Chapter 12 #2
“I bet you still sing sweet and play just as well though,” she points out. “They don’t change that much.”
“Is Cash gonna play?” someone else asks, leaning over.
“Now, you’ve done it,” I tell Mary. “People are gonna be all over me.”
“We miss hearing you,” she says. “Nothing wrong with that.”
There’s a small group growing around us now, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Harper looking on curiously. I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re all sweet, but I don’t do that anymore. Preston’s doing a good job holding down the crooning. Let’s just listen to him.”
Mary tuts, but she moves along, taking most of the group with her, and I let out a little sigh.
Harper tips her head to one side. “So that used to be you up there?” she asks.
“Kind of. I didn’t have a band like Preston does, just sang and played guitar and whoever wanted to join me usually would.”
“Sounds like you were popular. You must be good.”
I shrug a little. “I was good enough. And you know this crowd, they’ll enjoy anything they can tap their toes to.”
“I think you’re downplaying it a little,” she says with a smile.
“Yeah, maybe. It was…” I sigh again, dragging fingers through my hair.
“I had thoughts of trying to make it big. Get a contract, do albums and bigger shows, that kind of thing. Everyone here was really supportive, and that meant a lot. I think most of them haven’t let go of the dream, even if I have. ”
Harper’s tongue darts out, sliding across the pink bow of her lips. “What happened? Did you fall out of love with it, or?”
“Nah. Just circumstances. My mom got sick, and I had to stay in town to take care of her. Everything else just took a back seat.”
“Ah,” she says softly. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We all just do what we have to do, right?
We take care of our own, and sometimes that means letting the things we want fall by the wayside.
I’m not sad about the way my life has gone.
Things could’ve been different, sure, but that doesn’t mean they would’ve been better.
Maybe I’m right where I’m supposed to be right now. ”
I watch her take that in, brow furrowed. I think Harper probably understands a hell of a lot about taking care of her own and doing what she has to do.
“Maybe you are,” she finally says. She takes a breath and then smiles. “So what’s next on the Summer Festival tour?”
I grin back at her, grateful. “Well, I think Miss Cora deserves another treat after being so good all evening, don’t you?”
“Is this another bid to get her hopped up on sugar?”
“Nah, not this time. Come on.”
I lead them down the way a bit to where some of the farmers have brought animals for the kids to look at.
Bessie the cow is there, and Cora immediately runs over to the fence to gaze at her.
Someone has brought some goats in another pen, and a little ways down, there’s a woman with a pen full of kittens.
Cora only has eyes for Bessie though, and Harper and I stand back a little, watching as she holds a hand out for the old cow.
There are other kids clustered around the fence, and one of them comes right up next to Cora and shoves his hand through the fence as well. Bessie gives them both the eye and moves to press her nose against Cora’s hand first.
“How’d you do that?” the boy demands. He looks about eight or nine, bigger than Cora and pushier. “I want her to touch my hand.”
Cora looks at him for a second and then goes back to stroking Bessie’s nose.
“I said how’d you do that?” he says. “Tell me!”
When Cora just keeps petting the cow, it’s clear the little kid doesn’t like being ignored. He points at her, lips twisted. “You’re supposed to share,” he says. “And why won’t you say anything? Are you broken? I think you’re broken. I bet that cow is your only friend.”
Cora’s eyes go large and shiny, and she steps away from him. I move to intervene, but before I can, Lincoln shows up out of nowhere.
He kneels down to the boy’s level and meets his gaze head-on. The boy immediately drops his hand and steps back a bit, surprised at the sudden appearance of a grown up, probably. Lincoln is all quiet intensity, and it works here to make the kid pay attention without scaring him.
His voice is calm, but that doesn’t hide the layer of steel underneath for anyone who knows to listen for it. “We don’t do that,” he says to the kid. “You’re older and bigger than her, and picking on little girls isn’t acceptable. She didn’t do anything to you. Do you understand?”
The boy nods quickly and runs off without a second look.
Harper stands there looking surprised, but then a small smile spreads over her face. “Thanks,” she says softly to Lincoln.
He gets up and shrugs. “Not a big deal. Little shit shouldn’t go around picking on anyone, but especially not Cora.”
