Ink on the Green
Ronnie: Why can’t we go?
Jeff: You owe us.
Matt: Yeah. Why can’t we go?
Jeff: See! Even Matt wants to go this time!
Ronnie: He wants to summon Beatrice.
Matt: We don’t say her name!
"I should get going."
My checklist needed attention to make sure I had everything for a weekend in the woods.
I knew I did. I always did. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t go over it again.
Better safe than sorry. Instead, I sat at a table in Bistro on the Maine, coffee going cold in front of me.
Morning light cut through the windows, turning the steam from Mum's cup gold.
Mum gave me that look.
Her hands hugged her mug as if she syphoned the last of its warmth into her body.
Her boot came off in a week. She had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about my future.
“When are you inviting me to your shop?” or “Where should I forward your mail?” served as gentle probes as she attempted to drag the answers out of me.
She’d find out soon enough. I wanted to tell Nick before the rumor mill spoiled it.
Near the window, Harvey and Walter hunched over their usual corner table.
They kept glancing our way, then leaning close to whisper.
Walter's eyebrows were doing gymnastics.
Harvey elbowed him, which just made Walter grin wider.
Their coffee sat untouched. Retired, they seemed to show up everywhere in Firefly.
"What's their deal?" Even as I asked, they held up a menu, hiding behind it.
“Who knows? They’re just being them,” Mum said, not meeting my eyes. She took a long sip. I hadn’t figured it out, but there was something going on.
The kitchen door swung open. Simon emerged with two plates balanced on one arm.
The chef jacket made him even more handsome, but it was the smell of butter and bacon that got my attention.
He'd moved here from Boston when he needed a change of pace.
Like Nick, he was a true flatlander. Despite that, the town welcomed him and treated them like their own.
I tried to reframe my thinking, acknowledging when Firefly had done good by its people. It was helping… a little… I think.
“Good morning.” He set down his breakfast scramble, steam rising.
When he set down the plate with my breakfast sandwich, I almost chuckled.
Jason said he knew how to handle a sausage.
I had thought it was a euphemism, but apparently not.
“Ellie, you’re looking as lovely as ever. Let me know if you need anything.”
"I really need to—"
"Eat," Mum finished. Now I knew something was amiss. She was working awfully hard to keep me from leaving.
Simon wiped his hands on his apron and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve. On his forearm sat a compass rose. Clean lines. Good shading. I appreciated a man who took care with the tattoos he put on his body.
"Nice. Where'd you get it?"
"Portland. Three years back." He ran his thumb over the ink. “Been thinking about another one.” He smiled at me, eyebrows waggling. “If somebody good set up shop here.”
The idea kept coming up. Mum had made me promise to at least entertain the idea.
Firefly Valley, the home of cute and charming, couldn’t support a tattoo shop.
Though I thought the same about a bakery that only served whoopie pies.
It wasn’t financially responsible, but that didn’t mean I didn’t revisit it.
“Think of the tourist wanting to commemorate their summers in Maine.”
I shot Mum a dirty look.
“She’s not wrong,” he said. “Even in Firefly, it’s not exactly taboo.”
“Not you, too. Is that why you invited me to breakfast? Guilt?”
She didn’t argue the point as she nibbled on her bacon. At first, I thought she might have enlisted Simon to knock some sense into me. I might have believed that was everything, but with Walter and Harvey giggling in the corner, this wasn’t the end.
“Besides, if you think my ink is impressive—”
The door chimed. The trap had been sprung.
Lacie burst through with her arms spread wide as if she expected applause. Before I could comment, Mabel Syrup followed, stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Behind her, Nick, his face already red. The cute guy distracted me, but it was hard to ignore the scantily clad outfits and the…
Tattoos. All three were covered in tattoos.
Arms. Necks. Hands. Lacie’s midriff shirt showed off more ink.
My mind raced to the time it’d take, or the money they’d have to drop to cover that much skin.
Bold black designs weren't there yesterday. Even the expertly placed teardrop on Mabel’s face stood out.
I expected nothing less from Lacie, but to what end?
I set my coffee down. “What are you—”
“Jealous?” she asked.
Lacie struck a pose in the doorway. Mabel matched her. Both grinning like they'd won something. They shifted, pressed against one another. There was no question that they had practiced their couple’s poses. Nick smirked, offering a slight wave as if they had dragged them into their madness. Again.
