More Than a Memory

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“It was moved to the annex last year. Take a left out the door and follow the walkway. It’s the brick building in front of the ball field. That made it easier for students going to and from the field for marching-band practice.”

Some of Jo’s excitement drained as she left the office. From what she’d seen of high-school marching bands in Boston parades, none had violinists. And a small school like this might not have an orchestra. But, as this was her best lead, she followed the walkway to the music room.

A man with almost completely white hair and stooped shoulders sat behind a desk, changing reeds in a clarinet. Jo felt no connection to the room, or to him. She hesitated in the doorway, wondering if she should leave. But her shadow fell across his desk, causing him to glance up. His pale eyes, magnified by tortoiseshell glasses, widened, and the clarinet mouthpiece slipped from his fingers. “Colleen?” The teacher jumped up and adjusted his glasses. “Heavens to Betsy, we thought…Well, clearly the papers were wrong.” He brushed his hands down his sweater vest, then removed his glasses. “What have you been doing since you left here, child?”