The Unfinished Sonata

by K. D. McCrite

“I find myself wondering if Olivia was a child or an adult,” Grady said.

  “That’s something to consider, isn’t it? I suppose ultimately it doesn’t matter. However, the song itself is so … so hauntingly beautiful. Romantic, even. I don’t think it was written with a child in mind.”

  Grady’s expression was more curious than ever.

  “You’ve heard the music, then?”

  “Oh, yes. Alice and I—Alice is my friend next door—took the score to another friend, and he played it for us. Oh, it was so lovely.” She smiled at the memory, and then her smile faded. “But, it was unfinished. The sonata simply stopped, as if the composer was called away to answer the phone or run an errand, and then never returned.”

  A frown flickered across Grady’s features. “Now that is odd.”

  “Very odd,” she agreed. “I’d love to know what happened to him, if he finished that sonata, why and for whom he wrote it, and if he wrote other pieces.”

  “I suppose a person could speculate all day about something like this. It is quite a mystery, Annie.”

  She nodded. “I have run into more puzzles and mysteries than you can imagine since I moved to Stony Point.”

  “Tell me,” he encouraged, so she spent the better part of the next hour telling Grady of the unusual items she had found in the attic and stories behind them. His fascination and curiosity with the subject seemed genuine. It seemed a little peculiar to her how they were able to fall into an easy conversation after so many years, but odder still was how neither one spoke of the past. It was almost as if they were Stony Point friends with no history between them.

  “That’s amazing,” Grady said when she had wrapped up her stories. “And so now, with this music box and the unfinished sonata, do you think you’ll continue to pursue looking for the clues and all the odds and ends to the puzzle until you’ve found all the pieces?”

  “I’m certainly going to try.” She gazed around the room and sighed. “I tell you, Grady, Gram never threw anything away.”

  “I believe you,” he said, looking around at the walls, the shelves, and the tabletops. Then he glanced at his watch. “Annie, the day is slipping by. Why don’t we leave now, and as we go around looking at the lovely coastal Maine scenery, you can tell me more about this beautiful place you now call home?”

  “Sounds like fun to me! Let me go fill some mugs with coffee to take with us.”

  The time she spent with Grady was fun, but each time conversation lagged, Annie felt pressured to fill the silence. She feared if she didn’t, Grady would turn the conversation to days gone by in their shared history, bringing to the broad light of day how she had once felt about him. It would be just too embarrassing.

  So she talked. She chattered on about Stony Point, about the Hook and Needle Club, Gram and her treasures. She told him about her daughter and son-in-law, LeeAnn and Herb, and their twins John and Joanna—her only grandchildren. She told Grady about her friends, her crocheting project, and the church day camp.

  Near the end of the afternoon Annie had exhausted her store of chitchat and she sat, somewhat wilted and pensive, with Grady on a stone bench near Butler’s Lighthouse. The pounding rhythm of the surf, the piercing cries of scavenging gulls, and wind shuffling the sea grasses filled the silence, and she realized with a start—and something like guilt—that Grady had spoken very little. At that moment, he looked nearly as uncomfortable as she felt. She realized she had been rattling like a silly, desperate old woman who spent far too much time by herself. Her face grew hot, and she looked away toward the restless water.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “You are? Why?”

  She nodded. “I just …” She raised both hands and let them drop.

  “Annie. Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze.

  “Are you sorry that you agreed to this? Spending the day with me, I mean?”

  “No, of course not.” She forced a smile. “It’s great seeing you again.” More words wouldn’t come, and she jumped up, took a few steps, turned around and came back.

  “I’m sorry I monopolized the whole day by yammering on like a … a demented parrot!” she cried, and then she sat down again, face burning in embarrassment.

  “Why, Annie, that’s all right! Is there something you need to tell me, or perhaps there is something you want to say?”

  How in the world could she tell him she had been worried those old feelings from her fourteen-year-old self might return? He had never known she’d once been moony-eyed over him, and to tell him now would be utterly humiliating. At this point she felt more than foolish. She shook her head, wishing she’d never even gotten up that morning. The whole day, except for the tour of Grey Gables, had been one big flop, and she felt she had made a complete fool of herself.

  “You might as well tell me,” he said with such kindness she almost felt herself ready to confess anyway.

  She sighed, started to speak, but then said nothing at all.

  “Would you like me to take you home now, and then just go away? I’ll do that, if you want me to.”

  “Oh, Grady,” she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. She felt her face grow even warmer beneath his gaze. How had things got to this point? “I don’t even know what to say now.”

  “How about if you just tell me one thing? Would you tell me why you’re so afraid of me?”

  She looked at him, surprised and dismayed by the very idea.

  “Why, Grady! I’m not afraid of you.”

  He regarded her without speaking, as if waiting for her to say more. She remembered he used to do that a lot. Say something, and then allow it to marinate within his listener’s mind rather than continue to press his point.

  “You’d make a good therapist,” she told him.

  He smiled a little. “Funny you should say that. I’m a licensed clinician.”

  “You are?”

