Chapter Five #3
“I think I might. I’ve been thinking about it since talking with Gina. I want to try some of the mountain music. Any favorites?”
He studied her for a moment.
“Orange Blossom Special, but it’s a hard one. Do you think you can play it the way it should be played?”
Was he throwing that out as a challenge? She’d heard the song before, she knew how complex it was, and how fast it was played. Could she do it?
“Maybe I’ll work on that for you,” she said, opening the door. “Thanks for taking me today. I enjoyed meeting everyone and talking with Gina. Next time, I can bring some food. I do know how to cook.”
“Good to know.”
She walked into the house hearing the truck pull out. Pausing at the door, she watched as it turned into his place and was lost from sight when it went to the far side of his cabin.
Scanning the sky she wished for another storm. But the sky was a cloudless blue. No excuse to go to her neighbor’s for dinner today.
Kirk quickly showered and made a hasty dinner.
After eating, he headed for his studio. He was tired after the day’s work, but still anxious to get going on the new carving he’d thought about all day.
He had just the block of wood for it, a huge center of an oak that had to be almost four feet across.
He’d had it a few years, not knowing what he wanted to do with it. Now he did.
It took block and tackle to get it moved over to the center of the room.
Too tall to put on the table; he’d have to work on it on the floor.
Studying it from all angles, he then sketched out the outline of the image he had in mind.
Then penciled the overall shape on the side to know where to start carving.
In only moments, he was completely caught up in the wood, the tools and the vision.
It was late when he straightened and realized how tired he was.
He’d made a start, however. It wasn’t easy using oak, much harder wood than others he used.
But the lines in this were perfect. The shape of trees and a figure on the edge of a cliff were roughed in.
It would take weeks to get it the way he saw it in his mind.
Enough for tonight. He needed to get some sleep.
Crossing the distance to his house, he glanced at the house next door. Would he finish it before Angelica left? If he worked at it full time he could. Did he want her to see it? It was the most personal thing he’d ever carved.
And he wasn’t sure he could capture the expression on the face—awestruck, delight, freedom. Maybe that’s what he’d call it—freedom.
The next morning the phone rang while Kirk was still eating breakfast.
“Hi Kirk, it’s Webb Francis,” the voice on the other end said.
“How’s it going? You coming home today?”
He waited a moment while the older man coughed.
“Not coming home for a while. My sister heard I was sick and is planning for me to stay with her in Louisville until I’m fit again. I may get discharged from the hospital later this week. Here’s hoping. How’re things there?”
“Fine. You’re missed. Gina especially wants to talk to you more about the festival. Speaking of which, your guest plans to play in it after all.”
“Angelica Cannon, that’s wonderful. She’s a rare talent. From what I hear she’s played as a soloist in the New York Philharmonic already at her young age. And some of her solo concerts have been reviewed to high accolades. She’s the reason I’m calling.”
“Did you call your house?”
“I tried there earlier, no answer. I was feeling better yesterday so I called Ryan Simmons.”
Kirk tried to remember anyone he knew by that name.
“Do I know him?”
“No, he was Angelica’s professor at the conservatory. He’s been trying to reach her, but her cell isn’t on—or not working in Smoky Hollow more like. Anyway, can you let her know he needs to talk to her. She can use my phone, don’t worry about the cost. She learning anything?”
“I don’t know about that, but she’s borrowed a stack of CDs from the library and seems to be faithfully working with those kids each afternoon.”
“They’ll learn a lot from her. Wish I could be there, but Betsy is so adamant about my coming to her place, she’s threatened to send Charles to wrestle me there if I don’t go on my own.”
“Let her fatten you up. As I remember, Betsy’s a great cook.”
“Yes, just what I need.” He coughed again. “Sorry to ask you to keep an eye on my place longer.”
“That’s what neighbors are for, you know that. Anyway, Angelica is melding in fine. She’s leaving after the festival.”
If he said it often enough, he’d remember it—and keep that fact in the forefront of his mind.
She’d looked good enough to eat when she arrived yesterday afternoon at Carrie and Ben’s.
But by the way she’d almost run around the truck and then dashed into the house when they reached it, she didn’t share that growing awareness whenever she was around.
He was having a hard time remembering she was only visiting.
“Figured she’d only stay a little while. She has a career in New York. I’m sorry I can’t play with her. I bet that would be something.”
“Your sister’s care will have you recovering quickly. You might make the festival—play a duet or something,” Kirk said.
“We’ll see. Tell her to call Professor Simmons.”
Kirk replaced the receiver after the call. He wanted to get to work on the new carving, but it wouldn’t take long to give her the message.