Charles The Drummer Boy

Father And Daughter Duet

The garden of the Williams Mansion was silent. Everyone was crying, but it was happy crying.

Sophia Williams was still hugging her father, Michael Williams, tightly. She did not want to let him go, as if he would disappear again if she let go.

"Dad, you really came back? You will not leave again?" she whispered, tears on her gold birthday dress.

"I will never leave again, my princess. I promise. Two years ago I made the biggest mistake of my life. I chose a world tour over my family. I thought money and fame would make you proud of me. But yesterday I saw your video. You playing Heartbeat on buckets in the garden. And I understood. You do not need money. You need your father. I am home now. For good," Michael said, crying and hugging her tighter.

Mr. Williams, Sophia's stepfather who raised her for two years, stood there with Mrs. Williams. His eyes were red, but he smiled. He was a good man. He walked forward and shook Michael's hand.

"Michael, welcome home. Sophia waited every night by her window for you. I am happy you came back," Mr. Williams said.

Mrs. Williams also cried and hugged Michael. "We missed you, Michael."

Then everyone looked at Charles. The thin thirteen-year-old boy stood quietly near his bucket bag, holding his mother's photo, smiling but with tears in his eyes.

Sophia ran to Charles and hugged him too, still holding her father's hand, so now three people were hugging.

"Teacher! My father came back because of your lesson! Because of Heartbeat! You said if I play from heart, he will hear me wherever he is! And he heard me all the way in Japan!" Sophia shouted happily.

Michael walked to Charles and knelt down, so he was at the same height as Charles. He looked at the boy's old slippers, his simple shirt, and his three buckets.

"Boy, what is your name? My ex-wife's husband told me you are a champion, but you look like a small child," Michael asked softly.

"Sir, my name is Charles. The Drummer Boy. From a small town. I won fifty thousand dollars one year ago with these buckets," Charles said shyly.

Michael looked at the buckets. They were old, dented, with rust, but clean. He touched one bucket gently.

"Buckets? You taught my daughter Heartbeat with buckets? I am Michael Williams, I played drums for twenty years on expensive drums worth ten thousand dollars. But I have never heard Heartbeat played so true like you played in that video. Where did you learn it?"

"My mother taught me, sir. She died one year ago. The same day I won. She waited seven days to hear me win on the radio, then she died while I played for her. She taught me that true rhythm comes from heart, not from expensive drums," Charles said, looking down.

Michael was silent. He understood pain. He left his family for drums, but this boy lost his family and still played drums with love, not hate.

"Your mother was a wise woman. True rhythm comes from heart. I forgot that when I chose world tour over family. I thought expensive drums and world tours are true rhythm. I was wrong," Michael said.

He picked up Charles's guava sticks from the grass. They were rough, not smooth like professional sticks.

"Can I play your buckets, little teacher? Can I try Heartbeat with my daughter?" Michael asked.

Charles nodded and smiled. "Yes, sir. But you must sit on the grass. In my small town, we play on grass, not on chairs. Grass teaches you to be grounded."

Sophia laughed. "Dad, sit on grass! Like we did yesterday! Grass lesson!"

So Michael Williams, the famous drummer who played in Tokyo Dome and Madison Square Garden, sat down on the grass of his own mansion garden, behind three buckets, wearing his expensive tour jacket that was now dirty.

Sophia sat next to him, behind another bucket. Charles sat opposite them, like a teacher.

Mr. Williams and Mrs. Williams brought out chairs and sat watching, holding hands.

"Okay, father and daughter. First lesson together. Heartbeat. Together. Father and daughter duet. I will count. One, two, three, four," Charles said.

Sophia held her sticks tightly, excited. Michael held the guava sticks, his professional hands shaking a little because he had not played with his daughter for two years.

Charles counted, "One... two... three... four..."

They both played.

Tat... tat... tat... tat...

Father and daughter playing same heartbeat, same rhythm, after two years of silence.The first try was not perfect. Michael played too fast, professional fast. Sophia played too slow, beginner slow. Their beats clashed.

Tat-tat-tat... versus Tat... pause... Tat...

