Chapter Fourteen
The Locket
Kayde leapt up and spun around to find a lone paw stretching through the crack under the door. The paw seemed a creature all its own for a moment, reaching and searching for something to stick its claws into. Kayde found himself smiling, in spite of his former annoyances with the animal.
The cat soon lost interest and meowed its way down the hall. Flopping with his back against the bed, Kayde stared at the ceiling, feeling drained. He attempted to sleep for half an hour before his buzzing mind drove him out of his room. He needed to do something with his hands to clear his head.
Mrs. K was still gone, probably having tea with her old lady friends in town—or maybe with that other policeman, Adams. He’d seen Adams flirting with Mrs. K on occasion. In any case, Kayde was grateful. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
Sidestepping the cats, he made his way out of the house and to the garage. Once inside, he pushed the garage door button, inviting the fresh spring air and warming sun into the dank building. Then, he strode toward the west wall where a wooden work table, covered with scattered tools, waited in quiet patience to be used. Kayde had grown accustomed to the tools, using them for fixing drains, lawnmowers, and the white wooden fence that bordered Mrs. K’s incredibly large lawn.
Kayde looked longingly at the covered Indian resting peacefully in the corner. A brief temptation washed over him before he dismissed it. Mrs. Kline had been good to him while he’d been here. He wouldn’t take anything from her without asking. The realization startled him a little. He didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt Mrs. K now—including singing to get out of work.
Shaking his head, Kayde turned back to the work table. A simple wooden box rested in the corner, nearly hidden by a stack of tossed-aside wrenches. He picked it up carefully and then set it before him. It was the one his dad had given to Kayde on his sixteenth birthday. He’d sung a melody into the box, into the wood, binding the music to the item. He only did this on very special occasions for very special people. Otherwise, the trinkets his dad made used the typical cylinder marked with varied bumps that pressed against metal fingers as the cylinder turned, creating the music. Still, even those had his dad’s special touch; they just weren’t as powerful as the ones he sang together. He hoped he’d be able to replicate even a little of that magic.
Kayde had to chuckle. He’d come here to get away from using his music—to escape his family legacy. He’d been fighting the need to use his gift around Terrance and Gabe, but he’d resisted for Becca’s sake. He’d promised her he’d never use it to control anyone, especially her. He doubted his powers would work on her anyway. Now, he had need to use it in the most powerful and intimate way…for Becca’s sake.
Kayde opened the lid, releasing the music from the belly of the simple container, allowing it to caress the air. Involuntary tears stung his eyes as a clear image of his father formed in his mind. He felt the love his dad had for him, felt all that he’d sacrificed and endured for Kayde’s sake, even though he’d never deserved it.
Nature seemed to respond to the music as well; birds and crickets increased their music accompanied by a chorus of frog song from the small pond behind Mrs. K’s property. Even the wind took on a more gentle whisper as the melody rode on the currents of air swirling through the garage.
Before Kayde could get too caught up in his dad’s music, he plucked a wooden heart from the velvet interior and slammed the lid shut. He held the heart tenderly for a moment as the music from the box died away with a strange echo. For a locket, the heart was a little large, but he didn’t have the skill to make it any smaller. He’d spent hours late into several nights cutting the wood and carefully sanding it as he sang Becca’s song. The wood was a little reluctant at first, but with some help by musical persuasion, he’d finally molded it to the desired shape and size.
Then, Kayde had carefully cut the heart in half, leaving only a portion in the back connected. This area, with more singing and coaxing, he carved and shaped until a hinge was created from the same, continuous piece of wood; he didn’t want to ruin it with an out-of-place metal hinge.
Taking what crude instruments Mrs. K had handy, he’d continued by carving into the centers of the two heart-halves, creating a frame where two pictures would fit—one of him, and one of Becca.
Now, Kayde began the finishing touches to the outside of the heart. He carved a delicate design of two hearts intertwined; a ribbon swirled around the two hearts on which rested a single musical note, directly in the center, binding the hearts together. The work was so intricate, he had to focus on Becca’s song and on his work completely to keep from slipping and ruining the whole thing. He made small cuts, tiny adjustments to the design, concentrating on the grain of the wood, the tip of the tool, and the music.
