Throw - A Companion Story to "Summer Dances"

1

 

throw [throh] v. to propel or cast in any way, esp. to project or propel from the hand by a sudden forward motion or straightening of the arm and wrist: to throw a ball.

 

            Maybe it was the rocks.

 

            When Charlie’s family moved into their house, the yard was full of rocks.  It was a brand new house in a brand new neighborhood and the rocks were just one of those characteristics of the Texas landscape where they moved in.  But Charlie’s dad wanted a nice lawn; Charlie’s mom wanted a garden in the back.  So the rocks had to be moved. Luckily, the back yard ended with a small slope that ran up to the woods.  The rocks would go there.

At first, Charlie helped move the rocks one-by-one, carrying them to the back of the yard.  He quickly discovered that carrying the rocks in a bucket was much faster, but toting a bucket from rock to rock rapidly lost its charm.  Next, Charlie decided to park the bucket in one spot and start throwing the rocks into the pail.  It was more effective, but that plan destroyed a lot of buckets.  It DID make for good practice, but Charlie’s parents decided that too many buckets had been wasted on perfecting his aim.  Without buckets, he was reduced to standing in the yard and tossing the rocks from wherever he found them up onto the hill.  He tried to make it interesting of course and practiced his aim from different spots in the yard.  He got very good at throwing… he never ran out of rocks.

  

2

 

chuck [chuhk] v. to toss with a quick motion, usually a short distance. Syn. throw

 

He was christened Charles Roger Huck; Charlie to his parents, and as he moved into the cruelties of childhood, his schoolmates jumped on the innocent listing of C. Huck on the roster and promptly tagged him “Chuck.”  As his name was Charles, he slipped easily into this nickname, and thus, “Chuck” was created.

            Chuck was the most popular newspaper boy in town.  He would unerringly place the newspaper on the front sidewalk of his customers’ houses.  Low hanging tree branches, overgrown shrubbery, decorative flamingos…all were no match for his accurate placement of the day’s news.  One of those customers was the coach of the local High School and he would watch his paper sail from the sure hands of his newspaper boy to the same spot on his front sidewalk day after day.

            A few weeks later on his afternoon run, the coach recognized Chuck in the park playing a pick-up game of basketball with his friends.  He stopped in wonder as Chuck sank basket after basket from all spots on the court.  Finger rolls, tear-drops, scoops, free throws, three balls… everything went in.

            The next day, Chuck was called into the coach’s office.  He shifted uncomfortably in the chair as Coach Bradley scrutinized him for a long moment.  Finally, he spoke.  “I saw you shooting hoops in the park, Chuck.  Can you shoot like that all the time?”

            “Umm… yessir,” he said nervously.

            Coach Bradley leaned back in his chair. “Chuck…what you have is a gift, a real gift...have you ever thought about playing ball in school?”  And so began Chuck’s sports career.  The basket ball team won the championship that year, and to his delight, the coach discovered that Chuck’s talents were not restricted to the basketball court.

            On the baseball diamond, Coach Bradley found Chuck could deliver a ball down the center or across any corner of the plate.  And on the gridiron, Chuck could toss the football to any of his eager receivers on any part of the field. 

His high school years soon became an endless circuit of practices, games, playoffs, and championships.  However, despite the unending adoration from countless fans, Chuck found himself becoming more and more unhappy.  The schedule was tiring and unrelenting; the coach became more and more demanding. 

Once, he thought he had found a way out.  Coach Childress (and several happy members of her cheer squad) discovered that Chuck was quite adept at tossing the cheerleaders into the air for their stunts.  Unfortunately, Coach Bradley was NOT as pleased and quickly derailed Chuck’s short lived cheer career.  Chuck sank even deeper into an unhappy funk.

=

But it was one moment of anger that changed Chuck forever.  His neighbor, for some reason, (the neighbor had been raised on a farm, and now, living in the suburbs, wanted to have chickens of his own) had a rooster that would break out into song at the first peek of dawn.

            It was slightly humorous at first, but after a few weeks the crowing became more and more maddening.  Chuck would wake up tense before the dawn, and would lie awake for that feathered alarm that greeted the sun.  One morning, after a late night of celebrating the latest championship win, the rooster let loose with a crowing that was his own spectacular celebration.  Chuck stumbled from bed into the backyard, and grabbing a rubber ball (from the neighbor’s children who liked to lose balls over the fence), flung it at the rooster.  Horrified, he watched it sail in a perfect arc, of course, knocking the rooster from its perch in mid-squawk.

