Soul Dancing with the Brass Band (The Brass Band Series) (10 page)

I wanted to sit down and take more time to fully meet my new friend. I held the old book ever so gently in my hands because it seemed so fragile, as if it was a very wise old sage, bent by the years, but not yet broken. Then suddenly I remembered I was at work and wondered how long I had been standing there holding the book rather than taking it down to the office to scan.

I made a mental note to come back to this area again; the room seemed to be a very special place. I guessed hardly anyone even knew about this part of the library. All of the books were old and probably out of print. Certainly, none of them could be found online, which made them feel even more unique and special.

As I turned the book on its end to look at the dust that had built up since it had last been opened, I noticed it was considerable and blew softly to clean it off. It occurred to me to check the date the book was printed, so I’d know just how old my new friend was. When I flipped to the front, the date said 1925, not far from its hundredth birthday.

“I’ll have to bring Dad up here when I get a chance,” I said out loud as I closed the book. Turning to leave, I couldn’t help but look behind me. For a moment I could swear I felt the presence of someone else in the room, but the room was empty.

It took me about 30 minutes to scan all of the pages Professor Edwards, PhD, had requested and to get them emailed to him. Then I returned my new
friend
to its rightful location on the shelf and moved on to the rest of the books on my list.

I WAS glad to get off work in time to stop by the Student Union for a newspaper. It was a beautiful day, and with time to spare, I found a place in the sun and took a moment to catch up on the news.

A group of students were congregating across the street and my attention was drawn there by the sound of angry voices… one joining with the next and then the next. It became obvious that someone was stirring the pot and not in a good way. When the crowd moved away, two people remained; a student and a man around thirty, both agitated and ugly.

Returning to my paper with a shiver, I felt a bit blue and wondered why my cheerful mood had suddenly turned dark. It actually seemed as if a cloud of gloom was descending on the Student Union causing me to no longer feel comfortable. Standing, I walked out to the road where the recycle bin was located to toss my paper in.

Glancing back
toward the Union one last time before heading home, I saw that the angry man from across the street was now standing where I sat just a moment ago. He was dressed in old black jeans and a black faded t-shirt with dark, shoulder length, thinning hair hanging limp. His face was broad and pale and he was smiling directly at me as if we were friends. But I had never seen him before today. I quickened my pace as that feeling of déjà vu filled me, continually scanning my memory for any way I might have known him.

I arrived at the apartment just in time to try Ruth’s first attempt at Mac n’ Cheese.

“Ruth, I really like this. Was the recipe on the box?”

“My Mom had the kitchen staff put together a college cookbook for me as a joke, but I think it’s going to come in handy. Take a look and let’s pick out something for dinner tomorrow,” she said as she tossed it across the table.

“I don’t think there are enough green things in here to be considered a balanced diet. We’ll have to fit a salad in every now and then,” I said. I took the little book into the kitchen along with the dishes and filed it away on the shelf for safekeeping.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and check my email. See ya tomorrow, Ruth,” I said as I headed to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I opened my backpack and pulled out my laptop. I thought for a moment about sitting at my desk, but decided to pile up my pillows and climbed into bed. I just wanted to check my email, make sure I had all of my materials for tomorrow’s classes and go to sleep.

The first email was from Mom and Dad, sending me encouragement, telling me Kenny made it home safe and sending their love to Ruth.

The second email was a welcome from the President of the University with an invitat
ion attachment for an upcoming Student Body Fall Mixer.

When I saw the third, I yelled, “Hey Ruth, get in here.”

When she came through the door, she took one look at me and started in, “What kind of P.J.'s are those, Hillary? I’m going to have to give you a lesson on…”

But before she could finish, I interrupted with, “I mean it. Get over here!” She climbed in bed beside me, slipped under the covers and looked at the screen. “Not that one Ruth, the third one.” The subject line read,
Chelsea, is this you
? Will.

“Open it Hillary! If you don’t do it NOW, I think I’ll explode.” Between the two of us, we may have sucked all of the air out of the room, as I opened the email.

Dear Hillary,

Before I write a lengthy letter, I’d like to confirm that you are indeed the person I seek. Do you refer to yourself as Chelsea? This has been a puzzle that my friend George and I have been trying to solve for some time now. Please reply, if indeed you are the one I have been searching for. Also, please let us know if you have any connection in which we can contact Ruth.

Sincerely,

William Emerald

We exhaled slowly.

“Wow,” I started. “I did make it awfully hard for him to find me by lying about my name. I wonder how they did it. How the hell did they find my email? Are we listed in a school directory?”

“Heck if I know or care,” Ruth said delighted. “But feel free to give George my email!”

“I think I’ll wait and reply tomorrow. I’d like to compose a letter that doesn’t sound as giddy as I feel right now. Besides, I don’t know what to say!”

“Maybe just say,
Yes, it's me
! And see what Will has to say.”

“I think that’s a fine idea, but I’m still going to wait until I’m not so tired. I’ll do it at the Union tomorrow between classes.”

“We’ll have that p.j. talk tomorrow. You need something besides that ratty old t-shirt,” Ruth said, leaving my room.

I smiled at her, turned off the light and rolled over in bed. My heart was beating so hard I could hear my pulse in my ears. When I finally began to calm down and drift off, the roar of my pulse became the sound of rolling ocean waves.

