{"id":5503,"date":"2022-05-23T11:39:57","date_gmt":"2022-05-23T17:39:57","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/?page_id=5503"},"modified":"2022-05-24T13:23:04","modified_gmt":"2022-05-24T19:23:04","slug":"brass-at-the-beach","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/fiction-fridays\/brass-at-the-beach\/","title":{"rendered":"Brass at the Beach"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/player.blubrry.com\/id\/84146240#\" title=\"Blubrry Podcast Player\" scrolling=\"no\" width=\"100%\" height=\"138px\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"169\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Brass-at-the-Beach-169x300.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-4996\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Brass-at-the-Beach-169x300.png 169w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/03\/Brass-at-the-Beach.png 506w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 169px) 100vw, 169px\" \/><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Part 1<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Thank goodness the flight was over. Etta let out the breath she\u2019d held for the last several hours. Too much turbulence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The orchestra director, Mr. Vatchev, a wiry man with toothpick arms, had recruited several Belton University orchestra students to load the last of the suitcases onto the rental bus. He motioned to the rest of them. \u201cPile in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>With an extra shove, Etta pushed her enormous tuba case into the overhead compartment and scooted next to Brooke, who held an oboe case in her lap. Woodwind players had it so easy compared to the brass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/oboe.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5578\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/oboe.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/oboe-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/oboe-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta glanced out the window at the palm trees. What a contrast to the Midwest. She still couldn\u2019t believe the Belton University Orchestra had been invited to Guadeloupe to perform for their Maritime Composers Festival.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI can\u2019t wait to hit the beach.\u201d Brooke tossed her wavy brunette hair. \u201cI need to buy a new swimsuit while we\u2019re here. The one I have is <em>so<\/em> last season.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow about a bikini?\u201d One of the French horn students, Terrence, laughed from the seat behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhere\u2019s your Speedo?\u201d Brooke pursed her lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence grunted. \u201cGood point.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta\u2019s shoulders drooped. No one ever asked to see a tuba player in a bikini. Just skinny woodwind players. Not that she\u2019d be caught dead in one, anyway. But she\u2019d like guys to notice her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She stole a glance at Terrence, who\u2019d leaned back in his seat and was fiddling with his phone. He never looked her way when Brooke was around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Half an hour later, they pulled up to a swanky seaside resort. Etta gasped. Compared to the cheap motels where she\u2019d spent family vacations, this building resembled a palace. Palm trees danced in the breeze, while huge columns stood sentinel nearby. The smell of citrus fruits wafted through the air. She breathed deeply to take it all in. How different from the tree-less plains back home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>\u201cTr\u00e8s belle.\u201d <\/em>Brooke smiled. \u201cSo luxurious.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The silky way Brooke spoke French sounded exotic. Etta would love her friend\u2019s talent with foreign languages. Face it. She was lucky to have passed freshman English.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A bellman in a crisp navy suit with gold trim helped Mr. Vatchev load the suitcases and instruments onto carts. Wow, his dark skin and ebony eyes made her suck in a breath. As one of the few black students in the orchestra, it was nice to see someone else who shared her race.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>&nbsp;\u201cBienvenue \u00e0 Guadeloupe.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/videoseries?list=PLUhhyFY2dpoP7S-hTPy2BEYTu4sfZnWr_\" title=\"YouTube video player\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture\" allowfullscreen=\"\" width=\"560\" height=\"315\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta glanced at Brooke for a translation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWelcome to Guadeloupe,\u201d Brooke said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The man\u2019s face lit up. \u201c<em>Mademoiselle parle fran\u00e7ais? <\/em>You speak French?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>\u201cOui, bien s\u00fbr. <\/em>Yes, of course.<em>\u201d <\/em>Brooke batted her long eyelashes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Oh no. He\u2019d fall for Brooke for sure. This could take a while. Might as well head inside to the lobby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A giant waterfall cascaded over rocks into a small basin in the center of the room. Plush couches beckoned. When Etta sat down, she gazed at the elegant chandelier suspended from the ceiling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Moments later, footsteps pounded the marble floors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019re checked in.\u201d Mr. Vatchev started to pass out key cards. \u201cEveryone\u2019s on the seventh floor.\u201d His brows furrowed. \u201cNo crazy shenanigans tonight. Our concert\u2019s only days away, and we need to rehearse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWouldn\u2019t <em>dream<\/em> of it.\u201d Brooke grabbed her key and turned to Etta. \u201cLet\u2019s go, roomie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Tuba.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5569\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Tuba.