            The rooster’s untimely demise was blamed on one of the numerous neighborhood cats, and the shaken neighbor sadly reconsidered the idea of keeping livestock in the city.  The chickens quietly disappeared, and Chuck guiltily woke to a silent sunrise for weeks afterwards.  He vowed never to throw anything ever again.

            Coach Bradley was stunned when Chuck announced that he would never throw again.  Chuck gave no explanation, and no amount of pleading or threats from Coach Bradley could change his mind.  As quickly as Chuck’s star had risen in sports, it just as quickly faded.

 

3

 

lob [lob] v. to throw (something) in a high arc so that it drops to a target. Syn. throw

 

            The platoon was suddenly pinned down by heavy small-arms fire from the ridge.  Soldiers jumped into the ditch and returned fire, but they were heavily outnumbered.  It soon appeared that ammunition was going to be a problem.  Their pack mule had been taken out in the initial attack and had extra ammo packs, but under the intense fire, there would be no way to get to it.  The firefight dragged on and soon frantic shouts of “I’m out! I need more ammo!” could be heard up and down the line.  The pace of the firing from the Americans started to slow and the insurgents, emboldened by their success, slowly crept forward, firing at the pinned-down soldiers.

            Suddenly an ammo magazine sailed through the air and landed at one startled soldier’s feet.  Another magazine flew through the air to land next to another man’s weapon.  Still another thudded near the hands of the First Lieutenant who snatched the magazine and reloaded his weapon.  The newly re-armed soldiers rose up and sprayed fire at the surprised enemy.  And there, lying behind the cover of their pack mule, was Specialist Charles Huck, grabbing magazines from the ammo packs and lobbing them to his grateful comrades.  Chuck had broken his vow.

            “RPG!!” one of the soldiers shouted and the platoon watched as the round shot toward Chuck.  The pack mule absorbed most of the blast, but Chuck was thrown into the middle of the trail and more dangerously, away from any cover.  His ears ringing from the explosion, he made out someone shouting, “He’s reloading!” and with his head spinning, he could barely make out the figure of the enemy soldier reloading the weapon.  Dazed, he looked around for his gun, but it had been lost in the blast that had left him in the sights of the enemy.  He rose to his hands and knees, and then under his hand felt something that was eerily familiar, a rock.

            The RPG would kill him instantly, or many of his friends if the enemy got off the round.  With sudden clarity, Chuck knew what he must do.  Putting aside the vision of the squawking rooster from so many years ago, he rose up and whipped the rock at the enemy soldier, striking the weapon and knocking it to one side as it fired.  The explosion threw up a cloud of dirt and debris; then there was silence.  Chuck, covered with dust and blood, sprawled on the ground.

 

            The citation for his Silver Star said that Specialist Charles Huck displayed “extraordinary heroism in actions against an insurgent force of superior numbers and firepower.”  Privately, he would later say he threw a rock to save his buddies. 

He quietly served the remainder of his tour, and when he was discharged, he quite simply disappeared from view.

  

4

 

cast [kast] v. to flick or toss a fishing lure and line in a particular direction using a fishing rod.  Syn. throw

 

            He discovered a calm relaxation in fishing.  In the year following his discharge, Chuck traveled the country, living on the road and soaking up the peace and beauty of the land.  After the time spent in Afghanistan, it was nice to stand in one place like a stream and not have to worry about the threat of incoming rounds. The only thing that Chuck had to be concerned about was eating all the fish that he ended up catching; because, of course, every time that he cast his line, Chuck inevitably caught a fish.

            And on this particular day, Chuck had a small problem.  He had been absentmindedly casting his line as he enjoyed the bubbling stream and the crisp clean air, when he suddenly discovered that he had caught more fish than he could possibly eat.  Since he was living on the road, there was no way to keep the fish fresh for very long, and he hated the thought of just throwing out all the fish.  He recalled a small town that he had passed through and swiftly packed up the fish into a cooler.

            Thankfully, it was a short drive and Chuck pulled up into a parking lot of a clean looking white building with red tile trim, the road dust swirling in behind his truck.  There were the typical early morning coffee drinkers settled at the counter, and a talented waitress deftly juggling orders of doughnuts and coffee. 

She smiled at Chuck and poured a cup of coffee for him as he sat at the counter.  “What can I get for you?” 

