28. Chapter 28
Chapter 28
Luke
A t the Spring Fair, I watch Lydia from a distance. She’s laughing with a bunch of people who mill around her in the marquee. She’s so pretty. Like a butterfly, so natural in her element. The center of attention. Everyone loves her.
The contestants in the flower arrangement competition all wear expressions of anxious relief – brows knitted; thin smiles; tired eyes. They have each presented a creative display on one of a line of tall round tables, under a sign which reads, Floral Design Competition. It’ll soon be time for judging.
Unexpectedly, Lydia raises her gaze, and her eyes meet mine across the sea of heads. She smiles and waves. Her smile lassoes me with its friendly warmth. I’m caught. She pulls me to her through the crowd. The distance between us narrows and suddenly I’m right in front of her.
“Hey, Lydia,” I say because any more words elude me.
“Luke. It’s so great to see you.” Lydia reaches up to kiss my cheek. The feel of her soft lips lingers on my skin radiating a glow that spreads throughout my body, making my fingers and toes tingle. “How do you like the Annual Spring Fair?”
“It’s really loads of fun. I had no idea it would be this popular.” Lydia’s eyes twinkle and make me forget what her question was. “I’m having a great time. Thanks.”
“I knew you would,” she says as someone close distracts her attention from me. “Excuse me one sec.” Lydia holds up an index finger. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“Okay.”
I stand to the side, where I hope I’m out of the way, and watch the proceedings of the floral arrangement design competition. Lydia speaks into a microphone and addresses the onlookers. She welcomes returning visitors and first-timers to the Annual Spring Fair, then introduces the judges and expresses her admiration for the contestants.
“Once again, I feel relieved that I’m not a judge this year. I couldn’t possibly choose a winner. But luckily, we have a panel who are more than capable and have volunteered to take on the challenge of choosing Best in Show.”
An avalanche of applause and cheers ring around the marquee followed by a reverential hush as one of the judges accepts the microphone from Lydia.
“Thank you, Oak River Spring Fair committee, and to the brilliant Lydia Lane of Blossoms in Bloom for organizing this wonderful event,” says the short, stout woman wearing dungarees and her hair scooped up in a scarf. “It’s been a tough decision. But we have an overall winner.” She waves a white envelope around her head before opening it and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “The judges were impressed by use of color, texture, and form with this arrangement. The contestant has been brave, imaginative, and extended the collection of stems, blooms, and leaves to a harmonious symphony greater than the sum of its parts. It gives me huge pleasure to award this year’s Best in Show prize, of a one-hundred-dollar garden voucher, to…” The judge struggles to open the envelope while holding the microphone. It’s clear that she’s excited. Someone steps in to assist. She coughs, swallows, and takes a moment before she announces, “John Jacobson for his creation, Dawn of Time!”
A man standing behind a display of long woven leaves and exotic-looking deep red flowers grasps his chest with both hands. John Jacobson, I assume. He is hugged from all sides before making his way to the spokesperson with the microphone. He seems too overcome with emotion to speak. But eventually, he mumbles some words of thanks into the mike, before accepting the envelope and a hug from the short stout woman.
Lydia appears by my side. We join the rest of the crowd in tumultuous applause as John Jacobson waves the envelope and then disappears behind a wall of well-wishers.
“That was intense,” I say close to Lydia’s ear. I can smell her perfume, a heady mix of floral fragrance and vanilla. Lydia mimes that it’s too loud to hear and pulls me toward the exit and fresh air outside. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that,” I say once we’re clear of the clamor.
Lydia beams. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”
We stand face to face in the crowd - a flowing stream of bodies moving past us, up and down.
“So, what’s next?” I ask filling the gap in conversation with a question. “Do you want to grab a coffee? Or maybe something stronger?”
“A coffee. Yes.” Lydia laughs. “I might get too giddy if I give in to my need for a cocktail right now.”
“We can’t have that,” I say, captivated by Lydia’s laugh.
She steers me to the nearest coffee cart which isn’t far away, although we need to negotiate the crowd and weave through the oncoming people traffic. Safely at a seating area, we find a vacant picnic table. I go to the coffee cart window and place the order before returning to sit opposite Lydia.
“Lydia.” I have rehearsed what I want to say, over and over, in my mind. But now it’s time to voice my thoughts they seem scrambled and unclear. “I like Oak River.”
“That’s good. Oak River likes you, Luke Maddox.”
“It’s been a positive move for me,” I continue without prompting. Lydia holds my gaze and smiles encouragement, so I go on. “Lydia.” I repeat her name as if it’s an anchor.
“Yes, Luke. Really? No regrets about taking on Green Acres?”
“No. I mean yes. What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to see where things go.”
“Oh yeah?” Lydia looks at me with a wide-eyed stare.
“At the farm, you know, with the trekking and breeding program and the horse stock.”
“Oh. Right.” Lydia lowers her gaze to rest on the tabletop. “Horse breeding.”
“And, I’d like to see if…”
The barista calls out that our coffee is ready, so I pause my thought and walk over to collect two cardboard cups, serviettes, and a massive chocolate brownie that looked too good to miss. I return to our picnic table.
Lydia takes one of the cups, “Thank you, Luke. And, yay for the brownie. They’re really good here.”
“Have some. I bought it to share.” I break off a corner of the chocolatey treat and offer it to Lydia.
“Thanks, but I’m off chocolate. It reminds me of a bad experience.” Lydia winces, then sips a little coffee. She places the takeout cup on the wooden table in front of her and leans forward on her elbows. “You were saying?”
I suddenly feel self-conscious as if the whole direction of my life is about to change according to the reaction I get. I clear my throat and sip my coffee to compose myself. Then my phone rings and my heart sinks.
“Sorry. I need to get this.”
Lydia looks toward the marquee, and I’m scared she’s going to walk away, so I reach out to touch her hand. She smiles and says, “It’s fine. Go ahead.”
Ray is on the line. He bypasses pleasantries and jumps straight to the point. “Treasure has gone into labor, boss. I’ve called the vet. He’s on his way.”
“Thanks for letting me know. I’m coming right now. Tell her not to have her baby until I get there, okay?” I laugh to keep things light, but my heart is pounding like a freight train. A mare in foal is risky at the best of times. But Treasure is in labor ahead of schedule. She could lose the foal. And, worse still, we could lose Treasure.
“I’m sorry, Lydia. I have to go. My best mare is about to give birth. And it’s early.”
“Oh, wow! You must,” Lydia says concerned. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
I stand up abruptly as my brain kicks into work mode. I orientate myself, trying to remember where I parked the truck.
“Listen,” I say instinctively patting my pocket to locate my keys. “Do you want to, maybe, come with me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” Lydia jumps up. “Gosh, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. But come on.” I reach for Lydia’s hand. “We’ve got to go right now.”