Charles stopped them. "No, sir. Not like that. Not professional fast. Play like a child waiting. Slow. Like your heart when you miss someone. Sophia, you play too slow because you are scared. Do not be scared. Play like you are happy he is back."

Michael looked at Charles, surprised. A thirteen-year-old boy correcting a twenty-year professional drummer.

But Michael nodded. "You are right, little teacher. I am playing with my head, not my heart. Let me try again with heart."

Sophia took a deep breath. "I am ready, teacher. I will not be scared."

Charles counted again. "One... two... three... four... Heartbeat..."

They played again.

Tat... tat... tat... tat...

This time, slower, softer, together. Father and daughter looking at each other, not at the buckets, playing same beat.

Tat... tat... tat... tat...

Mrs. Williams started crying again, seeing her ex-husband and daughter playing together after two years of hate.

Mr. Williams recorded video again on his phone, smiling.

Charles watched them and remembered his own mother. He never got a father and daughter duet with his mother. He only got one last song before she died.

But seeing Sophia and Michael play together made him feel like his mother was smiling somewhere.

"Good! Very good! Now keep playing. One hundred times without stopping. Father and daughter must learn to stay together, not just start together," Charles said, like an old wise teacher.

So Michael and Sophia played Heartbeat one hundred times, together, on the grass, under the New York afternoon sun.

Tat... tat... tat... tat... One hundred times.

At fifty times, Sophia's hands hurt, but she looked at her father and kept playing. At seventy times, Michael's hands hurt too, because guava sticks are rough and buckets are hard, not like soft professional drums. But he kept playing because his daughter kept playing.

At one hundred times, Charles said, "Stop."

They stopped. Both sweaty, both happy, both looking at each other.

"We did it, Dad! One hundred times together!" Sophia shouted and hugged her father again.

"We did it, princess. Together. Like we should have done two years ago," Michael said, kissing her forehead.

Charles clapped. "Good duet. But that was only first beat. Real duet needs second beat - The Tears. The beat you play when you miss someone so much that you cry but you still play."

Michael looked at Charles, curious. "The Tears? I never heard of that beat. Who composed it?"

"I composed it, sir. Under the bridge in the capital city, when it rained, when I had no money, no food, and my mother was dying ten hours away. I played lonely beat and called it The Tears," Charles said quietly.

Michael was silent. He understood. This boy had suffered more than him, but still composed beats with love.

"Teach us The Tears, little teacher. Father and daughter want to learn missing beat, so we never miss each other again," Michael said.

Charles nodded and played The Tears beat for them.

Tat... long pause... Boom... pause... Tat... Tat... pause... Boom...

It sounded so sad, so lonely, like a child crying at night, waiting for father.

Michael closed his eyes, tears falling, because that beat was exactly how he felt every night in Tokyo, alone in a hotel, missing his daughter.

Sophia also cried, because that beat was how she felt every night waiting by her window.

Charles played it again, then said, "Now you two try together."

Michael and Sophia picked up sticks. They tried to play The Tears together.

Tat... pause... Boom...

But their tears made their hands shake. The beat became messy, not together.

Sophia stopped, crying hard. "I cannot! I keep crying!"

Michael also stopped, crying. "Me too, princess. I also keep crying."

Charles stood up and walked to them. He sat between them on the grass.

"It is okay to cry while playing. That is why it is called The Tears. Tears must fall on drums. Then drums know your heart. Do not stop crying. Keep playing while crying."

He held Sophia's hand and Michael's hand and guided their sticks together.

Tat... pause... Boom... together... while crying.

They played while crying, father and daughter, tears falling on the buckets, making small wet spots.

Mr. Williams and Mrs. Williams watching from chairs also cried, because they had never seen such sad and beautiful music in their big mansion garden.

The Williams Mansion, which for two years had no drum sound because Sophia hated drums, now had the sound of tears drumming.

And far away, in Charles's small town, twenty boys with bucket drums were also practicing Heartbeat, taught by Mr. Samuel, not knowing their master was teaching a family to heal with same buckets.After one hour of playing The Tears while crying, Michael and Sophia stopped. Their eyes were red, but their hearts were lighter, as if crying while drumming took out two years of pain.

Sophia wiped her tears with her sports sleeve. "Dad, I feel better. Like heavy stone removed from my chest."

