Chapter 12
Twelve
Cadenza’s brows pulled together. Reyna didn’t strike her as the type to be late. She was debating whether or not it would be weird to try calling when Reyna’s jeep pulled up next to Cadenza’s sedan and the blacksmith jumped out, apologizing.
“I’m so sorry!”
“Are you ok?” Cadenza asked.
“Yeah. I just had to dump Noah, and it took a little longer than I expected. I should’ve let you know I was running late though.” She let them into the apartment and tossed her bag aside in the entryway.
“Wait, you dumped Noah? What happened? Are you ok?”
Reyna crossed to the piano in the living room and set up her music. “I’m fine. He had his chance, he blew it. Shall we warm up?”
Cadenza stared at her. “You’re fine? I thought you liked him. Do you need a hug or anything? What did he do?”
“He screwed up,” Reyna said. “He told me he’d do something and then he didn’t do it. So he’s out. A guy gets one shot with me and if he blows it, I’m done.”
“Wow. No ‘sorrys’ or anything?”
“Nah,” Reyna said as she played through a couple of scales on the piano. “I’m through with apologies from men.”
“But nobody’s perfect. Everyone’s going to mess up at some point.” Cadenza opened her binder doubtfully, unconvinced that Reyna wouldn’t want at least a modicum of consolation.
“Well, I haven’t found a boy yet who I felt like sticking around for after he messed up. As soon as a guy breaks my trust, whatever crush I had on him is gone.” She snapped her fingers.
“I guess that’s better than waiting around for him to break your trust again?”
Reyna’s fingers stilled on the keys, and she sighed. “I hope so. Because once it’s gone, I can’t get it back even if I want to.”
Cadenza didn’t know what to say. She had about as much experience with boyfriends as she did with any friends, so who was she to say what was healthy and what wasn’t? It wasn’t as if her parents had been a great example.
Reyna shook her hair back. “Shall we sing?”
Cadenza sat on the bench next to her and nodded. “Just, you know, if you decide you do need a hug or something, I’m here.”
Reyna smiled and bumped shoulders with her. Strings plucked briefly to life at the contact. “Thanks, friend.”
Cadenza’s heart glowed. Friend. “Anytime. I was thinking we should start on measure twenty-three.” She pointed to a spot on the sheet music.
An hour passed with “The Flower Duet” and critiquing each other’s solos.
When Reyna went to the kitchen to make iced tea, Cadenza took a closer look around the living room.
Iron work hung over the mantelpiece. Spirals and curlicues and diamonds.
More delicate and intricate than the souvenir horseshoes and picture frames that sold in the smithy.
In the center of the wall hung a piece shaped like a pitchfork with only two tines. She touched it, and energy buzzed her fingertips.
“Is this the same piece from the smithy?”
Ice cubes clinked as Reyna handed her a glass. “Yup. I take it back and forth with me.”
“It’s like, two feet long and solid iron. Isn’t that a pain to carry around?”
“It’s my favorite out of everything I’ve made; I like having it with me.” She looked at Cadenza curiously. “Most people don’t even notice it. You’re the first one to ever comment on it.”
“How do you not notice a giant tuning fork?” Cadenza asked, incredulous.
Reyna shrugged and laughed. “I guess not everyone’s a musician. Next week still good for you?”
Cadenza nodded and scooped up her things.
“Yeah, see you then.” She skipped down the stairs, banjo notes teasing her ankles, and tossed her things in the backseat.
The boys in Norroway Auto’s body shop had banged out the dents from the accident and replaced what couldn’t be hammered straight.
Drostan refused to let her pay him for the work or the parts.
Her stomach clenched in knots thinking about it.
It’s ok, she told herself. When I’m famous, I’ll get him box seats.
She settled in the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.
The sedan hummed, tame and predictable. Maybe she’d have time to run the Ferrari when she got home.
Or even better, take the Ferrari out with Taran after he got back from wherever it was he spent his days.
When she asked, he only said he was working off a debt.
She revved the engine, imagining the Berlinetta instead. Reyna jogged down the stairs waving a binder in the air.
“Cadenza! We mixed up our music, I think you’ve got mine.”
Cadenza opened her binder and found Reyna’s notes scribbled over the sheet music instead of her own.
“Oops, looks like we did.” She hopped out of the car, met Reyna halfway up the stairs and swapped binders. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. Just glad I caught you.” Reyna sniffed. “Is something burning?”
Cadenza turned. Dark smoke poured out from under the hood of her car. “Oh my—” She ran down the stairs just as the hood exploded and flames jumped up to eat at the air.
