Chapter 32
The art display tent was my first stop the morning of the festival. I spent yesterday evening crafting a frame around my canvas painting of Grandma, thanks to a tutorial from Victor. I had sent him a text asking if it was possible to make a last-minute frame out of driftwood I had collected from the lake over the years. He’d called me on FaceTime and walked me through it step-by-step.
A light rain pattered against the tent. Students and their parents were bustling around as they set out their own works of art. I set mine up along with a special hand-painted sign that said
In Memory of Clara “Grandma” Rhodes whose presence is never missing from a Sweet River Summer Festival.
I took a steadying breath, in and out, as I looked at it.
I could still feel Grandma squeezing me in for a hug like she always did. I could still taste her sugary sweet, iced tea even on a rainy morning like this. I could feel her stubbornness, her strength, her creativity humming in my own DNA.
I’d always worked to keep Grandma’s presence at the festival through her old plans and vision, through my own tangible efforts, and now through paint on canvas. A gesture small, but mighty, just like us Rhodes women.
“Grandma.” Gracie took in a sharp breath beside me, a crutch under each arm. Olivia walked up behind us, immediately slapping a hand to her chest.
“In the summer, if she wasn’t planning the festival, she was at the lake,” Gracie whispered affirmingly.
“Has Mom seen this?” Olivia asked me. I shook my head. Like clockwork, Mom showed up, slipping her arm around me in greeting and squeezing me into a hug.
“You asked us to meet you here at the school arts tent?” Mom asked. She squinted at the big painting before us. “You have a painting…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes settled on it. She stepped closer to it, placing a hand on the frame. “This driftwood is from the lake?”
I nodded. Olivia wiped her glistening cheeks.
“You even have her wearing her favorite old, ratty sweater.” Mom let out a watery chuckle. “It always smelled like the lake when I hugged her.”
“The lake and that old perfume of hers,” Gracie added.
The rain softened, the sun shining brighter as it rose. We four huddled around the painting, arms around each other.
Sometimes remembering Grandma was an ache that made it hard to climb out of bed, a sharp pang, but sometimes the memory was fierce and encompassing, but sweet, like an early morning rainfall. Nourishing my roots, water to my soul.
I rested my head on Mom’s shoulder, and for a moment, memory powerful like a time machine, I was a girl again on a summer day. Brave, reckless, and hopeful. Waiting expectantly to see the good the world had waiting for me like Grandma raised me to believe. Knowing there were arms to catch me after any fall, hands to wipe any tears. I glanced at my sisters and my mom, knowing that those things hadn’t changed.
My phone alarm rang, reminding me the school choir was scheduled to kick off the festival in a matter of minutes and they needed me down there to help run the show. I ran out of the tent toward the stage, grateful for the momentary break in the rain. I had on a little, pink sundress, but had tucked a clear rain jacket into my tote bag in case of an emergency.
I ran through the downtown streets weaving through food stands, carnival-like games and prizes, past the pastel carousel, shiny Ferris wheel, and new vendor stations all bubbling with excitement.
It was bigger and brighter than I’d thought possible, like my summer had been.
The concert stage had a makeshift roof built after the storm damage. I listened to the welcome from Adam, who looked so good on stage in his white Sweet River Summer Fest tee shirt that was tight around his strong shoulders.
“I want to welcome Sweet River who has so warmly welcomed me,” he opened his speech. I could feel the crowd melt right along with me. “I often pop into a city, help it grow, then move on. But Sweet River isn’t a pop-and-go kind of place, is it? It’s not only me helping the city grow—it’s been Sweet River helping me grow since I arrived.” His eyes landed on me in the crowd. “This city is warm, funny, helpful, caring, kind, beautiful…” He stepped closer to the edge of the stage, his eyes still locked with mine as I was unable to contain my giggle. “And impossible not to love.” The crowd cheered. I melted. We broke eye contact and he shouted for everyone, “You deserve to celebrate!” An even bigger cheer.
As the choir sang, Adam found his place beside me in the audience. “Where’s your tee shirt?” he whispered.
“I wanted to wear a dress.” I smoothed down the skirt of my dress.
“How am I supposed to focus on the festival when you’re running around looking like this?” He shook his head ruefully. “You make it hard to keep up my end of the contract.”
The choir started in on a rendition of a song from the Carpenters. “If the festival falls apart, you can blame the rain and my pink dress.’
He looked around. “It’s not going to fall apart. It’s looking great. Not a single raindrop yet.” He looked up at the sky.
“I think the sun is even peeking through.” I squinted up at the sky, too.