  Well, that made all the sense in the world. And it proved how she had spoiled the day with her mindless, spinning conversation that never once focused on him.

  “I am. And that’s why I can tell you’re afraid, Annie. In fact, you have been afraid all day.”

  What an outrageous notion! she thought.

  She opened her mouth to protest. But slowly, like the trickle of a creek in an early spring thaw Annie realized that, yes, in fact, she was afraid. She was afraid that being with Grady Brooks might awaken something inside her she needed to keep locked away, safe and warm and curled within the confines of her life with Wayne. She feared that silly schoolgirl crush might come back and turn into something stronger and deeper—something much more intense than she ever wanted or needed to feel. She was no longer a romantic fourteen-year-old, but Grady still had those same gray eyes and that same patient expression.

  But did she feel that silly quivery feeling the way she did back then? Of course not. Why was she even second guessing herself? Maybe it was because his good looks guaranteed any woman would look at him more than once. Plus, Annie liked and appreciated his quiet, attentive manner; he exuded confidence and caring. Even so, she knew with certainty that she never could care about any man the way she had her husband. Wayne still controlled her heart, and Annie was sure no man could ever replace him.

  With her mind no longer battling her sense of right and wrong, and now fully embracing the solid realization that she wanted no man to step into Wayne’s shoes, Annie found she could finally relax. At long last, the nagging need to distract herself and Grady from any conversation that touched on their personal lives finally began to ebb, bit by bit.

  “I guess you’re right. I am a little afraid,” she said, finally. She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “But I’m not afraid of you. I mean, I’m not afraid you’re going to hit me on the head and drag me off somewhere.”

  “But can you tell me what it is you fear?”

  She could, but did she want to? What purpose would it serve for her to bring up those silly old feelings of which Gr
ady knew nothing.

  “I’m just being foolish, Grady. Let’s forget it, shall we?” she said, putting as much enthusiasm in her voice as possible. She even gave him a bright smile as she started gathering up the scraps of their picnic.

  He studied her face a few more moments, and then nodded. “OK, Annie.”

  “So you’re a therapist,” she said, after a short silence. “Does that get in the way of being a mayor?”

  He chuckled as he folded the cloth that they had spread across the picnic table.

  “Cooper City, population three thousand and forty-two, is a pretty little town in the heart of the Ozark Mountains. There is not a whole lot of municipal government for me to take care of. In fact, it seems to me that the position of mayor is more of a title than anything else. And there is no salary!” He chuckled a little bit. “The police chief is also the pastor of the church, and the city council is made up of our mortician, the owner of the convenience store, the wife of a rancher, the dentist and me.”

  “That’s an eclectic mix.”

  He nodded. “It is. But we all get along, and we keep the town up and running.”

  “That’s great, Grady. I’d hate to pick up the paper someday and read that a small war had broken out among the councilmen of Cooper City, Arkansas.”

  They laughed together, and Annie was so glad the tension had finally broken.

  “You said you’re friends with the local mayor?” he asked.

  “Yes. For Ian it’s a full-time job. I think he really enjoys it.”

  “Stony Point is larger than Cooper City. I’m sure he’s busier taking care of the town than I am.”

  Annie agreed as they walked toward his car, and then she asked him, “When you do plan to return to Arkansas?”

  “I’m not sure yet. This is the first vacation I’ve had in a long time. An old college chum lives in Portland, so I came up here to visit. We hadn’t seen each other in years.”

  “How nice!” she said as he opened the trunk to stow the picnic basket and cloth. “Reliving old times can be such fun.” She stopped abruptly. She and Grady had not relived old times at all. But glancing at him, she saw he kept no account of what she felt to be her failure that day. A big smile wreathed his face.

  “The visit is going well, and if things continue as they have been, I may stay a while longer.”

  This seemed to Annie a rather curious statement. She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he closed the trunk, and then opened the passenger door for her.

  “You always were a gentleman, Grady,” she told him as she got in, remembering Wayne opening the passenger door for her from time to time when he was feeling especially genteel. They had always joked about his gallantry when he did that.

  “That’s me. A gentleman to the very core.”

  As they drove back toward Grey Gables, he said, “Annie, it has been so good to see you again. When we hung around together as kids, you always could make me smile. You’d spin such accounts of your family’s ventures as missionaries, or tell me about the summers with your grandmother up here in Maine. Talking with you was always so easy, and somehow, after we had spent an hour or two visiting, some of the clutter and questions in my mind were swept away, even if we never talked about what was bothering me.”

  “Really?” she said, totally surprised by his words. “I thought I was more of a hanger-on than anything else.”

  “Of course not, Annie. You were young, but you were smart, and you were a good listener.”

  “So were you, Grady.” She laughed a little. “If we were both such good listeners, which one of us did the talking?”

  He smiled. “I never thought of that.”

  He fell silent, and for the first time, Annie sensed disquiet in him. He shifted a little uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, checked the rearview mirror, and glanced at his gas gauge. He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Grady? Is something wrong?”

  “I have to apologize!” he burst out.

