Melodis Tune

by Melodi's Tune (NCP) (lit)

  Darien's amused glance warned her that he wasn't putting up with it this time, either.

  "I think this will be an interesting discussion. Wouldn't miss it for the world." His voice growled in her ear as he put a companionable arm around her shoulder. "Lead on."

  Melodi shrugged his arm away. "Mind your manners, then. No insinuations about you and me. They won't get the same reaction from Joe as they got from Mrs. Perkins."

  They stood on a quiet stairwell that headed into the depths of the building. Darien stepped in front of Melodi. He pinned her against the wall.

  "Tell me about Joe."

  Chapter Six

  She licked her lips. His heat distracted her.

  "I already told you. We were undergraduates together. He's native Penobscot and knows many of the old myths and legends of his people." Angry at his behavior and scared of her own reactions, Melodi put her hands on his shoulders to push him away. She might as well try pushing at the granite that the state seemed to "grow" everywhere, hard and unyielding. He pulsed with hot energy.

  "I want to know what you and Joe mean to each other."

  Darien leaned closer. Melodi's legs trembled. Her breath came in small gasps.

  "Leave me alone." She meant to shout, but it came out weak and small. "What Joe and I shared ended long ago. It's none of your business, anyway."

  "A denial like that provides a wealth of information."

  Darien kept her immobile seconds longer. He had what he wanted, why didn't he let her go?

  Her eyes were round as a frightened doe; her lips, moist and inviting. He bent his head down -- just a touch, a small taste, then….

  A clattering rush of students boiled from classroom doors. Melodi pushed away from him and followed the tide of bodies down the rest of the stairway. Darien followed. He hadn't tried to kiss a girl in school since he was a teenager. The stolen kiss, one of life's sweet treasures. Melodi owed him one.

  He saw her dark head disappear through a doorway. When he reached it, the door was shut and locked. Great.

  He rapped his fingers on the wooden panel and was only slightly surprised when it opened right away. He stared at the giant who blocked his entrance. The man topped Darien's six feet two inches by at least another three inches. The barrel chest suggested a musculature better than Darien had ever developed even after months on weights with a personal trainer.

  The face arrested Darien. It could have been chiseled from the native rock, this high cheek-boned and cleft-chinned marvel. The long, proud nose had dignity. The eyes, deep black, were emotionless. Blue-black hair was brushed back from a high forehead into a neat ponytail to complete the image.

  "You must be Joe," Darien put out his hand to introduce himself.

  The man squinted down at Darien. Darien had the feeling that his measure had been taken. It was a cup half-full kind of moment. What had Melodi ever seen in this giant?

  Joe thrust a hand the size of a catcher's mitt at Darien. His dazzling smile was at odds with the thoughtful look in his eyes.

  "I'm Joe Larkfeather, and you are Darien Stewart."

  It was a statement, not a question. Darien felt a moment's annoyance that Melodi had let his identity loose.

  He nodded and walked through the doorway as Joe eased away. Melodi watched the interplay in silence. Darien caught her uneasy look before she turned away. Audiotapes in racks covered the wall. The equipment surrounding them was familiar to Darien from his own sessions in a recording studio. A light blinked on the console in front of him. Without asking permission, he pressed the corresponding button.

  A sound Darien hadn't expected to hear penetrated his ears. A reed flute, sweeping high, throbbing low, and finally swelling with feeling sang through the loudspeakers. The unfamiliar melody pulled at him. It extended a longing through him that was somehow connected to Melodi. He glanced in her direction. Her reaction matched his. The music ended.

  "I'd appreciate you keeping your fingers off the console." Joe's voice was as deep and melodic as his face was etched and craggy.

  "What was that recording?" Melodi's voice sounded like it came from a distance.

  "Old Abenaki courtship tune. A young man would woo a certain young woman by playing a flute outside her wigwam at night. If he played sweetly enough, the girl might come out and be with him. Often it was prearranged between the two young people."

  "Where did you find it?" Melodi asked.

