Soul Dancing with the Brass Band (The Brass Band Series) (3 page)

“I beg your pardon, ladies,” he said as he bowed in our direction, “but these two gentlemen must excuse themselves. There are still thirteen in this household who cannot swim.”

There was tension in the room and when I met the old man’s eyes, it was as wonderful as it was awful. Don’t ask me what I mean because I can’t explain it. I only knew it felt like he was looking into my soul.

When did swimming become an emergency, I thought to myself and as if I’d said it out loud, McCollum turned to me. “You must leave now. This is a home of deep spiritual studies.” Before I could formulate my next thought, McCollum raked his fingers through his hair and walked out shaking his head.

Everyone knew the party was over. The atmosphere had changed so completely that Ruth and I just followed Will and George out. As I stood bewildered on the long cobblestone drive, preparing to walk back to my dorm, Will came within ten feet of me and stopped. His face appeared tense, like he had a million things he wanted to say, but he said nothing.

Ruth tugged on my arm and I turned to shrug her off and when I looked back, Will was gone.

AFTER WILL
and George left us standing alone on the driveway, Ruth and I walked bewildered back to campus. We didn’t have anything to hurry back to. Our Spring Fling party was over practically before it started.

As for myself, I had an endless loop of questions and emotions cycling through my mind. I really like him! Will I see him again? Does he like me or does he think I’m crazy? I kept trying to place McCollum, feeling that I would recall a man who dressed like he did. Then I realized nothing really mattered because Will hadn’t asked me for my cell number or email. He didn’t even know my last name! But still, there was no denying
, the worst disappointment was how things ended.

We walked in silence for the first block or two. Ruth, who was still carrying her heels asked, “Do you think Will and George are really students?”

“Don’t you think they have to be?” I answered, even though the whole party seemed a little
Alice in Wonderland
to me. “I’ve never heard of a Spring Fling party for four. That part was a little odd, but I bet we'll see them around campus.”

“I’m a Music and Performing Arts major,” Ruth admitted. “I don’t think I have them in my classes. I can’t imagine either one of them singing a show tune.”

For the first time, we laughed. Ruth and I were friends now; there was no question about it. We both felt the bond we’d formed by sharing an adventure together. But the interesting thing about our friendship was that
this
was our first conversation.

Life is funny that way. Circumstances threw us together, but in hindsight, I could see the perfection in all of it. We needed each other for a few hours and when we didn’t anymore, something better took its place. Ruth and I talked and laughed about stuff like we were a couple of kids on a playground.

“Slug bug!” Ruth yelled as she hit me in the arm so hard she knocked me off the sidewalk. I looked around to spot the car, but like in the TV ad, it was nowhere in sight.

“Next time don’t hit me so hard, okay?”

“Deal. I guess I forgot my own strength,” Ruth said, flexing her muscle, her high heels hanging from her fingertips.

“This is where I get off,” I said when we reached the front of my dorm.

“Me, too,” she added, gleefully amused.

As luck would have it, Ruth lived in my dorm, one floor down. It had been a great day. I smiled to myself knowing I wouldn’t have to eat breakfast alone anymore because now I had a friend!

Getting up at sunrise was an old habit of mine, mostly because there was just no ignoring Dad’s rooster cock-a-doodle-doodling outside my bedroom window. I suspect it’s a good habit to have because now that I’m in college I can have a leisurely breakfast and still make it to my 7:30 class early enough to have my choice of seats.

At 6:00 a.m., half the girls in the dining hall were still in their robes and slippers. I wondered if they were here for the education or the social life. With my full class load, I had to be fully showered, dressed and ready to roll by breakfast. Caffeine had become a mandatory food group.

Ruth came in a little worse for wear. I waved her over to the seat I had saved and when she sat down, it became obvious that she didn’t fall into the
morning person
category. I don’t think she’d even combed her hair.

We had stayed up late the night before, comparing the details of our somewhat separate experiences in the carriage house and Ruth seemed to have had the same experience as me. She told George her whole life story and didn’t have one single fact about his. Other than their address, first names and the fact that they were really nice guys, we didn’t know anything at all about them.

As the days went by, Ruth and I stopped talking about Will and George. After all, what was the point when we knew nothing about them? They were slowly being replaced with talk about our looming finals and worry about my grade point average. I had to apply for financial aid in the fall and my final grades would be a “make it or break it” deal.

Finally, May 27th rolled around, the last day of school and the end of my freshmen year. I gotta tell you, I was ready for a few months without the pressure of studying. Thumbing through the stacks of papers by my computer, I decided to box up about half of them to deal with when I got home and throw the rest into the recycle bin. It didn’t take long to come across that
Spring Fling invitation I had romantically saved. I pulled it out of the pile of paper, thinking about the fun we had that day and then shrugged it off. I hadn’t heard word one from Will. So much for the connection I thought we’d made. Maybe in the fall I would take a class in
Character Judgment 101
. I placed the invitation in the pile to recycle.