“I was hoping to speak to the owner,” Chuck answered.  “I was hoping I could give some of my extra fish away…” 

“Well, you’re talking to the owner.”  Her eyes proudly swept over the café.  “This is my place.”  She looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.  “I’ll take your fish, but what I really need is a cook.  Do you know how to cook that fish?”

Chuck grinned.  “Ma’am, I can cook just about anything.”

 “Well then, you’ve got yourself a job.”  She beamed and reached across the counter to shake his hand.  “So, what’s your name?”

Here was a fresh start that Chuck was looking for, a chance to move away from his past.  He looked behind him, then looked toward his future…

“Roger…” he smiled.  “Just call me Roger.”

“Well, Roger,” she said, as she swept her hand around the café, “welcome to Trudy’s Good Eats.”

=

toss [taws] v. to stir or combine ingredients until they are evenly mixed Syn. throw

 

 

 

Grace Under Fire - A Companion Story to "Summer Dances"

1

            Her education began the moment she was born; her abuela brushing her with fresh picked leaves, rubbing her with a salve of oils and herbs.  The magic of the land was infused into her life.  It was her birthright; she was the only daughter in the family and her abuela had been chosen.  So now too, Graciela was chosen to be a curandera.

            At her abuela’s side, Graciela learned the powers of the different plants and herbs.  She learned the language of birds and animals.  She saw the aura of people and learned how to read them.  She learned the rituals; ingesting to make something a part of you, washing for cleansing, burning for purifying, burial to make a memory.  For her it was natural and the people of her village accepted her as they had accepted her abuela, for didn’t Lita cure their illnesses and deliver their children into the world? 

Still, there were some who called her bruja, but there was no witchcraft involved, no evil spirits were summoned, no curses laid upon a doorstep.  But these were simple people, and the ways of the curandera made them uneasy.

=

            The parish priest knew of the curandera and chastised Graciela for following the old ways of her grandmother. But Graciela replied that she did not worship another god, but worshiped the One God who had created the world and all of nature.  She just understood nature in a deeper way than most others and was that not a deeper understanding of God?  She had accepted the Body and Blood of Jesus at her first communion, so was it also okay to accept the other gifts that God had put on the Earth?  The bread and wine the people shared at Holy Communion came from the Earth, as did the incense that was burned and breathed in at Mass.  The priest had no answer for this and bothered the curandera no longer.

            A little while later, a medical clinic came to the village, and the doctor had medicines that could cure the ills of the body.  The médico stopped by to see Graciela’s abuela.  He assured her that she did not need to continue to make teas and salves for the villagers.  Lita smiled and nodded her head, but villagers still arrived at her doorstep.

            The doctor visited her a second time, and on this visit, Graciela’s abuela smiled and told him that he had her permission to treat the bodies of the villagers, but she would continue to treat the body, mind, spirit and soul.  He stared at her dumbfounded, and when he found his voice, the medico quietly and politely thanked her, and did not bother her again.

=

            Graciela was in her thirteenth year when she began to notice her abuela’s spirit beginning to change.  Lita’s eyes were as sharp as ever, as was her tongue, but she seemed to move with more purpose, as if to not waste any energy, yet she seemed to be full of energy.  Indeed, her aura was bright, silver-white and almost transparent.  Graciela knew what was coming, and was in despair about the future.

            “This is just one part of our journey, chiquita,” Lita sighed, as they walked in the hills above the farm.  “And I am nearing the end of this part.”  She raised her hand to stem the protests from Graciela.  “When it is time, we must not be afraid to take that step, to move on.”  She paused and took Graciela’s hands in hers.  “As I go on my journey,” she stared unwaveringly into Graciela’s eyes, “you must go on yours.”  She held her gaze for a few more moments, and then looked out over the hills.  “When it is time, this is where I would like to rest,” she decided happily.

            Graciela bit her lip.  “I am not so sure that I am ready for your journey.” 

Her abuela nodded and replied, “That is not for us to choose.  But remember this…vaya sin meido. Go without fear.”

“I am no curandera,” Graciela said, shaking her head.

Lita smiled.  “You will be.”

=

            A few weeks later, her abuela’s spirit moved on, and her body was laid to rest in the hills as she wished, in a spot that overlooked the land.  The villagers came and paid their respects to Graciela’s family, but since her abuela was gone, they saw no need to come after that.  After all, wasn’t el médico able to cure their ills?  And did not el padre at the church heal their souls?  Who would want to trust a chicuela who hadn’t even had her quinceañera?

