Chapter Six
Warnings: Nothing too bad in this chapter. I can't say the same for the next one :)
"I can't take another day locked up in this house!" Riley complained bitterly from the bed. "It's worse than being grounded."
"It's been three days," Colin grinned, planting a peck on his irritated lover's lips.
"Three days," Riley snorted. "Feels more like three weeks."
His foul mood was only minimally diminished by the view of Colin's naked ass. He watched a familiar scene as Colin pulled on his briefs, covering his freshly showered backside.
"I'm sorry, babe. Doctor's orders. You can't help me without standing and there's no standing for you right now unless it's necessary." Colin slipped his work jeans on and began to tuck in his t-shirt.
As Colin's hands worked around the perimeter of his waist, Riley felt a twitch in his groin. Five years together had done nothing to make Colin less attractive. If anything, his lover looked better.
"Come back to bed with me," Riley suggested as he rolled onto his side for a better look. "You can be a little bit late and I'll be off my feet."
Colin slammed the door to that idea with a yank upward on the tongue of his zipper. "Sorry, Riley. I have too much to do."
He fingered his hair in place and sat on his side of the bed to pull his socks and shoes on. Riley moved closer and stroked his hand down the expanse of Colin's muscled back, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his partner's jeans.
"Come on, Colin," he said enticingly. "You're the boss. You can be late."
"No," Colin said simply.
Riley huffed and rolled back onto the bed. "Fine," he barked. "I'll stay here alone, staring at the ceiling."
Colin laughed as he pulled on his work boots. "You can if you want, but you'd probably be more entertained staring at the television, a book, the internet…"
"Nothing's on," Riley interrupted. "And I just finished a book."
"I don't know what to tell you, babe," Colin said, standing with his hands on his hips. "You can't go to work yet and that's final."
"My punishment continues," Riley muttered dramatically as he flung his arm over his eyes.
He felt the bed shift as Colin sat on the edge. "Riley."
Riley continued to sulk, his boredom and irritation getting the better of him.
Colin moved his arm away from his eyes and said, "Riley, look at me."
Riley cracked his lids open and looked up at his partner. "What?"
"I'm not the one punishing you. It's not my fault you have to stay at home."
"I can walk on the crutches."
"Your foot will swell and you'll be hurting again if you're up too much. The answer is no." Colin pushed Riley's dark hair off his forehead and kissed him there. "Want me to stop and pick up a new book for you on my way home?"
"I can't think of anything new I want to read."
"Puzzle books? You like Sudoku."
"Never mind," Riley said disconsolately. "I'll watch TV. Me and Ellen are getting to know each other pretty well."
"I'll tell you what. You should be able to go out for dinner. Why don't I take you out tonight?"
"Outback?" Riley asked, his mood lifting at the thought.
"Wherever you want to go."
"Outback."
Colin smiled and said, "Outback it is. I'll see you later." With a kiss goodbye, Colin left for work.
Riley huffed in frustration. Another boring day. There wasn't anything to do! He lay there and listened to the nothingness. The silence in the house, while welcoming on one level, he found disconcerting on another. Riley listened to the silence intently. He jumped in spite of himself when the air conditioning kicked on.
He sighed heavily as his heart began to thump again, just a bit harder than normal. "There's no one here but you, dumbass," he told himself for the third day in a row.
He threw the sheet back and rose up, grabbing the crutches he had grown to hate that were propped against the nightstand. His stomach growled its displeasure at having been deprived since the day before, and Riley headed toward the door to find some breakfast in the kitchen. The trunk that had helped him meet his demise sat innocently adorning the area at the foot of their bed. Riley stopped to admire it once again, his finger tracing over the lock still holding steadfastly to protect whatever secrets lay inside.
Riley's admiration turned to annoyance and he glared at the trunk. Wondering what was inside gnawed at him, the fact that he couldn't know making him more curious. The trunk quietly dared him to get inside, its tightly sealed mouth mocking Riley at his failure to open it.
"Stupid trunk," Riley muttered quietly. "What are you hiding?"
