Swan Song Chapter 5. A short update, but it is an update, and things are really about to start happening. If the soundtrack to this story were Jaws (composed by John Williams) instead of the Awakening, the music would have the definite drive by now, not just the opening distant threat.
(H/C)
"I have remembered beauty in the night,
And music in the dark,
And running water singing on rocks.
In English wood, I once heard a lark.
I have remembered.
But all remembered beauty is no more
Than a vague prelude to the thought of you."
Prelude to Peace, Teasdale/Stoope
(H/C)
Lynella pulled into her driveway, noting Tom's car already there. Her car easily fit into the gap alongside it. She had never intended to be gone so long, had only slipped out to the store for a few things she'd discovered she was out of, but the trip had taken on a defiant agenda of its own, as such trips sometimes do, seizing control of her schedule and wrestling it away from her. She sighed in frustration, then smiled at the sudden thought of what her own parents would have made of 24-hour grocery stores.
So many changes in her lifetime. Born in the Great Depression, now living in the technology age. Sometimes she was stunned at how much she had seen, at how much even she took the conveniences for granted now. Like tonight, getting annoyed because a trip to the store had delayed her an extra 45 minutes.
Looking at Tom's car, she admitted that it wasn't the delay that irritated her but missing his homecoming. For almost 50 years, with all the changes, their love had been the constant, never old. She still loved to greet him at the door.
She slipped out of her car and paused as the tantalizing whisper of music filled the night. Tom was playing the piano very softly and singing to himself, and he must not have noted the car's arrival. Otherwise, he would have been at the door by now himself. But the windows of the house were open to the hot October night, and the music drifted out to wrap around her in the warm, embracing darkness. What song was that? Gentle, lyrical, yet intense, filled with quiet passion. She had never heard this one before. Was this Circle of Starlight?
Unable to resist, she eased the car door closed with infinite care, letting no sound escape but a soft click, leaving her groceries in their rustling plastic bags in the floorboard on the passenger's side. She tiptoed up the sidewalk, clinging to the shadows. The music went straight to her soul, but he was singing softly, almost a croon, and she couldn't quite make out the words. She pressed herself up against the door, as if her ear could push the barrier out of the way and enter alone, leaving the rest of her outside unnoticed, but still, only a few words drifted out, only one clearly. Love. She closed her eyes, listening in the darkness to his music, treasuring the moment even while it taunted her. Love.
Suddenly, the music shifted in mid chord, no less lyrical but building in volume through the line, and Tom was no longer singing half voice. Her ears, her mind, and her heart caught every word. "But all remembered beauty is no more than a vague prelude to the thought of you." On the last word, the chord suddenly hit dissonance, then resolved – or clearly should have resolved. Instead, he held the tension, his voice in a tug-of-war against the piano, the piano in a tug-of-war against itself, the musical equivalent of fingernails on a blackboard.
Lynella fumbled for the doorknob and almost fell into the house. "Okay, okay, I'm here, you win. Now quit that, Tom!"
He instantly resolved the chord, perfect harmony erasing the previous tension. With a laugh, he spun around on the piano bench to face her. "Sorry. Couldn't resist it when I realized you were out there listening. Tried to sneak up on me, did you? What if the neighbors had called the police?"
"They were probably about to, to report a musical crime. What song was that, Tom?"
"That? Prelude to Peace. One of the ones from the concert Saturday."
"No, the first one, before you switched. Was that Circle of Starlight?"
His eyes twinkled. "Was I playing two songs?"
Lynella gave a sigh of mock irritation. "Well, if you won't tell me, I'll just have to listen more closely at the door next time."
"Just three more days, Lynn. This is Wednesday night. You'll hear it at the concert. Actually, you'll hear it best at the concert. I can only sing one part myself, but the choir brings it to full life. Didn't you buy anything at the store?"
She suddenly remembered the groceries. "In the car. It's hard to sneak up on someone with a handful of plastic grocery bags. Go make yourself useful, Tom."
He stood, but his path to the door made a tangent to her. She returned the embrace, feeling the strength still in him, even in his 70s. "I missed you," she said against his chest. "How did you know I'd gone to the store? I didn't leave a note. Didn't think I'd be gone that long."
"Empty milk jug in the trash. I went looking for clues." He smiled at her. "I missed you, too." With a final, quick kiss, he headed out the door to the car, leaving Lynella standing in the middle of her living room looking at the piano but seeing only him, hearing only one word, not diluted by any barrier but as clear as the stars in the sky out in the country, far from the interference of any artificial light. Love.
(H/C)
Horatio sat on the couch in the dark, Calleigh snuggled against him. She could feel the relaxed alertness in every line of him tonight, and she suddenly thought of him with a gun, the ready stance, the calm voice, the authority in his eyes and hands. They had bought a security system for the house a few years before after someone broke in to steal evidence to frame Horatio for the murder of his ex-wife. The system was turned on and doublechecked tonight, but her greater faith was in Horatio. No criminals would touch this house or Sarah tonight. Horatio wouldn't let them.
