Music Box Magic
Ronni phoned and invited me to stay at her place for several days in late June. Our family was going to have a reunion, and she hoped I would come. After getting the details, I said, “This is great. I’ll see you then.”
I got a rental car at the airport and drove to her home. The expressway was hectic. Turning onto the country road was a relief. After an hour, I began recognizing sites along the Michigan highway. I finally spotted my next turn. I almost missed it because I was looking for a gravel road.
My cousin opened the door as I parked. She smiled as she came out to the car, and we exchanged kisses. “I’m so glad you came. It’s been a long time since I saw you. C’mon and take a load off.”
“Let me grab my suitcase.”
Once I was inside, she said, “I made tea and lemonade, or I can make coffee if you like.”
We took our iced drinks out to her patio. We caught up on family news, but she didn’t mention Robbie. She stood and fired up the grill. I helped her fix supper, then we ate.
I noticed the music box as soon as she showed me into the guest room. Immediately remembering the summers spent with my grandparents at their cabin on Lake Michigan. I had run into Grandma’s arms as soon as Dad parked our car. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla as I hugged her ample frame. She always baked snicker doodles because those were my favorite. Grandpa smelled of cherry pipe tobacco when he kissed my forehead.
Cuddled into her lap in the evenings, she would stroke my sandy blonde hair and rock me asleep as we listened to the box’s chiming melody. I had loved going there until the accident. After that, things had never been the same.
I picked the box up, turned its key, then held it close. Lifting its lid, my tears rained down on the tiny dancer. Within a short time, a feeling of tranquility filled me. I fell asleep listening to its sweet sounds.
During the night, I dreamed of the day my dad died. I saw it with a clarity that I hadn’t had at age 8. Dad had become so different after losing his job, always reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Since Uncle Ed was working, Dad was only supposed to drop Robbie off at football practice and come right back. Instead, he’d gone to a liquor store then wrapped his car around a tree. Reliving the scene, I realized it wasn’t my cousin’s fault, though I had blamed him for years.
While eating breakfast, Ronni suggested we spend the day in Shipshewana. “It’s the largest flea market in the Midwest. It’s ages since I went.”
I wasn’t keen on shopping in my condition but could see this would make her happy. Grabbing my fanny pack and floppy hat from my luggage, I followed her out to her SUV. She took Route 12 east from New Buffalo until we reached 131 and headed south into Indiana. It wasn’t long before we came upon Amish and Mennonite buggies on the road.
The parking lot was half full when we arrived. She slung a large tote over her shoulder. Ronni often stopped to examine the gewgaws inside the stalls. She loved wind chimes and bought three, stuffing each inside her bag.
I was extremely fatigued from walking when she asked, “How about an early dinner? I know a fantastic restaurant.”
She drove us to a converted barn. Inside were wooden picnic tables covered with red-checked cloth. A girl in a long dress and bonnet greeted us. She led us to a table and handed menus to us.
Ronni pointed and said, “See there. Butterscotch meringue pie. Wonder if it tastes like Grandma’s.”
The simple country food was delicious, and that pie was divine.
Draining my third glass of Cabernet later that night, I asked, “How’s your brother?”
She gave me a searching look. “He’s become a loner, especially since his divorce.”
“Will he come?”
She shook her head. “Doubt it.”
I gnawed my lip. “Could you please call him. I need to make amends.”
As she grabbed her cell, I refilled my glass with liquid courage.
“Hello Robbie. I’ve got someone here…” She handed it to me.
I heard, “Ronni, I don’t have time…”
“Coz, could you please do it for me?”
His gasp was followed by silence.
“I am so sorry for how I treated you. I sincerely hope you’ll come to the reunion. I have something to give you.”
He remained quiet.
“Pretty please.”
He mumbled, “fine,” then hung up.
***
We were munching on watermelon late in the afternoon when he finally arrived. At first, I didn’t recognize this heavy-set, bearded man. It was only when Ronni ran to hug him that I realized it was Robbie. She brought him over to me.
“How about we go sit on the dock?”
He nodded and followed.
“Again, I am so, so sorry for blaming you. I idolized my dad and didn’t want to blame him.” Tears glistened on his cheek. “Mom had such a tough time raising us four, trying to squeeze a quarter’s worth of food from a nickel. I now realize it was all his fault.”
Robbie put an arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. We cried in each other’s arms. I pulled slightly away and reached inside my fanny pack. “I want to give you this.” I handed my dad’s most prized possession to him. I had brought it on the trip to give to my oldest nephew, but now knew my cousin should have it.
He removed the plastic case and examined the baseball. Robbie gasped when he noticed Shoeless Joe Jackson’s signature. As he hugged me, I was filled with peace and childhood joy.
***
Back at home a few weeks later, I was enjoying the soothing chimes and watching the dancer twirl when my phone beeped with a text.
Calling the specialist’s office, I was put on hold until the doctor came on the line. “Donna. Wonderful, almost unbelievable news. Your cancer is gone. There’s not a trace left.”
Forgiveness, along with being gifted Grandma’s music box, had worked a miracle.