After forty-five minutes, Kayde was finished. He stretched his arms and rolled his neck, relieving the tension from sitting for so long in deep concentration. With a grin, he realized how much working with his hands—and thinking of Becca—had helped clear his head.
Kayde dug out two pictures he’d been carrying around in his pocket and cut them into heart shapes with their faces in the middle. He carefully opened the locket and placed them inside. Now the hard part. His stomach tickled. He’d watched his dad sing his music into a piece before, but Kayde had never even tried. What if he couldn’t do it?
He thought back, trying to remember what his dad did during the procedure. He’d usually closed his eyes, hummed or sung songs that flowed naturally and powerfully from his heart with sincerity that brought tears to the eyes of anyone who heard it. The music always somehow magically transferred into the wood and played every time the recipient opened it, reminding them of the love and sacrifice the giver had put into making it for them.
Kayde stared down at the locket, doubting his ability to mimic his dad’s. What if he did it wrong? Would it destroy the locket he’d worked so hard on? His dad’s voice echoed in his mind, “I just close my eyes, take a cleansing breath, and then think about the person I’m making the piece for. I think about my love for them, my passion, my desire to make them happy at any and all costs. I hear their song, the song that belongs to that person and no one else. I hum or sing the song, thinking of them and feeling them.”
Closing his eyes, Kayde did as he was instructed. Becca’s face leapt into his mind a breath before her music sounded in his head. “Oh,” his dad’s voice interrupted, “And it’s very important to handle the piece while you sing into it—hold it, even caress it, treat it as if it is the person you are making it for.”
Kayde looked down at the locket cradled in his palm. Becca’s picture smiled up at him. He smiled back; closing his eyes, he allowed the music to resume. He took a deep breath—the cleansing breath—and stroked the heart tenderly with his fingertips. Instinctively, he hummed Becca’s song; the beautiful, haunting music flowed from his throat as smoothly as mist over a river. Kayde let his mind re-live every moment he’d shared with Becca. In his mind, her blue eyes and angel face shone brightly as she leaned out the window of Chris’ silver truck; his angel. Kayde’s heart leap and he hummed louder. He remembered their first touch, how her warmth had dissolved his raging emotions and wild song; he thought of their first kiss up in the badlands and how it, even now just thinking about it, sent him to other worlds, to the heavens, to pure joy.
Kayde’s music accelerated and his fingers shook as he continued to caress the heart, just as tenderly as he’d caressed Becca’s face so many times. Every moment, every expression, her musical giggle, sparkling eyes, his wonder and awe over her personality and her power over him—all were transferred into his music. He lost track of time—of anything—except Becca, the song, and the energy trailing from his core, down his fingers, and into the wood.
When Kayde finally finished, he felt as if he’d just run several miles uphill. It took great effort to open h
is eyes, and tears blurred his vision. He carefully closed the locket, his heart pounding in his ears. He sat on the old bar stool in front of the work table. Had it worked? Kayde pressed his shaking fingers to the edges of the locket, pulling it open a tiny crack.
He nearly fell off the stool when a sniffle sounded from behind him. It’d been as loud to him as gong reverberating in his skull. He spun around and gaped at Mrs. K who, teary eyed, stood at the inside of her open car door. When had she pulled up? He hadn’t even heard her!
“That…sniff…was the most…sniff…beautiful thing I’ve ever heard…sniff.” She pulled a laced hanky from her pocket and dabbed here eyes.
Kayde was frozen in shock. She heard me singing! He hadn’t allowed himself to sing the entire time he’d been living in Glenville, intent on denying his family legacy to take hold of him. He’d done it today for Becca—and someone had heard him!
Mrs. Kline stepped forward and spoke again. Her voice was soft, but seemed loud to Kayde. “I could see Henry standing there, as clear as day. He was smiling at me.” Her eyes glossed over for a moment. “He didn’t speak, Kayde, but I know he wants me to know he’s okay. He wants me to be happy.” A radiant smile beamed from her face as a single tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek. After a moment, she slammed the car door shut, nearly sending Kayde to the floor as he jolted off the stool from the intense sound. “Oh, dear, I went and spoiled the moment, didn’t I?” She giggled nervously.
