“What the hell are you doing?” Michael asked, still squinting in the light.
Damien was behind him, rubbing his eyes. He yawned. “Yeah, what are you doing?”
Josie narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing up?” Josie asked.
“Ah, you woke everyone up with all your banging around,” Michael responded. “Is that the music box?”
“Yes,” Josie answered curtly.
“Why are you getting that?” Damien asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I wanted to see it,” Josie said, climbing down off the step stool and dragging it away enough to close the door.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to see it anymore?” Michael questioned her.
“Well, now I do. I’m allowed to change my mind,” she said, sitting on the couch with the box and beginning to open it.
“Josie, put that away. Go to bed. Try to get some sleep. You can see it in the morning,” Michael prompted her.
“I couldn’t sleep. I had a disturbing dream, not the same one, but a different one and I couldn’t sleep anymore. After everything that happened yesterday, I think that’s understandable.”
“Well, okay, sure, let’s put that down and we’ll hang out and watch some T.V. with you or we could play a video game or something, get your mind off of everything.” Michael sat down next to her and tried gently to remove the box from her.
“No, leave me alone!” she shouted, pulling the box back to her and away from Michael.
Michael shot a glance to Damien. This was not the Josie he knew; he was growing concerned. The lack of sleep seemed to be taking its toll. Damien’s concern equaled Michael’s. He approached Josie, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. “Jos?” Damien said, putting his hand on hers. “You should try to get some rest, let’s go to bed,” he said gently.
“Stop treating me like a child. I’m not a child. I’m not going to bed. I prefer to be left alone,” she said, pulling the music box from its package.
Michael and Damien shared another glance. Josie stared at the music box, running her hand over the top of it. She opened it and the bright music began to play. “Hey, didn’t you say that helped you sleep? Maybe you should take it upstairs with you and lay down and see if you can sleep now,” Damien suggested.
“Yes,” Josie said, sounding almost dazed, “yes, I will.” She stood and made her way to the stairs.
“Okay, that’s weird,” Michael said when she was out of earshot. “Her behavior around that music box is odd. One minute she wants nothing to do with it and the next she’s rummaging around in the closet on a ladder to get it back in the middle of the night. And then she’s so touchy about it.”
“Maybe it’s the lack of sleep?” Damien offered. “I don’t know. I mean I’ve seen her at her best and her worst and I agree, this is odd behavior for her.”
“We need to convince her to get rid of that box in the morning. Or at least after she’s had a little sleep.”
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” He yawned. “Speaking of, I’m going to try to get some sleep, too. I hope I can sleep with the mini concert playing in Josie’s room.”
“Yeah, I hope you don’t start acting weird after a night of listening to that thing.”
“Me too.” He yawned again. “See you in the morning.”
They both headed up for the night. Damien found Josie in her room, already asleep. The music box played on the night table. He considered closing it but decided not to. The last time Michael did that, Josie had become annoyed with him the next morning. Perhaps it was better for him to wait until she had more sleep to approach the subject. He laid down, trying to tune out the music and fell asleep despite its constant droning.
The man nursed a drink at the local bar. His first attempt at getting through to Celine had failed, miserably. He must have sounded like a raving lunatic. He had to find a way to reach her, sooner than later. He had to keep at it; had to keep pushing until she remembered. So many lives depended on it.
Chapter 8
Josie groaned as her alarm chirped, tired from another restless night. The little music box tinkled away on her night table. Funny that she almost threw it away when it had such a mellowing effect on her. She decided she would take it with her to have her morning cup of tea on the porch again after her jog. Closing it for the time being, she got ready for her jog in the en-suite bathroom before tiptoeing out of the room and down the stairs.
She had returned, changed clothes, and made her cup of tea before anyone else was up. They must be sleeping in since neither planned to go to the office today. Retrieving the music box, she set it up on the porch along with her tea. It was another pleasant summer morning. With her shoes kicked off, she swung gently on the porch swing, the cool morning breeze caressing her skin. The music box tinkled away as she sipped her tea. She let the gentle movement lull her into a relaxed, dreamlike state.
She held her legs out in front of her
