by E. M. Havens
Cole couldn’t think with all the noise. He reached a foot under the piano and pressed the damper peddle. The moment the tones ceased, Sprocket scrambled to his feet. He shook like a wet dog and with a relieved whir jumped to Sam’s heart and curled into home position.
“What happened?” Cole asked, dropping to the piano bench.
“I don’t know.” Sam stroked Sprocket and joined him at the piano. “I guess it has to do with sound, or certain tones.” Her voice still shook with the remnants of fear. “I don’t know what I would do if…”
“Hey, it’s okay. He’s fine.” Cole encouraged.
“I know.” She tried a smile, but faltered.
“Here. I’m a little rusty, but let me play you a song. We’ll watch to see if Sprocket reacts. Okay?”
She nodded her consent, and Cole made a show of cracking his knuckles in hopes of lightening her mood. He was rewarded with a grin. Playing a simple waltz, they both watched for any movement from the brooch. After a few measures with no response, she relaxed. He played through the piece, pleased with himself for not making too many mistakes.
“That was lovely,” Sam applauded.
“Why thank you, my dear,” Cole said with a mock bow. “Do you play?”
“No. Mother said music was not an appropriate pursuit. We didn’t even have instruments in the castle growing up. I was never allowed to try.”
Cole stifled a sneer. He couldn’t imagine a child growing up without music. If possible, he began to like his mother-in-law less.
“Come here.” He patted the bench next to him and was pleased when she sat so close without reluctance. “I’ll teach you.”
Cole named each of the keys on the piano and had her play each one. He was about to explain scales when he noticed a familiar movement from her. Glancing sideways he saw she was entranced again, studying the keys.
“Oh!” She exclaimed after a few moments, flashing him a childlike smile. “I get it.”
She raised her hands to the keys and proceeded to play. She played the waltz Cole had, repeating it exactly, mistakes and all.
“That was fun!” She turned to him, beaming. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, concern creeping into her brow.
Cole wasn’t aware of how he was looking at her. He wasn’t aware of much, as it was with one suffering from shock.
“I…um…” he stammered. “You…you’ve never played?”
“No.” Offense overtook concern in her features. Cole wondered just exactly how his face must look if it elicited this response from her.
The gears in his scientific mind started cranking and he shifted out of his stupor. Rifling through the sheet music above the keyboard, he pulled out the waltz they just played. He started explaining how to read music, watching her closely. Even before his cursory explanation was done, Sam slipped into the trance, her tinker trance. Cole stopped talking and watched as she studied the sheet music, tilting her head inquisitively from side to side.
“What’s this?” she asked tonelessly as her finger flew to a “p” on the page above the staff.
“Piano. It means play softly.”
“What’s this?” she asked again, urgently pointing to an “f”
“Forte. It means play loudly.” She pointed to other symbols on the page, sounding almost frustrated when he took too long to answer. Finally the tinker trance broke, and she smiled up at him.
“It’s like this. You played it wrong.” She giggled and then played the piece perfectly, no mistakes.
“That’s…” Cole tried to shake himself out of shock again. “…amazing. “
“I like playing the piano.” She said cheerily, flipping through the other pieces of music on the music stand.
“Are either of your parents like you? I mean, do they catch on to things like you do?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied, looking at the sheet music for a sonata. “Should they be?”
“I don’t know. Here, try this one.” Cole selected sheet music purchased years ago after attending a concert by the composer. The performance had nearly moved him to tears, but his piano skills were not on par with the complexity of the piece to play it himself.
Sam studied the pages in tinker trance, turning them slowly. After she scanned the last page she looked to him with teary eyes.
“It’s so sad,” she whispered. Her eyes closed and she placed her fingers on the keys.
Deep, rich cords in slow, unpredictable rhythms filled the room. Soon, a languid melody weaved in minors. Cole watched as tears begin to trickle from Sam’s closed eyes. Her body swayed in unison with the sorrowful sounds, an expressive dance of ivory flesh and ivory keys. The piece peaked in a waterfall of sound, that cascaded from one end of the keyboard to the other, crashing into a rumble of tumultuous counterpoints, then passing into a single serene, but mournful melody. Sam closed the piece, filling the room with the final deep, drawn out chords.
Cole was afraid to disturb the silence that consumed the room after the final notes faded. A tickle on his cheek surprised him. He was crying too. Even the composer hadn’t played the work with such feeling.
The moment passed. They both wiped their tears and gave awkward laughs.
“Now you play it for me.” Sam said, with a sniff and scooted down the bench.
“I can’t play that, Sam.”
“But you know how to play,” she said confused.
“Sam. I’ve taken lessons since I was a child, and I don’t have a fraction of the talent needed to play that piece.”
“Oh.” Understanding shadowed her face. “I’m not…” Hurt replaced understanding. “The way you looked at me before. I’m not - normal, am I?”
Cole stared at her, not knowing how to answer.
“I can’t stand you looking at me like that.” Samantha covered her face as the tears started anew. Cole was beside her in an instant, cradling her to his chest.
“Like what? Hey? Like what?”
“Like – like I’m a monster about to devour you.” She sobbed.
