The climb took hours, or maybe minutes. Time was slippery in the tower.
They reached the belfry. It was an open-air platform, exposed to the purple winds of the upper atmosphere. Above them, the massive face of the clock glowed, the hands moving relentlessly.
In the center of the room, sitting on a velvet pillow, was a small, wooden box.
It was painted with peeling gold stars. The lid was open. A tiny ballerina—a cat in a tutu—spun slowly in the center.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
The melody was distorted, warped by the wind, but Noah recognized it instantly. It wasn't a complex song. It was simple. Repetitive.
Noah walked toward it. The wind whipped his hair, trying to push him back, but he leaned into it.
He reached the box. He put his hand on the lid.
ZAP.
The hospital room was quiet. The only light came from the hallway.
Katy was awake. She was staring at the ceiling.
"Daddy?"
"I'm here, baby."
"It's too loud," she whispered. "The beeping. It's too loud. It sounds like a bomb."
Noah stood up. He walked to the side table and picked up the music box he had bought at the hospital gift shop.
"I can fix that," he said.
He wound the key. He opened the lid.
The tinkling melody filled the room. 'You are my sunshine... my only sunshine...'
It didn't drown out the monitor, but it softened it. It turned the mechanical beeping into a rhythm section for the song.
Katy closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed, matching the tempo of the music.
"You make me happy," Noah sang softly, stroking her bald head. "When skies are grey..."
"Don't stop, Daddy," she murmured, drifting off. "Don't let the grey come back."
"I won't," he promised, winding the key again. "I'll keep playing until the sun comes out."
But his hand was cramping. And the key was getting harder to turn.
ZAP.
Noah stood in the belfry, his hand frozen on the key of the music box.
"I stopped," he whispered. "Eventually... I had to stop."
He closed the lid. The music died. The wind howled, filling the silence.
"She couldn't sleep without it," Noah said to Mittens, placing the box in his pocket. "And I couldn't keep playing forever."
"You played as long as you could," Mittens said. "That counts."
Noah looked up. Above the clock face, there was a ladder leading to a glass dome at the very pinnacle of the spire.
"One more," Noah said, looking at the stars. "She wanted to go to the stars. We have to go up."