Bead of Sand
by
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The earnest gaze of the shaveling’s bright blue eyes verged on fanatical. Rook could see that the young man had fallen headlong into a crush on Stacy. He’d keep an eye on the kid.
“So, how’d ya learn to play like that? That was great!”
“I’ve always played something, ever since I can remember,” she replied. “I grew up with fifing and drumming. Then I majored in music education at University of Connecticut.”
Fifing and drumming, music education. Rook mused over these things as he picked up his order. That explained a lot about her musical ability. It also gave him a clue about her age; she was older than she appeared.
“Could ya help me with them?” the young man continued. “I’d like to get together.”
Stacy hesitated, and Rook felt a tangible shift in the conversation, toward territory that he knew she’d prefer to let lie. He didn’t know if the kid was sincerely interested in the music or trying to pick her up. Clearly, she was at odds about him. The almost imperceptible glance she flashed at Rook was all it took for him to move in.
“Hey, Stacy, here’s your order,” he said, handing her another iced tea and a large chocolate muffin. He nodded at the kid with a big grin, pretending not to know that he was interrupting a conversation. “Hey, how you doing?”
“Thanks, Rook.” Her face brightened as she took the refreshments.
“They’ve fired up that great hammered dulcimer again,” Rook commented, imbuing his voice with a companionable eagerness to return outside.
“Oh, yes, I want to go hear that.” Under the twinkle in her eyes at the prospect of more hammered dulcimer music, he could see a shadow of gratitude. She turned to the young fellow. “I’m not settled anywhere right now, but I’ll probably see you again, here at the coffee house, maybe next week. This is a lot of fun. I’d like to hear you play, too, to see how you’re doing with that fiddle.”
He beamed at her, and handed her another scrap of paper. “Here’s my address. If ya come across any of that music, can ya send it to me?”
“Sure,” she said.
The kid wasn’t so infatuated that he couldn’t see that he had been gently dismissed, so after casting an appraising eye at Rook, he turned to go put his own order in at the counter. Rook and Stacy headed back out to the parking lot and the music.
“Thanks, Rook!” Stacy breathed, once they were outside. “I don’t mind talking about music with people, but he was intense. I’m not ready yet to ...” she paused and sighed, “… to commit to anything with a stranger, no matter how innocent.”
“He was smitten with you,” Rook agreed as he walked behind her. They skirted the back of the audience to find their table. The young man’s transparent ardor lingered in the forefront of his mind, and he snorted in amusement. “I had a hunch you might need to be pulled from the fire.”
“He’s probably very serious about the music, but ... well, I don’t know ...”
Rook took her arm gently and turned her to him. “You don’t have to explain anything, Stacy,” he said. “I don’t know where you’re coming from, but I know you need your space. That’s all I need to know.”
She gazed at him intently, searching his face, and he saw a thin edge of moisture shine on her eyelid. He cringed. Don’t let her cry! He always felt like a fool when girls cried. He never knew what to do. To his surprise, she leaned against him, resting her head against his chest, perfectly trusting in him. The electric tension from before was gone. After a few moments, he cleared his throat self-consciously, and she straightened. He waved his hand toward their table, which other visitors had occupied during their absence. “It looks like our table’s gone,” he said, by way of changing the subject. “That’s all right – I needed a stretch anyway.”
They stood for a few minutes, listening to the music and eating their snacks before he spoke again. “Besides, he’s a little young for you.” The kid might not be far behind Stacy in age, Rook thought, but he’s definitely still just a pup. “I was expecting him to offer you an ear to scratch.”
She emitted a snicker, and Rook grinned to himself. He had tickled her funny bone.
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About the Book
Rook Westfall likes working at Sennett Lakes Farm Museum - giving hayrides, milking cows, and mucking stalls - even if it does entail manure. But Dad grumbles that he should get a real job instead of escaping into a 19th Century fantasy, and Mum wants another daughter-in-law to contribute to her collection of grandchildren.
Jiminy! Can’t a guy just live?
Rook’s tranquil world somersaults, however, when he runs afoul of the Saltkill Gang during a violent storm. Stacy Morgan, a Civil War reenactor, interrupts the gang’s attack, when she stumbles onto the museum grounds. After rescuing Rook, she joins the museum’s seasonal staff, but her private demons keep Rook at arm’s length. A prickly friendship emerges between them as she reveals her tragic secrets, a trust the depths of which Rook can’t fathom until she’s gone. When Stacy leaves at season’s end, neither she nor Rook realizes that she takes with her a gift that will surprise them all.
Set in a remote finger of the Adirondacks, with a winsome six-year-old, a reformed delinquent, and a wild nonagenarian, Bead of Sand is a novel of discovery and fulfillment, in a place where the past too easily overshadows the present.
About the Author
Sally M. Chetwynd’s musical interests launched her into American Revolution reenactments; she switched later to Civil War living history. She fields as a soldier called Sam – musician and military engineer - and a civilian sketch artist. Bead of Sand emerged from this avocation. She and her husband live in Wakefield, MA.