I sat at my easel absentmindedly painting. I wasn’t putting too much effort into this one, merely sketching with colors. Vague suggestions of a townhouse bathed in sunlight materialized on the canvas. I imagined the people inside were content.

A soft knock prompted me to turn around. Finley stood in the doorway.

“Dinner is ready, young sir.” He announced.

I nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

I cleaned up and headed to the dining room. Faustine was waiting for me, as always.

Without a word, we sat down for dinner. I didn’t feel like speaking. I couldn’t stop thinking about the dream. Holding my silverware only further reminded me of how I could never hold my brothers or mother again. They would never hear my voice either. I truly was a ghost.

“Something troubles you.” Faustine finally said. “Your family?”

I nodded.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll get over it eventually.”

Faustine’s gaze fell. “If only it were that easy.” She looked up again with determination in her eyes. “I have something I want to show you after dinner.”

“What is it?”

“A surprise. And hopefully, something to balm your feelings.”

I raised an eyebrow, then returned to eating. I racked my brain for whatever she could mean. Maybe she was reneging on our agreement and would let me return home? Or maybe she somehow had a living statue that looked like Mother or August or Connie. That sounded far-fetched, admittingly, but I was used to that after living here for a while.

When we finished, Faustine rose first.

“Follow me.” She said.

I obeyed as we made our way down the halls. I kept pace beside Faustine.

“Marius,” She began. “This house has been my home and my prison for many years now. I have known nothing but the solitude of these walls. And within that solitude have been memories of a past I long to forget. One of the few things that gave me joy was my music. But even they were taken from me.”

“The music or the joy?”

“Both. But something I cannot explain has happened to me. And I wish to share it with you.”

I realized we were now in the ballroom. The place was as massive and yawning as ever. Servants stood by in the corners of the room.

At the center of the room sat the piano from the storage room.

“What is that doing here?”

“This is what I wanted to share.” Faustine glided over to the piano. “I wrote a song for you.”

My heart skipped.

Faustine sat down at the bench, flipping the hem of her gown over the seat. “I used to write music. I lost the desire to ever play again when I became this.” She opened the piano cover. “But then you came along, and a song appeared in my head for the first time in years.”

I heard papers rustling. Faustine smoothed out sheets of music and placed them above the piano. She cracked her fingers one by one. She took a deep breath and stretched out her hands over the keys.

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“Where do you want me?” I asked.

“You can stand.”

The first note rang through the ballroom. Its sound vibrated my bones.

I froze.

The first movement began. It was a soft lilting melody. My mind turned to gray afternoons overcast with stormy weather, the sound of falling rain on the cottage roof. I could taste the dampness of the air from those dreary days on my tongue. I longed for a seat by the fire with Mother and a warm blanket.

Mother… I thought. I’m sorry. If only I could tell you how sorry I am…

I shut my eyes until the pain passed.

The second movement began.

I opened my eyes. The ballroom was bathed in golden light. Five chandeliers hung overhead. The finely carved pillars holding up the ceiling were set with gold filigree. The tiled floors shined brightly. I could see my reflection beneath me.

Hundreds of guests surrounded me. All of them were dressed in fine bright clothes, all dancing around in a whirl of color. The women’s dresses were like flowers, exploding with color with fabrics whirling around like petals in the wind. The men too were dressed brightly. Their coattails reminded me of the ends of butterflies’ wings.

I was dressed in a fine purple jacket with gold trim, white pants, and fine black shoes. I hadn’t worn anything this nice in my life, even back in Paris. I’d never been to many balls either.

As I walked through the ballroom, various people came out of the crowd. I instantly recognized them all as they came to greet me: Mother with her sharp gray eyes and curly brown hair streaked with gray; Connie looming over me and patting my shoulder with his large hands; August nodding to me, his tied back blonde ponytail bobbing with his head.

And one last person. He was a man as tall as Connie with curly brown hair and light brown skin. His eyes were a rich brown with flecks of hazel. They looked at me with such love and pride that I immediately knew him.

Father, I tried to say. But no words came out.

Father pulled me into a tight hug.

I held him close as tears silently fell down my cheeks.

The third movement began.

Father broke away from me. I reached for him as he stepped back into the crowd. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Mother, my brothers, and the other guests. Their bodies formed a single path to the center of the room. I moved in that direction the path led me.

At the end of the path was a large open space of the ballroom. Seated on the floor was a woman clad in a voluminous black dress. Elegantly woven sleeves covered her long arms. The weaves of her long flowing dress resembled the feathers of a raven. She wore a veil which completely covered her face.

I approached her and bowed. She bowed as well, stepping closer.

Up close, I could barely see something through her veil; Eyes that were a brilliant icy blue.

The woman presented a small delicate hand with four fingers.

I took it without hesitation.

She pulled me close. I took her waist.

The music grew faster.

In step with the sound, we danced with grace and ease, never stepping over each other’s feet. She led the steps, holding me close but never once forcing me to do anything. I was an extension of her, and she of me. We were one thing amidst a crowd of individuals, a great spinning system in harmonious revolution. I now understood why the revolution of planets was known as “the music of the spheres.” I heard it now. It animated our dance with its magnificent melody.

As we danced, I found myself staring past the veil into my partner’s eyes. I couldn’t take my eyes off them no matter how hard I tried. Their striking color shined brightly even through the black veil obscuring her visage. She too would not release me. She had me with merely a look. I was her prisoner.

The music slowed to a gentle lilt. My heart was now pounding in my chest. Strands of hair plastered my brow.

The woman’s veil fluttered gently from her own heavy breath. She silently brought a hand to my forehead and brushed away a strand of hair from my head. She gently caressed my face, tracing her long pale fingers down my cheek and drawing a thumb against my lips. Her touch was soft and whispering like silk.

She gingerly pulled me towards her. Without hesitation, I followed her lead. I shut my eyes as she brought me to the threshold of her veil. Her lavender scent was overpowering. The world outside us fell away.

The music stopped.

I was once again in the dark and empty ballroom.

“I—” Faustine said from behind the piano. “I’m sorry—” She stood and grabbed her cane.

“What was—” I started.

“I’m sorry, Marius.” She abruptly cut me off as she strode out of the ballroom.

“Faustine.” I called after her, but she was out of the room before too long.

I stood by myself by the piano in the empty ballroom. I didn’t know what to think or feel about what had just happened. Was it all just a dream? But it was all so real. The music, Mother, my brothers, the dancers.

Father. Her. The dance.

I brushed my fingers against my lips. I could still taste her lipstick.

Strawberries and gooseberries.