patient, and tough.
"I will not." The woman making her way over the rocks up to the road didn't look remotely her age. "I'd never deny you the pleasure of sharing what lives in you with another open and yearning heart."
That described the look in Kevin's eyes perfectly. "Maybe he won't like it."
Green eyes met hers - and dared. "You're far more afraid that he will."
She hadn't fooled Nan for a moment. The squeezing in Cass's throat was back. "And if he does?"
The hands that squeezed hers were old and fragile - and still sang beautiful music. "Then you will have found a new question, my lovely girl. And being the brave soul that you are, you'll have a need to answer it."
Chapter 13
Her belly was full, her hands were warm, and she was out of excuses. Cass leaned over and slid her old student violin up onto the bed, the case battered from one too many shortcut corners and barn-door squeezes.
Samantha, her first true love.
She ran her fingers over the dents and scratches, well aware several more had made it past the case. Not a perfect instrument - those were far too hard to live up to. She gave the handle a tug. Time to get it over with.
Down the stairs she went, a fiddle case in each hand. Kevin sat in the parlor, a stack of dusty books on the small table beside a chair big enough to swallow him whole. He gave no sign he'd heard her enter.
It was the kind of focus that made for very good musicians.
She took a seat on the couch, pleased when a squeaky spring got his attention. With casual hands, she laid both cases on the coffee table. "Nan brought my old violin, if you'd like to give it a try."
He stared at her, eyes huge.
She nudged one of the cases his direction. "Her name is Samantha. Go on - open it up."
"I'll be really careful." His whisper was reverent.
"That would be a shame." She grinned and freed Rosie from her velvet prison. "Fiddles are meant to be played, and careful musicians miss out on half the fun." Very few in Ireland fit that description, but she'd met many here in North America. Excellent technicians, but no soul.
Kevin was barely listening. He'd opened Samantha's case, a tentative finger tracing her lines and curves.
Cass tried to be patient. Joy shouldn't be rushed.
Eventually, the boy looked up, his eyes bright with wonder.
Now she could push. Cass picked up her bow. "Just like the last time. A nice, easy sound on that top string." She demonstrated on Rosie, waiting for him to join her.
His grip on the bow was much better this time - he'd been watching. Unhurried, she moved into the five-note scale, nodding in approval as he followed her. Samantha sang in her look-at-me tones.
She'd never been a humble violin.
Cass switched strings, curious if Kevin could follow.
He did, and with more skill than she'd shown in a month of lessons. And then flashed her a grin that said there was a little of his brother's spunk hiding under the calm exterior.
Cass grinned back - and played the first four bars of a very simple baby reel. At turtle speed.
His eyes got a lot bigger - but his first effort wasn't all that terrible.
She played it several more times, heeding his unspoken request, her movements on Rosie's fingerboard slow and exaggerated.
Kevin finally nodded once. And picking up his bow again, played a very competent eight notes.
There was no need for praise - his grin was the size of a small continent.
One short measure at a time, she walked him through the simple shape of the reel's first four lines. Slowly, giving his awkward fingers time to find each note. He worked with intense concentration, picking up the notes with increasing fluidity. A good ear to go along with his quick brain.
When they hit the end of the third time through, she stopped, assessing how much focus he had left. And decided the eyes staring back at her had plenty.
She touched her bow back to Rosie's strings. "One line at a time. I'll play it, you play it back to me. Like a conversation." Or, knowing Samantha, a fist-fight. Time for Kevin to discover his fiddle's personality.
She kept to turtle pace the first time through. Four lines, each echoed back to her with careful beginner imprecision. And then she headed back to the start and began picking up speed. Not a reel yet - but