Making Magic: Books of the Kindling, Book 3

by Donna June Cooper

  The openwork carving of musical notes he was working on would eventually be set into the sound hole. He had carved a musical note for Thea a long time ago. Hers had been one note, stained dark, with an intricately carved flute of lighter wood laid across the stem and tucked under the flag. He remembered how she had worn it proudly every time their little group—Appalachian Synchrony—played together. Now only Jake was left.

  And Thea was stuck in the big city without her music. Surrounded by glass and concrete and noise, she probably rarely saw a bird, much less heard all the myriad sounds that composed the mountain’s song.

  But Jake could hear it through the open door. He turned off the store’s sound system, cutting off “Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór” mid-note. With only frog song from the nearby creek, the breeze whispering through the trees that hung over the rippling water and faint laughter from the tavern down the street as accompaniment, he settled in to carve.

  Chapter Two

  Somewhere south of Blacksburg, in the pause between two songs on the playlist meant to keep her awake, Thea finally heard something that reminded her of the mountain’s song. The moonless night showed her nothing of the landscape she was traveling through beyond the endless highway stretching in front of her. She couldn’t even see the ridges of the Appalachians, even though she knew the interstate ran alongside them for her entire route.

  She’d forgotten what a long haul it was, driving to Patton Springs from Philadelphia. She was grateful for the eighteen-wheelers and their drivers. Their overwhelming numbers kept her awake out of a sheer sense of self-preservation. And their uninhibited flirting, involving creative horn blasting and running-light blinking, helped as well. They weren’t flirting with her, mind you. They were flirting with her red BMW.

  Finally she had heard a whisper of her mountain singing to her again. Perhaps a cricket had leaped into the car at her last stop and was protesting the unexpected journey. But something had hinted of the lullaby she had tucked away beneath her heart long ago to sustain her—hidden so thoroughly that she had lost it for a while. A gentle composition that included the cheerful babble of water over stone, a susurration of wind through green leaves, the lively warble of a mockingbird, and an enthusiastic chorus of peepers in the dark. Something inside her that had been too tightly wound for far too long loosened a bit.

  Only a bit. She still had more than an hour to go before she could collapse and sleep, assuming there was a place for her to sleep at all.

  Daniel and Mel had sent her their wedding invitation, and they had told her repeatedly that they wanted her to come home. But even at Pops’s funeral…

  No, she wouldn’t think about that. Not yet. She grabbed for her travel mug only to find it empty, again. Her nose was thoroughly stuffed up, her throat was sore again, the headache was back with a vengeance, and she had run out of aspirin. It was time for one more truck stop, one more fill up, some aspirin and perhaps, by the time she forced down a couple of fluffy Tennessee biscuits to soak up all the coffee sloshing around in her stomach, the sky would be brightening up and she could see where she was headed, instead of just feeling it.

  She took the exit to Baileyton and pulled in to the brightly lit truck stop that had been a fixture at that exit since she could remember. It had changed since she’d seen it last. Some national chain had taken over. Perhaps that meant the bathrooms would be a bit cleaner than she remembered.

  Even shy of five in the morning the place was pretty busy, between the very early commuters, the very late shift workers, the ubiquitous truckers, and now one unemployed lawyer from Philadelphia.

  At the pumps she shoved her feet back into her heels, clambered out feeling stiff, and frowned at the latest price of premium. As she pumped the gas, she wondered why her father had gifted her with a sporty vehicle that he really wanted for himself. She forced a smile at the man at the next pump filling his mini-van, who was giving her car a lust-filled once over. Better it than her.

  Shaking her head at how much it would cost to fill the tank, she drove into the last parking space at the front of the truck stop and wondered if she should try to dig a change of clothes out of the mess in the trunk. She hadn’t had the presence of mind to toss an overnight bag with essentials on top of everything in the back seat. And her suit had long ago passed from wrinkled to disreputable and was closing in on fragrant vagrant—smelling of stale coffee, fried food, truck stop restrooms and fear. She fluffed her limp hair, brushed off her skirt and grabbed her wallet.

