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The boy puffed up with pride as he unlocked the door with a deft flick of his wrist. He gave the key back to Gil with a huge smile. “All done. Let’s go in!”
They set up the room, then Gil went from seat to seat, putting sheets of music on each stand. He needed to talk with the boys before they started practice, which meant their playing time would be shorter than usual. So he only laid out one piece—the marching song. Tomorrow they would practice it again, helping them commit it to memory. On Monday, Tuesday at the latest, he would introduce Ava’s song to them.
Boys began arriving, most with a parent in tow, which increased Gil’s nervousness. Had he made the right choice by registering for the competition? This decision was a big one and would affect each family in a variety of ways. Then he remembered his fleece and the quick response, and his nerves calmed. Yes, it was right. The parents could decide if they didn’t want their sons to participate. But for those who wanted to go, he would prepare them.
Joseph arrived as Earl’s escort, and Gil sent his cousin a smile across the heads of the seated players. Joseph nodded in reply, further strengthening Gil’s resolve. How good to have Joseph on his side again after so many years of animosity. Gil waited until every seat was filled, then he cleared his throat, and the room fell silent.
“I appreciate all of you being here tonight. I’d like to start this evening by thanking you, parents, for entrusting your boys to me.” He slowly scanned their faces while he spoke, making brief eye contact with each of them. “They are a wonderful group of boys with a great deal of talent. It is a joy to work with them. And”—his lips tugged upward into a smile he couldn’t hold back—“it will be a real delight to play two songs at the End of Harvest band contest in McPherson on August 19.”
A cheer rose from the group, and Joseph punched the air with his fist, which made Gil’s heart roll over in happiness. He held up his palms, a bid for quiet.
“There are several things we need to settle before we can play. Since I know you’re all eager to start practicing for the competition, let’s get our business attended to as quickly as possible.”
With parents’ input and approval, Gil arranged a schedule, keeping their Monday and Friday evenings in place and adding midmorning practices on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Instead of meeting in the upstairs bank room for the morning rehearsals, they would meet in the empty lot behind the bank. The area would be shaded, and the boys would become comfortable playing while standing. “Since one of the songs will be played in the parade, I’ll teach the boys some simple march steps during our outdoor practices.”
Gil paused, thinking through everything he’d said to be sure he hadn’t forgotten something important, then asked if anyone had questions. He secretly hoped there weren’t many. The boys were fidgeting in their chairs. They all wanted to get to work.
The town’s grocer, Mr. Wallace, raised his hand. “Gil, my wife and I were talking about youth bands we’ve seen from other towns. They all have uniforms. Will our boys have uniforms?”
Gil’s jaw went slack. Why hadn’t he thought about uniforms? Of course they would want to look as professional as possible. “I…I hadn’t really considered them, but it’s a very good idea. What do the other parents think?”
He was met with various expressions, from excited to uncertain. A few parents muttered something to a neighbor, but none spoke loudly enough for the group to hear. Gil wasn’t sure how to interpret the reactions.
Mr. Wallace pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked in place. “Gil, may I say something more?”
“Of course.”
The man gruffly cleared his throat. “Pearl and I think the uniforms should be fashioned after hats and coats worn by band members in Russia. It will make our band stand out from the other bands and also show pride in the boys’ heritage. I can purchase bolts of black cloth and skeins of gold piping, which we will provide to the boys’ parents at our cost—to make the uniforms as affordable as possible. We can also order tall boots for the boys, also offered at our cost, but we’d need to do so quickly to ensure they arrive in time for the competition.”
Mr. Hiebert frowned across the room at Mr. Wallace. “How much money will the uniforms cost, Adolph? We have two boys in the band—Clarence and Ray. If it’s a lot of money, we might not be able to afford them.”
Mr. Wallace’s face twisted into a remorseful grimace. “I can’t say for sure, Paul, without knowing your boys’ sizes. The bigger boys’ uniforms will cost a little more since they’ll require more cloth. But I can tell you, by getting the materials and boots at cost, they will be much less than buying ready-made.”
Another father, Mr. Schmidt, raised his hand. “Most of these boys have mothers who can sew for them. That isn’t the case for my William nor Orly Thiessen. We rely on ready-made clothes from the catalog.”
If they continued the discussion about uniforms, they would lose their entire practice hour. Gil made a quick decision. “Folks, I like the idea of having uniforms, and Mr. Wallace has made a very generous offer. I think it might be too soon for us to make a decision about them—we need more information concerning the cost. So, Mr. Wallace, would you be kind enough to write up estimates for the different sizes ofboots and coats? Each family can think about and pray over the expense during the weekend. On Sunday, after church, please tell me your individual decisions.”
Several nods approved Gil’s idea. He blew out a relieved sigh. Then he gathered his courage to ask a question he dreaded. “Now that we know we are going and we have a schedule in place, are there any boys who will not participate in the competition?” He held his breath, silently praying none would refuse.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Timmy Dirks slid out of his chair and stood beside it. And then, after several seconds, Earl stood, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Joseph
Joseph smoldered with anger. Whyhadn’t Pa come instead of sending Joseph tonight? He should be the one to give Gil a dressing down. What was Gil thinking, allowing the boys to participate in a marching band? Earl wouldn’t be able to stay in step with the other boys. He’d become a laughingstock and lose every bit of the confidence he’d been gaining. Joseph wanted to punch Gil in the nose. He jammed his fists deep into his trouser pockets and ordered his feet to stay in place. He couldn’t give his temper its way in front of these parents, but when he got Gil alone, he’d say—and do—plenty.
He leaned close to Earl and whispered, “Stay for tonight’s practice, Earl. We’ll talk about this later, jo?”
Earl gave a nod and sank back onto his chair. Joseph noticed Gil was talking quietly with Timmy, and the youngster also seated himself. Gil returned to the front of the room, thanked Mr. Wallace for writing up estimates for the uniforms and thanked the parents for coming. He didn’t come right out and dismiss the adults, but his words gave a bold enough hint. The parents ambled out the door. Joseph, however, moved to the back of the room, grabbed a chair, and sat. Gil would have to lead this practice under his disapproving glare.
The boys had only played a few bars of a quick-paced piece Joseph didn’t recognize when Ava entered the room with her cloth-draped tray. He leaped up and took the tray from her. She thanked him with a smile, then brought out the rolling cart from the storage room. While Gil continued directing the boys, the two of them worked together readying the treats. Being close to her, lending her a hand, took a bit of the bluster from Joseph’s sails. Until he glanced at Ava’s pocket and saw a bulge.
Cookies. Saved for Gil. The anger roared to life again.
Gil released the boys for their snack, and anger propelled Joseph across the room, directly to his cousin. Hands fisted at his side, he stuck his nose as close to Gil as possible without actually touching him and hissed, “Why did you register the boys to compete as a marching band? Did you forget that not every one of your members has the ability to keep up? Or do you not care that it will leave Earl out of the competition?”
Gil blinked, his eyes wide. “I…I didn’t have a choice. The competition is two-part. One piece while marching in the parade and one played in front of the judges. Registering meant playing for both.”
