Miriam Caldwell had been living in the house right beside the Mercer farm for a whole 63 years. In all that time, she'd seen the family there grow up, change, and some of the older folks turn into memories. Now that she was 71, she mostly spent her days out in the garden or chilling on her front porch, just watching the world go by like it's something you do when you've got all the time in the world.
So, when she heard this singing coming from Mara's place on a quiet Tuesday morning, it really caught her ear. It was a man's voice, not the greatest singer, but there was something about the tune that hit her right in the heart. It was a song she hadn't heard in ages, not since her grandma used to sing it on those cozy autumn evenings when the leaves turned gold and you could feel winter coming.
Cr Cr Cr Autumn Grey, never thought you'd always come...
Miriam couldn't believe it. That was her grandma's song—"Autumn Grey." It was like something from another lifetime, a real oldie, and she hadn't heard it sung live in over 40 years. The song had always been a special thing, something people passed down in their families through tough times and when they needed a little hope.
When the sun started to set, Miriam got dressed up in her Sunday best and walked over to Mara's with a pot of chicken soup. It's what you do when you know someone's not feeling well.
Mara opened the door looking kind of tired, with a baby, Emma, in her arms. "Hey, Mrs. Caldwell," she said, a bit confused. "Is there anything wrong?"
"Just brought some soup," Miriam said, holding up the pot. "I heard you've got a guest who might need a good meal."
Mara took the soup but looks like she's not too keen on letting Miriam in. "He's not really up for company at the moment."
"Oh, I'm not here to bother him," Miriam said quickly. "I just wondered where he picked up that old tune he's been singing."
Mara looked a bit puzzled. "What tune?"
"'Autumn Grey'," Miriam said, her eyes a little misty. "It's an old mountain song my grandma used to sing to me. It's been ages since I've heard it."
Mara sighed. "Well, he's been pretty sick, just having fever dreams mostly. I don't think he even knows he's singing."
Miriam nodded. "Those old songs have a way of finding us when we least expect it, honey."
That night, after putting Emma to sleep, Mara went to check on Grey. He was awake, just sitting there, looking at the wall. "Your neighbor brought soup," she told him, setting the bowl down. "And she heard you singing."
Grey looked at her, surprised. "Singing?"
"Some old song called 'Autumn Grey'. She said it's a mountain tune."
For a second, something passed over Grey's face—like maybe he remembered something, but it was gone so fast. "I don't remember singing," he said.
But later that night, as Mara lay in bed, she could faintly hear that same song, just a little whisper coming from Grey's room. And it made her wonder if her cousin was more than just a beat-up soldier trying to get better. Maybe there was a whole other story there, just waiting to be told.