It was almost midnight. I put on my coat, slipped on my shoes, turned on the lantern. I crossed the field and let myself into the kitchen. As quietly as I could, I took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and a small pot off the rack. I turned the burner on low and poured in enough milk for one small mug. As I opened the spice drawer for cinnamon and clove, I heard a light switch on in the living room, but I didn’t stop what I was doing.

I wouldn’t let them hide him away. Not any longer.

In the pantry, I found the honey Liz had traded for at the market a few weeks ago. It was thick and sweet and I took a heaping spoonful of it and stirred it into the warmed milk. I added one clove and a sprinkle of cinnamon and poured in a drop of vanilla.

The milk was warm enough now. As I turned the burner off, I heard music come from the piano. Familiar notes.

It was the opening refrain of “Someone to Watch Over Me.”

I stood still at the stove as the song continued, unsure what to make of it. Terry or Julia, I guessed. Was it some sort of comment on my presence there, so late at night? Was it a joke?

I filled the mug with the milk, set the pan in the sink, and made my way to the doorway.

No one was at the piano.

But the melody filled the room, in spite of the emptiness.

And then I saw the piano keys, moving on their own.

I shut off the light and in darkness there she was, the dancing ghost, seated at the piano, but I could only stand to see her for a fraction of a moment—she hurt my eyes, she made me dizzy—so I snapped the light back on and she disappeared. No more music. Just me, alone, in the dimly lit room.

Until Terry emerged from his bedroom and stood in the darkened doorway.

“I heard you playing.”

“It wasn’t me,” I told him.

He didn’t say anything more, just looked at me. I couldn’t tell if there was something else he wanted to say. The room was silent, and all I wanted was to see Lee. I would forget all the rest of it. It was stupid and small. As if a little piano playing would scare me away. As if a man, standing quietly in pajamas, would be enough to stop me.

“Lee’s awake. I’m bringing him some warm milk.” I started up the stairs and didn’t look back.

I tapped on Lee’s door, quietly so as to not wake the others. “Lee,” I said. “It’s me. I’m coming in.”

I turned the knob and entered. He was sitting up in bed. He looked glad to see me.

“Hey, buddy,” I said to him.