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Tuba-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/Tuba-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-wp-embed is-provider-rescot-creative wp-block-embed-rescot-creative\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<blockquote class=\"wp-embedded-content\" data-secret=\"kRxEK9JEGa\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/2020\/07\/29\/brass-at-the-beach\/\">Brass at the Beach<\/a><\/blockquote><iframe loading=\"lazy\" class=\"wp-embedded-content\" sandbox=\"allow-scripts\" security=\"restricted\" style=\"position: absolute; visibility: hidden;\" title=\"&#8220;Brass at the Beach&#8221; &#8212; Rescot Creative\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/2020\/07\/29\/brass-at-the-beach\/embed\/#?secret=dqfcTXCruV#?secret=kRxEK9JEGa\" data-secret=\"kRxEK9JEGa\" width=\"525\" height=\"296\" frameborder=\"0\" marginwidth=\"0\" marginheight=\"0\" scrolling=\"no\"><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>The next morning, Terrence pulled a new island shirt over his head, careful not to knock his glasses askew. He was practically blind without them. What a rough night. He\u2019d spent half an hour cleaning up after his dumb roommate puked all over the bathroom floor. Why were his fellow brass buddies such idiots? Didn\u2019t they know when to turn down another beer? But no, leave it to him\u2014the responsible, scrawny, nerdy one of the group\u2014to babysit them. He groaned as he hoisted up his French horn case, clicked open the door, and headed down the hall to the elevators.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood morning, Terrence. Going down?\u201d Brooke waved from inside the cramped elevator space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMorning, ladies.\u201d He managed a weak smile as he squeezed between the girls. How could Brooke be so chipper this morning? And still look good? She\u2019d drunk as many beers as his roommate last night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Clank.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhoa, what just hit me?\u201d He rubbed the side of his head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta moaned. \u201cSorry. This tuba takes up half the elevator.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s why you should play French horn.\u201d He held up his instrument, which bumped Brooke\u2019s oboe case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWatch it.\u201d Brooke clutched the instrument to her chest. \u201cI just bought this a couple of months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSorry,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke\u2019s free hand flew to her hip. \u201cYou should be. It wasn\u2019t cheap.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI meant sorry you bought the wrong instrument. French horns take the cake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke rolled her eyes. \u201cNot a chance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"900\" height=\"506\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/French-Horn.png\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-5611\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/French-Horn.png 900w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/French-Horn-300x169.png 300w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/05\/French-Horn-768x432.png 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 767px) 89vw, (max-width: 1000px) 54vw, (max-width: 1071px) 543px, 580px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The orchestra members filed into the banquet hall and took their seats in a semi-circle surrounding Mr. Vatchev. Etta plopped herself into her usual place at the rear, where no one in the audience would ever see her. Even the other brass players seldom took notice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When Mr. Vatchev rapped on the podium, silence rippled over the sea of musicians. \u201cGlad you all managed to make it this morning.\u201d He glared at the brass section where one of the trombonists sat with a pail next to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNot sure why we had to be here so early,\u201d a trumpeter muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta agreed, still battling fatigue from trailing Brooke around the night before. Exhausting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mr. Vatchev frowned. \u201cTime to rehearse. We shall run through one of my favorite turn-of-the-twentieth-century works, Debussy\u2019s <em>La Mer<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d a flutist asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke raised her chin. \u201cIt means <em>the sea<\/em> in French.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mr. Vatchev nodded his head in assent. \u201cYes. Which is where we\u2019ll visit after this rehearsal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The muscles in Etta\u2019s stomach clenched. She\u2019d never been to the ocean before. So deep and vast. And on top of that, she\u2019d never learned to swim. How would she handle <em>la mer<\/em>?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Part 2<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Gray clouds hung heavy in the air, and a light mist shrouded the resort, as Terrence joined the procession of Belton students on the winding cobblestone path en route to the resort\u2019s visitor center. The effects of the coffee he\u2019d grabbed from the hotel caf\u00e9 after rehearsal were kicking in. He needed the extra burst of energy on this dreary day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mr. Vatchev folded his arms. \u201cI\u2019d hoped for better weather for our excursion.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWould they cancel?\u201d Terrence squinted at the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The orchestra director shook his head. \u201cNo, only if there\u2019s lightning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke stepped up next to them, wrapping her coverup around her. That thin piece of material didn\u2019t cover much. Terrence blinked his eyes to avoid ogling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe have to swim in this weather? But it\u2019s cold.