  She blinked. “You do? To whom?”

  “To you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “A month or so ago, I was surfing the Internet, just relaxing for a while, and decided to do some online searches for old friends. You know, typing in a name and seeing what came up—Jim Tennison is a doctor in Colorado Springs, Frannie Hardcastle has an eBay business; then there’s my friend Chris who is in Portland, and so on and so forth. I’d made a trip back to the old neighborhood several years ago, heard that you’d married someone named Dawson, so I typed in your name. I found several women with the name Annie Dawson, but when I discovered that one of them lived in Stony Point, Maine, I recalled you talking about visiting your grandmother here.”

  He hesitated, and then continued. “Something has been gnawing on my mind for a little while, giving me no peace. When I decided to make this trip to Maine, I realized that I really needed the calming presence of my old friend Annie Spencer, because you were always so clear-headed and wise. So I called you. Then I chickened out and hung up. Then I called you again, and you know the rest.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you saying that you got in touch because you needed me?”

  “Yes! And I apologize, Annie.”

  “Why are you apologizing? I think it’s great that you thought so highly of me that you believe I could be of help.”

  “I should have been more open with you right from the first, of course. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated … you know, because we knew each other when we were kids.”

  “For goodness sake!” she said faintly. Here all this time she’d been thinking he wanted to have a romance with her, and instead he’d needed her in a way she could not fathom.

  “Grady,” she said, leaning toward him, “I’ll be more than happy to help you in any way I can. Please tell me what you need me to do.”

  “You’ve already done it,” he said, smiling at her.

  She leaned back. “I have? What did I do? And when did I do it? I’ve done nothing but rattle on like a magpie all day!”

  “But you have proven to me that life flows, that bits and pieces make up our days, and that hesitating is the greatest way to miss out on enjoying life. A person needs to take leaps of faith sometimes.”

  She studied his profile, but her confusion remained. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  He glanced at her and then back at the road. “You uprooted yourself from the only life you’d known for many years, and you made a new life for yourself up here. You’ve not been living in Stony Point that long, but look at you, Annie, up to your neck in friends and activities.”

  “It came at a cost, though. I left behind family and friends in Texas.”

  “I realize that. There is never gain without some loss. But you picked up and started over, and it’s good now. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s good. It’s very good, and I still maintain contact with family and folks back in Texas.” She cocked her head to one side. “Grady, what aren’t you telling me? What’s all this about?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not ready to say, but I promise to tell you later.”

  “Grady Brooks! After everything you just said, you’re going to leave me hanging—curious and confused?”

  “Afraid so.” He grinned at her and reached out and squeezed her hand briefly. “But only for now.”

  “Hmm.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. He laughed quietly, but he said nothing more about whatever was on his mind.

  When they were nearly to Grey Gables, she said, “Grady, if you’re still in Portland next Saturday, I’d love for you to come to a cookout I’m going to have. We’re going to have burgers and all the usual things that go with them.”

  He considered the invitation, and then replied, “Sounds like fun, and I’d like to come. Would it be all right with you if I bring my friend?”

  “Sure!” she said. “I’m inviting virtually all of Stony Point—well, all the ones I know, anyway, so as
far as I’m concerned, the more the merrier. Besides the barbecue, there will be baked goods available for purchase, Princessa jewelry, and Divine Décor items for the home. Plus, you can meet all my wonderful friends I’ve been talking about.”

  “Annie,” he said with a big smile, “if I’m still here in a week, I will definitely come to the cookout.”

  “With your friend.”

  “Absolutely!”

  Grady dropped Annie off at Grey Gables, but he declined an invitation to come inside and eat the food she had prepared earlier.

  “It’s getting late, and I need to get back to Portland, but thanks for the offer, Annie. You’re great.”

  They gave each other a brief, friendly hug before parting company.

  She got out of the car, but just before she closed the door, he said, “I hope you find out who wrote that music, Annie. It’s an interesting little mystery.”

  “All mysteries are interesting, if you know what I mean.” She gave him a significant look, but he simply grinned at her. “I’ll let you know what I learn.”

  “Great!”

  “And you’d better let me know what all your cryptic talk was about,” she warned him with a smile. “You don’t want me to stay awake all night wondering about it, do you?”

  “Don’t lose any sleep. I’ll fill you in later,” he said. Lifting one hand in a wave, he added, “See you later, Annie.”

  “Bye-bye, Grady,” she said and closed the door. She watched as he drove away, and then went into the house feeling much better—even if more mystified—than she had in the last few days.

  13

  On Monday morning, after Annie finished her breakfast and fed Boots, she picked up the telephone and dialed the number she had written down for the Bright Petals Flower Shop in Ione, Vermont. A pleasant female voice greeted her.

  “Good morning,” Annie said. “My name is Annie Dawson, and I’m calling for Violet Hutchins.”

  “This is Violet. May I help you?”

  Annie explained the purpose of the call while the other woman periodically enthusiastically inserted, “Yes, I see!” and “Oh, my!” and “How interesting!”