He stood behind the divas, his arms covered in swirling designs.
A dragon, maybe? Something that might've been a wolf.
Tribal patterns around his wrists. The longer I studied the designs, the more I realized how poorly they had been applied.
Had they spent all morning with a Sharpie drawing on one another?
They might be horrific designs, but the effort forced a smile onto my face.
“What the hell is going on?”
"It was all her idea," Nick said, hands up. He couldn’t have been any more adorable if he tried. He and I had a long talk ahead of us. That’s why I wanted to get to the woods as quickly as possible. There, I felt we could be the best versions of ourselves.
“Damn, Lacie,” I said.
Both she and Mabel let out an audible gasp.
"No." Nick pointed at my mother. "I meant your mum."
I turned. The architect of this insanity continued nibbling on her bacon as if insanity hadn’t just burst through the door. She set the fork down, her eyelashes fluttering as a devious grin appeared.
Mum rolled up her sleeve. There on her forearm in thick Sharpie marker sat a firefly. Lopsided wings. One antenna was longer than the other. The ink was already smudged at the edges. Harvey and Walter snickered at the reveal. Whatever was going on, I don’t think we had reached the grand finale.
“I am so lost?”
Behind me, Walter lost it. The sound bounced off the small space. Harvey joined in, both wheezing, their table rattling.
“You're all insane. Every last one of you.”
"Oh, honey," Lacie said. "We're just getting started."
“Girls!” Mabel shouted.
Bonnie walked in first, bringing the smell of her lavender soap, arms covered in flowers and hearts.
The quilting guild filed in one by one, displaying their Sharpie artwork like a runway show.
The six women didn’t show as much skin, but from hands to biceps, they had pitched in.
Gloria, with her plunging neckline, had what I could only describe as a tiger attacking a man.
The bistro was getting cramped, bodies filling every space between tables.
Gladys entered.
Unlike the others, she still wore her signature cardigan.
Her hands and neck were virgin skin, untouched by ink.
Without a word, she turned around and lifted the back of her shirt.
Faded by time, the flower surrounded by filigree was the last thing I expected.
While others had drawn their tattoos, Gladys revealed an authentic tattoo.
Lacie whistled.
“Nice ink,” I said.
“Thanks.” She gave me a wink. “I had an adventurous youth.”
Not to be outdone, Walter jumped up and pulled his t-shirt over his head.
It was difficult to tell what was real and what had been drawn on.
The anchor on his chest looked real, but what I could only guess was a tattoo of Harvey had been drawn.
When his buddy lifted his shirt, I saw the resemblance of Walter caught in a wink.
“You’re all…” My throat felt tight.
Lacie stepped forward and took a bow. "Have you learned nothing? We can lift any curse." She emphasized the we in her statement.
Mum slid something across the table. When she pulled back her hand, it took my brain a moment to process what I was looking at. Small white rectangle. On it:
Ink on the Green
Charlie Sandford, Proprietor
“Think about it,” Mum said.
I looked around. Simon sat across from me, coffee cooling between us. Lacie and Mabel blocked the doorway. Nick smiled, covered in terrible Sharpie art. The quilting guild took their seats at nearby tables, raising menus ready to order. Even Mum had her lopsided firefly on her forearm.
They were trying. Firefly had never apologized, but they didn’t need to. Instead of looking back, I could acknowledge that they were looking forward.
"You don't have to decide now." Mum reached across the table. Her hand was warm when she took mine. "My foot's healed. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
The words landed hard.
Permission to leave. After everything… the gremlins, Nick, finally feeling like maybe I could breathe here, she was telling me I could go.
Staying was my choice. The urge to bolt hadn’t vanished, but it also wasn’t my first instinct. I’d call that growth.
I looked at Nick. He waited. The Sharpie wolf had already smudged where his sleeve rubbed. Morning light from the window turned his beard gold.
I looked at the business card. At the quilting guild. At Simon. At Harvey and Walter.
I'd known since Johnny said, "He's in good hands." Since the town showed up on the green. Since Nick pulled me close in the tent, his breath warm against my neck.
But I didn't say it.
"I need to think about it."
Mum squeezed my hand. "Take your time."
"You're killing me, Sandford," Lacie groaned.
For the first time in my life, sitting in Firefly Valley surrounded by people with Sharpie on their skin and coffee going cold on tables, I felt like I had time.