  "You know how it is with old people. They remember what they want to. My grandfather's uncle played this for me on a flute he fashioned himself. But, that's not why you're here. What's going on, Doe Eyes?"

  Melodi knew that Joe called her by his special name to let her know that he didn't appreciate her bringing Darien along. The endearment brought more heat to her cheeks. At this rate she'd be looking sunburned all winter.

  With her chin up, she said, "We wondered if you could identify this for us." She pulled her recorder from her bag and put it to her lips.

  "Wait." Darien moved to her. "What if it has its usual effect on us?"

  "I don't know. Look, this is the reason we're here." She tried not to be annoyed. "Joe, every time Darien or I hear this tune we, well it's hard to explain without sounding crazy." She hesitated. "For some reason we go into a trance." Melodi knew that even though Joe was as modern as Darien, he internalized a deep awareness of native spiritualism. If anyone could listen to this story and not laugh at them, it was Joe.

  "Play it," he said.

  Darien sat. He preferred losing his sense of time sitting rather than standing and then falling flat. Melodi shrugged and put the instrument to her lips.

  The familiar notes flowed out with all their sweet beauty, but none of their mind-bending power. The last note came out flat. Melodi ended it, unsettled that the tune had lost its potency.

  "How did you know that it would have no influence over us here?" Darien demanded.

  "I didn't know. I sensed it. I was right. It didn't even sound the same. Could you tell? You're the professional. It should have been even more concentrated here in the studio. Instead it was just another pretty melody. Joe, what do you think?"

  Instead of answering, Joe punched some buttons on the console in front of him and said, "Play it again. I want to record it. There's something familiar… I can't quite place it."

  Melodi complied. Again, disappointment filled her when the joyous beauty failed to move her. She felt like she'd lost an essential element of her heart.

  When she glanced at Darien, she saw that his eyes were hooded, his face blank of expression. When he raised his face to hers, she recognized a kindred despair that reflected her own. It rocked her so unexpectedly that she sat down in the nearest chair and, confused, looked away.

  Even without the power of the tune, she and Darien shared a connection that went deep, to the core deep.

  "I'll take this home and play it for Grandfather." Joe removed a cassette tape from the machine and put it into his shirt pocket. "Tell me about this trance state. Sounds to me like Glooskap the Trickster is trying to reach you."

  Melodi pulled her mind back from her emotional turmoil and grinned at Joe. Darien was frowning again. Melodi guessed that he didn't like being excluded from the conversation. She explained the reference to him.

  "Glooskap was part of early Indian creation mythology. As well as being the creator of the Abenaki people, People of the Dawnland of which the Penobscot are a branch, he also enjoyed playing tricks on his children. Many a long winter evening I spent listening to Joe's grandfather tell tales of Glooskap fighting giants, changing people into animals, and more.

  "I don't appreciate Glooskap's attention." Darien slouched in his chair.

  In the bright fluorescent lights his pallor contrasted with the shadows under his eyes. A proprietary urge surged in Melodi. She wanted to take care of him. Feeling Joe's gaze on her, she turned her attention back to him.

  "You're kidding, of course," she said. "You can't believe that an ancient Abenaki
god is influencing our lives."

  "We are all interconnected," he replied. "The place where you are staying was a common camping ground of my ancestors as they traveled to and from hunting grounds and between rivers. The land remembers. Ancient gods may be forgotten, but they do not go away."

  His deep voice stirred memories; they'd had this discussion many times in the past. Often they'd resolved their differences in bed. She felt no tug to return to that relationship, but the memories were warm.

  "Would your grandfather be able to shed any light on this?" she asked Joe. "Even if Darien and I are responding to a type of clinical hysteria, caused by his illness and the pressure I've taken on to finish my dissertation, I find it curious that an ancient melody brings us together."

  "I'll ask him. First, you must tell me everything that's happened."

  With few reservations, Melodi related her experiences. At Darien's nod, she told Joe about his fainting spell and his vision during it.

