Chapter 8
Eight
The next morning Cadenza’s forehead above her left eyebrow ridge was starting to color, and her ribs felt like someone had danced a tarantella over them.
She moved slowly, spending a few more fruitless hours job searching online before giving up, taking some acetaminophen and a nap.
When she woke, the sun was a brass band in the west. She glared at it, applied a layer of concealer over her bruised face, grabbed Reyna Weyland’s business card, and drove to Columbia State Park.
The park smelled just like Cadenza remembered.
She strolled down the wooden plank sidewalk, breathing in the mix of gunpowder and horses while tourists waited for the next stagecoach ride, or tried their hand at panning for gold.
She could taste the sugar from the Columbia Candy Kitchen on the breeze.
The sweet shop’s picture window showed costumed workers crafting old-fashioned candies.
A metallic banging came from a barn up ahead, and she walked that way, ignoring the temptation to buy a fist-sized jawbreaker for old time’s sake.
In the barn, the scent of burning ore scratched the back of her throat, and she coughed, waving away smoke.
Many of the displays in Columbia were just that—displays.
The assayer’s office and the Chinese apothecary showed scenes of how the businesses would have appeared in the 1850s, but from behind glass, like a museum.
The smithy, however, like the candy kitchen and community theater, were live, functioning businesses.
The blacksmith worked behind a counter. She brought her hammer down on a glowing horseshoe, sending sparks flying.
The dim light of the barn threw shadows, accenting the lines and curves of her muscular arms. She sported a leather apron and cornrows pulled back in a low ponytail, the bottom half of each braid dyed a vivid blue.
A family of tourists tossed questions at her, and she fired the answers right back, eyes bright.
Cadenza browsed through the iron wares for sale while waiting her turn to speak to the smith. Something lay on the end of the counter closest to the forge, away from the candlesticks and good luck charms. It looked like a tuning fork, but it was made of solid iron and was as long Cadenza’s arm.
Tuning forks were made of steel, what would someone tune with iron? And with that size? She ran her fingers over it; hum fuzzed over her skin, like a field of static electricity, but no music.
Weird. Cadenza checked over her shoulder, but the family still held Reyna’s attention. She touched the tuning fork again. A thrum danced up her arm, buzzing like some kind of potential energy.
Potential energy, she thought, rubbing the electric feeling off her fingers. Or…potential music?
Had Reyna made this?
Cadenza turned back to face the room. A blonde girl, maybe seven years old, stared at the smith with awe.
“Sure, it’s hard,” Reyna said. “But it feels good too. If I’m frustrated about something I can come into work and pound it out.” She smashed the hammer against the anvil. “But, you gotta have control too.” She made a quieting gesture. “Or you’ll wreck the shape of what you’re making.”
The girl’s parents thanked the blacksmith and ushered their kids to the next attraction. The little girl walked backwards, watching Reyna all the way out the door.
“I think she knows what she wants to be when she grows up,” Cadenza said, approaching the counter.
“Good.” Reyna doused her project in a tub of water. “We need more female smiths. This place”—she nodded around the smithy—“was all men until I bought it out.” She wiped her hands with a rag and pointed to the wares. “Anything in particular you’re looking for today?”
“You, actually,” Cadenza said. “Thomas Learmonth sent me. I’m Cadenza Cavalieri, the other half of your Flower Duet.”
Reyna’s face brightened. “Thomas said you’d be coming by. Reyna Weyland. Just a sec.” She hung up her apron and called to the back of the smithy. “Liesel, you’ve got the front! Be back in a bit.”
She hopped the counter and motioned for Cadenza to follow her out of the barn. “Come on. It’s dinner time and I still haven’t eaten lunch yet. There’s a really cool little tea house up the street. We can grab a bite and talk about rehearsing?”
“Great.” Cadenza jogged a few steps to catch up.
Reyna led them through the park proper and into a neighborhood of historic homes. The tea house sat on a corner, surrounded by flower bushes.
“Garden seating ok?” Reyna asked.
“Sounds lovely.” Cadenza inspected the shop on the way through to the garden. Antique, mismatched tea sets waited on round tables, glass containers of loose-leaf tea sparkled under the lamps, and framed newspaper articles of local ghost stories created instant atmosphere.
“This place is amazing,” she said.
