Wisp of a Thing: A Novel of the Tufa (Tufa Novels) (17 page)

“If you want to help me,” he snapped, “convince me this is a coincidence. Convince me there’s no connection between what the guy who told me about the Tufa said in Atlanta, and the fact that you drive me out into the middle of nowhere and then tell me the same thing.”

“I didn’t tell you anything, I just played a song,” she said.

“‘On a hill, long forgotten, carved in stone.’ Which is exactly where I found those verses.” He stared out across the valley. Either she was telling the truth, which seemed impossible, or she wasn’t, and he was the focus of an elaborate multi-state conspiracy designed to do … what? Make him read the epitaphs? Who the hell went to that kind of trouble?

He sighed and kicked at the ground. “All right, look, I’m sorry. This is all just a little much.”

She still kept a distance between them. “That’s some temper you’ve got.”

“Yeah. It gets away from me on occasion.” He felt the same hollow, shaky shivers that drove him into the stairwell that night in Atlanta. “I’m okay now. At least, I’m not going to punch anything. Or anyone.”

She moved closer. Suddenly she knew what to say. “I want to ask you something, and I really want you to think about the answer. Okay?”

He nodded.

She looked steadily into his eyes. “
Why
are you so angry?”

He snorted sarcastically. “Well, let’s see, my girlfriend died, and—”

“No. You were angry before that, and before we played ‘Wrought Iron Fences.’ That ‘whim’ story might fool some people, but a man like you doesn’t go up for that TV show unless he’s angry.” With certainty she said, “You auditioned to make someone eat their words. Who? The guys in your band?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Anna. She was … disappointed with my career progress.”

“She wanted you to quit music?”

“No, she wanted me to reprioritize it. Make it a hobby.” He laughed at the inane cliché of it. “Get a real job.”

“So you thought if you made it on the show, it would prove you had talent.”

He nodded. His chest felt tight, and the back of his throat swelled.

She took his hand. They stood in silence, the wind rustling the trees around them. At last she said, “There’s nothing wrong with feeling regret over this.”

“Oh, it gets better. That surprise visit at the finals? It wasn’t a surprise. She wasn’t going to do it, but the producers were adamant she had to be there. I had to…” He wiped hot liquid from his cheeks. “I begged her to come. Pleaded. Promised her everything. And she came.”

For a long moment there was only the wind around them. At last Bliss said, “That’s a lot of pain to carry around.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I came all this way, why I need to find … that song.”

He couldn’t hold it back then. He began to cry, big gulping sobs bereft of dignity or solace.

Bliss put her arms around him and pulled him close. This pain was real. The night winds could be capricious, even enigmatic, but she’d never known them to be deliberately, truly cruel. Whatever the truth about that night in Atlanta, they’d blown this sad man to her because he needed her help.

She rested one strong, small hand up between his shoulder blades. “Some things a song can’t fix, Rob,” she said softly. And she moved her fingers, making a sign.

He pulled away enough to look into her eyes. She met his gaze expectantly, eyes clear and strong. He was torn between the desire to kiss her right there on the spot, and tenderly protect her from anyone who’d come near her with rough intent. He sensed, though, that neither reaction was quite the appropriate one. Still, he leaned closer.

Their lips almost met. Then he turned away and walked to the edge of the slope. After a few moments she came and stood beside him.

“You didn’t want to kiss me,” she said, not asking but simply stating.

He looked out at the valley, eyes squinted tight from tears and the sun’s glare. “Yes, I did. It just would’ve been the wrong thing, for the wrong reasons. But I do need your help.”

“So what can I do?”

“Help me find the rest of the song. Whether it’s magical or not, I need to do it. For myself, for Anna, and for—” He took a deep breath. “—for all the broken hearts in the world.”

“Okay,” she answered with certainty. The wind rustled the trees, and she knew what to do next. “But if I’m going to help you, there’s someplace else I have to take you.”

“Okay. When?”

“Now. Tonight.”

And before he could say another word, the sun dropped behind the mountains as if the cord holding it up had been cut. They were plunged into twilight.

16

“Is something wrong?” Bliss asked as she drove.