            Graciela felt like una florera vacía waiting to be filled and soon began to realize that the time for her journey had arrived.

  

2

The two girls stood in the brush, peering into the dark.  Carmen whispered nervously to her friend “Graciela, are you sure about this?”

Graciela smiled at her.  “Carmen, there was nothing left for us.  Cooking?  Cleaning?  Working in the fields?  There must be a better life...a better life in the United States.”  Ever since her abuela had died, Graciela had felt lost and empty.  No one seemed to need her; no one seemed to trust her.  People gave her sideways glances and shied away from her.  After all, she was no curandera, and even though she had celebrated her quinceañera, people still saw her as too young to be taken seriously.  Privately, she wondered if she would ever live up to the legacy that had been left her.

But there was one more thing that led her to be standing here in the desert in the middle of the night.  She KNEW she was supposed to be here, she KNEW she was to make this journey.  What she did NOT know was why.

=

They had made their way to the border easily enough and without much trouble soon found a coyote, a man who could lead them across the border.

“Graciela,” Carmen fretted, “I do not like this man…the way he looks at us.”

Graciela bit her lip.  “I know, but he promised he would get us into the United States, and he said he would do it for the money that we could offer.”

“When he looks at me, my skin feels dirty.  I don’t trust him…”

Graciela nodded her head.  “We will stay together at all times, and take turns sleeping.  We can do this, Carmen…we MUST do this.”  The insistence in her voice startled her friend.

Carmen looked at her friend curiously.  “Is this because of one of your dreams? A vision?”

Looking embarrassed, Graciela answered, “Yes, part of it.  I know I have to go to los Estados Unidos.”

“Ay, Graciela, I know I can trust you, but sometimes you scare me.”  She smiled ruefully.  “Well then, vamos.  Let’s go.”

Giving Carmen a grateful smile, Graciela said, “Gracias, amiga.  I am so happy you came with me.”

“¡Dios mío!  As if I had a choice!”  She smiled and then her voice turned serious.  “What do we do about la serpiente?” she asked, tilting her head toward their guide.

Graciela looked at him and frowned.  “That snake cannot be trusted.”  She paused for a moment then turned her face to the sky.  “We will follow la Estrella del Norte,” she pointed at the Big Dipper and then to the North Star, “…to make sure he does not mislead us.  And then, if he tries something, well…” She patted her pack, “I have a few surprises yet.”

=

The coyote leered at Graciela.  “Mija, maybe you’re not too young for this, eh?”  He grabbed his crotch and laughed.

She glanced at him sideways and replied coolly, “Señor, maybe when the night turns colder… until then, have some tea to warm you.”

He slapped his thigh, and laughing again took the cup offered to him.  “Later I will warm you up. Hahahahaha.”  He took a tortilla from his pocket and washed it down with the brew.  After a few minutes, he began to rub his eyes.

“It has been a long day, señor.  You are tired and need some rest.”  Graciela smiled at the coyote as he struggled to keep his eyes open.  Suddenly he started to topple.

“Graciela!” her friend covered her mouth in horror.  “You didn’t….”  She made the sign of the cross as she watched as the coyote slowly slump over.

“¡Dios mío!”  Graciela said to her friend.  “I would never!”  The figure on the ground began to snore.  “But he will sleep soundly for many hours and when he wakes, he will not remember us.”  She began to pick up her belongings. “Come, we must hurry while it is still dark.”  Her friend looked uncertain.  “Ay, Carmen!  The stars in the heavens will guide us, don’t worry.”  Carmen wavered for a moment, and picked up her things.

“Un momento, Graciela…” Carmen moved over the sleeping man.  “You may not remember us, but remember this, pendejo,” and with that, delivered a swift kick to his groin.  The man moaned, but did not wake.  Satisfied, Carmen turned and joined her friend.

“Carmen!”  Graciela laughed, feigning shock.  She shook her head at her friend.  “How could you?”

Carmen pretended to look hurt.  “You cannot say that he didn’t deserve it…”

  

3

            Soft lights glowed in the distance.  “Graciela…” Carmen whispered, “A house.  We must go around.”

            Graciela stopped.  A minute passed as she stared at the house.  “Someone is in trouble, Carmen.”

            Carmen rolled her eyes, “Ay, Graciela.  WE are the ones in trouble if we get caught.  Why should we help someone when we are the ones who need help?”  She shook her head.

            Graciela looked steadily at her friend.  “Sí, we need help.  But since we know what it is to need help, should we not help others?”  She gazed at the house again.  “¡Vamos!”  Carmen sighed, knowing it was useless to argue.

