Chapter 9 #2
And the drums.
Always the drums.
They washed over Cadenza like waves on the shore, bodhran trills first, then rolling tide and rumbling earth, timpani and kettle drums. She anchored to his heartbeat as she’d practiced the night before, and the tide and earth settled.
“Hi,” she said. Such a tiny word for what happened when she saw him.
“Good evening. Ready?” Taran stood aside and gestured at the stairs. No Ferrari greeted her at the bottom, and she cast him a sidelong look. Where did he put it each evening?
“I thought a nighttime picnic would be fun.” He scooped up a basket at the door of the garage and led her towards the fields behind the racetrack.
A night wind fluted around them, the barest wisp of September under its warmth.
Deep cello notes bowed from the oak trees, and the stars chimed like far-off bells.
Taran spread a blanket next to a copse of live oak.
The estate road ran on the other side of the trees.
The field spread before them, blue and shadowed in the starlight.
Taran lifted a container from the basket and proffered it with two hands. Cadenza raised an eyebrow at the fudge on the plate.
“Dessert first?”
“Life is long, might as well eat dessert first.” He bit into a piece of fudge with relish.
“Life is long?” she asked, laughing. “Don’t you mean life is short?”
“Nae, nae.” He lay on his side, propped on one elbow. “Life is longer than people think. And if you’re going to be here all that time, you might as well enjoy it. Try some.” He lifted a square of fudge to her mouth.
She hesitated. Plenty of dessert in Italy. But his face was light, with no expectation in his eyes other than that she try a bite. Stretched out next to her as he was, his head was lower than hers. Still trying to give me space.
Cadenza closed her eyes and took a bite. His fingertip brushed against her lip and a line of bodhran song danced up her cheek. Chocolate melted on her tongue, rich and dark.
“Worth savoring, no?” he asked.
When she opened her eyes Taran held her gaze, steady and clear. Rhythm rolled around her like the tide coming in.
Cadenza shifted, clearing her throat, and Taran broke eye contact.
“Who made the fudge?” she asked.
He sat up to touch away a crumb from the corner of her mouth. More bodhran notes rippled across her face and down the side of her neck. “I made it. Dessert’s a bit of a hobby of mine.”
“You made this?” she asked. “It’s amazing.”
“You sound surprised.” He laid a hand on his chest, eyebrows raised. “It would be sexist to assume a man couldn’t make a decent fudge.” He clucked his tongue and shook his head, feigning disappointment. “I’m heartbroken, Cadenza.”
“Oh, you—” She shoved him with a shoulder, and he burst out laughing.
The shove scooted her closer to him, but she didn’t move away when he finished laughing, and when she leaned back, she bumped up against his arm.
He didn’t move it away, and she stayed, content to lean on him, soaking up his drumsong.
“So,” he said. “I thought we could have a game.”
“Ok, what kind of game?”
Taran pulled drinks out of the picnic basket with his other hand and pried one open for her. “I was thinking a question game.”
Cadenza washed down another piece of fudge with her drink. “Alright. I’m liking this whole dessert first thing, by the way.”
“Good. Because I’m not nearly as accomplished with dinner as I am with dessert. I’m afraid this whole basket is dessert.”
She laughed. “Not the worst news I’ve had today, believe me. What’s the first question?”
“First question. Where do you fit with your siblings?”
“I’m the youngest. Two older sisters. Drostan said you’re the youngest too, right?”
“That’s right. Ruairi is the oldest, then Cyrus, then,” he pointed to himself. “Which is grand, because in the stories, it’s always the youngest what gets to go on the adventure.”
Cadenza snorted. “I must still be waiting for my adventure.”
“Here, try this. A culinary adventure, if you will.” He rummaged through the basket and pulled out another plate.
“Is that cheesecake?” she asked.
“Caramel cheesecake.” He fed her a forkful, and she closed her eyes, savoring.
“Oh, you are wicked,” she murmured, caramel filling her senses. “And that is as amazing as the fudge.”
“Wicked, nae,” he protested. “I’m innocent as a lamb.” He smirked, mischief sparkling in his eyes.
Cadenza savored another bite of cheesecake with Taran’s arm pressed into her back, warm and solid. His heart beat steadily, balancing the ocean of drumsong so she could hear the music but stay present in the world around her.
“Your turn to ask a question,” he said.
She hesitated. This moment—Taran, cheesecake, the stars—dazzled her. She didn’t want to lose it, but even though she’d learned some things from Taran the night of the car accident, there were plenty of other things that didn’t make sense.
“Ok,” she said. “Don’t take this wrong, but where do you put the Ferrari at night?”
“Where do I put the Ferrari at night?” he asked, hand halfway to his mouth with another bite of fudge.
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s your car, despite whatever I said when I hit my head.”
He chuckled lowly.
“You’re obviously not driving it anywhere,” she continued. “But it’s gone every night. Do you not think it’s safe in the garage or something?”
“Safe? Oh, no, it’s perfectly safe there. It’s just that I think it might like to get a breath of fresh air. See something besides those four walls.” His tone teased, but his eyes ranged around the field as if they were surrounded by four walls even outdoors.
“The car wants a breath of fresh air?” she asked dubiously.
“Aye,” he answered. “Don’t you? Isn’t that what Italy is about?”
An impulse hit her. To tell Taran about the vision of running and leaping in the night sky she’d seen while singing to the car. To tell him all about the music she heard in the world. To tell him about the drums she heard from him.
She squashed it. That would sound crazy. And she was not crazy.
Besides, the Ferrari was his car. If he chose not to tell her where he parked it at night that was his business.
“I guess part of it is,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to push out of walls. To go places, see things.” There. That was safer to share. And a safer topic than the car which made her want to share unsafe things.
Taran shifted closer, his hip just barely touching hers. She sucked in a breath at the rise in drums but held on to his heartbeat.
“Where would you go,” he asked. “If you could go anywhere, right now?”
“So many places!” She swept a hand through the air as if setting a scene.
“Italy, for starters. Toscana, to see where my dad is from. But so many other places too. I’d love to design a whole European tour around famous opera houses.
Really, I just want…” She sighed. None of these places were options unless she had a plane ticket within two weeks. “Somewhere Else.”
“What about you?” she asked, twisting to see his face better. “Where would you go?”
Taran held her gaze, the hot gold of his eyes crashing in waves like his song. “Where would I go?” he whispered. He wrenched his eyes away from her, and she shivered in the sudden cold.
“Somewhere Else.” He savored the words like the cheesecake. His bodhran tune tripped up and down Cadenza’s spine, and the lilt of his accent shivered along her arms.
“Aye.” He nodded, voice quiet. “Somewhere Else would do nicely.”