The trunk maintained its expression, unwilling to give up the secrets that it held. Riley pushed his thumb futilely against the catch once again, the lock refusing to give in despite the wear of time. Riley drew back to kick the corner then thought better of it. A jarring like that would leave him wishing he hadn't lost his temper.
Riley shook his finger at the trunk. "One day…" he threatened.
He'd get it open one way or the other. Maybe he'd call a locksmith while he was laid up. It would give him something to do beside watch the boob tube, and a locksmith might just be able to get the age-old latch open.
Giving up for the moment, he slowly hobbled down the hall, and then carefully descended the stairs so he could scavenge for breakfast. As Riley reached the first floor, he looked down at the newly finished wood and frowned. He moved a sock-covered toe over a familiar spot on the floor. The stain was back. He turned his head to find another angle thinking perhaps he was seeing things, but no. Riley sighed and shook his head. It seemed like it was gone before with all the work Colin had put into it, but the stain was definitely there. Colin. He was going to be less than happy to see the imperfection had returned. Riley's stomach rumbled again, reminding him of the reason they were downstairs, and he continued on to the kitchen more interested in food than age-old stains on the floor.
Colin had left the kitchen immaculate, devoid of anything "breakfast" besides coffee per their agreement. Riley felt bad enough leaving Colin to handle their jobs single-handedly, but he felt even worse that Colin had to take care of him as well. After much discussion, Riley had convinced Colin that standing long enough to brown some toast or pour a bowl of cereal wasn't going to kill either one of them.
He poured a mug of coffee for himself before settling on cereal over toast. He was winded by the time he sat down, having taken three trips to get the cereal, milk and a bowl to the table. He sat down with a sigh and poured his cereal.
His spoon stopped midway to his mouth as a noise and a shadow moved to his left. Chills ran down his back as the creaking sound ground into silence. He turned his head slowly, half expecting to see an ethereal body or some other ghastly mass but saw instead the tangible wood of the basement door standing ajar. It gaped at him, offering him a silent invitation to enter the depths of the darkened basement.
"Damn it," he breathed. "Fucking house is going to give me a heart attack one day. Doors sticking, doors opening…"
Riley slammed his spoon down, muttering under his breath. He grabbed his crutches and walked over to the door. Riley looked down the darkened staircase into the coolness below. He leaned through the doorway to try to see better, but saw nothing except the darkness glaring back at him. He huffed in irritation, slamming the door with a satisfying thud using the stub of his crutch.
"I'm sick of these stupid games," he angrily growled to the empty room as uneasiness continued to envelope him.
Refusing to give in to the troubled feeling gnawing at his stomach, he went back to his breakfast but not before switching on the kitchen radio. Oblivious radio announcers bantered in their morning routine, going through the motions as they did on any given day, unaware or unconcerned with doors opening or locking on their own. Riley concentrated on their voices while cutting his eyes often toward the door. As the announcers and music rolled on in the background, Riley began to relax – finding the door closed every time he looked didn't hurt either.
He finished his breakfast and put the dishes in the sink, running water in the bottom of the bowl to keep the milk from drying to a hardened skim. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and took two steps away from the sink before his feet came to a dead stop.
The man on the radio grumbled about the excessive heat they were expecting but Riley's heart was chilled. The basement door stood open in a cavern, allowing the dark full access to the kitchen. It crept up the stairs, casting an ominous shadow over the back corner of the room, bringing the cool of the basement with it. Riley glared at the open door then carefully laid one crutch aside.
"Damn," he said on a dry throat.
Dragging a kitchen chair with him, he quickly closed the door firmly once again and propped the back of the chair under the door handle to brace it closed.
"Now, open by yourself," he dared nervously.
Riley gathered his other crutch and started for the living room, anxious to get out of the kitchen and away from the basement. He couldn't help a glance back before he left to be sure the door was still closed. The chair did its job, thank God, holding steadfastly under the handle to block the door. Now, if that moved, too…
Riley shook his head and rolled his eyes. His imagination was running in overdrive. The chair wasn't going to move. The door wasn't going to open again. It was nothing more than an old house, he thought rationally. But yet, how did it open? There wasn't a window open to blame it on this time. More weirdness. He was sick of strange crap happening all the time. Colin refused to believe anything other than reasonable explanations, but every time they turned around, they were searching for another logical excuse for something else.
