Chapter 6 #2
The path sloped down a hill, still wide enough for a car to pass, and when she looked back, the building lights were hidden from view. Nor could she see where the dirt road ended.
Maybe “estate” wasn’t as much of a joke as she’d thought.
At the bottom of the hill, the road met a stone bridge.
Cadenza leaned over the side of it, watching the creek splash like black paint in the night.
A bass note shivered up her spine. Movement in the trees at the top of the hill caught her eye.
She stiffened. Who else would be out here?
She cast another look where the road disappeared in the dark, wondering if the property was fenced on the far side or if anyone could walk in.
Someone strolled into view, tall and whistling. Moonlight reflected off the walker’s white T-shirt, illuminating his face.
Taran.
Cadenza hid her face with a small groan. The way the music had been pushing at her last night, she’d been distracted, frantic even, when they spoke. He probably thought she was crazy.
“Cadenza.” She heard the smile in his voice as he spoke. “Evening run?”
“Yeah.” She faced him, trying to look sane.
“It is lovely tonight.” He halted just off the bridge and gazed at the quarter moon. “I didn’t want to stay indoors either.”
Starlight fluted on the blue and black outlines of the hill, mixing with the melody of the creek. Taran stayed still, watching the sky. Something in his silhouette—the width of his shoulders, the line of his back—struck her as familiar.
Say something, he’s gonna think you’re pazza. “I’m sorry about last night. I was just feeling a bit frazzled.”
“That’s quite alright.” The moon made gold highlights in his hair and along his cheekbones. Cadenza did her best not to notice. “Are you feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes, thanks. Although, that’s the second time this week I thought someone was going to attack me.” She pointed back to where he’d appeared out of the trees, trying to laugh it off.
“Oh, bugger me!” His eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, I had no wish to frighten you. And the other night.” He grimaced. “I wasn’t myself.”
“Then who were you?” she challenged.
“Apparently, I was a mess, and a poor excuse for a son, staying away for so long. But”—he laid a hand on his heart in mock solemnity and made a sweeping bow—“I promise, you have naught to fear from me, Lady of the Woods of Norroway Automotive.” He winked, and Cadenza couldn’t help laughing.
As he straightened, the moon flashed off his gold eyes. Rhythm rushed up her spine again.
Where did he get eyes like that? She’d read about people hundreds of years ago with gray eyes, or lavender.
But never gold. Drostan had normal, hazel eyes.
She didn’t know what color Drostan’s late wife’s eyes had been, never having seen any pictures of her.
She frowned. No pictures of Taran. No pictures of his mother.
“Where were you, all that time you stayed away? Drostan didn’t say.”
Taran shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lost in my own issues, I suppose. Selfish really, to make my father worry. But here I am, the prodigal.”
It wasn’t a real answer. She dropped her eyes, cheeks heating. Families were complicated; she knew that better than many. Who was she to pry into Drostan’s?
“Are you taking the road all the way to the outlet?” Taran nodded to where the path vanished in the darkness. If her questioning had offended him, he gave no sign of it.
“I don’t actually know where this goes, I was just running.”
“It ends at a service road that branches off Old Wards Ferry Road. I could show you if you like.” Taran took two steps onto the bridge, but paused, waiting for her answer.
Drumbeats surged through her ribcage, pounding like a snare drum. The creek’s song tangled around her ankles.
Stop it, she scolded. I decide if I walk with him. Not you.
“Only if you’d like. If you’re heading back, that’s fine too.
” Taran gave a small smile, slouching slightly.
Cadenza cocked her head, wondering at the odd posture.
Then it hit her. He stood over six feet tall, and considering the weird way she had first seen him, and now meeting out here in the dark…
He was trying to appear shorter, less intimidating. Trying to make her comfortable.
Her shoulders, still tense, relaxed. “That’d be great. I ought to know the estate better if I’m living here.”
He barked a laugh. “‘The estate,’ is it?”
“That’s what your dad used to call it when I was a kid.” She gestured towards the far side of the road, and they started down the path.
“He would.” Taran chuckled to himself. “Well, as far as getting to know the place, this ‘estate’ runs 5,111 feet from the front entrance to the service road at the back, and 1,942 feet from east to west. That’s 9,925,562 square feet, or 227.86 acres.”
She stared at him. “That’s…specific.”
Taran shrugged. “It’s a specific sort of place. Two hundred and twenty-seven acres sounds like a lot, until you realize that front to back is just under a mile. Going at a fast clip, you quickly run out of road.” He scuffed a toe in the dirt.
“You sound like you’ve tested the edges pretty often.”
“That I have. They never move though,” he said, scratching his head in pretended confusion.
“No, I don’t suppose they do.” Cadenza laughed, even as she wondered when he’d tested the edges. Never when I was here. But Drostan had asked her to simply be happy that he had his son back, so she held her tongue.
The road bent west, running parallel to the creek. Earth and water hummed a night song, present, ready for her to call for more, but for the moment, sottovoce. Nothing blared out to overwhelm her, and she breathed a slow sigh of relief.
A frame drum riffed on her arm, and she frowned.
Each part of the song was traceable. The melody blew around her with the breeze.
That wind chime shimmer was floating down from the leaves in the oaks and willows.
But the drum riff—she couldn’t see where it came from.
Reviewing the last few minutes, she found she didn’t know where the drumbeats on the bridge had originated either.
She hopped to the side to avoid a tree branch that materialized out of the dark and bumped shoulders with Taran. The light frame drum dropped to booming bass notes, filling her chest.
“Sorry!” she said. “There was a branch in the way.”
Taran waved it off, but a crazy idea spun through Cadenza’s mind. It can’t be.
She reached for the frame drum riff. Goosebumps rippled wrist to shoulder. She sidestepped a few paces to walk right next to Taran.
The riff deepened to a rumble.
She widened the distance between them. The rumble calmed to a riff.
Taran glanced up at the stars, giving Cadenza another chance to walk close enough to almost touch him. Again, the drums reverberated through her, deep and booming like timpani. She backed off, and the notes fell to a trickle.
“My father says you’re a singer?” Taran reached to run his fingers through more overhead branches.
“Yes.” Cadenza wrenched her attention away from her experiment, hoping he hadn’t noticed her weaving back and forth. “Mostly opera. But I’ll be singing some jazz in the valley starting this weekend.”
“Brilliant,” he said, golden eyes abandoning the stars to rest on her face. “I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”
The path wove round one more stand of oaks to finish at a gate set into a low fence.
On the other side of the gate, a dirt road ran perpendicular to their path.
Taran walked all the way to the gate and rested his hands on the metal rail, staring past the road, eyes bright.
Cadenza knew that look. It was the same expression she wore when driving through the hills with her father, face pressed against the window, yearning for Somewhere Else.
“Oh, look there! An owl.” Taran pointed across her, his arm brushing her shoulder.
Timpani exploded across her back, stealing her breath.
This was impossible. She never heard music from people. Never. The drums couldn’t be coming from Taran.
“Great horned owl, I think. Did you see it?” he asked.
“Think I missed it.” Cadenza’s eyes hadn’t left his face, so near to hers when he pointed out the owl.
This close, she could see a small scar on the left of his chin.
It made him feel real, and she wanted to trace it.
His shoulder was still touching hers, beats weaving through her bones, rocking her insides until she couldn’t tell them apart from her own heart.
“But thanks for showing me the road. It’s good to know how things… connect.”
Taran’s eyes glowed, the gold singing its own warm rhythm. “Anytime.”