  As she pushed up out of her seat, it occurred to her that she was too young to feel this old. Then she turned around, faced south and filled her lungs. Even with a stuffy nose she could smell it beneath the reek of diesel fuel and fried food, washing down from the mountains—millions of trees breathing out into the air. Home.

  As usual, the car attracted more male admirers. She saw people in the restaurant—men in the restaurant—standing up to look out at it. At least she assumed it was the car, since she looked like something the cat drug in. She didn’t bother to acknowledge the admiring glances. What was it with guys and this car?

  A wash of air-conditioned air struck her as she walked in, along with the pungent smell of fried bacon. Between that and the blast of country music they were playing, she assumed they were trying to keep their customers awake.

  The restroom was much improved over her last stop, but her reflection in the nice clean mirror was pretty hopeless. When had she dumped coffee on her blouse? She washed her face and pushed uselessly at her hair. Her brush was back in her briefcase, buried somewhere under her flute case and the rest of the detritus on the passenger seat.

  In the little convenience store, she bought some aspirin and a box of tissue, then went to the restaurant for takeout coffee and biscuits. Moving in a fog and trying to focus, she ignored the other customers but smiled at the woman who brought her order. It was safer not to make eye contact with any of the truck drivers, since they always wanted to start up some conversation about the car.

  “Why don’t you put the top down, honey?” Because the trunk was way too full and it was the middle of the night. “How many tickets you got so far this trip?” None actually, although a state trooper in Virginia had given her a sniff, she had been past him before he recognized the scent.

  As she exited the building, the car did the one thing that Thea could appreciate, unlocking as she approached with her hands full. Now that was a lustworthy feature. And, as she’d hoped, the sky was lightening to pearly gray.

  Thea caught movement at the edge of her vision and braced herself for another automobile groupie, but it was only a dirty mop head lying on the ground next to the wall. In her exhausted state, she must’ve imagined it. She opened the door and put her bags on the console. Before she put the coffee in the drink holder, she took a long sip of the scalding brew. It wasn’t too bad, but it made her eyes water. She blinked when she saw the mop head move again. Probably a rat or raccoon under there.

  Then the mop head lifted its ears and gazed at her with big dark eyes.

  She gasped and spilled yet more coffee on her blouse.

  A dog.

  A horribly-matted, filthy gray dog that might’ve once been white pushed up on skinny legs and backed against the wall, watching her with suspicion. Then she saw the battered aluminum pan and cracked bowl full of water beside it. Someone was feeding the poor thing, but not really taking ownership.

  A stray. Like her.

  She almost took a step towards the pitiful creature, but what would she do with a dog?

  Thea hadn’t thought much beyond getting home for the wedding, except that she couldn’t stay. Grace had a husband now, a baby on the way and probably planned to fill the house up with children. Daniel was moving into the old Taggart place with his new bride. And she needed to follow her plan to go off and teach music somewhere. There was no room for the prodigal daughter on the mountain, much less a gri
my, smelly dog. She looked down at herself and smiled. They were a matched set, weren’t they?

  The dirty mop blinked at her as she sipped her coffee.

  “What’s your name, pooch?” she asked.

  The head cocked sideways and one eye disappeared behind its unkempt hair. The other eye glared at her as the dog tried to sink back into the wall.

  She thought of the interstate and the busy highway only yards away and shuddered. The poor thing had probably been left behind by some traveling family or a trucker. At least someone here was feeding it. She wondered how long it had been here, waiting for its owner to return. Her heart clenched. Swallowing hard, she shut the car door, walking back into the truck stop.

  The woman who had waited on her before looked up and smiled. “Back for a refill, hon?”

  “No, ma’am.” Her voice felt rusty, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time. “I was wondering about the dog out in the parking lot.”

  The woman frowned. “Poor thing. Someone dumped her here a couple of months back.”