Reyna sprinted inside the apartment and came back with a fire extinguisher. “Isn’t this the same car you just got back?” she asked, covering the engine block with white foam.
“Yesterday,” Cadenza groaned. “Doesn’t even make sense, they just fixed it.
” She squeezed her arms around her middle, watching her plans go up in smoke, and the knot in her stomach burning like the engine.
Blood rushed in her ears. “I was supposed to sell it.” Her breaths came quick and shallow.
“A week, I just have… I can’t…” Her fingers dug into her ribs.
White stars hemmed her vision. Her head vibrated like a wasp nest.
“Cadenza?” Reyna asked.
“I can’t, I can’t.”
“Hey, hey.” Reyna touched her arm, made her look her in the face. “Breathe. It’ll be ok. How about I give you a ride back up the hill, and we can have your boss tow it. We’ll figure something out, ok?”
Breath slowing, Cadenza swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah. Thanks,” she said. “I’ll owe you.”
“There’s no owing, Cadenza. Friends don’t owe.” She rubbed Cadenza’s arm, her string melody shimmering. “Besides, I’ve been there. Come on.”
Night fell outside the garage, but the day’s warmth radiated from the Ferrari’s leather seats, soaking into Cadenza’s shoulders, lightening the weight of the black hole her charred car had left in her chest.
After Reyna had dropped her off, Drostan had come by with chocolate, another loaner, and the idea of selling whatever parts they could salvage. Taran usually showed up this time of day, and when he arrived, she knew he’d wrap her in a hug, safe and steady as his heartbeat.
Turtle chocolates and rides. Tea you drank and tea you spilled.
Arms that kept the world at bay. This was what it meant to have friends.
To have people who cared about you with no thought for what they’d get in return.
And if they cared, perhaps she was worth being friends with.
Perhaps she was more than just a crazy girl who heard things.
And with Taran, more than friends? But they’d only spent a week together and if all went according to plan, she’d leave the country next month.
She bit her lip. Cadenza held no illusions about long-distance relationships.
Ilaria had left California to return to Italy and her performing life without even attempting to maintain a thirteen-year marriage.
What hope did one as young as hers and Taran’s have?
And what about Reyna? Nurturing a new friendship across continents wasn’t any easier.
Even if they cared now, when she came back from Venice, would either Reyna or Taran be interested in seeing her again?
If she came back. For the first time, the thought of an invitation to stay in Italy filled her with apprehension instead of ambition.
One thing at a time, Cadenza. She leaned her head on the steering wheel and hummed the Berlinetta’s song, the melody curving around her like a hug.
A line of percussion interrupted the tune. She snapped her head up. That was new. The car had only ever given her melody before.
The beats played again, rising and falling like a radio station just out of range. A boom rippled through the floorboards, rattling the car. Bodhran and bass slammed into her.
Taran.
Cadenza swam through the rhythm searching for her anchor. She squinted into the night searching for him. She found neither.
She pushed out of the Ferrari, and the drumsong ebbed. She stared at the car. That made no sense. Maybe Taran was around the corner? She ran to the edge of the garage, scanned the road. No one. Where was he?
The waves of drums peaked, slamming into her from behind, dropping her to one knee. And then, there it was.
Taran’s heartbeat.
Coming from behind her. In the garage.
Cadenza turned to the sound. Taran stood where the Ferrari had been seconds ago, bent over, breathing hard. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, caught Cadenza staring at him, and froze.
Her mouth moved wordlessly. She’d been standing right here. In the middle of the garage door. No one drove the Ferrari out. Taran didn’t walk in.
Ferrari yes, Taran no. Ferrari no, Taran yes.
Impossible.
“Where’s the car?” The words squeaked out of her, strained.
“Cadenza—”
“Where’s the car?” she demanded, louder this time. “All this time, I kept asking, where’s the car? And you wouldn’t tell me.”
“Cadenza.” Taran staggered a step forward.
She paced back and forth, arms drawing her shock in the air. “No. You wouldn't tell me because—oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” Her voice climbed an octave, and she threw her hands up.
“No. I’m insane! I really am. Hearing things, seeing things.” And now Taran was seeing her rave like a lunatic. Because he must have come into the garage and she just didn’t see him. Any other answer was crazy.
Just like her.
How could she ever have thought people would think her worthy of friendship, or anything else? She was hallucinating, and Taran would think she was crazy.
“Because I am,” she sobbed. “Sono pazza!”
“Cadenza, if I can just—”