            The two girls made their way to the house, Graciela striding swiftly through the dark, Carmen, looking unsure, following.  “¿Hola?” Graciela called out as she stepped onto the porch.  “Hello? Is anyone home?”

            “¡Ayúdeme! Help me!” a voice cried from the back of the house.  A man rushed into view.  “My wife…the baby…!  The truck would not start!”  He dashed back into a bedroom, and the girls quickly followed.  Graciela took it in; the distraught husband, the laboring wife, the little baby waiting to be born.  Everything would be all right.

            “Señor,” Graciela ordered, “go put some water on to boil for tea.”  She turned to her friend.  “Carmen, go with this man and go find some red raspberry leaf.” Graciela knew her friend was a bit squeamish, and this errand would keep both the husband and Carmen distracted and busy.  She turned to the wife, who was looking at her with wide eyes.

            “You are just a girl,” the woman said nervously.

            Graciela looked at her calmly, and with a catch of surprise in her voice said, “I am a curandera.”

=

It was a little while later that the baby was delivered.  The mother and father looked lovingly at their little boy, adoring the new life that had been entrusted to them.  Graciela smiled and left the new parents with their baby, moving to the kitchen to sit with her friend.

“Graciela,” Carmen whispered, “now can we go?”

“Aún no,” Graciela took Carmen’s hand in hers with a smile. “Not yet.”  A few moments later the husband came into the kitchen, looking gratefully at the girls.

“Muchas gracias, a thousand thank you’s,” he said, wringing their hands.  “How can I repay you for all that you have done?”

“Con permiso, señor,” Graciela said softly, “two things.  First, the baby name should be Miguel, after San Miguel, the protector…”

The father nodded, “That is a good name…a fine name. It shall be done.  And what is the second thing?”

Graciela looked at him shyly, “Some food, señor? And a place to rest?  My friend and I, we have traveled far…”

He smiled broadly.  “Ay, no problema.”  Then he looked at the girls carefully.  “And work?  Are you looking for work?”  Graciela and Carmen looked at each other, then turned and nodded slowly.  “With my wife with a newborn baby, we will need help around the house,” he said thoughtfully.  “It is decided…you will stay here. Mi casa es su casa.”

=

            After they had eaten, they were shown to a spare room, and the new father dismissed himself to check on his new family. The girls took a few moments to wash the dust and dirt off from their journey and changed into some clean clothes to sleep in.  They knelt by the sides of their beds and gave thanks for all that had happened.

            After a moment, Carmen turned to look at her friend.  “Ay, Graciela!  What is wrong?!”  Carmen cried.  A tear was sliding down Graciela's cheek.

            Graciela turned and hugged her joyously. “Nothing is wrong!” she wept.  “¡Bienvenido, Carmen!  Welcome to the United States!”

Summer Dances - Chapter 20

            Time seems to pass more slowly in small towns, but it does indeed pass.  The sun rose and set.  The animals and crops grew and needed tending.  Miguel had a few temporary visitors looking for work in the fields.  They stayed a few days and moved on.  There were days where he still imagined a white shirt hanging in his closet.

            Trudy added something to the menu she called the Star Crossed Love, two double-sized lemonades.  When asked about them, she smiled and winked, “You get a double dose of sweet and the sour at the same time.  Isn’t love like that? “

            Kate took to riding her dad’s old bike.  She could be seen around town early in the morning, a sprig of lavender tied to the handlebars.  Miguel spied her once just after sunrise, parked on the side of the road and staring off into the distance.  When she saw him, she smiled and shrugged, then turned to ride back into town.  He looked down the road and thought to himself, “Indeed…”

=

            Summer gave way to fall. The wind shifted, and cooler breezes slipped into town, chasing each other, giggling and playing.

=

In the studio that night, the class was rehearsing for the Harvest Festival. Miguel smiled as he helped his newest advanced student.  “Ana, you’re going to be fine.  The other students are just older.  You have just as much ‘flava’ as they do.”  

She nodded and smiled, but stopped suddenly, staring at the doorway. “Señor Miguel…” There, at the top of the stairs, stood Eddie.

“Good evening, Miguel…Ana…”  He nodded to them slightly; then turned to stride confidently across the floor.  “Hello, Kate.” Eddie turned to her partner and asked, “May I?”  Her eyes widened as Eddie took her hands and bowed to her.  In a moment, they began to glide across the studio.  She stumbled awkwardly for a moment and then pulled away, looking at Miguel.