Besides the fact that it got dark so fast, I worried that I was passing out?
he almost said, but didn’t. Instead, he decided to play his last card. The Tufa weirdness grew deeper with each revelation; he couldn’t wait to hear her explain this one. “This afternoon, while I taking a nap … I met your sister Curnen.”

Bliss didn’t take her eyes off the road. She said, “Hm.”
How could Curnen be so stupid?
she thought. Then she realized what time of year it was, and what
this
cycle in particular meant. When the last leaf fell, the curse on Curnen would become permanent and irrevocable; the girl would become a wild animal, lost to herself, her family, and the Tufa.

And what did this mean for her, for Bliss? The night winds had blown her into Rob’s path, and she was doing her best to sense and follow their desires. Was Curnen, all feral instinct and instant gratification, working with or against the winds? If she was defying them out of selfishness and fear, then it would resolve itself soon enough. But what if the winds really
were
blowing both sisters into the path of the same man? What could be the reason? Or the ultimate outcome?

The immediate problem, though, was explaining Curnen, and many other things, to Rob. He’d already proved an enigma with his ability to see things that should be hidden to non-Tufas. She’d promised to help him, but how far did she dare trust him? What was the right thing to do?

Finally she said, “I guess you’ve got some questions about Curnen, then.”

“Yeah. She’s been coming into my room for the last two nights, hasn’t she?”

“Did you get rid of something that looked like a piece of blue glass on the windowsill?”

“Yeah.”

“That would’ve kept her out. So yes, she’s probably been visiting you.”

“Why?”

“She’s not entirely…”

“Normal?”

“I was going to say … Well, normal’s as good a word as any. No, she’s definitely not normal.”

“What is she, then?”

Bliss didn’t answer. They drove in silence for several minutes, and eventually turned onto a gravel road. Finally Rob asked, “Hey, where are we going?”

“There’s a place up here where some of the local musicians gather. I thought you might like to see it.”

“What’s that got to do with the magic song?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Is Rockhouse Hicks going to be there?”

“No, Rockhouse isn’t welcome. Most people have the same opinion of him as you do. The only place you’re likely to hear him play is the Pair-A-Dice. That’s neutral territory.”

“You still haven’t answered my question about Curnen.”

“Yes.” She paused. “You know the stories they tell about mountain people being all weird and cousin-marrying and inbred? They always leave out the reasons. Before there were roads, you could live on one side of a mountain and never see folks from the other side. They might be five miles away as the crow flies, but it’d be thirty miles up and down, and over dangerous trails at that. People didn’t mix much, and there’s still a few people around here who live like that. They keep to their own … for everything.”

For a long moment, the only sound was gravel under the tires.

She continued, “And you really can’t understand unless you’re from here, which I thought you were at first, especially when you found that graveyard. That’s still the damndest thing.”

“But I’m not a Tufa.”

In the light from the dashboard, he thought he saw her smile. “The Cherokee called us
Nunnehi.
”

“You know,” he said, annoyed, “I’m getting real tired of you half-assed telling me things. Either trust me or don’t, but quit dangling carrots in front of me, okay?”

Bliss stopped the truck so suddenly, the tires slid on the rocks. When she turned to look at him, Rob noticed her eyes reflected light like an animal’s.

“Rob, this isn’t easy for me. I’m used to
keeping
secrets, not revealing them.”

“Okay, then, let’s take it one thing at a time. What’s the deal with Curnen?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Her parents were brother and sister.”

Rob blinked. “And she’s your sister?”

“Yes.”

“So your parents—”

“No, no, we only have the same mother. My daddy was fine. Curnen’s father was … well … an important person in these parts, at one time. And very, very good at getting what he wanted, even to the point of using threats and force. Which was why…” She looked out the windshield at the trees illuminated by the headlights. Dust from the abrupt stop drifted lazily through the beams. “It’s hard to talk about something so personal.”

“I know what you mean,” he said with no irony. “So she’s retarded? Or ‘challenged,’ I think they call it now?”

“‘Challenged’ is better because it’s more accurate. Something was done to her, and she can’t escape it. But she’s resisting it the best she can.”

