Soul Dancing with the Brass Band (The Brass Band Series) (7 page)

This day we know the Druids are in the forest, on the other side of our future battlefield and without even seeing them, fear strikes at the heart of each Roman soldier. Although I would never admit it, even to my closest comrade, their extermination from this Earth will not be of my liking. During restless nights, a mysteriously striking woman invades my dreams and I become intoxicated. Only recently have I realized she must be Hilsbeth. All other women have become weak and pitiful in her shadow and I close my eyes and wait for her to come to me. I would like nothing more than to know her in the flesh, to feel her body against mine, to breathe in her breath…. but I know when our paths cross, that will most probably not be the outcome
.

July 24, 2010

Bennett drove up in one of his father’s many cars; a sporty BMW convertible. He left his car at school and flew home for the summer. I couldn’t help but notice how much of a gentleman he was. He chatted with Mrs. Witherspoon just enough to make her happy. He took my arm to help me down the front steps and opened the car door for me. Definitely not your average college student! He closed the door and I buckled in while I watched his blond hair catch the sunset as he walked around the car and eased himself into the drivers seat.

As we slipped easily into conversation, I found myself surprised that I wasn’t put off by how much he loved power and money. Really, I couldn’t blame him. He grew up with plenty of both and being born into it, it fits him like a fine tailored suit. He teased me about being raised on a farm, but it was good-natured. He was trying to rattle my cage, but I was in far too good of a mood to second-guess his intensions. I’m sure my being a farm girl made me unique in his eyes.

When we parked I noticed The Rozzelle was in the Nelson Art Gallery and realized this evening would prove to be a double treat. I wasn’t sure what I looked forward to most, the gallery or the dinner. As we entered the large hall, I was immediately drawn to the area on the right, and was glad to see Bennett follow as I motioned to him. A dimly lit room displayed an exciting collection of early artifacts from the United Kingdom.

As a kid, our family spent a fair amount of time out west exploring old Indian ruins on our summer vacations. It was during those trips that I began listening to the artifacts. It made sense to me that if you listened very, very closely they should be able to communicate their history. I thought it would be so cool if I were able to receive long forgotten knowledge, so I conveniently disregarded the fact that I had never received so much as one word; old habits die-hard.

I felt my hands open by my side as we entered the room, so I was ready to receive information. I mean, why not? I would never develop the talent if I didn’t practice.

Bennett seemed to be as interested in the Roman artifacts as I was in the Celtic ones, and he immediately became absorbed with a display case near the entrance. With Bennett occupied, I took the opportunity to walk slowly down the center aisle with my hands open. When I realized I was totally alone, I closed my eyes, deeply inhaled the musty smell and felt the cool air run through my open fingers. Soon, I became aware of a sharp pain in my chest and a gush of something warm running down my body, pooling around my feet. I noticed a familiar scent that was not pleasant - the
iron
smell of blood that I distinctly remembered from granddad’s hunting trips.

I didn’t want to open my eyes and take a chance the magic would disappear. After all, this was the first time I had ever
felt
anything from listening to the relics. When I sensed a hand on my shoulder, my eyes flew open. To my relief, it was Bennett, but even knowing this, it took me a few minutes to separate him from my other experience. It was that déjà vu feeling again because, I could almost swear there was another hand on my shoulder a moment before his. As we walked out of the room, I shook my hands in an effort to leave the darkness behind us.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Hillary. Are you okay?” Bennett asked slipping his arm around me. I nodded yes and we walked through the rest of the exhibits barely talking.

The decor of the restaurant replicated 15th century architecture and it was lovely. As I started to think more about Bennett and less about the artifacts, I realized that I was in pretty good company.

During dinner I discovered Bennett, even with a full social calendar, still found time to achieve a 4.0 grade point average. “It runs in my family” Bennett said, “My father is a lawyer as well as my grandfather. I learned the Law from dinner conversations when I was growing up. Law school is only a formality.”

“We talk about the latest farm report at our dinner table, how many cents per bushel,” I laughed, but not kidding. “We live in two different worlds.”

“Do you ever wonder what you’ll do after college?” I could tell Bennett was asking a sincere question.

“No, not yet,” I said. “I figure life will form itself into a future plan if I give it time. I’m not following any family legacy. I don’t have to rush things. After all, I’m only nineteen, still just a kid.”

“Following in my father’s footsteps has always been the plan for me. I’ve never given it a second thought. My father pays for everything now, so I’ll have a lucrative future … and that’s the way it has been for generations, each indebted to the last. Not that my father sees it that way. In my family, we’re driven by money.” Bennett looked at me. “Maybe I should pull back the blinders and see if there is something more fulfilling out there for me.”

I sure didn’t know him well enough to become his counselor, so I replied, “We’re still young, Bennett. We have plenty of time to make mistakes and make up for them.”

“Have you ever thought about moving far away, tossing in the towel? Have you ever been to Rome? How about it, Hillary, want to just disappear with me?”

First of all, I didn’t have a towel to toss in and just $200 dollars in my savings account. But as long as we were kidding around, I said, “Would you consider Scotland? That country intrigues me.”

I watched the twinkle in his dark brown eyes and felt the pull of my heart as I began to fall for him. But somehow I knew it was more like jumping off a cliff. With this guy, my heart was bound to be broken.