            He walked over to Kate and put his hands on her shoulders.  Clearly shaken, she looked up at him and whispered, “I can’t do this.  This isn’t the way I learned it.”  Miguel took her hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Kate…let him lead,” he said softly.  “Let him lead.”  

She was reluctant at first, as she was guided and led, not pushed and pulled this time.   Slowly… slowly she began to feel the confidence, the dedication, and the commitment from Eddie, the commitment to the dance, and to her.  She closed her eyes, losing herself in the dance and finally surrendered herself to the music.

            At the end, he held her lightly and she struggled to catch her breath.  He pulled her close and she whispered, “What happens next?”

            Eddie looked at the young woman in his arms.  “My father said to tell you that he’d like to meet you someday.”

            Miguel smiled to himself as Eddie took Kate by the hand and led her from the studio.

            “What happens next, indeed…” he chuckled to himself as he locked the door behind him.  He stood at the top of the stairs, watching Kate and Eddie cross the dusty parking lot, walking hand in hand.  In the distance, he could see the glowing neon lights from the café.  He rubbed his chin and mused, “…indeed.”

            He made his way down the stairs, turned to cross the parking lot and started toward the café.

 

 

 

Summer Dances - Chapter 19

            Quiet sounds came from Eddie’s room.  There was the metallic clicking of a bicycle chain moving across the teeth of gears, and the soft whirring of tire spokes passing through the air. 

In the morning, the tracks of skinny bicycle tires were pressed into the dust.  They led out past the cemetery, past the Shannon ranch, back through town to pass the dance studio, past the café, and then stopped on the road out of town.

            The Jeep pulled up next to the figure on the bike.  Eddie was staring down the road; his shadow leading off into the distance.  “I don’t know where I’m going, Miguel.”

            Miguel nodded as he noticed the packed saddlebags on the bike.  He followed Eddie’s gaze and squinted down the road.  “Well, Eddie, this way goes back to town. And that way,” he said pointing in the opposite direction, “takes you back out the way that you were going when you first came to town.”  Eddie nodded absentmindedly as Miguel continued.  “But that’s not what you meant, is it?”

            Eddie’s eyes stared out onto the road.  “When I started riding, I thought I was going on a grand adventure.  Then I crashed.”  He paused for a moment and smiled at the memory.  “You gave me a place to stay and found me a job.  You even taught me to dance and then gave me a wheel to fix my bike.”  Miguel nodded quietly as Eddie continued. “Trudy told me about dreams and choices.  And then there’s Kate.  Well, I don’t know what I think about Kate.  I seem to make her mad at me all the time.”  Eddie stopped and shook his head.  “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do, where I’m supposed to go.”

            “Well Eddie, I’m not sure I can tell you that.  I think maybe you thought you were just on a little ride, but I think your journey, while perhaps not longer, has become much bigger.  Maybe it’s not where you’re going as much as how you get there.”

            Eddie turned a critical eye toward Miguel.  “That’s pretty deep, Miguel.”

            Laughing, Miguel said, “But what do I know?  I’m just an old rancher.  I do know a couple of things about bicycles though.  One, if you try to stand still on a bike, you fall over.”  Eddie looked at him from the corner of his eye.  “And one other thing-” 

“What’s that?”

“Bicycles don’t go backwards very well.”  With that, Miguel put the Jeep into gear and drove away.

“Backwards?” Eddie thought, “Did he mean back to town or back out on the road?”  Shaking his head, Eddie stood on the pedals and started to move.

=

            The storm that had been waiting finally let loose.  The tempest drove through the town, shaking the windows and doors, washing the dust off, making everything clean and new again.  The sky sighed with satisfaction and the rain slowed; the ground puddled happily, drinking in the water.

=

            When Miguel arrived back home, he was greeted by the fresh aroma of coffee coming from the kitchen.  His eyes took in the stacked dishes in the sink and the fresh pot of coffee in the machine.  There was a simple note on the table.  It read,

“Miguel, thanks for everything you’ve done. 

I can never repay your kindness, but will do my best by ‘paying it forward.’  Please give my apologies to Trudy for not giving notice.  I think she will understand. 

And please tell Kate ‘goodbye’ for me.