“Right?” Reyna chose a table on the patio and handed Cadenza a menu. “I love it. And, I mean, I love working the forge, but after breathing the fumes all day, coming here is like, ahhhh.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“It smells gorgeous,” Cadenza agreed. The flowers around the patio grew as mismatched as the teacups, rose bushes tangling with masses of hydrangeas.
A server jotted down their order, a hummus and sprouts sandwich with raspberry tea for Cadenza and pot pie with Earl Grey, extra lemon for Reyna.
“So, how did you decide on being a blacksmith?” Cadenza asked. “Is that something you go to school for? Or apprentice to? How does that work?”
“Yeah, they don’t exactly hang posters about it in the school counseling center, do they?
” Reyna laughed. “In eighth grade, I signed up for a shop class. First day, I get there, and the rest of the kids are all boys—including the boys who’d been harassing me the whole school year before that.
I thought about switching to a different class.
” She paused, spinning her water glass on the table.
“But then I thought, ‘Maybe I’m tired of running from these brats.’ So I stayed.
And besides, my grandpa really wanted a pencil holder for his birthday, so I couldn’t very well disappoint him. ” She grinned.
Cadenza laughed and tipped her glass like a toast. “Nice. What happened with the boys?”
Reyna shrugged. “I ended up getting into it with one of them. After the others saw his black eye, they decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.
Later on, my history class did a field trip here.
I saw the fire, smelled the iron. The way the heat created something new out of raw materials really spoke to me.
I talked to the owner about an apprenticeship and worked through that while getting my music degree at Sac State.
I bought the owner out a few years ago when he retired. ”
The server returned with dinner. “Hummus and sprouts with raspberry.” She set a plate in front of Reyna. “And pot pie and Earl Grey. Enjoy.” She hurried off to another table.
“Close,” Reyna said. “Right food, wrong people.”
“Yeah, dinner rush, I guess. Here, swap me.” Cadenza slid her plate across the table. Reyna reached for her order, and Cadenza’s fingers brushed the back of her hand.
Music shimmered from Reyna’s skin.
The notes jumped, light and plucked, like a mandolin. She moved her hand away to pick up her tea and the music vanished. Cadenza gaped at her, mouth open.
“You alright?” Reyna raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, sorry.” Cadenza shook her head. “Just a static electricity shock.”
Two people. She’d heard music from two people.
It had been different this time. With Taran, she could hear the drums from yards away, and the closer she got to him the louder and deeper the beat became.
Nothing had come off Reyna until Cadenza had touched her skin.
Assuming the music really had come from Reyna. Time for another round of tests.
“So, tomorrow afternoon, ok?” Reyna asked.
Cadenza shook herself back to the conversation. “Sorry?”
“To rehearse?” Reyna looked at her expectantly. “You sure you’re ok?”
“Rehearse, yes. Sorry, I was in a bit of a car accident yesterday. I think I’m still a little off.” She brought her fingers to her temple. The only thing off was the earthsong, but if she had to deal with getting run off the road, at least it made a convenient cover for being distracted.
“Car accidents are the worst.” Reyna eyed Cadenza’s forehead. “You did a pretty good job with that concealer; I wasn’t sure if I should ask. You gonna be ok for tomorrow or should we wait a day?”
“Tomorrow’s good. Only I have a student coming that afternoon too. Is it ok if we meet at my place?”
“That’s fine, text me your info.”
Cadenza sent her the address, then followed her back through the teahouse, looking for a way to test the music again, but not finding a reasonable excuse to touch the blacksmith.
Just as she figured she’d have to wait till the rehearsal, Reyna touched her arm in farewell.
The song plucked back to life, flowing in a melody of strings.
It cut off as soon as Reyna removed her hand.
“I’m gonna head back to the smithy,” she said. “It was great meeting you—I’m excited to sing together. Take care of that head.” She waved and jogged off down the street.
Cadenza rubbed her arm, watching the smith’s blue braids disappear around a corner.
Two people.
After stopping by the main sales building to grab her mail and the day’s paper, Cadenza headed to her apartment. She left her garage door open, watching the sunset burn through the sky and paint orange flames on the Berlinetta.
“I don’t know what’s going on with me, bello mio.” She crawled into the driver’s seat like a refuge. The leather warmed, and she snuggled in deeper. “Two people. Magari, potessi parlare pure.”
She sighed. The Ferrari might not be able to talk like she wished, but she could bathe in its song. Eyes closed, she reached for the music. The Gaelic lyrics came easier this time, like they were waiting for her, but they came with pictures.
Dark hills, stars overhead.