"Like the basement door opening on its own," Riley said to himself.
Riley stretched out on the sofa and turned on the television, annoyed with his predicament as well as the basement door opening. He flipped through the channels aimlessly, finding nothing out of all 150 of them that interested him. Daytime TV sucked.
As he started through the rotation a second time, the television screen was thrust into darkness. Riley frowned at the TV, no images or sound emitting at all. Riley reached up toward the lamp and turned it on, but it was as black as the TV screen.
The breaker. Riley groaned and collapsed against the pillow. He struggled to make a decision. No TV or go to the basement to throw the breaker.
"This is ridiculous," he castigated himself. "There's nothing in the basement."
His decision made, he got up and grabbed his crutches. When he came around the corner of the kitchen, he had already made up his mind that the chair was going to be gone from the door. If he was right, he was finding a book to read even if he had read it before. He'd just have to do without electricity.
Riley released his held breath when he saw the chair right where he left it.
"You're losing it, Riley," he diagnosed himself.
He moved the chair aside and then carefully placed the crutches on the top riser. He paused as he peered into the narrow stairwell, memories of falling too fresh in his mind. Colin finding him in a heap at the bottom of the basement stairs wouldn't go over very well. Riley tossed one crutch to the bottom of the stairwell, choosing instead to use the thin banister to support him on one side as he made his way down the slender treads to the dirt floor.
No matter how much he tried to reason with his nerves, his quickened heartbeat didn't slow until he turned on the single hanging bulb. The little bit of light it mustered was quickly swallowed almost entirely by the overwhelming darkness.
"It's just a basement," Riley reassured himself. "A dark, dreary basement in an old house with weird stuff happening all the time, that's all. Nothing to worry about. Not a thing."
He quickly found the breaker box and ran his finger down the list to find the living room switch. Squinting in the dimness, he saw the little strip beside the switch was red, just as Riley predicted. He threw the switch and went back upstairs, willing himself to make the trip under normal speed instead of sprinting as much as his crutches would allow. He was happy to hear the sounds from the television greeting him as he neared the living room.
He settled back down on the sofa and lifted his foot back onto the pillow, raising it up high. He picked up the remote and had just gone back to surfing when the television went black once again.
Riley's mouth hung open as he stared at the blank screen. "No way!" he cursed. "I just got back!"
He wearily trod back through the house to the kitchen and stopped short when he turned the corner. The basement door was standing open, beckoning to him as though expecting his arrival. Riley swallowed and cast an accusatory glare at the chair pushed back against the wall.
Had he put the chair back? His memory was providing no answers. He retraced his steps mentally but drew a blank every time the Riley in his mind closed the basement door. He replayed it again, seeing himself take tedious steps up from the basement, but couldn't remember whether he thought twice about the chair after he got to the top.
Riley shook his head. Clearly, he forgot to put the chair back. Shoving his suspicions aside, he went down once again to the basement and threw the breaker.
"Wish I could prop a chair against you," he grumbled to the switch. "I'm not spending all day in this damn basement."
Riley closed the breaker door with a slap then turned to go back upstairs. As he reached for the string hanging from the light, a glint caught his eye in the dirt through the stair risers. Riley frowned, squinting hard in the dimly lit basement. Had he seen anything at all? He glanced back toward the light bulb. There was barely enough light to illuminate the basement, much less cause a glimmer of any kind. It must have been his imagination.
He turned off the light and headed toward the stairs, dismissing what he thought he saw. He looked through the risers into the dirt as he centered the rubber tips of his crutches on the step. But what if it was something, he thought as he paused. It would bug him all day. Staring through the stairs, Riley saw nothing. Whatever he thought he had seen was no longer visible so Riley started back up the stairs. His blood went cold as the little bit of light from the kitchen was suddenly cut off as the basement door slammed closed. Riley swallowed hard as he stood in the dark, disoriented and frozen in fear.
He shed one crutch, letting it clatter down the three steps he had climbed, and groped for the railing to help him get his bearings. As he reached the dirt floor, he fanned his hand in the darkness, praying that his fingers would graze the single string standing between the pitch black and a little light. He breathed a sigh of relief when his flailing hand connected with the string. He yanked the cord quickly, the single bulb bursting to life and chasing shadows into the corners.