"Me too, princess. Me too. I carried guilt for two years. Today, drumming with you, crying with you, I feel forgiven," Michael said, hugging her again.

Charles packed his buckets slowly. "Good. Today lesson over. You both learned Heartbeat and Tears together. Tomorrow, third beat - The Joy. The beat you play when father comes home."

"There is a Joy beat too?" Sophia asked excitedly.

"Yes. I composed it the day I won fifty thousand dollars and heard my mother waiting for me on the radio. It is fast, happy, like heart jumping," Charles said.

"I want to learn Joy tomorrow! Dad and I will learn Joy together!" Sophia shouted.

Michael nodded. "Yes, tomorrow Joy. But Charles, tonight, my family wants to invite you to dinner. Not in big dining hall where no one talks. In kitchen, like family. My ex-wife, her husband, Sophia, you, and me. Five people, small table, talking, like real family. Will you come?"

Charles looked at Mr. Williams and Mrs. Williams. They smiled and nodded.

"Yes, sir. I will come. In my small town, we eat in kitchen, not in big hall. Kitchen is heart of house," Charles said.

That evening, at seven PM, five people sat in the big mansion kitchen around a small wooden table, not the long twenty-person dining table.

Mrs. Williams cooked simple pasta, not expensive chef food. Mr. Williams brought juice. Michael brought bread from outside. Sophia brought plates they washed together yesterday. Charles brought nothing but his smile.

They ate, talked, laughed, like a real family. For the first time in two years, the Williams Mansion kitchen had laughter.

Sophia told her father about Charles washing plates and making her run eight rounds. Michael laughed loudly.

"He made you wash plates? My princess who never washed one plate? Charles, you are a brave teacher!"

"He made me run in pajamas! My friends would laugh!" Sophia laughed too.

Charles laughed. "And tomorrow, nine rounds!"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Williams who had been sad for two years.

After dinner, Michael took out his old drum bag. Inside was a pair of expensive professional drumsticks, signed by famous drummers, worth five hundred dollars.

He gave them to Charles.

"Little teacher, these are for you. Professional sticks. For teaching my daughter to forgive me. For bringing me home with buckets," Michael said.

Charles took the sticks respectfully, but then he did something surprising. He gave Michael his two guava sticks from his small town guava tree.

"Sir, exchange. You give me professional sticks, I give you guava sticks. Guava sticks have heart. Professional sticks have money. Heart is better than money. Take my guava sticks, play with them, remember true rhythm comes from heart," Charles said.

Michael took the rough guava sticks, tears in his eyes again. "I will keep these guava sticks forever. I will play all my future concerts with guava sticks, not professional sticks. I will tell everyone that true rhythm comes from heart, taught by a thirteen-year-old boy with buckets."

Sophia clapped. "Exchange! Exchange! Like brotherhood!"

Mr. Williams took a photo of the exchange - professional sticks for guava sticks, rich drummer and poor bucket boy exchanging.

That night, Sophia went to her bedroom and put both her father's old drumstick and Charles's guava stick under her pillow, together.

Charles went to his guest room and put Michael's professional sticks inside his bucket bag, next to his mother's photo and guava sticks. He now had two kinds of sticks - guava heart and professional money, but he knew heart is more important.

He played a soft beat for his mother before sleeping.

Tat... tat... Boom... Mama's heartbeat... plus new beat... Joy beat... fast happy beat for father returning home.

He whispered, "Mama, today I saw a father come home because of your Heartbeat lesson. Thank you for teaching me."

Outside, New York City lights sparkled. Inside the mansion, a family that was broken for two years slept peacefully for the first time, because a bucket boy taught them that drums do not take fathers away. Drums bring fathers home.The next morning, six AM, Charles woke up early as usual. He went to the kitchen to wash plates.

But today, the kitchen was already clean. No dirty plates. Someone had already washed them.

Charles was surprised. He went to the garden for running.

In the garden, he saw Sophia and her father Michael already running together, in sports clothes, sweating.

"Teacher! We started without you! We washed plates at five thirty AM and now running! Today we run nine rounds!" Sophia shouted, running.

