Chapter 13 - The Song’s Secret
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Laura walked slowly through the workshop, her fingers lightly brushing the smooth, polished wood of a hand-carved rocking chair. She looked at the incredible craftsmanship—every joint hand-dovetailed, every surface sanded to a silk finish.
"Henry," Laura whispered, looking around the massive room. "This isn't just carpentry. This is art. Why don't you sell these?"
"They aren't for sale," Henry said quietly from the doorway. "I started building them a long time ago. For a family I thought I'd have."
He walked over to a workbench near the far window, where a large, unfinished wooden cabinet sat under a cloth cover. He pulled the cover back, revealing a magnificent hand-carved grandfather clock made from deep, dark walnut wood.
In the center of the clock face was a brass musical movement.
Henry turned a small iron key on the side of the clock three times.
The internal gears clicked, and a sweet, mechanical melody began to play—the exact same waltz the three-piece band had played at the Harvest Dance four nights ago.
Rosie stopped in front of a wooden rocking horse, turning her head toward the music. She looked at Henry, a bright smile spreading across her face. "That's our song!"
"It is, Miss Rosie," Henry smiled softly.
Laura looked at Henry, seeing the quiet, buried grief behind his gray eyes finally begin to thaw.
"She would have loved this shop, Henry," Laura said gently, stepping closer to him. "Your Sarah."
Henry looked at Laura, surprised. "Grace told you?"
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"She told me how much Sarah loved the music," Laura said softly. "And she told me that you stopped coming to town the day she died. Henry... you brought my daughter joy on a night when she felt invisible. I think Sarah would be very proud of you."
Henry looked away, his throat tight, but for the first time in twenty years, the memory of Sarah didn't bring the familiar, crushing pain. It brought a quiet, gentle peace.