Riley's heart tripped quickly and he longed to be back in the bright light of the living room, TV or no TV. He looked up the stairwell at the firmly closed door. How the hell had that happened?! Riley scowled at the door. He imagined working his way all the way up the stairs only to not be able to open the door. He might just have to get used to the dreary, cold basement, at least until Colin came home.
A flash of a reflection caught his attention once again. It was the same thing he had seen before. Zeroing in where he thought he saw the burst of light, Riley kept his eyes focused on the spot as he carefully sat down on the dirt floor under the stairs. His hand softly stroked the packed dirt, feeling for any bumps in the surface. As his hand moved across the floor in another sweep, his fingers brushed against something.
He held up his find and stared at it. A key. He turned it in the light, studying it carefully. It was a simple skeleton key of sorts, yet too small to fit any of the doors. The brass was tarnished with time, but Riley could appreciate the beauty of the key in his hand. He turned it up to hold it by the neck and lifted it closer for a better look. The end of the key was a delicately designed mass of scrolling with a tip of metal lace.
Riley wiped the dust from the floor off the key against his pajama pants then clutched it tightly against the rubber handhold of the crutch as he ascended the stairs. He reached the top and balanced his crutch as he placed his hand on the doorknob. He held his breath while he turned the knob then relaxed as it twisted smoothly. He pushed the door open and went through quickly before it had a chance to close again. He looked down the stairwell as the light that was still burning. Colin could go down and turn it off later. There was no way Riley was risking getting stuck down there again.
His mind fixed on the key in his palm, he went back to the sofa, holding the key up to examine it in the glaring daylight from the long front windows.
"What secrets do you unlock?" he asked the key.
As the words left his mouth, he remembered the trunk.
"The trunk?" he asked the key. "Could it be that simple?"
He tossed the key lightly in his palm, thinking. He looked over his shoulder toward the stairs. It was a long shot, but Riley couldn't resist trying.
Tossing back the last of his coffee, he clutched the key tightly and went upstairs. He settled down on the floor in front of the trunk, tossing his crutches aside and put the key up to the lock.
"Here goes nothing," he said, and slipped the key in.
"Hmm," Riley uttered in surprise when it went in with no resistance.
He slowly turned the key and it traveled through the tumblers with ease. The click seemed too loud in the quiet of the bedroom as the lock gave way, releasing the latch.
Riley smiled broadly and reminded the trunk, "Told you I'd get you open."
He slowly reached for the lid and lifted it, the hinges at the back groaning as metal rubbed against metal for the first time in a hundred years. The musty smell of time rolled out of the trunk as Riley raised the lid.
The inside was decorated with peeling paper, faded flowers that appeared at one time to have been blue with yellow scrolling. A picture of two men was centered on the inside of the lid; its edges were yellowed from the years, but the image itself was well-preserved. Neither man smiled, both looking serious for the camera. Both men were looking dapper and distinguished in dark suits and simple ties falling softly at their collars. One man sat in a rocker, his hands holding a derby-looking hat in his lap. The vest he wore bore a print, its color unveiled, hidden in differing depths of black and white hues. His hair was cut short and slicked into place, a style common to the times, Riley assumed. This man appeared to be slightly older than the other, his moustache adding to his age.
The other man stood to his side, his hand resting lightly on the back of the rocker. In his other hand, he held a hat of his own similar in design to the other man's hat. In contrast to the seated gentleman, this man's hair appeared much lighter, a blond that was light enough not to darken with whatever product he used to sweep it back. He was not as big as the older gentleman, his build slighter and not as broad through the shoulders. His eyes seemed to dance even against the flat colorless backdrop.
Riley looked more closely at the picture, squinting as he studied the scrolling leaves across the back of the rocker he could see jutting out around the man's back. Riley stared at the bottom of the rocker and saw the same etching. His jaw dropped as he recognized the detail. Could it be? It had to be. He was sure it was the rocker from the attic.
"Wow," he whispered to the empty room.