  Months would feel like years to a little one like that. Years waiting for someone to take you home. Years waiting to go home. Thea felt tears threatening at the symmetry.

  “No one came for it? No one here wants to take it home?”

  “Hey, we tried. She won’t come and no one can catch her. Sly little thing. We figure she’s holding out for her real owner.”

  “How do you know it’s female?”

  The woman, whose nametag said “Jenny”, leaned over conspiratorially. “The way she pees, but we might be wrong. The boys do that sometimes too.”

  Thea mulled it over. Surely Grace had room for another dog. Or maybe Daniel would take her. Someone would.

  She reached for her wallet and pulled out one of her cards. “Do you have a pen?” Carefully scratching out her business number, she wrote her cell number on the card in its place and handed it over. “If her owner comes back, you call me.”

  Jenny looked at the card and gave her an assessing look. She could imagine how she appeared to the woman—pencil-thin skirt, stained silk blouse and expensive heels.

  “Oh, hon. You ain’t gonna catch her.”

  Thea smiled. I just gave a powerful multinational the one-finger salute. I can save an abandoned dog. “Watch me. I’ll have an order of bacon to go, please.”

  Jenny shook her head, but went back to the kitchen and brought back a napkin wrapped around several pieces of bacon. “On the house. If you can catch Bailey, I’ll give you a hamburger for her lunch. And one for yours as well.”

  “Bailey? After Baileyton?”

  The woman nodded. “Works for a girl or a boy, I say.”

  The name fit. Taking the bacon, she walked back out front with Jenny close on her heels only to find Bailey gone.

  “She’s probably out raiding the garbage. She hides out back there under the skips sometimes. But you’ll never be able to get to her.”

  Thea handed Jenny her coffee. “If I do, I want another hot cup to go instead of that second burger. I’m a vegetarian.”

  The woman laughed and followed her, carrying the coffee. “This I gotta see.”

  Sure enough, they spotted the walking mop sniffing around one of the garbage skips at the back of the building, far enough back to make it impossible to reach her.

  Thea got as close to the skip as she could get without going under it, then squatted down, or rather tried to. She finally gave up, hiked up her skirt and knelt on the dirty pavement.

  “Here, Bailey girl!” She leaned in under the skip and held out a piece of bacon. “Come on, baby girl,” she cooed.

  The dog crouched in the shadows, her ears back and her tail tucked under, growling.

  It was a good thing Thea’s nose was stopped up. What little she could smell was bad enough.

  “What’s goin’ on back here?” came a man’s voice. Thea jumped, whacking her head on the side of the skip.

  “This lady’s trying to get Bailey,” Jenny said.

  “Like that’s gonna happen. You’re the one with that red Beemer from Pennsylvania, ain’t ya?”

  Thea looked over her shoulder at a man in a white apron who had leaned down to grin at her. He said every single syllable of Penn-syl-va-ni-a, as if it were an unpronounceable contagious disease. And his eyes spent far too much time lingering on her rear end, which was sticking up in the air at the moment.

  She felt her temper start to rise. She hated it when people, especially men, tried to tell her what she could and couldn’t do.

  “Dammit, Bailey,” she hissed. But those big eyes looked terrified and the dog had cringed even closer to the pavement.

  Crap. “Bailey, come here,” she said quietly, but the voice rang off the metal of the skip.

  Bailey immediately crawled forward, right onto her lap. Thea slid sideways and heard her skirt rip at the kick pleat as she turned to sit beside the garbage skip with the filthy dog in her arms.

  “Well I’ll be,” Jenny exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  The man seemed to be reassessing his opinion of Thea. “Shit. You some kinda dog whisperer or somethin’?”

  Thea smiled. “Or something.” She looked at Jenny. “Now, how about that hamburger for my friend here?” She broke off little pieces of bacon and fed them to Bailey.

