Rembrandt Street - Chapter 5 (B)

Mrs. Willobee was sitting on the couch when the three girls scurried in. "Mama, mama ... Would it be alright if we made popcorn balls?"

"Girls … girls!  Slow down. It would be fine as long as you clean up the mess. What is the special occasion?" asked Mrs. Willobee.

"Well, said Margret, since E’beth is going roller skating..."

“We thought,” Interrupted E’beth “that we might invite a few of the girls over and spend some time down in the Rec-room before the Scout meeting and the popcorn balls would be a great treat!"

"That sounds very good, but who will do the driving?"

"That’s an easy one Mama. Caitlin’s brother is going too, so he said he would drive all of us."

"Who is all of you E’beth?" asked Mrs. Willobee.

"Well, just a few of the girls Mama. It would be Caitlin, Margot, Tammy and Alice.

"Do I know Alice dear?"

"No, I don’t think so. Not yet. She just moved to Chicago over the summer. She is now part of our group. Her Dad is a policeman." reported E'beth.

"Oh? That’s very interesting. I’ll say yes, but I will want you in tonight. You’ve got a very busy schedule and haven’t talked about homework yet."

"Yes Mama, I know. I will do all that on Sunday."

Megan was getting anxious. She asked, "Can I help make popcorn balls too?”

“Sure sweetie! We will let you be our official mixer!  exclaimed Margret.

“Yeah!” cried Megan “Let’s start!”

While the three girls trotted off to the kitchen, Cathy asked her mother, “Do you mind if I stay and we talked a little bit. I’ll be back just after a moment."

“Yes dear, I would be delighted!”

Mr. Willobee interrupted. He had been in the study next to the living room paying bills and listening to a radio story that had just ended. He liked to listen to the channel that read stories of fine literature, but the story had just come to an end for the night. He had been listening to Deabler's, "James and the Animals." Mr. Willobee said that he would be going toward bed and that he had some new text reading to do for the next semester.

“That’s fine dear." said Mrs. Willobee, "I’ll be in a little bit. Don’t read too late. You need your sleep and tomorrow is going to be here bright and early."

“Yes dear.” He said with a chuckle. Mrs. Willobee was in the habit of saying this to him every night.  He reached over to give his wife and daughter kisses on the top of their head. "I’ll just check in on our happy cooks first, and make sure the kittens are tucked in proper. I'm going to cut down one side of their box for their bed."

“Night dear” said Mrs. Willobee.

“Night Daddy,” said Cathy. Cathy left the room.

Mrs. Willobee paused a few moments before picking up her cross stitch project. She’d been working on a small project for church. The church was making baskets to give to some of the poorer folks in town. Mrs. Willobee’s project was a sketch of an older man and woman relaxing after dinner on a porch swing.

She looked around the empty living room and smiled thinking that the apartment sure had filled over the years. When the living room was full, it could accommodate fourteen people comfortably if the office space was utilized too. They had had some marvelous parties here over the years.

There were two couch’s one small and one large in the center of the room. They each sat on green oriental print rugs that matched the couches.  There was a coffee table between the couches.  Toward the front window in front of the couches was Mr. Willobee’s recliner. Mrs. Willobee often took the couch space directly next to him. There was a small table next to the couch which had a good sewing light. She kept her sewing basket under the table. On the inside wall at the other end of the room was a fireplace that used to burn coal. Directly in front of the fireplace there was in the shape of a U a loveseat and two wing chairs. On the wall across from the fire place setting was a piano and bench. Each of the walls contained pictures. Most of them were floral scenes, except above the fireplace there were several pictures of the family and one large Christmas portrait.

Cathy returned with a large glass of ice water and placed it on the coffee table. She picked up the project that she’d been working on so that she could sit down on the smaller couch. It was just a small cross stitch pattern of a snowman that would fit on top of a small jar with Christmas candy. She was making the project for her teacher.

"Mama?" Cathy asked.

"Yes dear?" Mrs. Willobee responded.

"Can I talk to you about the project Sarah and I are supposed to do for school?"

"Well, of course dear."

"You see, we’re supposed to write an article for the school newspaper. Well, at least the top three teams’ articles will be getting printed. Sarah and I had an idea about what our article would be. Mrs. Bently says it should be a holiday article and we need to interview someone. It should be about 250 words and it will be due next Friday. Sarah and I want to do a very good job."

"How can I help Cathy?" asked Mrs. Willobee.

"We were thinking we would like to interview you mama."

"Why would you interview me dear?"

"You do such important volunteer work Mama we thought you would know some very good stories of either the nursing home or with the people with mental retarda ..."

Cathy’s thought was suddenly interrupted. There was a loud discordant sound that made her jump from her chair. Cathy looked at her mother who also looked concerned.

"What on Earth?" asked Mrs. Willobee? “The noise sounds like it is coming from the Johnston's apartment.”  Mrs. Willobee recognized the sound of a piano. As if someone was hitting the cords very hard and as if they were very angry. Then Mother and daughter heard the introduction of a familiar song. It was Beethoven’s, "Moonlight Sonata," but it was only the opening bars that were being played over andover again loud and forceful. It struck her as if the pianist was playing it deliberately harsh. Both Cathy and she then heard a loud sharp scream "NO!"

It was immediately recognized as Silver the little girl from downstairs. Then there was silence which seemed more frightening than the noises. Neither Cathy nor her mother talked for five minutes. Each of them locked in their own thoughts and straining to hear another clue as to what was happening. But there were no more loud sounds coming from the downstairs apartment.  Only silence.