Michael also shouted while running, "Little teacher, we are learning discipline! Like you taught!"

Charles smiled and joined them. Three people running around the big mansion garden at six AM - a boy from small town, a rich girl, and a famous drummer who left and came back.

Nine rounds. They did it together, panting, laughing.

After running, they sat on grass, tired but happy.

"Teacher, today you said third beat - The Joy. Teach us Joy!" Sophia said, still breathing hard.

Charles arranged buckets. "Okay. Joy beat is fast, happy, like heart jumping when you see father after two years. Like this."

He played a fast, energetic, happy beat that made everyone want to dance.

Boom-Tat-Boom-Tat-Boom-Tat-Tat-Tat-Boom! Fast! Happy!

Sophia immediately started moving her shoulders, dancing.

Michael also smiled and moved his head.

"That is Joy! That is how I feel today! My heart jumping!" Sophia shouted.

"Now you two play together. Father and daughter Joy duet," Charles said.

They tried. Boom-Tat-Boom-Tat... But because Joy is fast, they messed up, sticks clashing, both laughing.

"No, no, slower first, then fast," Charles corrected.

They tried again, slower, then faster. Boom-Tat-Boom-Tat... Together! Father and daughter playing fast happy beat, both laughing, both sweaty, both joyful.

Mr. Williams and Mrs. Williams came out with breakfast - sandwiches and juice - and saw them playing Joy. They clapped and danced too in the garden.

The whole mansion garden became a small concert - two buckets, father and daughter duet, mother and stepfather dancing, and Charles the teacher clapping rhythm.

A neighbor passing by outside the golden gate heard the drums and stopped. He had never heard bucket drums in this rich neighborhood before. He smiled and recorded video.

At ten AM, Mr. Williams received a call from Madison Square Garden manager.

"Mr. Williams, we have problem. Your boy Charles concert tomorrow night - twenty thousand tickets sold out! But main sponsor, Mr. Ade, a billionaire businessman, wants to meet Charles today urgently. He saw Charles's Buckets of Hope album and flew from California to New York just to meet him! He says he knew Charles's mother Elena twenty years ago!"

Mr. Williams was shocked. "He knew Elena? Charles's mother? Okay, tell Mr. Ade to come to mansion at two PM."

He told Charles, "Charles, there is a billionaire sponsor, Mr. Ade, very rich man, wants to meet you today. He is sponsor of your Madison Square Garden concert. He says he knew your mother Elena many years ago in small town."

Charles was confused. "My mother? She knew a billionaire? My mother washed clothes for two dollars a day. How would she know a billionaire?"

Sophia also confused. "Maybe he saw your album and wants to help?"

Michael said, "Mr. Ade is famous in America. He owns many businesses. If he sponsors your concert, he is very powerful. Be respectful, little teacher."

Charles nodded, but he felt nervous. He had never met a billionaire before except Mr. Williams. And this man knew his mother.

At two PM, a long white Rolls Royce car arrived at the Williams Mansion gate. A tall man, wearing a white suit with golden embroidery, stepped out. He had many gold rings and a big kind smile. Behind him were two bodyguards.

He was Mr. Ade, billionaire businessman from California.

The butler opened gate, scared.

Mr. Ade walked into the garden where Charles, Sophia, Michael, Mr. and Mrs. Williams were sitting behind buckets.

He looked at Charles, at his bucket bag, at his old slippers, and his eyes became wide and wet with tears.

He shouted, "Elena? Elena's son? You are Charles? The Bucket Boy? My sister Elena's boy?"

Charles stood up, shocked. "Sir, how do you know my mama's name?"

Sophia, Michael, Mr. and Mrs. Williams all stood up, shocked, hearing Mr. Ade shout Elena's name.Mr. Ade walked closer to Charles, his white suit shining in the sun. His eyes were full of tears.

"Your mother, Elena... she was like a sister to me. Twenty years ago, in small town, I was a poor young man selling water. Your mother gave me food when I had nothing. She gave me her last two dollars so I could take a bus to the city to find work. She saved my life. I promised her one day I would become rich and pay her back. I searched for her for ten years. I became rich, I own companies, but I never found her. Then last week, my son showed me your Buckets of Hope album on YouTube. I saw your face. You have Elena's eyes. Elena's smile. And I saw your buckets. Elena told me one day her son would play buckets and the whole world would hear him."