“Sam. Sam, look at me.” He pulled her away and she wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, trying to obey. “You are not normal, true. But you are the most special person I’ve ever met.”
He rested his forehead on hers, still holding her shoulders. “I…” he started. “I love that about you, and I don’t think you’re going to eat me. I promise.”
“Promise?” She asked with a tearful laugh.
“Promise.”
****
Barn cats fought Sprocket over pieces of chicken Sam tossed from her perch on the porch swing. The delight in her voice as the creatures scuffled, echoed from the trees that surrounded the manor’s lawn. Cole should be amused too. The antics of Sprocket, as he lost each tussle with the cats, were quite entertaining. It was surprising how docile the metal beast was when not in “defend” mode.
But Cole couldn’t enjoy the moment filled with her laughter and sparkling eyes. He couldn’t relish the complete lack of tension as she savored another spoonful of Nana’s chocolate mousse. Watching her from his chair at the small table, he barely appreciated how beautiful she was in the glow of the fire ring that warmed the night air, or that he had finally convinced her to come outside wearing his underclothes.
No. He could only think of what he didn’t know, what he must know and what felt like gears grinding in his stomach at the thought of finally knowing.
“Let’s play another game.” Cole tried to sound playful, as he swirled the last swallow of red wine in the bottom of his glass. This game would be a gamble. Sam cocked an eyebrow and turned the spoon of mousse upside down in her mouth to insure every drop was accounted for, before sliding it out again.
“Your games are too hard.” She pouted. Cole chuckled. He didn’t think they should be.
“Please?” He flashed his most charming smile.
“Okay.” She conceded. It worked every time.
“We’re each going to ask a question o
f the other. It has to be a question you know the other person doesn’t want to answer. We both have to be honest and answer completely.” Cole hoped he still sounded playful. She eyed him warily and licked her spoon clean. “You go first,” he offered.
Sam scooped another spoonful of mousse and ate it in her cute upside down way, eyes firmly on the ceiling. Her face was always a window to her soul, and her current struggle was no exception. Cole silently rooted for her to ask the question she wanted to, knowing full well it may actually cause him heart ache in return. She looked into her bowl of mousse and stirred geometric patterns.
“Tell me about Morgan. What happened to him?” She said warily.
The heaviness in his stomach grew exponentially. If answering this question was the price to pay for what he wanted to know from her, it would be a fair exchange. He swigged the last of his wine and then rested both elbows on the table, staring into the empty glass.
“Well,” he began and then cleared his throat. “Morgan was a great man. He was everything a future king should be. He was kind, smart, handsome; it runs in the family.” He winked at Sam, trying to ease his tension, and her blush was encouraging. “He was also fiercely loyal. To him; honor, tradition and loyalty were more important than, well, his life.”
Cole placed his wine glass on the table, sat back in the chair and wiped his hands down his face. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories about me.” He addressed Sam. Her slight nod and averted gaze confirmed she had heard the worst. “Well, I wasn’t always this charming.” He laughed. “I was much more charming. So charming, in fact, that…well, I charmed my way into …” He rubbed a hand awkwardly on the back of his neck. Damn. His games were hard. “Into company I shouldn’t have.” He checked her face for understanding, which wasn’t there. “Female company,” he added, and her face flushed to match her wine. Slag. He didn’t want to do this.
He poured another full glass of wine and chugged it like cheap beer.
“Apparently, I offended people with my charming ways. Influential people. People who demanded justice and a defense of honor. A duel to first blood.” He noticed his hand trembling and slid them under the table. He wanted to look Sam in the eyes, but couldn’t bear what he knew he would see there when he finished the story.
“I refused. Not because I was afraid. I wasn’t afraid of anything back then. I was invincible, like every kid thinks. Duels went against my high moral standards. I opposed everything traditional.” A lump had formed in his throat, and he paused to swallow it down. “My refusal of the dual had more impact on family honor than my charms. Morgan was to be king. He never should have gone, but his sense of duty, loyalty…he took my place. He lost. It went too far. He died.”
Cole ran both hands through his hair then leaned on the table, pointlessly rearranging silverware. “My brother was my best friend. He died because of meaningless tradition and a false sense of honor.”
That’s what he had always told himself. It’s what he had always believed, but the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He summoned enough courage to look at Sam. He saw what he expected, disappointment. He’d been nothing but a disappointment to everyone he’d ever cared about. Slag. He was even a disappointment to himself. He couldn’t even admit…take responsibility for…Slag!
“Morgan died because of me.”
Cole had never allowed himself to think those words much less say them. The warring feelings it caused tore at him. The weightlessness of being released from such a burden and the heaviness of fresh sorrow and accountability threatened to rip him apart. He put all his energy into holding himself together and turned to Sam.
He expected to see disgust and condemnation when he looked at her, but she surprised him yet again. Sorrow, yes, and compassion. But was there also pride in those emerald eyes? That amazed him even more than her other impossible feats.
“Your turn,” he finally said.
“My turn,” she sighed in mock annoyance, smiling.
Cole took a deep breath and dove in. “How did they make you comply at the finishing school?”
