There was a muffled sound behind Asia, like a soft footstep on a wooden floorboard. The cat! she thought as she spun around.
There was nothing there. But the rocking chair was moving gently back and forth, as if someone had been sitting in it and had just stood up. She stared at it and then called, “Where are you, kitty?”
Her loud voice in the silent house startled her. There was no answering meow. The cat must have jumped on the rocking chair and then somehow vanished again. She glanced around uneasily. The chair was still now, but there was something weird about the room. It was ridiculous, but it felt as if someone else were there.
She walked over to the window, rubbed a clean patch in the middle of the glass and peered outside. Maddy was sitting on the bank beside the creek, her white hair like a dandelion puff in the sun. Harry had given up on fishing and was striding toward the old barn, calling something over his shoulder that made Maddy laugh. Asia took a deep breath. She was letting the old house scare her.
She turned around and hesitated, frowning. Then she knelt in front of the dresser and tugged at the top drawer. It stuck for a minute and then opened with a jerk. It was full of clothes: little socks that looked hand knitted and white cotton slips and undershirts, all neatly folded. She opened the other drawers and one by one she lifted out tiny dresses made of soft pastel fabrics. Most of the dresses were plain, but there was one pale yellow dress with an embroidered yoke that must have been for Sunday best.
Asia rocked back on her heels. She stared at the bed and imagined the little girl who had slept in it. Daisy. She was pretty like her mother, Miranda, Asia decided. She loved Cold Creek and cried buckets when they sold everything at the auction and moved away. Asia wouldn’t cry if she and Maddy and Ira had to leave Cold Creek. She wouldn’t give Harry the satisfaction. She stood up and took one more glance around. Was it possible that Maddy and Ira didn’t know about all the things in this room? I might be the only person who’s been up here for almost a hundred years, she thought with a shiver.
She had the eerie sensation again that someone was in the room with her. Only this time it was much stronger. A whisper of icy air washed over her bare legs. There was a rustling noise that sounded like a long skirt brushing against the floor. Something touched her arm.
Asia screamed and ran out of the room and down the stairs, the blood pounding in her ears. She jumped off the last step and stumbled across the room to the front door. “Wait,” said a voice behind her. “Please, don’t be frightened. Don’t go.”
Asia spun around. Something hovered in the middle of the staircase. It drifted in and out of focus, the edges blurred like a reflection in water. For a second, the form became clear. It was a young woman, wearing a long blue dress with a shawl over her shoulders. Her face was an indistinct pale oval and although Asia couldn’t see her lips, the voice came again. “Please stay.”
The woman floated toward her. Asia turned and raced outside into the soft sunlight. Maddy was walking up from the creek toward the house. Asia stood frozen until Maddy was beside her.
Maddy gave her a sharp look. “Are you all right?”
Asia couldn’t tell Maddy—not now. She would be in terrible trouble for going up the old stairs. Besides, Harry was coming back from the barn, calling to them cheerfully. He would laugh or, even worse, say she was making it up. Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed. “I’m fine,” she whispered. Harry was full of enthusiasm. “That old rope I swung on is still there. Do you remember, Mama, right off the peak of the roof like Tarzan?”
“Well, I hope you don’t have any ideas about trying it again,” said Maddy with a laugh.
Asia’s head spun with confusion as they started up the hill toward home. Suddenly, in the distance, the haunting notes of a piano drifted through the soft summer evening. The sound was coming from the old house. She stood still. Harry was still talking about the barn, and neither he nor Maddy looked back. The music was all around her now, and she knew that it was the woman she had seen on the stairs. She had never heard anyone play like that before. The music brimmed with both joy and sadness.
There is no piano in the house, but she is playing one, thought Asia. And I am the only one who can hear it. She looked back at the Old Farm, with a mixture of shock and excitement.
Miranda’s fingers flew over the piano keys. This time Asia had seen her. She was positive. She winced when she remembered how the girl had screamed. Asia was terrified of her—Miranda should have expected that. She glanced at Montgomery, who was washing himself in a patch of evening sun. “What a good boy, Montgomery,” she murmured.
“You helped, didn’t you? You led her to Daisy’s room.”
Miranda knew that Asia hadn’t seen the gleaming piano, the sturdy furniture that George had built, the bright braid rugs. She was pretty sure that all she saw was a dirty floor, bare walls and broken windows. It was a shame. But Asia had seen the things in Daisy’s room. She had looked so surprised.
Maddy and Ira never saw anything she did in her house.
Over the years they poked their heads in now and again, and once she heard Ira say, “These stairs don’t look at all safe to me. I better board them off; there’s nothing up there anyway, just a couple of empty rooms.” He never got around to it, but it was the last time he had gone upstairs.
Why had Asia been able to see the things in Daisy’s room but not the rest of the house? Miranda’s fingers trembled on the piano keys. She had thought of little else but Daisy since she had returned to the Old Farm. Her little girl’s presence was so strong. Asia must have felt it too.
It had taken all of Miranda’s energy to let Asia see her, and she was exhausted. But it had been worth it. Her connection with Asia was growing stronger, and she was certain now Asia was the one who could help her. For a few blissful moments, Miranda bent over the keys of her piano and lost herself completely in her beloved music.