\u201d Her bottom lip protruded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not that cold.\u201d Etta traced her hand along a leafy shrub. \u201cNothing compared to Midwestern winters.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGood point,\u201d Brooke said. \u201cI\u2019ll take this over snow any day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence\u2019s insides tightened. \u201cI hope the storm isn\u2019t too strong while we\u2019re out there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At the visitor center, Mr. Vatchev presented several tickets to the clerk. She smiled and ushered them into an adjacent room where pictures of aquatic life hung on every wall. Stingrays, turtles, dolphins, whales, and fish peered at him from their frames.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The guide, a young guy maybe in his twenties, grabbed a microphone and rattled off something in French.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>This\u2019d be a dull tour if Terrence couldn\u2019t understand anything. He turned to Brooke for a translation, but at that moment the guide switched to English.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHello, ladies and gentlemen,\u201d he said in a thick French accent. \u201cMy name is Matthieu, and I\u2019ll be your guide. Today, we\u2019ll take you on a boat ride to visit the city of stingrays, where you\u2019ll have the chance to swim with these exotic sea creatures.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOoooh, sounds fun.\u201d Brooke stood on tiptoe and peered at Matthieu. \u201cAnd he\u2019s so cute.\u201d She giggled. \u201cI love the French accent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence grimaced. Of course she did. Exotic, Francophile Brooke would never take notice of a colorless, geeky guy like him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Matthieu ushered everyone outside. Terrence breathed in the scent of the ocean. A long, bright-colored tourist vessel floated in the dock in front of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAs you see, our boat is quite the beauty.\u201d The guide extended his hand to help the girls board. Brooke accepted it with a smile, then leapt to the deck. Etta, on the other hand, clutched the guide\u2019s hand as if her life depended on it. Her face drained of color as she stumbled onto the boat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence climbed on board, then sidled up next to her. \u201cEtta, are you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m fine.\u201d She blinked several times. \u201cTrying to keep my contacts from popping out. The spray of saltwater stings my eyes. And I\u2019m not used to the ocean.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Those deep brown eyes. And her bright yellow dress suited her dark complexion. Why hadn\u2019t he noticed before? Heat rose to his cheeks. Probably just the sun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke frowned at her friend. \u201cSince when don\u2019t you like water? I thought you loved our lake excursions.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s different. The ocean is unpredictable.\u201d Etta wrung her hands in front of her. \u201cI don\u2019t want to think of what lurks in there. Besides, I\u2019ve never been a good swimmer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSounds like you\u2019ve watched <em>Jaws<\/em> one too many times.\u201d Terrence clapped her on the back. \u201cYou\u2019ll be fine. Don\u2019t worry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After all the passengers had boarded, the guide closed the entrance gate. They pulled out of the dock with such a lurch that Etta grabbed Terrence\u2019s arm for support. Poor girl was scared to death. The light pressure of her fingers sent an unexpected tingle up his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As the vessel left the harbor and sailed into the open sea, Brooke leaned against the railing, a vision in her navy suit with the wind whipping her hair behind her like a sail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGet away from the side of the boat, Brooke.\u201d Fear laced Etta\u2019s voice. \u201cIt\u2019s not safe to stand that near the edge.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m fine. That\u2019s why there\u2019s a railing.\u201d Brooke ran her hand along the metal bars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s not very high.\u201d Etta said, tight-lipped. \u201cYou\u2019ll topple over.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLoosen up, Etta.\u201d Brooke said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The wind\u2019s intensity increased as they traveled farther and farther out to sea. Like the symphony they\u2019d played that morning, the boat rose and fell in rhythm with the waves. As they sat on deck, a queasy knot formed in the pit of Terrence\u2019s stomach. He shivered. Did they expect anyone to swim in this?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Several minutes later, Matthieu resumed his position at the front of the deck while the boat slowed to a stop. \u201cWe\u2019ve reached our destination,\u201d he announced. \u201cThe captain instructed me to warn you that the waves are stronger than usual today, so use caution as you descend the ladder to visit the stingrays. Please grab your lifejackets and snorkel gear. I\u2019ll go first so I can assist you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke hurried after him, lifejacket fastened tight, and several other students followed suit. As Terrence made his way to the ladder, he turned toward Etta, who shook her head. \u201cI\u2019m not going.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence hesitated. \u201cYou sure?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta\u2019s hand flew to her mouth with a jerk. \u201cPositive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDo you want me to stay with you? I shouldn\u2019t leave you here alone if you\u2019re seasick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, I\u2019m fine. Go enjoy the stingrays.\u201d She turned away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He paused, then climbed down the ladder and lowered himself into the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A shudder passed through his body as the cold water prickled his skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTerrence, look at this.