Mary Anne and the Music

by Ann M. Martin

  “You’ve never seen it before?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Never. I don’t think it belongs to either of my parents.”

  That was interesting. If Sharon didn’t recognize it, the box must have been hidden for quite some time. “Is it okay if I take it home for a little while?” I asked. “It’s so pretty. I want to make sure it’s safe.”

  Sharon shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “When Granny and Pop-Pop come home, we can ask them about it.”

  * * *

  Sharon and I worked at the house all weekend, and I was so tired each night that I fell into bed. Still, I thought about the mahogany chest a lot. I wanted to open it, and yet I wasn’t sure I should. I wanted to tell my friends about it, but somehow I also wanted to keep it a secret. The box sat on my dressing table, where I could see it from my bed. It was the first thing I saw in the morning and the last thing I saw at night.

  Early on Monday morning, Sharon and I met Jim Prentice, the plumber, at Granny and Pop-Pop’s house.

  Sharon invited Jim to have a cup of coffee before he started work. We’d picked up some doughnuts on our way to the house. The three of us sat around the kitchen table, and Sharon told Jim about the work we’d done over the weekend.

  He shook his head. “It’s a shame,” he said. “I have to admit I was a little upset when I saw how bad things looked here the other day. You see, I grew up across the street.” He smiled shyly. “My family lived there from the time I was born until I was nine or ten years old. Which is a long time ago. I had a friend who lived in this house and I was over here a lot. Coming back to this block was like coming home.”

  “Well, isn’t that a coincidence!” said Sharon. “You know, it’s funny. I think this neighborhood has a hold on people. My mother actually grew up in the house next door to this one.”

  “Really?” I asked. “I never knew that.”

  Sharon nodded. “When she and Pop-Pop married and returned to Stoneybrook, Granny hoped to move back into that house, but it wasn’t for sale. This one was, though, so they bought it.”

  I tried to imagine Granny and Pop-Pop as newlyweds, sitting in this same sunny kitchen.

  Jim and Sharon talked about the neighborhood for a while longer and then Jim pushed back his chair, thanked us for the doughnuts and coffee, and said he’d better go downstairs and try to figure out what had gone wrong.

  While Jim poked around in the unfinished part of the basement, where the water heater and the furnace and all the pipes are, Sharon and I went back to our routine. We carried things up the stairs and spread them out on the lawn to dry if they seemed salvageable, or tossed them into the garbage (we’d already filled four cans) if not.

  About an hour later, Jim appeared in the doorway of the rec room, where Sharon and I were working. He wiped his hands on a rag before he spoke. He looked very serious. “This is not going to be a small job,” he told Sharon. “I hate to say it, but I think it’s going to take awhile.”

  “What went wrong, exactly?” asked Sharon.

  “It has to do with a valve that ruptured,” Jim explained. “There’s a valve that controls the pressure of the water coming in from the town system, and it broke. That’s what caused the flooding. But there’s a good bit of very old-fashioned plumbing in this house. If the house were being built today, it wouldn’t pass the building codes. The whole system needs updating, or else there are going to be even bigger problems down the line.” He twisted the rag in his hands. I could tell he hated giving Sharon the bad news.

  Sharon sighed. “Well, if that’s the situation, that’s the situation,” she said. “We might as well do what we can while my parents are away and save them the bother and mess.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Jim. “Also, I notice you might need a contractor in here, too, to fix up some of these shelves and cabinets that were damaged.” He waved a hand around, and Sharon nodded. “My crew works with a good contractor. In fact, we’re finishing up a job together right now, an addition over on Chestnut Drive. Eddie has a week or two off before his next job, so I bet he’d be interested in this one. Anyway, we could start putting in a few hours a day over here right away, and then as soon as we finish our other job we’ll be here full-time.”

  Sharon nodded. “That would be great,” she said.

  I cleared my throat. “That job on Chestnut Drive — is that the Barrett-DeWitt house?” I asked.

  Jim smiled. “Sure is,” he said. “Do you know those kids?”

  “I baby-sit for them all the time.” The BSC members sit for the Barrett-DeWitt family regularly, which is how I knew they were having an addition built onto their house.

