What Happened to Him?

Part 6: After The Fire

Margaret sat on the floor of Brahms's bedroom. The fire services team had deemed the building "safe" a few days ago and though they cautioned the Heelshires to stay out of the burned areas of the mansion until they had been properly cleaned. She found herself here more often than not.

They never found his body. Maybe they wouldn't. Maybe years from now he would come home to her. Her Brahms. She didn't want a reminder of him like this. He wasn't a murderer. It was all a mistake. She began pulling things from the room. At first the small things. The toys from his bookshelves, the charred mattress, paintings, anything the fire touched. It had to go. Then it was the furniture. She dragged and pushed getting each piece into the hallway and directly below the attic stairs. They were too big for her to get up there by herself, but her husband would help when he got home. It had to be cleaned. It had to be restored.

One thing she knew for certain was if you were willing to pay, you could get almost anything done in a few days time. Construction teams only took breaks to let things dry. It was just as it was. The floors shined with fresh lacquer, his bed freshly made, she even bought new toys for his shelves. It somehow still felt empty.

Days later a large crate arrived at the door. Margaret looked over it sitting in the foyer and felt that familiar tightness. Fear. She forced the top off and was shocked to see the contents. It was Brahms. Her real Brahms. This time he would be good. She would be good. She gingerly lifted the doll's limp body out of the crate and sat back with him in her lap. Footsteps in the distance pulled her attention.

Mr. Heelshire stood in the doorway, staring at her. "What are you doing?"

"It's Brahms." She coaxed his head up onto her shoulder, the porcelain from the doll's face was cool against hers. "It's Brahms."