Charlotte had been more subdued on the way to the house this time, perhaps sharing my worries about another failure.

Though I told myself my primary purpose was to learn how to control my power, I confess that in the forefront of my mind was my desire to please Charlotte, and prove my worth to her.

Upon our arrival, the sun peeked through the trees. The house, though still drab in appearance, took on a slightly more hospitable glow, at least to my mind.

We explored the property, but found nothing of interest but the old well and a dilapidated shed, mostly lacking its walls and still barely sporting a roof. We left the horse tied there so it could take shelter from the midday sun and because Charlotte was concerned it might rain later in the day.

After this, we could put off entering the house no longer. I felt only minor apprehension as we mounted the steps and unlocked the door.

Inside, the hazy sunlight filtered in through the grimy windows. The persistent hum of memories was again present, but this time I found it less discordant. More familiar. "Can you discern anything from it?" Charlotte asked.

I sighed. "Not yet."

I kept my hands to myself, deciding this time to choose my objects more carefully. We wandered about the front sitting room, peering at everything, while Charlotte recorded her observations in her small notebook. I noticed a low bookcase this time, filled with romantic titles of the recent past.

Eventually, we moved on to the piano room. Charlotte began rearranging some of the piles of clutter, stacking what seemed likely irrelevant to our investigation in a corner out of the way.

I was drawn to the birdcage. So odd an object with its morbid inhabitant. I closed my eyes, concentrated, and ran my fingers along its narrow bars.

It was as if one sound suddenly rose out of the background buzz of memories. A quick and lively series of chirps, repeated three times and then dying away.

"Did you hear that?" Charlotte asked, lifting her head. "A wren."

I opened my eyes and removed my hand from the cage. "You heard it too, then? The bird?"

She nodded, and her eyes grew bigger with wonder. "This is amazing!" she squealed with delight.

Pleased with myself, I moved over to the piano bench. "Let's try this," I said, my hands hovering just above the keys.

"Don't tax yourself," she warned, but made no move to stop me.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and let my mind melt like ice into water. I lowered my hands to the keys. At first, nothing happened. Then a fragment of a song came to me, as if on a breeze. I somehow knew it. My fingers began to move, practically of their own accord.

A greyish haze began to creep over my vision, but I calmly accepted it this time, and simply closed my eyes to it. I could feel my fingers moving. I could hear the delightful music, though the piano was certainly in need of tuning.

When I finished, I blinked open my eyes and swooned. Charlotte rushed to my side to steady me, kneeling down to look me in the eyes. I saw tears glistening in hers.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh," she replied, dabbing away a tear. "That was a popular song from when I was very young. It brought back memories of happy times." She smiled. "I didn't know you play the piano so well."

I looked down at my own hands. "I don't."

***

"This is incredible!" Charlotte veritably danced into the kitchen. "Try this," she said, gesturing to the stove. It was an old-fashioned, wood-burning variety.

"I thought you wanted me to reserve my power," I said, but she waved my concern away.

The cast iron was cold under my palms. Slowly it grew warmer so that I had to take my hands away for fear of getting burned. The air around me was permeated with heat. I felt Charlotte grasp onto my arm as the aroma of cooking eggs filled the air. "Wonderful!" she breathed.

I felt as though the house was coming alive around us.

"Come!" she shouted, pulling me by the arm. We raced up the narrow back stairway that came out at the end of the upstairs hall, near the empty room.

She dragged me into the mother's bedroom. I had begun to feel a bit dizzy as the buzz of memories had grown louder in my ears.

Charlotte looped her arm around one of the tall bedposts and swung from side to side, as a child might do. For a brief moment, I saw her clearly as that little girl, auburn hair in double braids and a grey cotton dress swirling about her knees. She reminded me of Evangeline, and suddenly I didn't know if I was imagining or remembering.

Then she was calling my name, and the spell was broken.

I came over to her and she pulled me by the hand. We flopped down on the bed side by side, laughing.

The light in the room changed as we lay there, becoming brighter. Instead of the ceiling, there was now an airy yellow canopy above us. We rolled on our sides and looked around the room. A brown braided carpet lay on the floor where none had been before. A woman sat at the dressing table with her back to us, brushing her hair as she looked in a large mirror. She was humming a song, as the notes of a piano reached us haltingly from downstairs, as if someone were practicing. "Amazing!" Charlotte exclaimed, bolting upright.

The vision disintegrated around us, leaving the room darker, quieter, more empty. We looked at each other, astounded.

We both bounded up and ran to the next room. The buzz of memories was strong in my mind, seeming both close and distant at once, like hearing the beating of your own heart in your ears. I felt light-headed and intoxicated.

"Try this!" she cried, grabbing a handheld mirror from the dressing table and thrusting it into my hand.

I felt like I was in a bubble, like I was moving underwater, as I brought the mirror up in front of me.

The face that peered back at me was not my own.

It was a woman with dark hair and sad brown eyes. She was pale and her face was too thin, so that she appeared gaunt and unhealthy. I pulled back in surprise and the face mimicked my reaction.

My vision started to go black, my knees buckled. As I fell to the floor, my hand and the mirror slammed into the corner of the table, shattering the glass. I felt my head hit the floor, felt the blood trickling on my fingers and then I succumbed to darkness.

------

The next thing I remember, Charlotte was helping me sit up. "You weren't out for very long, thank goodness."

She had wrapped a torn piece of bedsheet around my cut hand. It didn't seem to be bleeding much. The frame of the broken mirror lay on the floor, but she must have cleaned up the shards of glass.

"I'm getting rather good at blacking out," I offered, trying to make light of what had happened.

"I hope you're all right. We still have so much more to do!"

I looked away from her, feeling a tinge of anger. Did she only care about her job? Didn't she care about the toll this had taken on me?

She helped me stand up. "You've made an amazing breakthrough in your abilities today!" she continued. "You must be thrilled!"

I ignored her and searched for it. Yes, it was still there, the buzz of memories humming in the background. Unreasonably, it comforted me somehow, to know it hadn't left me.

Charlotte peered into my eyes and her own eyes noticeably softened. "You need to rest. This is all my fault, isn't it? I pushed you too hard," she exclaimed. "Here, come sit down." She shuffled me over to the bed.

I was frightened to sit down on it, but nothing happened. Perhaps after this episode my energies were again "spent." It was something of a relief.

The sunlight coming through the window cast a glow onto the bedclothes, and onto Charlotte's auburn hair. "Maybe we just need to take it easy for a bit," she suggested. She did care about my well-being after all, I thought.

"I'm famished. Can we go downstairs and get something to eat?"

"Of course!" she agreed wholeheartedly.

On the way out of the room, I lingered by the dressing table, stopping to pick up the handheld frame, now devoid of its mirror.

As I looked at it, Charlotte called from the hallway, "Come on! You need to regain your energy. Then we can get back to work!" I frowned.

Impossibly, the woman's sad, worn face stared back at me from the empty frame, frowning too. It was a lonely face. I quickly tossed it down on the table and fled the room.