He sighed softly, bringing her mind back to their conversation. "I'll call around to every place on Sarah's list tomorrow and see if anyone's found that necklace, but somehow I doubt it. I really hoped it would be at choir rehearsal tonight." His arm around her shoulders tightened, while his other hand smoothed the paper on the list Sarah had neatly recopied for him from her day's jottings. A list of everywhere she remembered being since a week ago. A list that was much too short.
"You think it's somewhere she hasn't thought of yet? Or do you think someone else stole it?" She kept her voice pitched low. Sarah was asleep in the guest room, and Rosalind was asleep in the nursery at the end of the hall.
His soft chuckle warmed the darkness. "That's all we need, Cal. Another set of criminals operating here. We've got too much mystery already. No, I think it's somewhere she hasn't thought of yet."
"Eric will be processing the picture tomorrow morning. Maybe that will tell us something."
"Maybe it will." They fell into silence again. Calleigh leaned against him, feeling the steady, strong rhythm of his breathing, and her mind slowly let go of the case, the tension of this week, and settled into pure appreciation of him. Sometimes, just holding each other quietly was enough.
"Horatio?"
"Mmm hmm?"
"Are you planning to sleep here on the couch tonight?"
He shook his head, the motion unseen but felt in the darkness. "The alarm is set, and when we're asleep, I'd rather be closer to Rosalind than this." His tone sharpened a bit protectively on his daughter's name. "I'm really not expecting anything to happen tonight. If anyone followed us here either from the hospital or from choir, they're very good at it, and Sarah's car is hidden in the garage. I'll leave my gun on the nightstand tonight, though, not locked in the desk. Just in case."
Calleigh yawned suddenly, surprising herself. "Like Sarah said a while ago, I didn't see how I could ever get sleepy tonight, but I am."
"So am I, a little." She suddenly remembered that he had been out on the case since 4:00 that morning. She stood up so suddenly she surprised him.
"Come on, Horatio. Lie down on the couch, and this time, I'll give you a massage."
He stretched out obediently. "You sure your shoulder is okay?"
"I'm fine, Horatio. Much better." She started working the tension from his neck and shoulders. She had to find it, first; he had been hiding his own fatigue and worry in the midst of being strong for everyone else. Her persistence was rewarded, however, with soft, grateful murmurs as his muscles responded to her touch.
"That better, Handsome?"
"Much better. I didn't even realize I was tense."
"You're tired, Horatio. It's not a crime. Or actually, maybe it is. I'll give you the same sentence you gave me Monday night – a good night's sleep."
"But with one ear open." He gracefully rose from the couch, appearing even taller than he was in the dimly moonlit room. "At least for tonight."
As they passed the guest bedroom, Calleigh heard soft snores coming from it. Sarah probably needed a good night's sleep more than any of them. Please, Calleigh thought silently, don't let the perps catch up with her tonight.
Horatio was asleep minutes after his head hit the pillow. Calleigh tried to hold herself on guard, to take some of the burden of watchfulness from him, but it was a losing battle. Finally, the house was still, as it had been an eternity ago that morning before the phone rang.
(H/C)
Sarah swung the car into her driveway and looked over at Horatio. "I'm just going to pick up a few things and change clothes. You don't have to come in with me."
"Wrong." He got out of the car firmly and followed her to the door. Calleigh was taking Rosalind to daycare and then would pick Horatio up at the hospital after he left Sarah there.
Sarah shook her head. "I'm really grateful, Mr. Caine, but . . ."
"Horatio," he corrected firmly. "People I'm hiding at my house get to call me Horatio."
"It just seems like an awful imposition on you. All this bother."
His smile reassured her. "Believe me, Sarah, I'd actually rather prevent murders than process them. So just stay alive for me, okay?"
She shuddered. "It's still hard to believe somebody wants to kill me. What did I do to them?"
Horatio had seen too much casual murder, the killing of innocent people who were just in the way as impersonally as one might step on a spider. He hated to impose that insight on Sarah, though. She had stopped and was looking back at him, waiting for an answer. She trusted him now. He prayed that he would be worthy of it. "It's not personal for them, just . . ." His eyes hardened a fraction of a second before his voice trailed off.
"Horatio?" Sarah was stunned at the change. In a day with him as her self-appointed bodyguard, she had been confused by him, amused by him, and awestruck by his compassion, but she had not until now been frightened of him.
He drew his gun in one smooth motion. "Get behind me."
His voice pulled her into action while her mind was still whirling. She tucked in behind him, and he advanced the final few steps to the door, gun ready. Try as she might, Sarah saw nothing odd about the door, nothing to explain the danger he obviously sensed. He unlocked the door left-handed, using the key she had given him the day before, his right hand still firmly on the gun. The gun was the first to enter the house, with Horatio's voice like the crack of a whip just behind it. "Police!" He lunged through the door, turning to scan all points of the room. Sarah peered around his shoulders, and her eyes widened. Everything she and Sam owned was turned over, items swept into the floor, drawers emptied out, couch cushions slit open.
The criminals whose existence she had still tried to deny until now had found her house. But they, like Horatio, had obviously not yet found what they were looking for.