  “Bet they keep you busy,” said Jim with a grin.

  “They sure do,” I answered. “All seven of them.”

  “Only seven? I was positive there were at least a dozen.”

  “I’m sure this job will seem quiet in comparison,” said Sharon. Then she and Jim talked awhile more about what needed to be done, and he promised to bring Eddie by the next morning. It looked as if we were on our way to bringing the house back to normal.

  * * *

  That night at dinner, Sharon told my dad about what Jim had discovered. Then we talked about how the cleanup was going. Sharon was feeling upbeat. “I’m just glad we were able to salvage so much,” she said. “And I’m especially happy that we found those letters.” She’d already told my dad about discovering the letters in a dry file drawer. “I would have been so upset if they’d been ruined,” she went on. “But now that they’re safe and sound, I have a great idea. I think we should put them in a scrapbook as an anniversary present. Want to help, Mary Anne?”

  I nodded. “I’d love to,” I said.

  Later, in my room, I thought about how interesting it would be to go through Granny and Pop-Pop’s correspondence. I remembered the last time I’d looked through old letters. I’d discovered the truth about what had happened after my mother died. That had been quite a shock, but nothing like that was going to surface when I looked over Granny and Pop-Pop’s letters. After all, they weren’t even related to me by blood. I would just have a glimpse into history, and that sounded like fun.

  Thinking of history reminded me of the mahogany chest. I glanced at it, sitting there on my dressing table. I still hadn’t told my friends about it. I’d kept my mouth shut during our BSC meeting that day, even when the subject of Granny and Pop-Pop’s house came up. Now, all of a sudden, I just couldn’t control my curiosity anymore. Curse or no curse, I had to open it. And when I did, I had the surprise of my life.

  The little mahogany chest was a music box. And it still worked.

  The second its lid was opened, the music began to play. The song was “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and every note was clear and bright.

  While I was working at Granny and Pop-Pop’s that Monday afternoon, Jessi and Abby were sitting (actually it was more like doing crowd control, Abby told me later) over at the Barrett-DeWitts’.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” said Mrs. DeWitt when she opened the door for Jessi and Abby that morning. As always, Mrs. DeWitt looked gorgeous. She was wearing a casual silk shirt and jeans, and her long auburn hair hung in shining waves down her back. (Mrs. DeWitt looked like a model, no kidding.) “Come on in, quick. I left the water running in the kitchen sink.”

  Jessi and Abby glanced at each other as they followed her into the house. It’s not always a great sign when a parent is that happy to see a sitter.

  “Things are just crazy around here,” Mrs. DeWitt called over her shoulder as she led them into the kitchen.

  Jessi and Abby glanced at each other again. Jessi told me later that something in Mrs. DeWitt’s voice reminded her of when we BSC members first started sitting for the Barretts. Mrs. DeWitt was newly divorced — we knew her as Mrs. Barrett back then — and her life was always topsy-turvy. Her house was a mess, she was totally disorganized, and the kids were running wild. So wild, in fact, that we used to call them “
The Impossible Three.” The Barrett kids are Buddy, who’s eight; Suzi, who’s five; and Marnie, who’s only two. They’re great kids, but even great kids can react badly when their lives are turned upside down.

  Since that time their mom has pulled herself together, and the kids have calmed down. Also, she is now remarried, to Franklin DeWitt, a father of four: Lindsey, who’s eight; Taylor, who’s six; four-year-old Madeleine; and Ryan, who’s the same age as Marnie. Over time, the seven kids have learned to like each other, and the family runs surprisingly smooth.

  Not long ago, the Barrett-DeWitts moved into a new house (new to them, that is) over by Stoneybrook Elementary School. The kids had insisted on staying in Stoneybrook, even though it was hard for their parents to find a house that was both big enough and affordable. The house they ended up falling in love with and buying had only four bedrooms, which is why they were having an addition constructed.

  Jessi and Abby had seen the trucks in the driveway when they arrived. Now they heard the hammering and sawing and found plaster dust covering everything. One look out the kitchen window told them that the backyard was a muddy mess filled with wood scraps and discarded pieces of wallboard. They were in a construction zone, all right.