Enraptured, Riley lifted out the covered cardboard tray situated at the top of the trunk, anxious to explore the contents further. The trunk was filled, he saw and he could tell by the tray on his lap that it was not empty either. Riley opened the flap covering one of the smaller sections in the tray he was holding. A glint caught his eye, much like the one that had led him to the key in the basement.
It was a simple gold band, the curve of it barely visible as it was tucked back far into the compartment. His fingers closed on it and he lifted the ring from the box to get a closer look. As he raised it out of the tray, he saw a gold chain had been fed through the band as though to wear it as a necklace rather than a ring. The chain dangled from the ring as Riley held it up to examine closely, and he saw an inscription etched inside.
It said simply, "Forever, Love James."
Riley looked back to the picture he had studied earlier and wondered if either of the men happened to be James. Riley unhooked the chain and impulsively placed it around his neck. He touched the band thoughtfully that lay heavily against his chest. It held more unanswered questions than the trunk had. Who was James? Who did the ring belong to? Would he know by the time he reached the bottom of the trunk?
In the same compartment was another ring, larger than the first, and not on a chain. Riley immediately turned it to see the inside, hoping for an inscription that might answer some of the questions playing in his mind.
"Yours always, Samuel."
Riley frowned at the ring. Samuel and James. Neither ring's inscription admitted if the always and forever promises were between Samuel and James. Highly unlikely, Riley told himself. As progressive as the world was that Riley lived in, it was still somewhat unforgiving of same sex relationships. Even more unforgiving 100 years ago, he reasoned. But still, same sex couples were around in those days, too.
Glancing back at the picture on the lid of the trunk, Riley tried to see the hands of the two men. Their hands were subtly turned so if they had been wearing rings, no one would have seen. It was almost as though they posed purposely to hide their hands, the hat covering just enough of one hand and the other folded just so. He tried the ring on for size as he thought about the sentiment engraved on it. It hung loosely around his finger, about two sizes too big.
"Hmm," Riley mused.
He turned back to the tray and opened another compartment. He found odd and end bits of jewelry, tossed in as though an afterthought rather than placed thoughtfully in the box like the wedding bands. There was a sampling of various buttons, some small, some large, in different shades of basic black, gray and white. They were not the molded plastic he was used to, but appeared to be metal covered in fabric.
An odd piece of jewelry caught his attention. Little rose gold ovals were attached to each other by a chain, inscribed with scrolling shamrocks repeated on each of the connected ovals. There was another pair that matched the one he held exactly and he examined them together curiously. Some sort of jewelry for sure, but what? Again he referred to the picture and he studied it carefully.
"I feel like I'm doing the Hidden Pictures game in the Highlights magazine," Riley said to himself.
But this was more interesting, no doubt about it. There! At the edge of the standing man's suit sleeve he saw the same little oval jewelry Riley held in his hand. They were cufflinks. He found another set in the compartment; those were made differently from the first set, but more easily identifiable as cufflinks. The second set was in silver rather than gold, their centers decorated with a white enamel finish that were surrounded by silver flowers framing the enamel. Riley checked the picture, but didn't see the other man wearing these cufflinks, but a pair of yet a different style. Riley scrounged in the tray to find a pair matching the ones the man was wearing but found no other cufflinks.
Putting the jewelry back, Riley selected a pocket watch from the tray. Flowers and vines danced around the outside of the silver case, the works from inside showing through a clear window on the front. The watch had been preserved pretty well for the length of time Riley suspected it had been locked away, showing just the vaguest hint of tarnished silver around the edges. Riley pressed the release on the watch stem and the cover flipped open smoothly. Time had stopped around a hundred years before at 2:05 as far as the watch was concerned.
Riley glanced back over his shoulder and winced at the crick in his neck. He was surprised to see the clock on the nightstand declaring it to be almost 11:00. The morning had flown by. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his back. The stem of the watch pulled out easily and Riley twisted it to set the watch at the present time. He pushed the stem back in and wound it until the watch started ticking, easily awakened from years of sleep. The second hand started moving around the face of the watch as though it had never stopped.
