Page 15 of One Last Regret

“Will youstop? You go straight to the worst possible scenario every time! That’snotgoing to happen! We’re in a slight bit of trouble, yes, but nothing that’s worth the catastrophe you’re predicting! We’ll hire another manager, and we’ll—

“I’m done with this,” Etienne says curtly. “I can’t talk to you when you refuse to listen to reason.”

I hear heavy footsteps start up the stairs and rush back toward Amelia’s room. I close the door behind me and listen, heart pounding, as the footsteps approach. For a moment, I’m terrified that Etienne’s seen me and is now coming to shout at me for eavesdropping on his conversation, but the footstepsproceed past me, and a moment later, I hear the door to Etienne’s room slam shut.

I sigh with relief and turn to the children. They sit slumped forward in their chairs, their bodies bent at unnatural angles. For a terrible moment, I am convinced that they’re also dead, that whatever curse afflicts this family has taken them to.

Then Amelia stirs, and I realize that they’re not dead, only asleep. I sigh again and carefully lift her into bed. I strain a little with the effort, and when I lift Gabriel from his bed, I abandon my intention to carry him to his room. They are no longer small children, and I am a rather petite woman and not young anymore. I normally wouldn’t approve of two children of this age and of the opposite sex sharing a bed, but I think I can make an exception given the circumstances.

I lay him next to his sister and regard them for a moment. They’re still so young. What happened today will stay with them for the rest of their lives. I will do my best to help them navigate this grief, but nothing I can do will ever remove the image of a man they loved dying horribly in front of him.

I return to my room, disturbed by the day. It is not the first time I’ve seen a person die, but it’s the first time something’s happened that I truly can’t explain. There’s a hint of the fantastic in all of the mysteries into which I’ve been thrust, but I can always see that the truth must be mundane and explained by human behavior rather than by ghouls or ghosts.

But this time, I can make no sense of it. Perhaps it’s the fact that the entire Lacroix family seems to think—whether they like to admit it or not—that Gabriel’s performance somehow contributed to Claude’s death. Perhaps it’s the vision I have of Annie playing her saxophone while Gabriel plays his piano.

Whatever it is, a part of me wonders whether there could indeed be something unexplainable at work here. And if so, what can I possibly hope to do to prevent it from happening again?

***

I wake to the sound of Gabriel’s piece filling the house. At first, I’m certain that I’m dreaming because I can’t believe that Gabriel would play that song again so soon after what happened.

But as the piece progresses from the romantic opening to the jaunty, playful second movement, I realize my ears aren’t playing tricks on me. I step out of bed and quietly put on my slippers. I suppose my plan is to tell him to stop playing and go back to bed, but I don’t really think that through all the way. The truth is that a part of me is just drawn to the piece somehow.

I head downstairs as the piece progresses to its mischievous third movement. I realize that no one else is awake. I find that disturbing. Can’t they hear this? Why aren’t they coming to stop it? Could they be too frightened by it to leave their beds?

Almost as if reading my mind, the music changes to the irreverent fourth movement. But that can’t be possible. It’s several minutes before we should be at that point in the composition. I’ve only just started downstairs.

I look down at my feet and realize with alarm that I’m still upstairs. I thought I was moving, but once again, the piece has transfixed me.

I start downstairs again, looking at my feet to ensure that theyaremoving. Still, the song seems to be advancing far too fast. The sarcastic fifth movement is already giving way to the angry final movement. The arpeggios are rapidly growing dissonant and chaotic.

I tear my eyes from the floor and look up at the piano as I enter the parlor. I catch a brief glimpse of a tall, lithe silhouette with flowing golden hair.

Annie?

I blink, and the silhouette is gone. So is the music. The piano is silent and empty, the room still.

I walk to the keys, unsure if I’m still dreaming or if when I blink I awaken from the trance.

I lay a finger on the keys, and when I find them warm to the touch, I gasp and pull my hand back.

A soft sound of laughter, so faint I'm not sure I even hear it, echoes through the house. I look around, but no other specter reveals itself, and the laughter doesn't repeat.

I turn back to the piano and remove my fingers. My hand trembles as I return it to my side.

What have I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER SEVEN

The morning greets us with somber news. Claude Durand has died in the hospital. It seems his heart stopped around four in the morning, and the doctors were unable to restart it. I recall the dream that woke me and wish that I’d checked my phone. A part of me can’t help but wonder if his death coincides with the ending of that second performance.

The Lacroixs react predictably. Josephine bursts into tears at the news. Etienne hides behind stoicism. Amelia weeps softly, burying her head in her hands, and Gabriel simply looks shocked.

“There was nothing they could do?” Josephine asks.

“Well, if there was, I’m sure he’d still be alive,” Etienne replies coldly. He almost immediately regrets his statement and says, “I’m sorry. I’m just… this is…” He lifts his hands and lets them drop.

It's not my place to speak, or I would tell him that his feelings are valid, but perhaps everyone should take some time to themselves for a moment. I'm about to leave with the children when Josephine asks, "How is Audrey?"

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