I slowly edge my eyes to the left where a soft light like a lantern glows. Is it him? Is it the intruder? I scarcely breathe. Turning my head slowly, I prepare to lock my eyes with my killer, but instead, I see Kate McDonough.
“Kate?” My voice squeaks from thirst. I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life. “Is that you?”
She smiles, the light surrounding her, growing brighter. “Yes, it’s me. There are a lot of people out there looking for you, but they were taking too long, so I thought I’d help.”
“But how?” I crease my brow. “The cliff. You don’t have a rope.” I look down at the beat-up case in her hand. “And how did you get here carrying your fiddle?”
She throws her head back and laughs that ringing laugh of hers that’s now music to my ears. “There’s plenty of time for all that, but first, let me help you.”
She bends over and places her fingers on my back. Her hand grows warmer and warmer, spreading heat throughout my entire body. Through each vein, through each cell, I feel my temperature rise. It’s like I’ve never been exposed to the cold wind, like I don’t have hypothermia. The pain in my leg fades as does my hunger and thirst.
I stare up at her, incredulous.
“Feel better now?” She smiles.
“Who are you?” I demand. “Or what are you? I mean, you bewitched the town, you glow, you disappear, and you eat raw birds. And now you show up on a cliff carrying a fiddle? What gives?”
She lets out a hilarious chuckle. “First of all, I don’t eat raw birds. I don’t eat anything.”
“Yeah, Charlotte and I noticed your fridge was em …” I catch myself.
She gives me a knowing smile. “It’s okay. I know you were in my cabin.”
Glancing away, I hide my remorse. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t really living there anyway. That’s why I didn’t lock the door. But then I guess you already figured that out.”
“Well, not quite.” I bury my chin in my shoulders. “So where do –”
“I go?” She finishes my line for me. “Back. To another plane. Some people call it Heaven.”
I’m beginning to think I’m hallucinating. I read somewhere that happens to people when they’re near death from freezing.
“So you’re a … spirit?”
“Yes. You read about me once online,” she says before I have the chance to freak.
I think hard, and then stare at her like a great revelation has come to me. “The famous Cape Breton fiddler in the 1800s?” I ask.
“Mm-hm.” Her lips turn up into an impish grin.
“It said you were the finest of all the Cape Breton fiddlers.”
She laughs. “I don’t know if I was the best, but yes, that’s me.”
“And you died in childbirth.” I look away, not quite knowing what to say.
“It’s okay.” She waves the emotion away. “It was my time.”
I raise my eyes back to her level. “And it said that your fiddle was the best one in Cape Breton. It’s been compared to a Stradivarius. They called it the Golden Fiddle. But it disappeared. What happened to it? Was it stolen? I didn’t read the whole article.”
“No.” Kate shakes her head. “I removed the strings when I was near giving birth because my husband wanted to sell it once the baby was born. He thought I should give up fiddling to raise kids, and there was no way that was going to happen. So I hid it in my mother’s attic and pretended it had been stolen.” Kate sighs before continuing. “Then several years later, after my mother died, someone bought the house. The owner found the fiddle and hung it on the wall as a decoration. He had no idea what he had.”
“The Golden Fiddle a wall ornament?” I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Mm-hm. Then when he died, his daughter sold it in a garage sale for fifty dollars. Eventually it ended up in a pawn shop.”
My chin drops. “Oh, my gosh! In a pawn shop?” I frown. “So where is it now?”
“It’s right here.” She lifts the case up to show me. “I bought it back and had it restrung and restored.”
“Except for the scratches and the old case?”
“Yes, well it is an antique.”
My mind reels with the knowledge of what’s really been going on. I ponder her words for a while, then dig my hands in my hips. “Okay, so you’re a spirit then, but what did you do to the town? I’ve never seen them so crazy about anything. You even had the cool crowd step dancing. You have to admit, you bewitched them … or something.”
She laughs again. “Nope. It’s just great music.”
My mouth drops. “What? You’re telling me a whole town went bonkers like that because they liked the music?”
She nods, a smile broadening her lips. “As they did a hundred and fifty years ago. I merely gave them what they needed.”
I contemplate her words. How could I have not seen that? Didn’t I see it in Charlotte’s eyes, in Mom’s enthusiasm, even when Dylan performed at the concert? Why was I so blind? I missed out on a lot of over the stupid violin in Kristoff’s shop, and because I didn’t want to share Uncle Jack. And sadly, I have to admit, I really do like Celtic music.
“And the other towns?” I ask. “You’ve been doing three and four month gigs on and off. I saw it on-line.”
“The same. They needed music.”
“And so they sent you?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Mm-hm.”
I nod, satisfied, but there’s something Kate isn’t telling me, and I have to know. I stare directly into her pale blue eyes.
“So why were you so interested in me?” I ask. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but it was a little creepy.”
Kate makes herself comfortable beside me as though settling herself for a long story. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah. Like why didn’t you just leave me alone? I mean, I wasn’t exactly polite.”
She pauses a moment, and then answers. “Because you’re my great-great-great-granddaughter, and I was sent to protect you.”
Goosebumps run up and down my flesh at her words.
“By who?” I ask.
“Your father. That’s why I showed up at the funeral. We were talking. He was there.”
I feel my eyes growing wide. Shivering, I hug myself before continuing. “But I don’t know any McDonoughs,” I say, my voice cautious, thinking maybe I’m hallucinating again.
She smiles. “Your mother was adopted, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, “but she couldn’t find her birth mother because the woman didn’t leave her name. She just left her baby there on the doorstep. Mom put in a request, but no one ever answered.”
Kate leans back. “That’s because Melody died a couple of years after she was born. You see, she played in a rock band and was on the road a lot. Her long-time boyfriend got tired of her being away all the time and walked out of her life. Then after they broke up, Melody discovered she was pregnant. And since she didn’t feel she could provide a stable home for a child, she gave her baby girl up for adoption.”