“Why don’t you help her, then?”

Bliss’s voice choked. “Because I can’t.”

He wanted to ask more, but there was something in her voice, a pain so similar to his own that this time, he reached over and took her hand. At first she allowed it, then squeezed his fingers and pulled her hand free.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It slips up on me, too.”

“Will she hurt me?”

“No. She wouldn’t. If she’s visiting you, she senses something about you.”

“Like what?”

“A … kinship, for lack of a better word.”

“Because of my hair?”

“No. Something deeper. Something painful.”

He started to reply, but the memory of the way she’d snuggled her cheek into his hand overwhelmed him. The girl, like her sister, like Rob, carried around more pain than a being should have to. They were all three bound by it.

Bliss put the truck back in gear and drove on. Light showed through the trees ahead.

“Looks like a good crowd,” she murmured. They rounded the last curve, and Rob saw two dozen other vehicles parked neatly parallel along the road. Past them stood a huge old barn. In the moonlight, the roof sported immense painted letters urging people to
SEE ROCK CITY
, although Rob couldn’t imagine a lot of tourists passed it. Bliss parked at the end of the line.

Rob had heard many types of singing in his life, but never anything that filled the air like this music. He sat transfixed, as caught in the melodies as a deer in headlights. He distinguished fiddles, guitars, accordions, and each rang with a purity he’d never encountered, as if somehow the song reached directly into his heart and connected with his emotions.

“You all right?” Bliss asked with a knowing smile.

“I hope so,” Rob said. “Unless I’ve died, and this is heaven.”

“What if it’s hell?”

“Like Mark Twain said, heaven for the climate, hell for the company.”

This made her smile. “Come on, I want you to meet someone.”

They grabbed their guitars, and Bliss took the cooler from the picnic basket. Then they walked up the road toward the barn. Rob saw a vast shimmering starfield above the trees, brighter than he’d ever seen before. He blinked as several dark objects quickly flew over just above the treetops, momentarily blocking the stars as they passed. They were too big for birds or bats, but he couldn’t imagine what else they might be. Kites at night?

Bliss stopped and turned to him. “I almost forgot, I have to warn you about something. They’ll offer you drinks. Mostly homemade, but somebody always brings beer. It’s very important that you don’t drink anything except the stuff I brought in this cooler.”

“Why?”

She ignored the question. “I need your word on it. I know you’re honorable, and if you say you won’t do it, you won’t do it.”

“Why?” he asked again.

“I promise I’ll tell you later, and you’ll believe me then. But I need your word now.”

He sighed. “Okay, I promise. I won’t drink anything except what’s in your cooler.”

He followed her up the driveway, and almost immediately the music drowned out the sound of their feet crunching gravel. He didn’t recognize the song, but it carried that eternal, timeless quality only the best tunes embody.

He glanced back the way they’d come. The road disappeared so thoroughly into the darkness that he worried it had vanished. “What if I decide to leave on my own?”

“You’d never find your way out,” Bliss said. “Just like no one who isn’t invited will ever find their way in.”

When they reached the barn door, the dozen or so people gathered there all warmly greeted Bliss. They were big men and small wiry women, dressed exactly as Rob imagined working-class mountain folk would dress. To one side, a prepubescent girl danced on a flat board thrown on the ground while a young man marked time with spoons that echoed the tempo of the music inside. The girl watched her feet with grim concentration, the lace hem of her dress fluttering like a line of white butterflies.

A large man in overalls and an Atlanta Braves cap sat on an old crate at the side door, a cigar box on his lap. Moths and other insects circled the light above him. “Hey, Bliss,” he said as he hugged her.

“Hey, Uncle Node. How are you doing tonight?”

“If things get any better, I might have to hire someone to help me enjoy it.”

“Sounds like quite a crowd.”

“Yes indeedy. Something in the air seems to’ve called everybody out tonight.”

Bliss nodded toward the dancing girl. “Clementine’s getting pretty good at that flatfooting.”

He smiled proudly. “She sure is. I reckon by winter, she’ll be ready to move inside.”