Eddie

PS.  I hope I got the coffee right this time”

Miguel smiled to himself as he poured a cup of coffee, raising it in a little salute, 

“Vaya con Dios, Eddie.”  He took a sip from his cup and scrutinized it critically before he chuckled.  “Indeed, Eddie.  I think you got it right this time; the coffee and maybe a little more, too.”

=

            Kate stood on her porch and watched as Miguel unloaded her father’s old bike from his Jeep.  She gave a little lopsided grin and said, “Just because Eddie is mad at me doesn’t mean he has to return the bike.”

            Miguel gave a faint smile.  “It’s not that, Kate.”  He shook his head apologetically.  “He left town this morning.  He asked me to tell you goodbye.”

            “Goodbye?...dammit…”  She fought back the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.  Miguel walked over and gave her a hug.

            “We knew it was probably going to happen, Kate.”  He smoothed her hair as she buried her face in his chest.  “He was on a journey, trying to find himself, and there were some things that he needed to take care of, some things he needed to work out.”

            She sighed.  “I know…It’s just that…I thought…Oh , I don’t even know why I’m upset,”  She struggled to find the words.  Giving up, Kate shook her head, “Men keep leaving me, Miguel.  First, my dad and now Eddie…”  She stared up at Miguel.  “You’re not going anywhere are you?”

            He chuckled, “I haven’t been going anywhere for a long time, Kate.”

            “Oh stop that, Miguel.”  A little smile crept over her face.  “You know what I mean.”

            Winking, he said, “Yes, I know. But I wanted to make sure there were still some smiles in there.”  He looked at her reassuringly, “Don’t worry about me, Kate.  I’m pretty sure I’ll be around for a good while longer.”  His thoughts wandered to the white shirts in his dream riding out of town.  Shaking his head, Miguel reached up and mussed Kate’s hair a little.  “Well,” he sighed, “let’s go tell Tru.  She’ll need a new dishwasher.”

 

 

Summer Dances - Chapter 18

            Later that day, Miguel pulled up to the café and glanced again at the package that had just been delivered.  “I guess I shouldn’t put this off,” he thought to himself and picked up the box.  He pushed open the door and made his way to the counter.  “Hey, Tru.  Hey, Eddie.”

            Trudy brushed back her hair and smiled, pushing a cup of coffee to Miguel.  “What do you have there, Miguel?  Something for me?”

            “Ah… no.”  He gave her a slight smile.  “Something that might affect you though.”

            “Oh?”  Her eyebrows rose questioningly.

            “Package for Eddie.”

            Eddie came around the counter.  “For me?  What is it?”  He cut open the box and stared.  There, gleaming in the light was a new bicycle wheel.  “I can fix my bike!” He looked up at Miguel, “Where did it come from? How did it get here?”

Miguel chuckled.  “Well, we DO have a post office, Eddie.”

Stammering, Eddie looked grief stricken.  “I…I can’t pay for this.”

            “Sure you can.  Just pay it forward, Eddie,” Miguel said gently, “pay it forward.”

            “I…I don’t understand.”

            Trudy leaned across the counter and patted Eddie’s hand.  “Miguel did something nice for you.  To pay him back, so to speak, you get to go do something for three other people.  You repay a good deed with good deeds for someone else.  That’s what it means to pay it forward.”

            “But I don’t have the kind of money –“

            Trudy cut him off.  “It’s not about money, sweetie.  You don’t have to have money to do good deeds.  You’ll see.  You’ll know when it’s right.”  She looked around the cafe.  “You know, it’s kind of quiet today.  Why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go work on your bike.”

            Looking dazed, Eddie nodded and picked up the wheel.  He made his way to the door, but stopped, turned and said, “Thanks, Miguel.  Really.”

            “No big deal, Lance,” Miguel said with a grin.  “Go fix your bike.”  Eddie smiled, shook his head and walked from the café. 

            Trudy walked over to Miguel and sat down.  “That was really sweet of you.”

            “Well, like I told Eddie, it was no big deal, Tru.  No big deal.”  He avoided her gaze.

            Trudy looked at him thoughtfully.  “I don’t know much about bicycles, but I’m pretty sure those wheels aren’t exactly cheap.”  She leaned in closer to him and lowered her voice, “Just what did you give up, Miguel?”

            He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, brushing non-existent crumbs from his work shirt.  “Nothing really, Tru.  Just a silly dream,” he said, smiling faintly, “just a silly little dream.”

 

Summer Dances - Chapter 17

  

            The cool morning breeze passed through the open warehouse doors, and the day’s early light cast a rosy glow upon Miguel and the farm equipment he was inspecting.  He looked up as a long shadow crossed into the building.

