Hot Springs - The Story
JASON Chiron, six months away from his 30th birthday, had realized his career ambition and now he thoroughly regretted it. Fed up with his job as a web developer in the city and wondering about the role of spam, pop-ups and commitment in modern life, Jason chucks it all to return to Hot Springs Island and the hotel run by his toupeed, check-shirted, Shakespeare-quoting father and a cast of lovable but quirky islanders and Music Club members.
Assaulted by surprises and blasts from the past, Jason leaves on a search that takes him to Bath, England where he falls under the spell of Dianna the twin and the passionate and intellectual Maddie MacDonald - not to mention the enigmatic, charismatic publisher Seamus who helps Jason come up with The Next Big Thing and catapults him into circumstances unintended and unimagined.
As Jason embarks on an odyssey that takes him to hot springs in Canada, England, and even Japan, he finds himself in hot water both literal and figurative. This is a story about love, music, art, nature, loyalty, family, and the search for warmth and connection that dominates all of our lives.
Click here to go directly to the Chapter by Chapter iNovel links.
EXCERPT
PART I
HOT SPRINGS ISLAND,BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
Chapter 1
“It’s all beneath the surface.”
Once a voyage, regardless of the weather, he came here to the bow to feel the wind on his face and in his thatch of thick brown hair. The cleansing wind and the crisp blue and white of the ferry conjured images of strength and purity. He took a deep breath of the clean air. The muscles in his long neck unknotted for the first time in weeks.
Jason rode high above the ocean on the foredeck. Engines pulsing away in the dark chambers below, the thousands of tons of steel that was the Spirit of Hot Springs Island drew them closer to Active Pass. They approached a blind turn; the engineer sounded a warning. The weather was already clearing and before long the Olympic Mountains to the south would arrive into view. It had been raining on the Vancouver side since last night and only now were they leaving the drizzle and mist and heading towards a brighter sky.
Although coming home, Jason felt more like he was embarking on a new beginning. The ninety-minute ride was like a baptism or rebirth. He couldn’t wait to dock.
Packing had been brutal. Every single thing he picked up or touched reminded him of something: of the career he was abandoning or the woman left behind. Saucepans, wineglasses, the stereo, CDs, the stained-glass mobile Dee Dee had given him last birthday. Even his old Rubik’s Cube. Not to mention the sheets and pillows and duvet…he didn’t even want to think about those. He stuffed everything into cardboard boxes, wrapped them away in newspaper.
The ferry’s PA system announced that a musical performance would take place shortly in the main deck lounge. A musician himself, Jason decided to check it out.
Seats had been moved to clear a space in the center of the main lounge area and the floor was dotted with canvas bags full of musical instruments with a heavy emphasis on percussion. There were djembes, bongos and congas, tambourines, maracas, rhythm eggs, wooden fish, small triangles, jingle sticks, clavels, finger cymbals and castanets. The instruments were from Africa, South America, Asia, Hawaii — there was even a Japanese taiko drum set up beside an electric keyboard, which was in turn ringed by stands of mandolins, banjoes, a guitar, a ukulele, a Dobro, a couple of fiddles and more. The collection was impressive.
Removing his eyes from the instruments, Jason scanned the area, looking for the one person who could be behind such a scene. The one with his back to Jason. Glad-handing like a politician, but dressed like a Latino cowboy in a wide-brimmed hat with a colorful band and an exotic feather crowning his head. Below was a white wool serape replete with three bright stripes above the bottom hem; jeans and sandals. His long, blond pony-tail flowed onto the serape back. It was Cassidy.
He embraced someone, flashed a huge white smile at another, winked and patted and shook hands. He had mastered every gesture of camaraderie. Jason saw him literally lift one girl off the ground and twirl her round, both of them laughing. This was Cassidy. Unleashing his great white smile, he had a good word for everyone. He sucked his audience into the vortex of his overflowing will and energy like dust specs into an Electrolux. Jason thought about saying hello, but decided to wait. It would be hard to break through Cassidy’s circle of admirers.
