Blitzed(86)

I shook my head. "I get that way when things don’t go as planned on the job. I don’t do a good job of controlling my stress levels sometimes, and this operation from the beginning has been what I believe some Americans call a clusterf*ck. From the purchase of this property, much farther from the museum than we planned, to me literally running you over, to now problems with our extraction plan. Our father wouldn’t have approved of this from the beginning, but I let Francois talk me into it. The money was too good to pass up. By the way, how is your head?"

Jordan touched the back of her head carefully, her eyes tightened against any pain, but shook her head after a moment. "I think it'll be fine. There's no crust of blood or anything, and I don't have too much of a headache anymore. What does your mother think of what the two of you are doing?"

"They are fine with it," I replied. When she gave me a confused look, I waved it off. "It’s a long story. Maybe another time.”

“Sounds interesting. Well, do you have a radio or a TV around here?" Jordan asked. "It isn't that I don't want to talk, but this huge amounts of silence is kind of weirding me out. I seem to have spent too much time in the city with its perpetual background noise."

I shook my head, then thought. "This cabin doesn’t have electricity. Just a second, though. Francois is a bit of a musician . . . he usually brings something along for times like this. Come, I’ll see if I can find it."

Jordan shrugged and got up off the couch, letting the blanket stay where it was. It was my first chance to look at her without the shroud-like cloth, and I found myself staring, to the point that Jordan cocked her head and smiled. "What?"

Shaking my head, I regained my senses. “Sorry.” I felt an unfamiliar smile come to my face, one of genuine pleasure and not a grimace of restrained frustration, and I gestured towards the bedroom. "Shall we?"

Jordan walked into the bedroom and to the far corner, where she stood quietly. "I didn't see anything that looked like a musical instrument earlier. There isn't much in here."

"You are right, but you forgot here," I said. I picked the LED lantern up from the side table and turned it on, carrying it over to the far side of the room and kneeling next to the dresser before unlocking Francois footlocker. He always used the same combination, 1-1-3-0, a personal gesture. Opening it up, I lifted out the upper tray that contained a shirt, underwear, and two pairs of pants, looking for what I hope Francois normally packed. "Ah, here it is."

I pulled out Francois’ guitar, holding it up. "It’s not full sized, in order to fit inside the locker, but do you think you could play this?"

Jordan's brown eyes sparkled, and she nodded. "That's a 2/4 size guitar, right?"

"I couldn’t tell you,” I admitted. "Francois bought it years ago, for the footlocker only. At home, or when we can, he plays a full sized one."

Jordan came over and held out her hands. I handed it over, impressed as she handled the instrument with care and respect. She looked it over, her eyes widening as she looked at it. "It's not wood."

"No," I agreed. “It’s carbon fiber. He sometimes plays it when he and I are stuck like this, or when we’re before a job in order to relax."

Jordan finished her inspection, then strummed the strings. She made a few adjustments and strummed again, smiling. "It has a decent sound. It's been a while since I played an acoustic guitar. Your brother is good?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, but father insisted that we study music. Francois went first with the lute, a common Roma instrument before taking up the guitar. Father wasn’t pleased with it, he called it a peasant's instrument, but he permitted it. I, on the other hand, wasn’t given as much an option."

"Oh?" Jordan said, getting her fingers familiar with the instrument. "What did you learn?"

"I had to learn a classical instrument, as he termed it, so I studied the violin," I said, closing Francois’ footlocker and standing up. I noticed the grimace on Jordan's face, the downward twist of her features. "What is it? Something wrong with the guitar?”

"No, it’s fine,” she said quietly, holding the guitar in her hands and sitting down on the bed. "It's just that . . . I had a bad experience with the violin. I don't play it anymore.”

"I see. Well then, I’d love if you’d play a little, I’ll see if I can keep rhythm on the table top or something," I said lightly, wondering what could be so traumatic as to cause her happy mood to evaporate so quickly.

We went back out into the main area, where the fire did make a noticeable difference. Even with the beginning of the day's warmth trickling in, and the door being open for close to an hour to gather warmth from the rest of the cabin, it was still very chilly.

“It's been a long time since I played any acoustic guitar, so forgive me if I make mistakes," she said, taking a seat on one of the hard chairs that were supposed to be part of the dining table. "Any requests?"

I shook my head. I went over to the kitchen area and took out a wooden spoon, reversing the grip so that the narrow handle could act like a drumstick. "I can try and keep time with anything you like. Start with something easy, though. What sort of music do you play?"

"I'm normally into rock, but that's on an electric," Jordan replied. She thought for a minute, then nodded to herself. "It's been a while, but this is one of the first real songs I performed on an acoustic guitar."