            “Well, good morning, Eddie.”

            “Good morning.”  Eddie waved in reply and leaned his bicycle against the doorframe.  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

            Miguel smiled and said, “Nothing that can’t wait.”  He wiped his hands off on a shop towel and studied Eddie’s face for a moment.  “Something on your mind?”

            Eddie shuffled his feet.  “Why couldn’t I dance last night?  What did I do wrong?”

            “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong.  Technically, you’re a very good dancer.  You can do the steps quite well for a novice.  But…” he paused. “…How did Ana put it?  Oh, that’s right,” he remembered suddenly, “You haven’t found your flavor yet.” 

            “My what??”

            “You haven’t found your flavor.  Your dancing doesn’t have any…any…soul…” Miguel groped for the right word.  “…Passion!”

            “Passion??  I can dance with passion!”  Eddie whirled an imaginary partner around the warehouse floor, holding his hands just so, his shoulders squared, his back straight.  He finished by throwing his invisible companion into a deep dip.  “Well?” he asked, looking to Miguel for approval.

            “Eddie, I –“

            “More energy?  Is that it?”  Eddie took off again, more energetic this time; his feet flying, his body turning faster, bounding across the floor.  He whirled to a stop, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath.  “How was that?”

            Miguel raised his hand.  “Eddie, stop.  Passion isn’t about energy, and dancing isn’t about steps.”

            “I thought you said that I was a good dancer.”

            “You are good.  You know exactly how to move your feet and where to place your arms.  But this is salsa,” Miguel explained, “It’s Latin…it’s fiery…full of passion.  You don’t just move your feet.  You have to feel it here.”  He poked two fingers at Eddie’s stomach.  “This isn’t about moving your feet.  Feel it, don’t just dance it.”

            “I don’t understand.  I don’t know if I can do this,” said Eddie, exasperated.

            “Sure you can,” encouraged Miguel.  “Here, close your eyes.”  He walked over to the office and started up some music.  Turning back to Eddie, he said, “Take it in here…listen,” and he tapped Eddie on the side of the head.  “Got it?  Good.  Now taste it.  Get that flavor going.  Let that roll around in your head for a minute.”  Miguel turned the music up a bit.

            “Do you feel that beat, Eddie?  Do you feel it here?” He tapped him on the chest; Eddie’s head nodded to the beat of the music.  “Good…now just relax…don’t force it…just soak it up.”  Miguel moved the volume up another notch.  “Now feel it here, Eddie,” and Miguel pressed his fingertips on Eddie’s stomach. 

“Good…keep your eyes closed…” Miguel stepped back.  “It’s not about dance…it’s salsa…it’s feeling.”  He paused, and then called out loudly, “Now move, Eddie!  Feel it, don’t just dance it.”

            Eddie started to move and in a few minutes his feet seemed to move of their own accord.  With his eyes closed, he moved across the warehouse floor, stringing together bits from different dances. 

            The sound of the music drifted out of the warehouse doors.  Ana, on her own bike ride, heard the music and peeked into the warehouse.  She rolled over to where Miguel was watching as Eddie moved across the floor.  “Flava,” she told him, smiling and pointing to Eddie.

Miguel grinned and answered her above the music, “Indeed, Ana.  I think he finally found his ‘flava’.”  She nodded back and pedaled down the street, happily bobbing her head to the beat.

The song soared to a finish, and Eddie spun to a stop in the middle of the floor.  He looked stunned for a moment and wrinkled his brow.  “Whoa…that was interesting…did I just?…” 

Miguel shrugged.  “Well, it was no Kevin Bacon in Footloose.”  Eddie stared at him blankly.  “Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing?”  There was a faint glimmer of recognition with that one.  Miguel sighed and chuckled, “Never mind.  And yes you did, Eddie.  Ana stopped by and said you have your ‘flava’.”

Eddie looked around, stricken, “She saw me?”

Miguel smiled and pointed down the street.  “She heard the music and stopped to watch.  It’s not like she hasn’t seen you dance before Eddie.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“It’s alright,” Miguel said, patting him on the back.  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.  It was good.  And stop looking so shocked.  Go on to work.” 

Looking thoughtful, Eddie muttered to himself, “I have ’flava’,” and climbed aboard his bike.

Miguel laughed.  “Don’t let it go to your head.  It’s just a start.”  He watched as Eddie pedaled down the street, his head nodding to an imaginary beat.