  “Oh you bet, honey. And I’ll get you some wipes for your hands and—” Jenny looked Thea over and sniffed, “—for your hands.” She ran back into the restaurant.

  “Hell, I’d say both you and the dog need to use the showers, but we don’t let no dogs in there,” the man said. “You need me to help you up, honey?”

  Thea smirked at him and put Bailey down at her feet. “Stay.” Bailey waited, motionless, as Thea stood then reached down to scoop her back up.

  “That’s weird,” the man said. “Spooky, even.”

  Thea was tempted to make him do something embarrassing, to get back at him for the shower comment, but her head was already aching. Besides, she did need a shower. She bit her lip and marched past him around the side of the building with Bailey in her arms.

  Lovely. Now she had an audience. They seemed to be the regulars, truckers mostly and some staff, standing outside the doors watching as she carried the dog to her car. One of the waitresses started clapping. Then the rest joined in, until even the grumpy cook cheered the little dog’s rescue.

  Smiling at them, Thea lifted Bailey’s paw to wave goodbye and opened the car door to slide in, dog and all. She shut it firmly and quickly pushed the button to start the car, struggled to fasten her seat belt under the dog and wondered if she should fasten it over the dog instead. She knew next to nothing about dogs.

  Jenny came running out with a sack and a cup, grinning. When Thea rolled down the window, she leaned in. “Here you go. Fresh coffee, a nice hamburger for Bailey and some hashbrowns for you. There’s utensils and hand wipes. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think what both of you’ll need is a long hot soak. And you need some meat on your bones if you’re going to keep up with this ’un.” She cautiously stroked Bailey’s ears and Thea noticed a glint in her eyes. Jenny was probably the person who’d been feeding the poor thing. “She’d never let me touch her.”

  Thea tensed when Bailey turned and licked her cheek. She could not get attached to a dog she had just met. “Do you want to keep her?” she asked.

  “Oh, my. No! My Larry would have my hide. I already have four at home. One more and I end up in the pound. No, I think our Bailey’s real owner finally showed up.” She sniffed. “You come back and visit us, baby doll,” she said to Bailey. “I want to see you all cleaned up and pretty.”

  “Cleaned up, we can do. Not so sure about pretty,” Thea said, unable to picture Bailey as anything but a mop.

  “Here.” Jenny pulled the white towel off her shoulder and handed it to Thea. “Make her
a place over there next to you. You don’t wanna drive with her in your lap like that.”

  Thea braced her flute case against the passenger door and pushed the junk on the passenger seat around to make a nest. She curled the towel in the seat and sat Bailey on it.

  Bailey immediately walked back across and lay on Thea’s lap again.

  Jenny gave Bailey’s head one more stroke. “Definitely found her real owner.”

  Thea’s smiled. “Thanks, Jenny. You were a good foster mom.”

  Jenny nodded and backed away, wiping at her eyes, then waved as Thea drove out of the parking lot.

  As they crossed the bridge over the interstate, the first hint of pink touched the sky in front of them. “Well, girl, it’s a brand-new day. Brand-new start for both of us.” Thea stroked Bailey’s greasy head.

  Jake stood in the light of a brilliant July morning trying to recharge for the next set of tasks on his festival project list. Since he wasn’t a solar cell or a plant, he didn’t hold out much hope. But after an all-night session carving, staining and gluing inlays into place, he needed a break. So he stood on the sidewalk across the street gazing at the storefront, a cup of coffee in one hand and a sketchbook in the other, trying to visualize the transformation of Donnie Loew’s woodcraft store, HeartWood, into his own musical instrument store, Songs in the Wood.

  The building was perfect for it. Living quarters upstairs, workshop in back, store up front, with room to expand each level into the empty building next door someday. But his sketch had a lot more glass and doors than the existing storefront and he had added a deck on both levels, jutting out over the creek. The lower deck would let the browsers and strollers sit and listen to whoever happened to be playing in the store. The upper was for shade and for sitting and enjoying the cool evening air with someone who shared his dream—someday.