“That must have been hard,” I say.
“It was. She cried for days. Then two years later, her bus crashed, and she perished in the flames.”
“Ohhh.”
Kate continues. “You may have heard of her band. It was called the Sockhoppers.”
I feel my face light up. “No way! They were big back in the eighties – around here, anyway. Mom used to listen to them all the time until she started in on this fiddling thing.”
She nods. “Not surprising. It was probably Melody answering your mom’s request in her own way. Melody was my great-granddaughter and carried the family talent down all the way to you and Dylan.”
I stare out at the stars, thinking about her words, and then frown. “So what were you protecting me from?”
Her eyes grow serious. “There’s been a huge threat to your family. You’ve seen his work.”
I think for a moment. “The tombstone? But I saw you running away from the cemetery. I was sure it was you.”
Kate shakes her head. “He had just painted the tombstone and was watching you.”
My stomach twists with fear. “The dead eagle, the desecration of the church, the medical building? It’s all him?”
“Yes.”
“Was that why you came and knocked on our door when Mom and Dylan were in Chilliwack seeing a movie?”
“He was getting too close, and I wanted to warn you. I thought if I tried talking to you, you might listen, but you hid from me, and I knew I couldn’t force it.”
My cheeks warm. She had known I was there all along.
“Then Charlotte showed up, and I knew you’d be okay since your mom was coming home soon.”
“But what about the time we painted the sign and you came out of the woods and scared us?”
“He was hiding in the same clump of trees you and Charlotte were in. You were both in grave danger. I wanted to warn you, but you took off from the concert so fast that night I couldn’t, so I did the next best thing.”
“But everyone says you were at the reception. How could you be in two places at once?”
She lets out her ringing laugh again. “Simple. I excused myself and went to the lady’s room. No one knew I was gone.”
“I don’t get it.” I shrug.
“Well, in a way, it’s kind of like teleporting. All I have to do is think about you, and I’m there.”
My head spins as I take in her words, each new fact astonishing me.
“But how did you know it was me at the pub on Halloween night?”
Kate sighs and shakes her head. “Because I could see inside of you. Even though you were dressed in a clown costume, I knew all the hurt you were suffering, and that’s what I saw.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and I know all about Peter and Charlotte too.”
My mouth drops open. “You do?”
“I’m a spirit, Kira. I know a lot of things.”
“So the time I had a lesson with Mr. Bachinsky, and you were standing in the woods watching me, you knew I had been crying?”
Kate shakes her head. “That wasn’t me. It was him. Then two nights ago, I knew the man was in your yard, and you were alone. He was trying to lure you to the window by throwing rocks.”
“And that’s when you made a quick getaway from the pub to protect me?”
She nods. “No one even missed me.”
“But why didn’t you come last night?” Anger wells up inside me. “If you knew I was in trouble, why did you leave me to this? Do you have any idea how cold and hungry I’ve been?”
She sighs. “It was my final performance. I had to talk to Jack.” She pauses. “It took a really long time, and he took it quite hard.”
“You mean he knows … about who you really are?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
Kate’s eyes are sad as she nods.
“What did he say?”
She looks out into the dark night. “He cried.”
“What? Uncle Jack?” I feel embarrassed for him.
She nods again, staring into space.
“He really loved you, didn’t he?”
She pauses and then says, “I didn’t intend for that to happen.” Then she looks up at me and smiles. “And believe me, if I wasn’t a one hundred and fifty-year-old spirit, I would have probably fallen for him. Your Uncle Jack is one nice-looking man.”
We both laugh.
A feeling of guilt comes over me. “I’m sorry I was so against you and Uncle Jack … you know … as a couple.”
“It’s okay. I’m a spirit, remember?”
The wind blows up, carrying the sound of voices with it.
Kate stands up abruptly, her eyes darting back and forth, listening.
“What?” I ask, my heart quickening. “Is it him?”
“No. It’s your rescuers. They’ll be here soon.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“But before I go, I have something for you.”
“What?”
She holds her fiddle out to me. “Here. It’s yours. You’re its rightful heir.”
I gasp. “The Golden Fiddle?”
“Indeed.”
I recall my dream where Dad tried to give me Kate’s fiddle, and how I had a hissy-fit. He was trying to tell me I already had a far greater violin than the Gold Violin.
“Open it.”
I take it from her, uncertain, and then undo the latch, hardly believing that I could own such an instrument. As in my dream, I lift it out delicately, but this time I place it on my shoulder and tune it.
“Play it.”
“But I don’t know how to fiddle.”
“Yes you do. It’s your heritage. You’ve been hearing me play every night when I was at the pub, and even though you think you closed your mind to it, the music’s there.”
I search my memory. Remembering Charlotte, I begin the Pelican Reel. The notes glide smooth as silk.
“Oh, my gosh. I do know it!” I exclaim. Then I break into Brenda Stubbert’s Reel and another and another. “This is actually pretty easy, with a little practice.”
“Not that easy,” Kate says. “There’s more to fiddling than playing the notes. There’s accents, trills, slides, double-stops, drones, and an endless variety of things. You’ll have to learn it all if you want to carry on the family tradition.”
“I will, I promise. Thank you.” I pause. “And Kate?”
“Yes,” she says.
“I wish I had gotten to know you a lot sooner.” My eyes fill with tears.
“Me too, but your life will pass by quickly. The time you have left is like a blink of an eye to me.” She turns and peers upward to where the path lies and says, “I’ve got to go. You’ll find the fiddle at the Stompin’ Boot Pub. I’ll leave a note saying it’s for you.”
She stoops down and packs up her instrument. Then she hugs me and is gone.