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Megan had thought about cleaning her apartment for two days but couldn’t bring herself to wash the pillowcase he had slept on. Instead, she spent most of her time lying on the bed, replaying all of their time together, trying to find the signs she had missed to suggest this sort of pain would happen.
Nothing had gotten done. The apartment was a mess, and if she was honest, she had barely checked her email and only replied to enough text messages to give her friends a proof of life until they were satisfied. Both had repeatedly offered to come over and invited her out numerous times, but Megan wasn’t interested in visiting with them and rehashing everything.
It was barely enough for her to feed her pets and herself. She had even called in to work, which she hated to do since they were so short-staffed, but she’d had a migraine for days, probably due to the whole barely eating and sleeping thing.
Megan knew she had to pull it together. Soon, she would have to get ready for her vet school interviews and start the life she had always wanted. She had exchanged emails with Traci, the administrative assistant in the admissions office, who had the sunniest personality. Maybe it was that she was stepping a foot in the right direction, but just by talking with her for a few minutes, Megan felt a little ray of hope that someday she could crawl out of this pit of emotion she was feeling.
The change of scenery couldn’t come soon enough. Now all she had to do was wait until they were ready for her, then she would pack up everything and move away from Goldvein and toward her new life.
Megan flopped over and let her eyes roam over to the pictures of her family, all smiling and looking at the camera. Try as she might to not end up hurt and alone, she had arrived at her destination anyway. It was as if she and fate were locked in a battle, and she would forever be one step behind. Megan closed her eyes against the tears, but they came anyway.
Minutes or hours later, she didn’t know, she pulled herself up toward the only comfort she knew, tugged out the chair she couldn’t remember ever sitting in, and collapsed into it.
Sights, sounds, and smells were all so powerful, and her only connection to the love she had lost.
Megan turned on the Tiffany styled lamp, reveling in the jewel-toned lights. Admiring the colors, she wiped some nonexistent dust and turned it to catch the most perfect array of colors, letting them wash over her.
She reached out and picked up her favorite bottle of perfume, a black swirling work of art with an atomizer pump with a tassel. As she had since she was little, she pressed it and felt only air on her face. Her grandma had known she was fascinated with it and left it empty on purpose, giving it to her to play with. Now, Megan had them all to herself. She reached for the green one in the back. It was a glass onion bottle, with a hand blown leaf with a ladybug for a stopper. She popped it and brought it to her nose, not wanting to waste it on her skin, preferring to preserve it forever. The smell brought her back to the feel of her grandma’s arms around her. She had worn the same scent for her entire life.
With this bottle in her hand and the smell wrapping around her senses, it was as if her grandmother was right behind her wearing diamonds, a scarf, and reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.
Megan’s tears came faster now as she reached for the final item. The music box had once been white with gold trim, but the smoke from the fire had stained it. It was the only thing recovered from the ashes of her childhood home. Smoke had tarnished the outside, and inside, the red velvet had turned to pink, but the sound. Oh, the sound was still so perfect. Thank God.
Megan had heard it for so long, she hummed along, her voice matching the pitch on its own. The rise and fall of the tinkling music took her back to happier times she couldn’t remember, but the proof in her hand showed her they had existed.
For so long she had wanted to know more. Craved the knowledge of the music, wondering what the song was and wanting to know the backstory. Had her mother bought it? Was it a gift? Who gave it and why?
Once again, the box offered no answers other than its tune.
Megan wound it up again, twisting the little knob until it would go no farther. She heard the song play again and again, the third time interrupted by a note that didn’t belong.
Puzzled, she turned around and picked up her phone, seeing a text from Laura checking in. Ash had called last night, but Megan had claimed she was just tired.
Megan stared at the home screen a few beats while hearing the music and nearly dropped her phone from shock when the realization hit that it could help her solve at least some of the mystery.
She opened the music recognition app and white-knuckled her phone while she watched the loading symbol, full of hope, only to be derailed when it came up empty.
Undeterred, she typed as much into the phone as she could. Getting frustrated, she tossed it to the side and opened her neglected laptop in a flurry of research, getting closer and closer until…success.
Megan sat back and looked at the page of what her music box used to look like on eBay. It was worn but still white and from what appeared to be a quality company, but that was for another time. She scanned the page, straining to find the end to a twenty-five-year-old mystery when she found it.
Memory. Of course. How ironic.
“Memory” by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Megan searched for the song and found the video fromCats,and with her heart in her throat clicked play.
As the lyrics washed over her for the first time, matching the tune she had grown up with, Megan wept.
It was the closest thing to hearing a ghost of a loved one. With the click of a button, the sound had matured from a sweet child’s music box to a full orchestra of meaning and depth of understanding with a full spectrum of human emotion longing for something from another time. Wanting more. Wanting connection before it was too late.
Megan had heard this her whole life, and now, for the first time, she understood.
CHAPTER36
Three days. He had three more days to get through until he would be in his truck on the way back to his apartment. His job. His therapists. His dating apps. His life before all of this had started.
He just had three more days.
Troy had made up his mind. He was going to spend as much time on the ranch house as he could. It was mostly done. The insurance money was spent and to great effect. There were a few things that would still take time and work, but at least they had gotten the basics done.