Aug 23, 35 AD

As the tide rolls in and out, I turn my face to the sun. This is how I like to begin the day. I breathe in deeply and I open my palms to receive what the universe has to offer me. I’m not sure of the cause, but the result is as sure as the sun rising in the east. The energy, which lies outside of me, begins to fill my body through my fingertips and when it reaches my mind, I begin to know things that are beyond mere human understanding. I feel the power pulsing in my veins and begin the rituals to harness it…when I realize, today is my day to rest, so I let myself become the tide…flowing in and out and the rhythm rocks me to sleep
.

Aug 24, 2010

I rolled over to turn on my computer. First to make sure I wasn’t dreaming about the email and second, to save Will in my address book. What a great surprise, I thought as I closed my laptop and got ready for class.

My 7:30 physics class was in a large auditorium and while I had the option of doing it on-line, I truly enjoyed the energy of being with other like-minded students.

After I got situated in my seat, I looked down toward the podium to check out the grad assistant that was supposed to be doing the tutoring. That’s when I noticed Gilbert sitting on stage. Well, he did say he was in physics, quantum physics. The poor guy was fidgeting with his folding chair, trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It actually looked like he made an attempt to get a comb through his hair, although I think he failed.

I left class a few minutes early and ran down the stairs to see if I could catch up with Gilbert before he got away. When I rounded the last corner I saw him exiting the auditorium. “Hey, Gilbert,” I yelled a little louder than needed. Everyone in the hall turned to look at me. This was the first time I had seen him standing and he was probably only 5’4”.

Gilbert turned around on tippy-toes to see over the crowd of students exiting the class and smiled as he caught sight of me. “Hi, Hils,” he called back and motioned for me to work my way through the crowd.

“Gilbert, I’m in your class,” I exhaled.

“It’s great to see you again so soon.” He lowered his voice, “but actually Hillary, here you should call me Mr. Dutton.”

“Well, Mr. Dutton, I am wondering which night your study group meets and if I can attend?”

“I’d love that, Hils, but I don’t have a schedule. My groups are mostly on request out of desperation the night before an exam. My office number is posted on the board.” He pointed to the list and sure enough there was his name. “It’s my cell number. I have a hard time spending a lot of time stuck in that cubicle they call an office when I can be in the sun. I think more clearly outside.”

“Call me any time or just come find me. I’m usually sitting on a bench outside the Union. I can always count on getting a cup of old, bitter coffee from the cafeteria. It’s an acquired taste,” he added as he lifted one side of that uni-brow. “If you don’t mind being tutored there, you can drop by anytime. It’s as good as anywhere, as long as the weather holds out.”

The bells chimed in the tower.

“I’ve got to get to my next class now, but I’ll call you as soon as I need help. Thanks.”

“See you around, Hils.” Gilbert turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

I sat through my next class not paying much attention to the instructor. My mind found its way back to Will and the letter I had been composing in my mind and within moments I was back in that carriage house looking into those beautiful blue eyes. When class was over, I looked for a place to sit down in the sunshine. I made it as far as the first bench outside the front door of Becker Hall, opened my laptop and began typing before I either forgot what I wanted to say or chickened out completely.

Dear Will,

Yes, I do refer to myself as Chelsea. Although I would not have if I knew our night would be cut short without time for a more formal goodbye. My given name is Hillary Rubner and I would be delighted to receive a lengthy letter from you at your earliest convenience.

Please let George know I have attached Ruth’s email address.

Awaiting your reply,

Hillary

P.S. How did you find me?

I instantly began going over things and second-guessing myself. After all, what did I know about him? Zero! And that was the honest truth. I thought about everything that happened that evening and he remained a bit of a mystery. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and clicked send…and it was gone before I could change my mind.

I started checking my email every chance I had,
like a crazy woman
, but no reply. I checked it first thing in the morning and again before I left for class. I checked a half a dozen more times before 3:00 and finally decided I should try to get a hold of myself. I headed toward work and tried to put Will out of my mind for a while.

“Hello, Anne Marie. Do you have a list for me today?”

“Sure do, Hillary. It’s right here. We have more requests from Dr. Edwards. His list gets longer every week. Hope you don’t mind, but they’re all in the same area of the library as last time,” and she slid the packet toward me.

“I like looking through those old dusty books,” I said as I pretended to cough, Anne Marie laughed and I was off on another afternoon scavenger hunt.

As I walked up the stairs, I began putting together an imaginary picture of Dr. Edwards. It provided entertainment and the picture got a little more defined the deeper I dove into his research subject matter. I thought of him as an elderly man, probably because of the old books he requested. I hoped he smelled better than some of the old books, I thought as I picked up another one that was musty and slightly mildewed. I imagined him to be small in stature with a grey mustache that curled up at the ends, a bit disheveled on the outside, but with a brilliant mind. His office had no light other than the one on his desk and his books and papers were like walls around him, stacked from floor to ceiling on every surface available. When he left his office in the evenings, he always put a fedora on his bald spot. That last part might have been a little over the top, but I had plenty of time on my hands to daydream as I walked around the library. “Well, Dr. Edwards, what will you teach me about today?”