The House, Part 2

Amanda woke at first light and rushed quickly around her motel room, getting dressed in record time. She was dying to see the house once again, especially in the morning light. Skipping breakfast, she gathered her things and checked out. Within a half-hour she was back on Route 20 heading toward the Walker house. She couldn't help but wonder, though, if the structure would look different the second time. After all, the motel clerk had referred to it in less than glowing terms.

Amanda didn't have to wait long to get her answer. As she pulled up in front of the house for the second time, she found herself as captivated by it as before; maybe even more so. She quickly exited her car without shutting the door and ran up the steps. Throwing open the front door, she waited for the light to bathe the rich mahogany wood of the house in its pink light. It was nothing short of breath taking.

Once again, the young woman ran through all the rooms downstairs with unbridled jubilation. There was nothing she didn't like about this house. It was perfect in every way.

Suddenly a faint sound of music caught her ear. It sounded like a music box tinkling somewhere upstairs. Amanda tried to remember if she'd seen such a box on any of the bureaus she'd examined with such care just yesterday. Nothing came to mind.

Intriguing, the petite blonde flew up the staircase, barely touching the steps as she went. Once she reached the top, she strained her ears to see from where the music came. It was off to the left; the door at the end of the hallway, she thought. That had been a nursery as she recalled.

Moving quietly toward the sound, it grew louder as she approached the room. Carefully, she turned the door knob and pushed the door open. Gone were the sheets covering the crib, bureau and wooden rocking horse she'd observed on her last visit. Instead, the room looked as if it had just been painted. She could even smell the fresh paint. Shelves lined some of the walls and were covered with porcelain dolls, wooden toys and books.

Amanda turned to the bureau just inside the door on her right. Inside she found rows of tiny pieces of linen clothing, each hand stitched and embroidered with amazing care. They obvioulsy belonged to a baby girl. On top of the bureau was a tiny silver hairbrush. Amanda picked it up to examine it closely. It also looked brand new. Carved into the delicately scrolled back were the initials, GAW. While she felt certain the W stood for Walker, she had no clue what the other initials meant.

Then she touched the music box that had drawn her into the room. It was also silver with a lead crystal center. It was playing a tune with which she was unfamiliar. Closing the top, she noted the box shut off immediately. It began playing again as soon as she re-opened it.

The sound of children's laughter emanated from outside, drawing Amanda to the window. She threw open the shutters to observe three children playing with sticks and some kind of ball that they hit around the ground. But it wasn't the game that caught Amanda's eye. It was their costumes.

The two girls, one blonde and one redhead, were dressed in white linen dresses that fell between their calves and their ankles. Each was tied at the waist with a brightly colored bow. A similar ribbon was echoed in each girl's hair. White tights gave way to stiff boots very similar to those she'd recently bought for herself. But somehow Amanda knew the ones worn by the children were not replicas.

The boy was dressed in a blue linen shirt with khaki-colored knickers. Socks came up to meet them and were invisibly held in place by something. A tweed cap covered his sandy blonde head.

Amanda closed the shutters as if to erase the picture from her mind. It worked. When she opened them again, all she saw in the back yard was grass and weeds. She might have thought her mind was playing tricks on her had she not been standing in a room that clearly belonged in another century. She turned to admire it once more, memorizing every nuance before exiting the door and closing it behind her.

Then she tried yet another experiment. Re-opening the door, an audible gasp escaped her lips. Now the room looked as it had the day before; abandoned with sheets covering all of the furniture. Gone from the bureau was the silver music box and no shelves lined the walls. They were barren.

Amanda opened every room on the second floor and then moved to the third floor before she gave up her search. As she descended the staircase, she began to think her imagination was too active. It was at that moment, a weight in her right jacket pocket garnered her attention. She reached her hand inside to see what it was. In her slim long fingers she cradled a child's silver brush.

Moving to the crawlspace underneath the stairs, Amanda began going through the many portraits she'd seen stored there. Most of them she tossed aside without much examination. But one stopped her cold. It was the picture of four children. A boy about nine smiled mischievously at her. Two girls, roughly six and four offered a shy smile. In a wooden cradle in front of them was an infant; a baby girl with strawberry red ringlets.

At that moment Amanda knew one thing. She had to buy the house in which she stood. It was beckoning to her; calling her home. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she was connected to the Walker house. That's when she pulled out the portrait she'd spotted the night before; the one she thought looked like her. Pulling it into the light of the parlor, she examined it closely. It was like looking into a mirror at her own reflection.

The clothing and hairstyle was different but everything else was the same. The blonde in the portrait had the same turquoise blue eyes that she had. She possessed the same long, straight nose that Amanda so hated. A sprinkle of light freckles covered the bridge of it. Full, bow shaped lips finished off her features. Everything was topped with a mass of blonde curls nearly identical to her own.