Prompt from W. Y. Traveller: Music box
A Box of Memories
The cloth glided over the marble mantel. Slender fingers lifted brass candleholders out of the way, returned them to their places. The clock, too heavy to lift in one hand, was set aside, cleaned, returned. The cherry wood box… Slender fingers caressed the satin wood, traced the carved rose. Eyes gazed upon it. A wistful smile blossomed.
She lifted the small box from the mantel and turned the little brass key on the bottom, hearing the soft clicks of the pawl. For a heartbeat, she almost put it back. It wasn't time, yet. Thirteen more days and it would be how many years? Thirty-three. And she had not seen him, not been in his arms, had not felt the gentlest of kisses in nine years.
"Well, why not?" she whispered and opened the box.
The dancers rose and the tune tinkled and the dancers spun. Her eyes clouded with tears and sweet memories. Memories of that Christmas dance. The evening he had asked her to wait.
"It's only six months, Martha," he said, and she could hear his voice in her mind as clearly as if they were once more standing in the portico with the snow falling in the lane. "Six months and I'll be home again. And when I am, I'll ask your father. My uncle has a place for me at the yards. Plenty of ships will need fixing. Always work for a good carpenter. And, I won't be just a carpenter. He's promised me a foreman's position. Your father won't have any objections then. He likes me. I know he does."
"Algernon, I'll wait for you." She mouthed the words that she had said those many years ago, and meant them just as much.
"You will?" His grin was wide and boyish. "Martha, I've saved my money. We'll buy a house and we'll have children. Maybe the boys will take to the trades. Maybe they'll be carpenters like their old man."
"With my dowry, we can buy a beautiful house," she said. "A big one with rooms to let. Just so you don't have to work so hard."
"Anything you want. Hey! I got you something," he had said and from his pocket he had pulled a small rectangle wrapped in green paper and tied with pink ribbon. "Open it."
Blushing, she had untied the ribbon and taken off the paper.
"It's beautiful, Algie!" Her fingers had caressed the rose and she had opened the box and the tune had played and the dancers had danced.
"I know it's not a ring, Martha, but that's you and me dancing there," he had said. "You and me, just like we danced tonight."
She had thrown her arms around him and they had kissed, not for the first time and not for the last. In her mind, they danced. He was tall and lean and smiling. And, she was young and happy, little more than girl.
"We had twenty-four years of dances, Algie," she whispered and closed the box.
"Mrs. Hudson?"
She turned and discovered Wynona standing in the doorway.
"I heard music," said the girl.
"Yes," Martha Hudson said and brushed tears from her eyes. "An old keepsake, dear. Is everything all right?"
"Yes," said the girl. "Mr. Holmes said he's expecting a visitor at eleven and wondered if you might have some tea ready."
"All right." Mrs. Hudson returned the little box to the mantel beside the clock and smiled. "See you in thirteen days. You can wait that long, Algie."