A tinkling sound from deep within the trunk made Riley lay the watch and tray aside. A melody ground out slowly, note by note of a song Riley didn't recognize, but that was surely well-known in days gone by. He moved aside clothes and other paraphernalia to find a beautifully designed yet simple mahogany box inlaid with a carved cluster of flowers trailing over the top. It still shimmered with the high-gloss finish, unblemished. Riley lifted it from the trunk reverently, admiring the handwork as somewhere inside the melody played a final note before coming to a stop once again.
Riley lifted the lid of the music box and gently fingered the clear covering protecting the bronze cylinder etched with miniscule notes of music. There were two levers on the right and a bigger one on the left. He carefully pushed the little ones forward and back, deciding they must somehow start and stop the cylinder. The bigger one seemed to have a greater duty, likely to wind the box as Riley found no other way to do so. Riley worked the left lever a couple of times, winding the music box just enough to cause the cylinder to turn, this time in perfect tempo as the knobs struck the tiny teeth of gold to create a song.
Mesmerized by both the beauty of the tune and box that held it, Riley watched in fascination as the small cylinder turned. He listened intently while he tried to place the song but to no avail. It must have been popular enough to make it into mass production, yet not popular enough to withstand the trial of time. The cylinder turned several revolutions until it ground slowly to a stop, leaving Riley alone in the silence once again.
The box almost toppled to the floor when another high-pitched sound blared behind him. The phone, he realized as he swallowed his heart back into place. Riley struggled to his feet and managed to grab the phone by the fourth ring.
"Hello?" he answered breathlessly.
"What were you doing? Running a marathon?" Colin teased.
"No, just couldn't get to the phone," Riley replied, sinking onto the bed. "You'll never guess what."
"What?"
"I found the key to the trunk."
"You're kidding," Colin said in surprise. "Where was it?"
"In the basement."
"The basement?" Colin asked. "What in the world were you doing down there?"
"The living room breaker threw so I had to go down there. The key was under the stairs and I happened to see it in the light."
Colin laughed. "What light? That bulb barely brightens the space around it."
"I know. A total fluke. I couldn't believe it when it fit."
"So are you going to keep me in suspicion? What was in it?"
Riley lifted the lid on the music box he still held. "It has some jewelry, clothes, and this really neat music box. It's ancient."
"No kidding," Colin said. Riley could hear the smile in his voice. "I can't wait to see it. What else?"
"I don't know. I've been digging through it a little at a time. I saw clothes, but I haven't looked under them."
"Should be interesting," Colin said. "How's the ankle?"
His ankle. Riley had been so caught up in what he had been doing he hadn't given his ankle much thought. Sitting on the floor for the last hour and a half hadn't been the best thing for it apparently, not to mention going up and down dank basement stairs.
"It looks a little swollen," he admitted.
"Why don't you get some lunch and leave the trunk for a little while? We can look through it later when I get home."
Riley looked toward the foot of the bed where the footboard hid the ancient box on the other side. "Maybe in a few minutes."
"You haven't had it elevated, have you?"
Riley groaned to himself. "I did most of the morning."
"Must not have been long enough. Unless you can figure out a way to do it and keep your foot elevated I want you to rest for a while."
Riley sighed. "All right."
"I should be home around 5:30 to take you to dinner. I just wanted to call and check in, see how you were doing."
"Thanks. I'm fine."
"I'd better get back to work. I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you, too."
Riley rested the phone back in the cradle and ran his hand over the top of the music box in his lap. He moved the lamp and clock farther apart on the nightstand, clearing enough room to put the music box there. Beautiful. Whoever it belonged to had taken great care with it. Had Riley not known any better, he would have sworn it was brand new.
He smiled and hobbled back toward the trunk where he had left his crutches. The slight weight he put on his foot to walk the short distance made him wince. Colin was right. He needed to give his ankle a break. He couldn't believe how quickly the swelling set back in.
Riley put the tray back inside the trunk and closed the lid. His stomach growled at the prospect of lunch but Riley ignored it long enough to change into some sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt. He went downstairs on a quest for food, leaving the trunk and its contents for another time.
The music box sat alone on the nightstand, forgotten for the time being. The empty room was filled with a soft melody as the cylinder housed inside the closed music box began to play again, this time to an unseen audience.
TBC