  “Abby! Jessi!” Suzi appeared in the doorway, looking excited. “Guess what? Lindsey and me and Madeleine are going to have our very own bedroom.”

  “I,” corrected her mother, distractedly.

  “I and Lindsey and Madeleine are going to have our own room!” Suzi said obediently.

  Her mom just smiled and shook her head.

  Suzi went on. “Isn’t that cool? And we can decorate it any way we want. And Eddie is putting a secret door in the wall, but don’t tell, because it’s a secret.”

  Too excited to stand still, she dashed off without waiting for a response.

  “Who’s Eddie?” asked Jessi.

  “Our contractor,” said Mrs. DeWitt. “He’s terrific. He’s been able to figure out how to do everything we wanted. And he’s great with the kids.” Suddenly, she put her hand to her mouth. “That reminds me. The reason I was so glad to see you is that we seem to be having a kid convention here today. I forgot it was my day to have the Kuhn kids over — Mrs. Kuhn and I have sort of a trade-off arrangement — and I told my kids they could invite a couple of friends to our house. They’re so excited about the construction, and they love to show their friends what’s going on here. So anyway, three of the Pike kids are coming, too.” Mrs. DeWitt looked a little sheepish. “Naturally, I’ll pay you whatever you think is fair for the time you spend here today.”

  Jessi was busy counting in her head. Seven Barrett and DeWitt kids, plus the three Kuhn children, plus three Pikes — “Yikes!” she said aloud. “Thirteen kids. We could probably use a couple more sitters. May I use your phone? Maybe Mal and Claudia could come over.”

  Abby just grinned. She loves a challenge. She started brainstorming, trying to think up some good group activities. By the time Jessi finished her phone call and gave the thumbs-up sign, meaning that Claud and Mal would be accompanying the Pike kids, Abby had already planned a day’s worth of fun.

  There was only one thing she hadn’t counted on.

  The kids had their own ideas.

  The Kuhns were the first to arrive. As Jessi and Abby welcomed the kids, they overheard parts of a conversation between Mrs. Kuhn and Mrs. DeWitt.

  “… doesn’t seem like such a good time, with the construction and all …” Mrs. Kuhn was saying.

  But Mrs. DeWitt was telling her it was fine for the kids to visit. “… all excited about showing off their new rooms …” Abby heard her say.

  Meanwhile, the Barrett and DeWitt kids swarmed downstairs to greet their friends. Jake, who’s eight, had brought his softball glove with him, and he held it up to show Buddy. Six-year-old Laurel smiled shyly at Lindsey. And Patsy, who’s five, gave Suzi a huge grin. The Barrett and Kuhn kids have been friends for a while. Buddy and Suzi and the three Kuhns are all members of Kristy’s Krushers, the softball team Kristy manages. But the DeWitt kids have had no trouble making friends. In fact, when they first met, Laurel immediately gravitated toward Lindsey. Laurel likes to think she’s super-mature — especially compared to Patsy — and having a playmate who’s two years older suits her just fine.

  Soon after the Kuhns settled in, Mrs. DeWitt left for work. (She has a part-time job.) And not long after that, Mrs. Pike dropped off her gang. Jessi and Abby were relieved to see Mal and Claudia with them, especially since the Pike kids seemed to be in a squabbling mood.

  “I don’t care if you barf in the car,” Nicky (who’s eight) was saying to Margo as they entered. “It’s not fair that you always get to sit in front.”

  “No fair!” echoed Claire, who’s five and hates it when things aren’t fair. “No fair, no fair, nofe air!” she began to chant, until Mal put a hand on her shoulder.

  “But I can’t help it,” wailed Margo, who’s seven and has a notoriously weak stomach. “It’s not my fault!”

  “And Dad does care if she barfs in the car,” Mal reminded Nicky. “So you’ll just have to learn to like riding in the backseat.” She turned to Abby and Jessi and rolled her eyes. “May I present my adorable siblings?” she asked, grinning.

  “Charmed, I’m sure,” replied Abby, giving a little bow.

  “Delighted,” said Jessi. She performed an elegant ballerina’s curtsy.