“How are you doing?” he asked, suddenly serious. “I could barely sleep last night.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. “I think I maybe got a couple of hours.”
“I think we deserve a quick coffee break,” Adam offered. Though we both had little walkie-talkies going off on our hips and long lists of places to be, we walked hand in hand down the street to Coffees and Commas. A light drizzle began to fall.
Emma waved us up to the counter when it was finally our turn in the long line weaving outside the shop. “Hi, there,” she said. “How can I help you?”
“Wow, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen you running the front,” I greeted her, placing both hands on the counter.
“I know, I was always planning on helping a little today, knowing how busy it’d be. It’s basically a Sweet River holiday. But I’m running the show solo since there’s an emergency in the back,” Emma said.
“An emergency?” I asked.
“We’ve sprung a leak.” She gestured toward the back of the shop with her thumb. “It’s not a pretty picture. Victor raced over here this morning. We’ve got the whole crew trying to fix it up in a hurry.”
“Can we help?” I offered.
“I think we’re—” But before she could finish, Olivia burst through the doors clutching a plastic bag.
“I’m here with the supplies Victor ordered,” she announced while shaking the bag in the air. Adam and I followed her to the back of the shop, forgetting to even place our orders.
Terrence, Gabriel, and Victor were all staring up at a big hole in the ceiling. Victor was standing on a ladder and peering inside. “Whatever I do now is just a temporary fix,” Victor said to a stricken Katie, who was holding her head in her hands.
“Oh, thank God!” Katie said when Olivia walked in. Victor hopped off the ladder and started digging in the bag Olivia held out to him.
“You’re the best,” he said to her, his voice sincere.
“You’ve helped me out so much lately. I was happy to return the favor,” she said.
He returned to the leak inspection with his new tools in tow.
I could hear the rain start to fall against the roof and watched as the leak started to flood all over the three boys, plus my boy who had joined in on the inspection process, standing under the gap. They all jumped back, shouting in surprise, but the damage was done.
“Ah, man,” Gabriel said as he ran his fingers through his wet curls.
Adam’s wet shirt clung to his body and I felt my face flush when he caught me noticing. He tried to shake it out, splashing me with his shirt and making me giggle.
Victor moved a few feet to the side, where suddenly another leak started to drip over him. “What in the?” He jumped out of the way, but was still drenched after getting hit twice.
“Guys, the product!” Katie screeched, running over to cover the boxes with her body as a shield, her back getting covered.
Terrence scooped her up, along with the boxes, and carried them to the dry hallway. “Katie, I got ya,” Gabriel said, taking the other boxes out of the splash zone.
Victor was trying to ring his shirt. “This is bad, guys, obviously,” he said. “You’ll need roofers. I’ll patch what I can for now.”
“Do you want some paper towels?” I offered the wet crew. I ran to grab some from Emma at the front. She was slammed with people wanting iced coffee for their festival day. We exchanged what is today laughter before I returned with a few rolls.
Gabriel and Adam patted themselves dry as much as they could, both thanking me. Terrence and Katie talked through their options in the hallway, with Gabriel loudly offering ideas from his spot in the backroom. Olivia tried to help Victor pat his shirt dry.
“You look like a little wet puppy,” she teased him, rustling his dark, wet hair. He rolled his eyes.
He said, “This is pointless,” as he threw his paper towel to the side. He tugged his shirt over his head.
“Victor Hernandez,” Katie said in a tone of reprimand as a very sculpted, shirtless Victor climbed back up the ladder. Water splashed over him as he got to work. Olivia’s face was cherry red. She swallowed loudly.
“Tell me what you need,” Terrence said as he walked into the room. Katie was off on a call with a roofing company.
Victor started ordering the guys around. Adam started to help, but I tugged on his shirt. We’d both been ignoring our little walkie-talkies and schedules for as long as we could.
“Duty calls, guys.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” Adam added.
We were rushing by the coffee counter when Emma called out, “Lucy and Adam, order up!” There sat two iced lattes waiting for us, our names written on the paper cups in Sharpie with little hearts.
And, as small as it was, I felt giddy at the sight of our names written side by side. Our names were called out together. The two of us, a pair, a couple. We walked out the doors, chattering and laughing about our morning, and I felt this mix of joy and peace at the two of us being…a two of us.
I wanted more of it. More coffee cups side by side. More rushing out the door together. I wanted to talk about our mornings. I wanted Adorable Adam so badly I felt sad when he had to run off to put out some festival emergency and I had to go oversee a petting zoo exhibit.
I wanted to keep Adam for myself, no sharing.