  Joe didn't laugh. He tapped his sculpted chin and frowned.

  Darien maintained his silent vigil. He watched the interplay between Melodi and Joe. Their ease with each other made it clear that they had once been lovers. It also made him sure that they no longer shared that bond. Relief passed through him -- he wouldn't have to compete with Joe for Melodi.

  Wait a minute. In competition for Melodi? Sure there was a sensual pull, but that was all. The fact that Melodi chose to ignore it didn't escape him. On one level it intrigued him. It might be interesting to convince Melodi that she was attracted to him, get her to admit it. The challenge was hard to resist.

  At the same time, he wondered why she was resisting him.

  Joe's deep voice stopped Darien's mental musing.

  "Come with me to Grandfather's house now. You must not go back to the lake until you've told him your story."

  "We've got to go back." Darien stood and found Melodi beside him. "We've been away too long as it is."

  "Danger waits for you there. Something is pulling you back to a place you do not understand. Grandfather is a shaman. He understands these things better than anyone living today. Come and tell him your story." An urgent plea rang through Joe's voice.

  Darien answered for both of them. "I know it sounds crazy, but you're right. There is something pulling me back. I guess Melodi feels it, too. If I had a choice I'd like to forget this whole thing and get back to why I came to Maine to begin with.

  "If your grandfather wants to come out and talk to the rocks, or whatever a shaman does, you are welcome to bring him. I'll be there. I can't speak for Melodi, but I think this Glooskap fellow is a load of crap." He turned to her. "I'll see you at the car." He stalked out of the room.

  As far as other people's beliefs went, Darien considered himself a sensitive guy. He drew the line at accepting that the mesmerizing power of Melodi's tune came from Native American mythology.

  The wind laughed at him as he made his way back to the car. When he reached it, he found it locked. As he stood in the cold air waiting for Melodi, a bitter blast shook him. It made the dead leaves swirl and skitter around his feet. He stomped, reveling in the rustling crunch as the leaves became dust beneath him.

  Cold wind and autumn leaves don't scare me, he thought. But, I wish Melodi would hurry up.

  * * * *

  "That was rude," Melodi began once they were on the highway again. Tight control kept her from shouting. She'd dragged her feet from Joe's office to the car in order to rein in her temper.

  A compelling urge to return to Lake Sebasticook made her accelerate. She managed to keep to the speed limit by bending her will to spelling out to Darien just what she thought of him. The fact that he was a captive audience helped.

  "Joe struggled for years to find a balance between his ancestral spiritual life and the modern world. His grandfather is a respected shaman, a rarity these days." She struggled for a calm voice. "I should have left you back at the lake the way I wanted to. As it is, you've managed to alienate our best chance of finding out what this tune means."

  Darien glared at her. She sure had a tongue on her. If he'd wanted a scolding he'd visit his mother. He'd tell Melodi just that, if his voice didn't have that warning tickle. Instead he waited for her to run out of steam.

  It wasn't until they pulled into their shared driveway that Melodi had her last say.

  "You know where to find Joe when you're ready to apologize. Don't bother looking for me. If you're in need of companionship, I'm sure you have several numbers to call. Or call Mrs. Perkins. I bet she'd be out here, Darien Stewart Fan Club in tow, quicker than you could play the ABC song."

  She slammed the car door and pounded up the short flight of wooden steps into her small cottage. Darien knew what it was like to be dropped by a tornado, and he wasn't even close to Kansas.

  Pewter storm clouds lowered over the far shore of the lake. Icy fingers of wind rattled the bare branches of the surrounding trees.

  A fire -- Darien wanted its tangy heat to take the chill from the truth of Melodi's words.

  For the first time since he'd arrived, hunger attacked him. Yesterday's meals had been eaten out of politeness. Now he craved something more substantial than soup and a sandwich. He took three hefty frozen entrees from the freezer and put them in the oven. That should fill him up. He started a pot of coffee. The scent of it brewing fed his hunger.