Returning to the circle’s center, still grinning, Cassidy bent his 6’3” frame and gave a low elaborate bow.
“Gentle ladies and gentle men, thank you for coming today. Not that you had much in the way of choice,” he gained an appreciative chuckle. “My name is Cassidy Maher and I’ve been living on beautiful Hot Springs Island for about five years now. I make my living by playing music and helping run the unequaled Garden Center…and I’ve left some business cards on the table for all you green-thumbed organic-coffee-drinking tree-hugging Hot Springs Island types.
“What you’re about to hear is not just music or song. Today this isn’t a regular ferry. It’s a time machine — and I’m not just talking about how old this boat is.” Everyone laughed.
“We’re going back to the very origins of music. The pulse of what drove humans to discover music in the first place. To what do I refer? Yes. Yes! As some of you have guessed, rhythm. The core, the middle of everything we do. Our breathing is rhythm. Our hearts are rhythms just as are the cycles of days, months, years, and seasons. Rhythm is life.
“But, when I say rhythm, I don’t just mean listening to some drumming by a gadabout like me. Ohhh, no. This will be far beyond the realm of a mere drumming exhibition.” Another laugh, but this time more cautious. “Gentle ladies and gentle men, the rhythm performance you are about to experience is going to be performed by none other than YOU!” In a frenzied burst of movement Cassidy handed out bags of rhythm instruments to three or four people who’d been instructed to pass them out. Whippet-quick, Cassidy delivered gourds and rhythm sticks and sandpaper blocks. Some he tossed. Jason was reminded of the invisibly quick movements of hummingbirds and sparrows, squirrels and dragonflies.
“Now! Now!” said Cassidy, gaining momentum. He maneuvered himself behind what looked like a hollow log set on the carpet in front of him. Two much smaller sticks lay nearby. He sat down behind the log, cross-legged, and seemed to enter an almost trancelike state. People strained to see him. In a commanding yet still serene voice, Cassidy spoke to the crowd: “First, just listen.” Eyes closed, back straight, Cassidy began drumming.
Jason searched the faces in the crowd. Cheeks were pink where before they’d been pale. Pot-bellied men and well-coiffed matrons were starting to move in accordance with Cassidy’s rhythm. Although he couldn’t completely follow what they were saying, Jason’s college Japanese could at least understand the superlatives of the tourist group beside him, half of whom held Cassidy’s instruments like trophies.
His left hand continuing the rhythm, Cassidy pointed to the group on his right. “YOU!” He shouted. “ALL OF YOU! NOW JOIN ME.” And they did. Some latched onto his simple rhythm quickly. Some were slightly off. It didn’t matter.
“Now,” Cassidy said, “Keep it going. Great! That’s IT!” Now that a third of the group was carrying the rhythm, Cassidy could quit drumming himself. He pointed to the middle of the large semicircle gathered loosely round him. “NOW YOU ALL! I want you to do this!” And he started a contrapuntal rhythm which the middle group picked up and started playing with a solemn but enthusiastic panache. He had them.
Cassidy started a third rhythm with the crowd to his left. Once they were set, he returned to his log. Closing his eyes again, he began pounding. “Now! Faster!” he cried. Then he slowed them down. He sped them up again and slowed them down. All eyes were on him. Beginning with the first group he stopped them in the same order he started them. Solo, he went faster and faster and faster until his arms were a blur. Then — without warning — stopped. He raised his arms high. Silence reigned.
Applause replaced the drumming and was just as thunderous. Cassidy remained frozen in front of his log, arms still raised, eyes still closed. Then — again without warning — he suddenly bounded straight up high — high! — into the air. His smile dazzled. His eyes shone. Returned from whatever spiritual outpost he’d been visiting, he leapt from group to group, person to person, praising and patting and hugging and sometimes kissing. It was a virtuoso performance of human psychology. In every face around him, couples, families — even strangers — exchanged looks that said, “See what we did!”