The garden became completely silent. No one breathed.

Charles's legs became weak. He sat down on the grass, behind his buckets, holding his mother's photo from his bag with shaking hands.

He looked at the photo, then at Mr. Ade's face.

"My mama... never told me... she helped a man... she gave her last two dollars... she always gave even when she had nothing..." Charles whispered, tears now falling fast.

"Yes, my son. She was the kindest woman in small town. She had nothing, but she gave everything. That two dollars took me to the city. I started a small shop, then big shop, then company. Now I am billionaire. But it started with your mother's two dollars. You are my family now. You are Elena's son. You are my nephew in heart," Mr. Ade said, also crying now, big tears falling on his white suit.

Sophia knelt down next to Charles and held his hand. "Teacher? Is it true? You have family?"

Michael also knelt down. "Little teacher, you have an uncle in heart?"

Charles cried loudly, holding his mother's photo to his chest, not like a champion, not like an international star, but like a small boy who just learned his mother's kindness came back after twenty years.

"Mama! You gave your last two dollars to help a poor man! And now that man is billionaire and came back to help me!" he cried.

Mr. Ade hugged him tightly, this billionaire in white suit hugging a small poor boy with buckets on the grass of an American mansion.

"You are not alone, my son. You have me. You have family. And your mama... my sister Elena... she will be honored. I will build a big music school and clinic in small town in her name. With my money, not your fifty thousand dollars. Your fifty thousand dollars is for your future. My money is for Elena's memory. Because she gave me two dollars when I had nothing."

Charles stopped crying and looked up. "You will build school and clinic for Mama?"

"Yes, my son. Big school, free for all poor boys like you. And clinic with free medicine for all mothers, so no mother dies because of no money. Just like you wanted, but bigger. International Elena Foundation. Fifty million dollars foundation," Mr. Ade said.

Mr. Williams stepped forward, tears in eyes. "Mr. Ade, this is amazing, but Charles has Madison Square Garden concert tomorrow night, twenty thousand tickets sold. What about that?"

Mr. Ade laughed, wiping tears, becoming the billionaire businessman again.

"Concert? No problem! I am sponsor! I will make concert bigger! I will fly fifty drummers from around the world to play with Charles tomorrow night! Father and daughter duet? No! Father, daughter, uncle, and bucket boy quartet! For Elena! And after America, Charles will go on international tour with my support! To Japan, to Europe, to everywhere! Elena's son will show the world that true rhythm comes from heart!"

Sophia clapped, excited. "Teacher has an uncle billionaire! That is like movie!"

Michael also nodded. "Little teacher deserves to know his mother's kindness returned."

Charles stood up slowly, holding his bucket bag, tears still on his face, but now smiling through tears. He looked at Mr. Ade, his newly found uncle in heart.

"Uncle Ade, can we play drums together? You, me, Sophia, and her father? Four people, buckets and professional drums, for my mama Elena?"

Mr. Ade laughed loudly, his white suit shaking. "Yes! Play drums for Elena! My sister! Your mama! Play drums for kindness!"

So in the garden of the Williams Mansion in New York City, four people sat behind buckets and drums - a boy from small town who lost his mother, a rich girl who found her father, a famous drummer who came home, and a billionaire who was once poor and was saved by two dollars from Elena.

Charles counted, "One... two... three... four..."

They played Heartbeat together. Four people, one beat.

Tat... tat... tat... tat...

The sound traveled over the mansion walls, over New York City, and Charles felt, for the first time since his mother died, that kindness never dies. His mother's two dollars became fifty million dollars foundation, and her buckets became international music.

His international tour had just become a family reunion of kindness.

TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 10: MADISON SQUARE GARDEN - TWENTY THOUSAND PEOPLE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for reading Episode 9! Did you cry when Mr. Ade said Elena gave him 2 dollars 20 years ago? Charles found family through kindness! Do you want Episode 10 to be the big Madison Square Garden concert with 20,000 people? Vote with coins and comment! What song should 4 of them play together at Madison Square Garden?