“It’s nice spending an evening with a beautiful woman that I have absolutely nothing in common with. It is a very refreshing change.” Bennett leaned back in his chair sipping his espresso as he gazed into my eyes.

“Good evening, Marcus. It’s nice to see you’re still coming home to Kansas City,” an older black gentleman said as he delivered dinner.

Bennett smiled up at him. “How has life been treating you, Wallace?”

“Just fine, just fine,” he replied. “Tell your folks hello for me and that they are due for a visit to the museum.”

When we were once again alone, I couldn’t resist asking Bennett why our waiter had referred to him as Marcus.

“My given name is Marcus Bennett Taylor, Bennett being my mother’s maiden name. I’m the end of the line on my mother’s side of the family and I’ve always tried to honor that by using her name as my first. Marcus is a family name of a different kind, from the maternal side of my father’s family.” He looked at me most seriously and said, “My grandmother insists that our family tree leads straight back to Roman nobility, and if you knew my grandmother, you would also know never to argue with her. That side of my family tree is pure blooded, hotheaded Italians. The short story is that by my generation, with the mixture of my mother’s ancestry, I’ve never felt like the name Marcus actually fit me,” he said and pointed at his blond hair.

As the evening came to a close, Bennett asked if I would spend one more afternoon with him.

“I want to show you our family’s hunting cabin. It’s not far, and I’ll bring a picnic. If Ruth has you for a couple of days, maybe she’ll agree to let me entertain you on Wednesday?”

“I’m sure Ruth won’t mind,” I said, smiling because I didn’t need to be convinced.

I HAD an incredible time with Ruth. We shopped at the Plaza...well, Ruth did, and dined at Crown Center, but by Wednesday, I was looking forward to going into the countryside with Bennett.

The drive to Bennett’s cabin took about two and a half hours. It was further than I had expected, but I didn’t mind. We laughed and listened to music most of the way and just as Bennett had promised, he had packed an incredible picnic, although it looked much more like it was packed by a gourmet restaurant.

We arrived at the sprawling spread that the Bennett’s family affectionately called
their cabin
. I would call it a second home. We found ourselves spending time on a huge wrap-around porch. I sunk into a luxurious cushion which lined one of the many teak rockers, kicked off my shoes, tucked my stocking feet under me and relaxed, taking in a spectacular view of the Flint Hills.

“There’s a storm on the way,” Bennett said, and I followed his eyes to the west. Darkness was beginning to gather on the horizon and I could see the lightning striking against the grey sky as we sat in sunshine. That’s the thing about Kansas, with the open landscape, you can literally see for miles. The storm was still a long way off, but it was definitely gathering momentum and the temperature had dropped.

“Let’s go inside,” Bennett said as he pulled me up from my chair and held my hands in his. “I’ll gather up the remnants of our lunch,” he said, reluctantly releasing me. “If you grab the glasses for me, Hillary, we’ll go in and sit by the fire,” which was a modern gas insert he lit by flipping a switch.

As the fire roared to life, so did my panicked thoughts. I
’d had hours to think about being alone with Bennett and what I might do if things turned romantic. My heart thumped like a rabbit every time he was close enough to touch. Breaking the news about my virginity would be a huge turn off. So, I kept my mouth shut and struggled to stay in the moment while waiting to seeing where things might go.

“Which direction is the restroom?" I was enjoying the cozy fire, but when nature called you really have no choice.

“Down the hall on the right,” he yelled from the kitchen sink. “Do you want me to show you?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I got to my feet and made my way down the long, dim hall. The bathroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the old, elegant hunting lodge.

I quickly glanced in the mirror as I turned to leave and noticed that I didn’t look half bad. I turned out the light and headed back toward the living room. Still in my stocking feet, I walked down the hall and felt a sudden squish and then something wet and sticky between my toes.

“Hey, Bennett, I think you might have a problem. Can you come over here? I don’t want to track whatever I just stepped in around the house.”

Flipping on all of the lights as he came to the rescue, he stopped in front of me. “Oh no, we must have a leak,” he said running off and coming back with a hand full of rags. “My father and uncles just got back from a hunting trip to Arizona. They bagged a wild Javelina ... pig,” he added when he noticed I didn’t understand. “I think it must be in here.”

When I looked at my feet it dawned on me that I was standing in a stream of blood that was coming from under a door. Bennett opened it slightly and quickly closed it, before much of the odors of the warm walk-in freezer could escape into the cabin. The blood I was standing in made my stomach weak. I could smell it, and it was warm as it soaked my socks.

“For some reason, my uncle likes to save the blood for black pudding. He claims it’s some old bullshit family recipe. I can’t stand the stuff myself. I am sorry about this, Hillary. I can’t believe this has happened. Let me carry you back to the bathroom so you can get cleaned up. I’ll find you some clean socks.”

He swept me up into his arms and carried me back the way I had come.

“Turn on the light for me, Hillary.” He sat me on the counter top and turned on the water. “Just put your feet in the sink. I’ll bring you a towel,” Bennett said as he disappeared into the hall.

I stripped off my bloody socks and held them under the warm water to rinse them out. As I watched the blood run from my feet into the drain, the smell and the feeling of warm blood gave me a flash of the Nelson Gallery and the Celtic exhibit. I got that déjà vu feeling again, but I’d be damned if I could understand why. The smell of blood seemed to be the trigger, but why?