Ruth’s timing was impeccable. She picked that very moment to poke her head through my door to say her good-byes. I couldn’t help but hold up the invitation and comment, “Wonder what they’re up to this summer?”

“Oh, there’s always the next Spring Fling!” Ruth said rearranging the bags she had slung over her shoulder. Deep down, I knew Ruth could let it slide off her back easier than me because she knew
life goes on
. Due to my inexperience, I was willing to go careening full speed ahead with my naive hope that Will really liked me. I’d been stupid enough to hold onto the hope that I would see him again. I really needed to learn how to see “boys” as a Friday night distraction and get on with things.

“I just came by to say goodbye before heading home. I figure a two hour drive and I’ll be in Kansas City with a home cooked meal and Mom doing my laundry!”

“I’m sure gonna miss you this summer,” I said as I flung my arms around her. “We need to get together before next fall!”

Our final hug brought me to tears. Over the semester Ruth had become my light in an otherwise bleak landscape of friendships. Not seeing her for an entire summer seemed unrealistic.

MAY
28, 35 AD

The sun is dawning and in the Druid tradition, we have all gathered in meditation to greet the new day. As usual, only one sits alone, deep in meditation long after everyone else has left the Temple. Out of all of the Druids, Terrance spends an immeasurable amount of time meditating in the ethers, only bound to this earth by the thinnest of threads. While not in meditation he digs in his small garden to keep himself attached to the Earth, otherwise it is thought that he would just float away.

We had never realized what a valuable asset his endless hours in meditation were until one night, under the cover of darkness, a stranger from a faraway land moved toward McCollum’s tent. Not one of our posted guards noticed the movement, but Terrance did and ran to warn McCollum of the intruder. That was the evening McCollum discovered that while Terrance was in the depths of his meditative state, his energy became so expansive that he draped it over the entire Druid community. He felt the ebb and flow of every Druid consciousness as music. Anyone other than a Druid sounded like a dissonant cord. Luckily, McCollum’s visitor had come in peace. The soothsayer, Eduardo had traveled as quickly as possible from Portugal to inform McCollum of his dreams and to offer his mystical abilities in defense of the Druids.

From that night forward our primary defense became a single sentinel named Terrance who sits in the Temple, monitoring the pulse of our community while he communed in meditation with the Gods
.

May 28, 2010

I left campus before dawn to make my hour and a half drive home. As long as I was home in time for my favorite meal of the day – breakfast, and in time to catch Dad before he went out into the fields, everything would be perfect. I drove up our long dirt road toward the barn and there he stood, blond hair blowing in the wind and dust billowing off his jeans as he beat them with his ball cap.

I pulled up and threw the car in park. Getting out, I yelled, “Hey Dad, have I missed breakfast?”

“No, Kiddo. I’m just dusting myself off, so I’ll be presentable. This spring has been a dry, dusty one. Come here and give your old dad a hug.”

My father was a handsome man. His irresistible smile made his crow’s feet crinkle and his light blue eyes twinkle with mischief. His trademark blond hair, which was always longer than what was in fashion, caught the wind.

“Hop on Kiddo, I’ll take you up to the house,” Dad said as he lifted me up into his tractor.

As I cuddled up next to him on the single seat in the cab, I laid my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I relaxed to the smells of barley, dirt and cow dung all mixed together into one marvelous scent that will always mean home.

When I opened my eyes I noticed the note taped to the dash. With all of those hours in the field, Dad always wrote a few words down to give him something to think about. The latest quote seemed to be from Rolling Thunder, once a Medicine Man of the Cherokee Nation. I leaned over a little further to try to get a better look, and then Dad began to read it to me. He had a deep, slow, melodious voice; kind of musical in the way it made you want to close your eyes to listen.

“…
Understanding begins with love and respect…for oneself, for one’s world and the Great Spirit which is in all life, in all things. One can perform no greater service for his world than to be mindful of his acts, even his thoughts and speech become a part of the condition of the world
.”

We sat for a few minutes not talking, just slowly making our way up the bumpy, dirt driveway toward the house, both of us deep in thought.

“I was only a kid about your age, out for a Sunday drive through the rolling Flint Hills,” Dad started. “I don’t know how I ended up in Council Grove and I’m even less sure why I stayed. It was evening and I should have been gettin’ home, but the Indians were holdin’ a regional meeting under that old tree they still call
Council Oak
.”

I knew which tree Dad was talking about. I had driven by it many times on my way to college. The top of the old tree had been blown off by a lightning strike a hundred years before, but it was still the largest tree in the area, spanning some ten feet across at its trunk. The Indian tribes had been meeting at that particular tree for a lot longer than anyone could remember.