As the buzz subsided, Cassidy moved to the electric piano and played half a dozen songs to his admiring crowd. When he was done Jason used the break to say hello. They’d met a number of times on Hot Springs, as Cassidy had taken over the leadership of the Hot Springs Island Music Club, to which Jason was an occasional visitor whenever he returned to the island.
Cassidy recognized Jason at once. “Jason! Jason! How are you?” His enthusiasm was sincere and infectious. Despite himself, Jason was embraced like a long-lost sibling by the wiry but muscular Cassidy.
“Good to see you,” Jason said, still gripped in Cassidy’s bear hug. “That was quite a performance…”
Without acknowledging the compliment, Cassidy immediately zeroed in on the essential. A serious expression doused the smile. “How’s Dada?”
“Well, he had another episode a few nights ago, you know, the racing heart and…”
“…the sweats and difficulty breathing,” continued Cassidy. “Alexandra called me from the hospital. I meant how is he today?”
Jason was taken aback.
“He’s good. I talked to him this morning. Al, too. She’s a little tired but she’s okay.”
“I’m glad, my brother, I’m glad,” said Cassidy. “And how about you, Jason, how are you doing? Al told me you’ve got a lot going on.” Cassidy’s intense gaze focused on Jason.
“Well, I’m moving back to Hot Springs for good.”
“Will you still do that web development thing?”
“I might but—” before Jason could elaborate, a group of Cassidy’s friends pounced on him, leaving Jason alone to recall the bust up with his boss and his resignation from Human Designs. From there, it wasn’t far to replaying his other recent heavyweight bout, the fight with Dee Dee.
Jason went out on deck. Through the thick windows, he could see Cassidy packing up his gear and chatting with people. He wondered if Cassidy was aware of his effect on others. He moved like a satellite — or perhaps even a planet — within his own orbit.
Waves pounded the hull of the Spirit of Hot Springs Island. The dark indigo of the ocean was beautiful and opaque. Jason knew from sailing the area that it was hundreds of feet deep at this spot. So much down there, he thought, and it’s all beneath the surface. So much we can’t see. And that’s how the idea for the song hit him, literally up from the blue. Hoisting himself onto the gleaming, hip-high, metal life jacket container, Jason tugged his Cambridge notebook from his backpack and scrawled down the lyrics, the song finishing itself in a remarkably short time. Maybe he was right about a new start. Maybe moving back to Hot Springs was the absolute best thing he could have done. He scanned his lyrics again and wished he had a guitar with him. He contemplated borrowing one from Cassidy but instead stayed to enjoy the clearing weather. All the way to the main ferry terminal on Hot Springs Island the melody played in his head, a soundtrack.
Under the Surface
It’s all beneath the surface
In the places we can’t see
In the darkness and the shadows
Underneath, underneath
Dreams, they are the ripples
On the surface of our sleep
Fathoms and fouled anchors
That’s the deep, oh that’s the deep
CHORUS
Everything’s under the surface
The places that we’ve never been
Everything’s under the depths and the dark
Everything we’ve ever dreamed
You’ll never — know what’s down there
It’s the unknown that we fear
Engulfing, all surrounding
Far and near, oh far and near
Everything’s under the surface
The places that we’ve never been
Everything’s under the depths and the dark
Everything we’ve ever dreamed
Rivers, lakes, the same thing
Weeds tugging at our feet
As eerie, the subconscious
Oh so deep, it’s oh so deep
Everything’s under the surface
The places that we’ve never been
Everything’s under the depths and the dark
Everything we’ve ever dreamed
Chapter 1 iNovel Link:Interested in actually hearing this song, “Under the Surface,” as recorded by Jason? Visit www.HotSpringsNovel.com/chapter1/where you can also download the lyrics and guitar tabs.
Click here to go directly to the Chapter by Chapter iNovel links.
back to top