  The three younger Pikes ignored them.

  “So, is your room almost done?” Nicky asked Buddy.

  “Almost. Eddie’s putting in the windows today. Want to see?”

  “I do! I do!” yelled Claire.

  “How about if we all take the tour together,” Abby suggested, thinking it would be best for the kids to troop through the construction site all at once instead of in twos and threes. She’d already given up the plans she’d made for the day. Obviously, the kids were only interested in the new addition.

  “Yay!” everybody shouted. Buddy led the charge up the stairs. The sitters looked at one another, shrugged, and laughed. Then they trooped along behind the kids.

  Jessi expected the contractors to be irritated by the interruption, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. By the time she, Mal, Claud, and Abby arrived in the first of the unfinished rooms, they found a bearded man, who they knew must be Eddie, entertaining the crowd by showing how fast he could bang a nail into a two-by-four.

  “Do another one!” Margo insisted when the first nail had disappeared.

  “No, show them how you sharpen a pencil with your knife,” suggested Buddy. “Eddie knows how to do everything,” he said to Nicky. “He can build anything in the whole world.”

  Eddie smiled up at the kids. “My brother might disagree with that,” he said. “Right, Jake?” he called.

  “Ask him about the airplane he built when we were little,” answered a voice from the room next door.

  Eddie laughed. “It looked good, but it wasn’t so great at flying. I’d like to try that again sometime.”

  “Just don’t ask me to be a passenger,” teased a blonde woman in jeans, a T-shirt, and work boots. She was working in a corner, fitting some wallboard around a closet doorway.

  “Aw, Lori, don’t you trust your old boss?” asked Eddie, pretending to be hurt. The kids were charmed.

  “Eddie, can we help you today?” asked Buddy.

  “Can we?” pleaded Suzi. “I could hold a hammer!” She gave Eddie her best dimpled smile.

  “I don’t know, kids, we’re pretty busy in here today,” said Eddie. “Trying to finish up so you’ll have your rooms all ready, you know?” He stroked his beard. “Tell you what. How about if I set you up with a project of your own?”

  “Yay!” shouted the kids.

  “Let’s make an airplane!” suggested Nicky.

  “I was thinking more of …” Eddie paused tantalizingly, “… a playhouse. Something you could have out in the backyard. You could work on it in that old shed, and once it’s d
one you’ll have it forever.”

  “Really? You would help us?” asked Buddy.

  “Sure, pal.”

  Jessi knew that he was offering this idea partly as a way to keep the kids out of his hair. She also knew he didn’t have to do it. Her admiration for him grew as she watched him sketch a plan for the building and instruct the older kids on how to safely scavenge scrap lumber from the pile in the back of the house.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by as the kids became engrossed in their work. Jessi, Abby, Claud, and Mal made sure to thank Eddie as they left. They’d never seen anyone handle thirteen kids so easily, and they couldn’t wait to tell Kristy and the rest of us about the super sitter they’d met.

  The sailor was so sad. That was what I couldn’t forget. His sad, sad eyes. They were a deep blue, almost matching the trim on his sparkling white uniform.

  Who was he? I wish I knew.

  I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling unsettled. I’d been dreaming — all night, or at least it seemed that way — about this sad young sailor boy, dressed in a World War II uniform. He appeared everywhere in my dreams that night. First I spotted him walking down a long hallway, between periods at school. Then he turned up at Pizza Express, while I was splitting a pizza with Logan and some of our friends. He popped out from behind a tree as I walked up to my house. He turned up in the soda aisle at the supermarket, in the auditorium during an assembly, and even in Claudia’s room in the middle of a BSC meeting.

  It was as if he wanted to be part of my everyday life. There I’d be in my dream, enjoying myself with my friends or just going through the motions of a regular afternoon — and he’d turn up. He’d always appear in the background, dressed in his sailor uniform and looking out of place. Apparently, only I could see him, since nobody else ever seemed to notice the silent, straight-backed figure in white.

  Twice — no, three times — I tried to speak to him, to ask him who he was and what he wanted. Because it was clear that he wanted something. His sad eyes held a question that only I could answer. But what was that question?