  The urge to make music crept up on him while he ate. By the time he finished the meal he knew that the muse he'd been waiting for had arrived.

  After building a fire in the grate of the music room, Darien hesitated before sitting down to the piano. Lined paper and sharpened pencils lay above the keyboard. The music stand stood naked, waiting for him to give it purpose.

  He recognized the hesitation for what it was -- fear. He felt it before every performance. But this time he had more at stake, more than the fear that singing his heart out for others wouldn't be enough. This moment brought him to the cusp of his old life and the new.

  What if he failed? What if he didn't have a song in him anymore?

  What if all his yearnings to write were ego talking, not talent?

  Darien circled the piano once before he sat on the bench. The gleam of the fire on the polished wood started a quickening in his fingers. He sat and stretched his arms over his head as he contemplated the keys. They'd feel cool and smooth regardless of the fire's heat.

  The crackle of the flames as they consumed the wood created a compelling rhythm in his mind. He urged it to convey something to his hands. Play something of mine, he prayed.

  A fragment came to him, three little notes. As he gave them voice, more followed. New and fresh, his hands translated the electronic impulses from his brain into a delightful rousing tune.

  Magic flowed with the music.

  Darien stopped briefly to start the cassette recorder before submerging into the music again. Soon he lost himself in the creative process and became one with the music.

  Three hours later he looked up from the piano. A chill had penetrated his concentration. Nothing but a pile of embers showed where the fire had danced.

  What was a little chill? He exulted at the scribble-covered scraps and sheets of paper that surrounded the polished piano. Some pieces of paper were crumpled, others ripped to confetti sized shreds. The two sheets he held, these two sheets held something he hadn't experienced in a long time -- creative achievement for its own sake.

  A wild urge to laugh, to sing, to share his accomplishment bubbled up in him.

  Melodi had made it clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. He remembered the flash in her dark eyes as she let off salvo after salvo of hard hitting character bombs.

  He didn't know why, but Darien wanted Melodi to think well of him.

  It would be a cold day in Hell when before he could thaw her out.

  A glance out the window revealed blowing white flakes. At least it was cold enough to snow here.

  The frigid winter months stretched out long
and lonely ahead. If they were going to be neighbors it would be nice if they were on speaking terms.

  Maybe more than speaking terms.

  An apology might work. Might, if it was couched just the right way.

  An idea came to him. No woman he knew had ever been able to resist it. True, Melodi was a unique individual, but he had to try.

  Whistling, Darien strode to the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients he needed. He was about to turn that old adage about the way to a man's heart on its ear.

  Chapter Seven

  In the quiet of her cottage Melodi ate a cold slice of mushroom pizza and a crisp Macintosh apple. Irritation with Darien continued to gnaw at her. The stab of piercing loneliness caught her unawares. She hadn't realized until now how much she'd enjoyed sharing a meal with Darien.

  An unexpected wave of desolation washed over her as she recalled her words to him in the car. Because of them, she doubted she'd see him until the spring thaw.

  The pewter sky that promised snow before the day was out didn't help her mood, but she knew how to fight it. She made a pot of her favorite cinnamon-orange tea and settled at the table she'd set up as her desk. Soon her work consumed her.

  There was no heat left in the cup of tea by her elbow by the time Melodi reached for it. Grimacing at the chill, she set the cup down. Her hands were tired from the -- she glanced at her watch -- three hours of typing her rough draft into her laptop computer.

  As she bent to her task once more a knot in her upper back resisted. She rubbed at it. Time for a short break.

  A quick walk to the lakeshore and back, then she'd be ready to start again. She stopped short at the sight before her as she opened the door.

  "Snow!" Her shout echoed in the quiet air as she grabbed her down vest and leather gloves before running out into the darkening afternoon.

  So much for a brisk walk. Melodi ran and danced through the flying flakes. She forgot her dissertation, forgot where she was and why, she even forgot Darien Stewart in her celebration of the season's first magical snowfall.