\u201d Brooke bobbed along several feet away next to Matthieu, who held a large triangular creature on the flat portion of his palms. \u201cIt tickles.\u201d She giggled as she stroked the stingray.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence extended a finger and petted its smooth, velvety skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brook laughed again. \u201cIt\u2019s sucking on my hand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence pulled his arm away with a jerk. \u201cWhere\u2019s its mouth?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOn the underside.\u201d Matthieu lifted a portion of the sea creature to reveal its white belly and tiny mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence traced his finger along the underside. \u201cDoes it hurt when it sucks on you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo. It\u2019s like a little vacuum.\u201d Matthieu pointed at the long tail. \u201cWhat you need to avoid is its stinger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence swam back a couple of paces. He\u2019d steer clear of that weapon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Matthieu chuckled. \u201cDon\u2019t worry. These stingrays are used to people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At that moment, an enormous wave caught them, and Matthieu lost hold of the creature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWow, that was a big one.\u201d Brooke clutched onto Matthieu for support. \u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An ear-piercing cry echoed above the waves. A flash of yellow tumbled over the side of the boat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence gasped. <em>Etta<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>Part 3<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The wave crashed over Etta with such violence she could barely keep her head above water, even with the life jacket. She tried to scream, but nothing escaped her lips. Instead, her mouth and eyes burned with salty ocean water. As the waves swirled around her, she clutched her floatation device with a vicelike grip. Would it keep her afloat? Her legs kicked harder than ever before. Her eyes blurred to the point she could barely make out the slim figure who power-crawled toward her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cGrab this!\u201d the person shouted and flung an extra life jacket her way. She embraced the orange flotation device to steady herself. Moments later, she was gliding through the water toward the boat. When she looked up, Terrence tugged on one of the straps to pull her through the water. His bare back and shoulders told her he\u2019d tossed his own jacket. She gripped it tighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When they reached the ladder, Brooke was already clambering on deck. She extended her hand. \u201cHoist her up here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence wrapped his arm around Etta\u2019s waist. He breathed hard with the extra effort to boost her up. Her own breath caught in her throat. She\u2019d never been this close to him before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat happened?\u201d Brooke choked as she pulled Etta on board. \u201cAre you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta nodded, her body still shaking. \u201cI am now. I wasn\u2019t earlier.\u201d She lowered her voice. \u201cTo be honest, I felt seasick, so I, uh, hung my head over the side of the boat, just as a huge wave hit. Knocked me overboard. I think I lost my contacts in the water. Good thing I brought a few extra pairs. I was struggling to stay afloat when Terrence tossed me his lifejacket and tugged me to the ladder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m glad he found you,\u201d Brooke gasped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence hoisted himself up the ladder. \u201cMe, too.\u201d He grabbed his towel from the bench and wrapped it around Etta. \u201cMy next priority is to teach this girl how to swim.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta jolted back. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He peeled off his goggles and repositioned his glasses. \u201cI\u2019ve done it a hundred times. Worked at the lake for the past several summers. You\u2019ll be fine. I\u2019m sure you already have good breath control from puffing on that tuba.\u201d He grinned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The next day, after another early morning rehearsal, Terrence and the others followed Matthieu to the wildlife center. The scent of sea creatures mingled with the fragrance of the tropical flora that lined the path. First, they visited the outdoor sea turtle habitat. Pools of various sizes, each filled with several turtles, surrounded the students,.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThese ocean creatures can live over a hundred years.\u201d Matthieu pointed to a gargantuan reptile in the pool to his right. \u201cLike this one. He\u2019s the oldest at the resort.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOoohhh, look at these baby ones.\u201d Brooke squealed as she stood by a small pool a few feet away. \u201cThey\u2019re so cute.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Matthieu walked next to her and scooped one up in his hands. \u201cThey were born four days ago. Do you want to hold him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOf course.\u201d Brooke held out her hands for the little turtle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMe too.\u201d Etta squeezed next to them. \u201cThey\u2019re so tiny compared to Grandpa over there.\u201d She cocked her head toward the other pool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, they continue to grow for many years.\u201d Matthieu rubbed his finger along another baby turtle\u2019s shell, then handed it to Etta.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow adorable.\u201d She giggled as she held the baby up to her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence couldn\u2019t peel his eyes from her. Her face brightened with the tiny creature in hand. A part of him had actually enjoyed his chance to play the hero yesterday, to feel the warmth of Etta\u2019s body as she\u2019d clung to him at the ladder\u2026 <em>Whoa, time for a swim. I need to cool off.