Sam’s smile drained from her face, along with her color as she stared into the night beyond the glow of the fire. She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her bobbed hair bounced with the emphatic shaking her head as she refused to answer. Sprocket jumped to her side and paced next to her, whirring softly. She ordered him home and then curled back into herself. She slipped into another trance, but unlike the previous ones her face was a mask of fear, not wonder.
“Please, Sam?” Cole begged. Minutes passed and he was afraid there would be no answer tonight.
“At first they would just lock me in my room. I didn’t mind. I liked the solitude. Time to think.” She began tapping her foot in a maniacal rhythm on the swing. “Then when I would offer an opinion or waiver from protocol, they would deny me food, too.” Her toe tapping picked up pace. Cole wanted to come to her, hold her, but he was afraid of breaking the trance.
“I really tried. I tried to be what I was supposed to be, but then they put me in the closet. No light. No food. Eventually they let me out, but I was…so hungry I couldn’t think.” Her nails dug into her knees.
“Her math was wrong; I just corrected her without thinking. Teachers are never to be corrected. That’s when they took me to the machine. Strapped me to the table.”
Sam finally looked at him, through him, rocking herself. Her pupils began to spasm in what seemed to be painful dilatations and contractions. “Machines, generators…I always know what they do.” She wiggled an index finger for his inspection then touched it to her opposite big toe. “One wire here and one wire here.”
Wide eyes still boring through him, she began a cranking motion with her hand. “All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel.” She sang. Cole struggled to keep his dinner down, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “The monkey thought it all in fun…” She raised her hand and lowered it like slamming down a lever. “Pop!” Her rocking stopped. “I always know. I always know! I Always Know! I ALWAYS KNOW!”
Cole was by her side. He tried to hold her, but his touch sent her arms and legs flailing. “I ALWAYS KNOW!” She screamed as she tried to escape, but he pulled her back, his arms the only thing holding her together. “I ALWAYS KNOW!” She pounded her fist into his chest, clawed at him, fighting off invisible tormentors. She loosed throat shattering screams into the night. A terrified Nana appeared on the porch in her night gown, but Cole sent the shocked and teary eyed woman away with a stern look.
Sam’s screams degenerated into body-wracking sobs. Her pounding fists clung to his shirt, where their tears met and mingled. Someone was going to pay for this. Wrathful anger flared just as brightly from his broken heart as sorrow for his Sam. Yes. Someone would pay in flesh or blood, either was acceptable currency.
The flames in the fire ring were all but ash when Sam was finally spent. She lay in Cole’s arms, limp; shaky breaths randomly interrupting a steady pattern. She didn’t struggle, head lolling to the side when he picked her up even though she wasn’t asleep. He carried Sam to their bedroom and settled her in the bed. He kissed the tips of her fingers and turned to go, intending to sleep in one of the guest rooms.
“Stay.” Sam managed to croak. He flinched at her raw voice, but climbed in the bed beside her. Her arms around him, his around her, holding each other’s broken pieces together.
****
Buttressed by the night and Cole’s embrace, Sam faced her nightmares. Nightmares. That’s all they had been until she had spoken them aloud. Now she remembered. Head Mistress Ravana, her pallid face and icy eyes staring down at her. The click, click, click of the crank handle as the machine built its charge. A picture, an item shown to her, or just a spoken word.
Acceptable. Nothing.
Not acceptable. The lever was pulled.
Pain. Indescribable pain would rip through her body like lightning through a lone tree on a hilltop.
When thr
eat failed, force was used to lock away her mind, treated like a patient that needed curing. Surely her parents hadn’t known these were the methods used at the finishing school. They never would have consented to such treatment. Still, it was their fears that sent her there to begin with. Was she really so different that she needed to be feared?
Sam pulled Cole closer. He slept, fitfully, but his arms reciprocated. Brave. He was so brave. He could have had society’s perfection, but he chose to set her free. He chose to find her. She had been finished by the school against her will to serve and please him in every way that mattered. Now, it was her will to serve him, please him, love him.
Cole traced every curve, every freckle with his eyes, memorizing Sam’s face; tucking away the details to replace the haunting ones from last night. She slept peacefully now, not a line of despair on her brow. He let a lock of her golden hair slip through his fingers. God she was beautiful. A familiar need arose as he watched her. When she woke, he wanted to be fully present, but the ever existent ache her nearness evoked made it practically impossible for him to think of anything except getting closer.
Cole slowly worked his arm out from under Sam’s head, trying not to wake her. A few minutes in the wash room would clear his mind.
“Stay.” Sam’s raspy voice begged, as he swung his legs out of bed.
“Good morning, Beautiful,” Cole whispered. He rolled back into bed, pulling her close. “How are you?” he asked, kissing the top of her head.
“I think I’m going to be okay.” It sounded more like a question. Cole cringed at the raw edge in her voice. He was surprised she could speak at all, but the huskiness just served to fuel his desires.
“I have to go take care of something,” he whispered, and kissed her forehead.
“What?” she asked forthrightly, and yawned. He was going to have to think things through a little better from now on with her curiosity unbridled.
“I’ll be back.” He tried to leave the bed again, but she grabbed his hand.
“Stay,” she pleaded.