Kayde stood stiffly, trying to keep his balance, as Mrs. K approached. She placed a tender hand on his flushed cheek, her eyes shining up at him. “I always knew there was something special about you.” Kayde couldn’t speak. Did she know what he was? “The cats knew, too. You have a gift, Kayde. You can sing! I’ve never heard a voice like that—not quite, anyway.” She removed her hand from his face, shaking her head slowly in awe. She took a deep breath and turned to look at the covered motorcycle in the corner of the garage. “Henry used to sing, too. His voice was so beautiful and entrancing.” She turned back to Kayde. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul! I know how you motorcycle types like to keep up a certain reputation. Just promise me one thing,” she said.
Kayde swallowed and managed to mumble, “Hmm?”
“Let me hear you sing once in a while. And,” she continued, turning again to the motorcycle, “Promise me you’ll ride the Indian once in a while, too. Henry would be upset that I’ve let it sit so long.” She patted his cheek before turning to leave the garage.
It was a few minutes before Kayde came out of his trance. He breathed a sigh of relief as he unclenched his fist from around the locket. Mrs. K just thought he had a really good singing voice. She didn’t suspect anything more than that. And, his heart beat quicker at the thought that she was going to let him ride the Indian!
He gently placed the locket in the box. He’d give it to Becca however it was. If it had worked, she should be the first to hear the song when the heart opened. He’d give it to her graduation night. A special gift should be given on a special night, right? And, it was only two nights away.
Kayde smiled and sat down. He was still a little shaky from singing into the wood and from his shock at seeing Mrs. K standing there all teary eyed. He looked longingly at the covered motorcycle. I’ll have to get to you later, when my head is clear. But I promise, I will get to you!
After finding his way shakily into the house, Kayde made a B-line to the refrigerator. He was suddenly famished. Mrs. K was in the kitchen, humming and dancing, her cats high tailed and purring as they weaved between her shuffling feet. “Oh, are you hungry? Sit down, I’ll have a sandwich fit for a king in no time!”
Kayde obeyed, all too ready to be off of his trembling legs. Mrs. K was true to her word; the largest, most delicious sandwich was placed before him in few minutes’ time. Layer upon layer of cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, pickles, red onions, and things Kayde couldn’t even see were tucked neatly between two halves of a golden, homemade hoagie bun. He took the first bite, stretching his mouth as far as it would go to fit it around the masterpiece. He closed his eyes and relished the flavorful moment.
Mrs. K patted his back, satisfied with his reaction. “So,” she said as she began replacing things in the fridge. “I’m hoping I get to keep you around for awhile, since Becca is registered at the college in Melstone City, hmm? It’ll be nice for her to live close enough to stay at home. I do believe she’s taking a lot of her classes online.”
A large chunk of sandwich caught in Kayde’s throat, threatening to choke him. He took a large gulp of milk that Mrs. K had set before him and swallowed. He hadn’t thought about Becca going to college. They’d never even talked about it. After earlier today, he’d been letting his mind play with ideas of running away with her after graduation—he had a desperate desire to get her as far away from Glenville as possible. He felt a trace of the fear he’d felt by Toby’s house as panic pounded its fists against the walls of his heart. He couldn’t let her continue living that close to Toby or his mother.
“Are you alright?” Mrs. K had a hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with concern. “Is the sandwich not good?”
Clearing his throat, Kayde forced a smile and told her it was terrific. He commanded his brain to focus on the food so he could finish it, and then thanked Mrs. K and went outdoors.
The afternoon sun bathed everything in warmth, drawing out the colors of spring in sharp clarity. Kayde leaned against the fence along the yard—the one he’d spent several hours repairing—and pulled his cell from his pocket, a determined scowl on his brows. In two days, he’d have his new bank card, and Becca would graduate. One way or another, Kayde would convince Becca to leave Glenville with him graduation night.