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An hour later, Etta laughed as Brooke sprinted to the enormous pool in front of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe get to swim with dolphins!\u201d Brooke exclaimed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;Etta shuddered as she eyed the aquatic pool. Did the others expect her to swim with a dolphin? Terrence had insisted she learn. But she needed time to think\u2014to clear her head. She glanced at him, but he was deep in conversation with Mr. Vatchev. Had he even thought about her since yesterday? Would he say anything? Maybe he hadn\u2019t felt the same spark she\u2019d experienced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cEtta, did you hear Matthieu?\u201d Brooke\u2019s voice cut in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d Etta snapped back to attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re up next to swim with the dolphin.\u201d Brooke gave her a light shove toward the pool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta\u2019s legs trembled as she climbed in next to Matthieu. The cool water sent goosebumps up her arms. The dolphin, Capi, swam several feet away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhen he comes up to you, grab his flippers to ride on his belly.\u201d Matthieu said in his thick French accent. He held out his hands to demonstrate the movement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re kidding.\u201d She jerked backward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>No time to think. A second later, Capi splashed next to them. His smooth body and majestic tail made him an impressive sight. Etta grasped the flippers and climbed onto the sleek white skin. With a flash, he took off, swimming on his back with Etta perched on top. How exhilarating! She\u2019d never experienced anything like it. Water droplets wet her face as Capi raced around the pool.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When they returned, Etta slid off into the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c<em>Tr\u00e8s bien.<\/em>\u201d Matthieu patted Capi on the nose. \u201cNow for the <em>bisous<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She frowned. \u201cThe what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe <em>bisous. <\/em>The kisses.\u201d Matthieu puckered his lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d Terrence bulldozed forward, arms folded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Matthieu slid his hand over Capi\u2019s back. \u201cAfter the swim, Capi always gives his rider a kiss.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The creases in Terrence\u2019s face relaxed. \u201cOh, I see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Brooke nudged him in the ribs. \u201cYou jealous?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Terrence and Etta locked eyes for a moment. \u201cMaybe,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She hadn\u2019t imagined it.Something <em>had<\/em> happened between them yesterday. Her heart pounded faster. When she turned around, she found herself face-to-face with the dolphin. Capi nudged his wet nose against her lips, then flopped back to the water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow was it?\u201d Terrence asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Etta wiped her lips. \u201cBest kiss I\u2019ve ever had.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He arched an eyebrow. \u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She held his gaze. What was going on?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-wp-embed is-provider-rescot-creative wp-block-embed-rescot-creative\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<blockquote class=\"wp-embedded-content\" data-secret=\"gvLo9txPNU\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/fiction-fridays\/brass-at-the-beach-finale\/\">Brass at the Beach: Finale<\/a><\/blockquote><iframe loading=\"lazy\" class=\"wp-embedded-content\" sandbox=\"allow-scripts\" security=\"restricted\" style=\"position: absolute; visibility: hidden;\" title=\"&#8220;Brass at the Beach: Finale&#8221; &#8212; Rescot Creative\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/fiction-fridays\/brass-at-the-beach-finale\/embed\/#?secret=b8tgTrWi0R#?secret=gvLo9txPNU\" data-secret=\"gvLo9txPNU\" width=\"525\" height=\"296\" frameborder=\"0\" marginwidth=\"0\" marginheight=\"0\" scrolling=\"no\"><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Part 1 Thank goodness the flight was over. Etta let out the breath she&rsquo;d held for the last several hours. Too much turbulence. The orchestra director, Mr. Vatchev, a wiry man with toothpick arms, had recruited several Belton University orchestra students to load the last of the suitcases onto the rental bus. He motioned to &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/fiction-fridays\/brass-at-the-beach\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;Brass at the Beach&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4996,"parent":5532,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-5503","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"translation":{"provider":"WPGlobus","version":"3.0.2","language":"es","enabled_languages":["en","es","fr","de","it","br"],"languages":{"en":{"title":true,"content":true,"excerpt":false},"es":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"fr":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"de":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"it":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"br":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false}}},"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5503","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5503"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5503\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5652,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5503\/revisions\/5652"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/5532"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4996"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5503"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}