“I know the first few bars of Orange Blossom Special,” Jezebel offered.
I had no idea what that was, but after a few minutes of watching on Dirk’s phone, I got the gist of it. “It’s going to be a disaster,” I whispered, staring at his phone. How would you break that down into something with a cello? Impossible.
He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight for a breathless moment that I wanted to last forever. “You’re really cute when you subdue your perfectionism and work with those less talented than you. You love music. You’ll love camping once you give it a chance. The big bonfire, the stars so bright that they look like you could pluck them from the sky, and your husband, playing music with you.”
“A banjo?” I said against his chest. My husband. Why did that make me so happy? Probably all those years I had him as my screensaver. But the banjo?
He smoothed his hand over my hair, somehow not as annoying as all the other people who couldn’t help but pet my pink hair. “Think how much my mother would hate seeing me play a banjo.”
I pulled away, smiling at him. She really would hate that. “And suddenly it’s part of the plan.”
“Like this,” he murmured, brushing his lips over mine. I tightened my hands around his neck and pressed closer, but then Jezebel started hooting and hollering. I pulled away before she got out her gun.
Dirk’s eyes twinkled, and he squeezed my hand, his strong grasp making everything less desperate. “Let’s play.”
We started with orange blossom. I was more nervous than any other time I could remember playing, because Dirk was there, and if I humiliated him, well, I couldn’t do that, but not playing my best was inconceivable. Trixie had her guitar upside down, and no one bothered to correct her.
“Nix, Trixie’s guitar,” I said, because we couldn’t start with it upside down. That was just not okay. “Maybe you can teach her a chord really fast, or she can pluck an open string?”
Nix sighed and then knelt by Trix and started to explain things in terms she’d understand, the undercarriage of a car, and how these strings worked to harness the… I blocked it out, because I was trying to conceptualize Orange Blossom Special as a cello piece. It sounded like a train. Escaping into the darkness, or finding your way to somewhere better, but what classical pieces reflected that? I couldn’t think of anything. I knew the feeling of getting on the bus and leaving the world I knew behind, but that wasn’t a pretty song, although was the Orange Blossom Special pretty?
All too soon, Trix was frowning down at the strings, guitar situated correctly on her lap as she sat cross-legged between Nix and Dirk. Jezebel sat on my right, and there was Dirk to my left with a banjo. I was sitting on a log, although there were no trees out there in the desert, so someone must have hauled it all the way from the mountains. For ambiance, no doubt.
“All right,” I said, nodding at Jezebel. “Bring home the train.”
She flashed a small smile and then played a few long, drawn-out notes. I plucked the dissonant strings, and then she playeda more elaborate trail of notes that plucked a resonance inside me. She knew her instrument, and maybe it was a humble harmonica, but it was the sound of her soul.
I could play with Jezebel’s soul.
So, I did. It was a mess. Nix came in, and while he was a solid chord player, he just lent the piece volume without getting too tricky. When Dirk started on the banjo, I almost dropped my bow. He played some kind of scale that sounded like a train whistle, only in harmony with what Jezebel was doing. His fingers could fly.
I caught his eye for one moment, and my heart flew with those fingers. I found our music, the balance between the different elements, and how to make one piece.
It was bizarre, as strange as each individual playing, but it was also amazing.
“Wow!” Trixie said once the last note had faded from the night. “That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”
We all burst out laughing, even though it was on film, and after that, I didn’t mind if it wasn’t perfect. We played. Nix suggested some southern ballad, Lullaby of the Leaves, and then Trixie wanted Low Rider. We did it, strangely, but it was somehow just right, with the night’s wind crooning along with the crackling fire, and everyone pitching in and making it work.
“Now, you two should do the duelling banjos,” Nix said, putting his guitar flat on his lap.
“That sounds ridiculous,” Jezebel said, like that made it a given.
“I don’t know what that is,” I said.
Dirk’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll show you,” and he did. He was ridiculously good on that banjo, but I was more than proficient on my cello. The two instruments balanced each other out, both strong, from different worlds, but meeting in one key, onerhythm, one intent. I loved it. Banjo was officially my second favorite instrument.
The scent of smoke and the cool night wrapped around our music, making it real, bringing it all to life. My heart ached, twisting and expanding with every note, every challenge accepted and returned until the end with a feverish swirl of complications, we played together in a riot of beautiful music that ended in perfect time.
There was a beat of silence, as perfect as that last note, hanging in the air like a drop of dew, and then Jezebel started whistling and stomping her feet.
Trixie reached over Dirk and thumped my shoulder. “You won. He’s not as fast as you.”
Dirk grinned and kissed my cheek. “You definitely won. What do you want for a prize?”
“No!” Jezebel groaned, grabbing me and pulling me away from Dirk. “Keep it in the bedroom. I’d love to stay up all night, but dawn’s coming soon, and I need my beauty sleep. Night, y’all.” She got up, pulling me along with her.
I looked back at Dirk, who was staring after me as if I was some breathtaking work of art he’d never seen before.
