind. I no longer see Gabriel in front of me but Annie. We’re no longer in the Lacroix home but in our high school in Boston. Annie is seventeen years old and performing in our school’s talent show. Her performance—I recall now—began like Gabriel’s, gentle, sweet and light-hearted. As it progresses, though, it becomes aggressive, almost violent.

Ad Gabriel’s piece crosses that threshold from sarcasm to violence, the sound of the piano fades, replaced by the sound of Annie’s saxophone. The notes are wild, frenzied, and slowly lose all pretense of composition and phrasing, becoming an assault of sound that drowns out all others, subdues all thought, forcesitself on one’s mind until it overwhelms us and pushes us to the brink of insanity.

Eventually, the notes are no longer even notes but discordant shrieks, the snarls of some otherworldly monster rather than the voice of a woodwind. Annie gyrates on stage, and at first I can’t tell if she is controlling the music or controlled by it.

Then she looks down at me. Her eyes are filled with hate, and I understand suddenly and completely that this is her curse to me. She is pouring every ounce of her disdain and hurt into this song and wishing that it would drown me, suffocate me, pull me under until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t feel anything but her hate.

I close my eyes, press my hands to my ears and open my mouth to scream.

“Claude? Claude!”

That isn’t my voice.

I open my eyes. I’m no longer in our high school. I’m back at the Lacroix house, and I’m looking up at Gabriel’s shocked face. I follow his eyes and see Claude Durand stumbling backwards, his hand clutched to his breast. Audrey has her hand on his shoulder, her eyes wild with terror. It’s her voice I hear, calling her husband’s name.

Claude opens his mouth and breathes something, but I can’t hear what he says. Then his eyes roll back in his head. He stumbles backwards and falls onto one of the tables. The table collapses under his weight, and the guests cry out with fear and concern.

Audrey drops to his side and grabs his face, tilting the sightless, lolling eyes up to hers. "Claude!Claude!Oh my God, No!”

Etienne is the first among us to recover. He pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly dials nine-one-one. His hands are trembling. Josephine mutters something under her breath,staring at Claude’s body, and even as Etienne calls for an ambulance, I know that it is his body and no longer him. He is gone, felled by what appears to be a heart attack.

“It was just supposed to be fun,” Amelia whispers. “We were just showing off how good of a piano player Gabriel is.”

I blink and remember the children. Amelia’s face is ashen, and her lips are nearly as pale as Claude’s. I quickly gather her into my arms and call to Gabriel. “Gabriel! Come with me now.”

Gabriel rushes towards me, but Josephine catches him, gripping his arms and pulling him close to her face. Her lips are pulled back from her teeth, and she hisses like a harpy, "What did you do? What did youdo?”

Before I can react, Etienne pulls her arms off of him and says, “Enough, mother! Stop it!”

I step forward and grab Gabriel. “Come on. Let’s go.”

As I lead the children from the parlor, I hear Etienne speaking with emergency services while Audrey weeps and continues to scream her husband’s name.

CHAPTER SIX

The children are awake late that night. I take them to Amelia’s room and put a movie on for them, a happy movie where smart children outwit foolish adults and save the world from destruction. I remain with them, choosing to focus on my responsibility rather than slake my curiosity.

Noises from downstairs filter up occasionally. Audrey’s wails continue for several minutes, only stopping when the sirens drown them out and signal the arrival of the ambulance. As the sirens fade, the noise of car doors slamming shut and engines starting tells me the other guests have fled. I don’t blame them. Were it not for the children, I would probably have left myself.

I look at the children and see their eyes wide and staring with shock. Gabriel in particular, is trembling, probably because of his grandmother's odd accusation.

And whatwasthat about? Why would she ask Gabriel whathehad done? Claude clearly had a heart attack. How could Gabriel have done anything to affect that? I’ve heard of shrill high notes causing eardrums to burst and deep low notes causing nausea, but not from a piano. And anyway, those anecdotes are unconfirmed and involve electronic amplification far beyond the ordinary power of a musical instrument.

But of course, she couldn’t possibly have a scientific reason to think Gabriel is at fault for Claude’s death. It must be something else.

She expresses disdain for Marcel’s piano. She allows Gabriel to take lessons, but she remains upstairs and away from the instrument when he does. She is clearly unhappy when Gabriel starts to play, and…

No, not unhappy. Terrified. When Gabriel begins to play, the expression on Josephine’s face is not one of anger, but one offear. Come to think of it, Etienne also seemed afraid. Why would they be afraid?

And why would Amelia apologize after? I suppose she didn’t exactly apologize, but her words after Claude’s heart attack suggest that she feels that somehow theyareresponsible. Then Josephine stops only just short of stating that outright.

Because of a music piece? Surely, they couldn't feel a jazz composition could have the power to murder someone.

The image of Annie’s eyes as she plays her saxophone piece comes back to me. The hate in her eyes chills me.

It’s ridiculous to think, but…

I shake my head firmly. No. I have been superstitious enough already. There is no chance that Gabriel’s playing piano could have killed Claude Durand.

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