Through all of that, Cora didn’t even really cry or look afraid. “She’s a tough little girl,” I say.
“She is,” Harper agrees. “She’s had to handle a lot from a young age. A younger age, I guess. And she’s only had me to stick up for her for a while now, so… I don’t know. It’s just nice to have other people to do it. She’s an amazing kid, and she deserves that.”
“She deserves the world,” I say. “And don’t worry. We’ve got her back the same way we have yours. We wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
“I realize that,” Harper replies. “And I’m grateful.”
I grin at her, giving her a little nod to show I understand how much it means. “All right, now I think we were in the middle of having a good time, weren’t we? The Summer Festival isn’t over yet.”
Lincoln rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “How much Summer Festival propaganda have you guys had to listen to since you got here?” he asks.
Harper smiles, and it’s amazing how it always transforms her face to see her happy. “Not that much.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Can we stop making fun of me and go?” I interject.
Lincoln laughs a little, and he takes hold of Cora’s hand, keeping her close to him. She seems happy to hang off him, watching things around her and listening as Lincoln explains this and that in his patient way. He’s really good with her, and it’s nice to watch.
Everett never really seems to know exactly what to do or say, but he tries. I treat Cora the way I treat everyone, not wanting her to feel like she’s different. But Lincoln just seems to get her in a way that makes her open up, and I wonder how Harper feels about that.
I look at her, and she doesn’t look upset or worried. There’s a tiny smile tucked into the corners of her mouth as she watches her niece and Lincoln interact, and that’s good enough for me.
We keep moving through the festival, getting more food and drinks and watching another performance. Lincoln picks Cora up so she can watch the high school band perform, and her eyes are bright with excitement the whole time.
There’s another round of games, where Harper tries to get Lincoln to play against me.
“It’s not fair if I do,” he says, holding up his hands. “I’m so much better than he is.”
“Wow!” I shoot back, mock offended. “You beat me one time when we were like seventeen, and you never let it go.”
“It was three times, and you know it.”
“That last time didn’t count.”
Lincoln raises an eyebrow. “So you’re counting twice then? Even though you’re wrong and the last time definitely did count. I won fair and square.”
“The sun was in my eyes.”
He gives me a flat look, and Harper giggles.
“Have you always been like this?” she asks.
“Like what?” we ask back in unison. She just laughs more.
In the end, Lincoln goes up against Harper in a game and loses. I cheer triumphantly, raising Harper’s arm up in a victory pose.
“She’s my champion,” I tell Lincoln. “My honor is restored.”
“Sure,” he says. “If you need someone else to fight your battles for you.”
It’s an amazing evening, all around. One of the best festivals I’ve ever been to, and I know that has a lot to do with Harper and Cora being here with us.
I’ve never seen her laugh this much. I’ve never seen her so open and letting herself have fun.
Usually you can tell there’s a million things on her mind, each one more grim than the next, and she doesn’t even let us get that close.
Like her walls are always up and projecting outwards to protect her at all times.
She seems softer now, in a way. And I’m having a hard time not watching her.
As night starts to fall and it gets dark around us, people begin to clear out. I lift my head to the sky, smelling the familiar scents of the festival and my town. It’s soothing.
In the distance, there’s the loud whoosh and crack of fireworks, the colors bursting overhead in a dazzling display. I turn to look at Harper and find her not next to me anymore.
Well, she is, but instead of standing beside me, she’s dropped to the ground in a crouch, her hands clasped over her mouth like she’s going to be sick. Her eyes are screwed shut, and her frame trembles as she shakes and hyperventilates.
“Harper?” I ask, dropping down next to her.
I can tell she’s locked in some kind of panic. PTSD manifests differently for different people, but something about the fireworks set her off.
When she doesn’t respond to me, I snap into action. I move so I’m blocking her from the crowd of people pushing past her, trying to shield her from the curious stares.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You’re okay. You’re in Silver Falls, and you’re safe. Do you hear me, Harper? You’re safe, and I’ve got you.”
There’s no way to tell if she’s hearing me or if my words are making things worse. Lincoln has a grip on Cora, and I glance up at him.
“We need to get her out of here.”
There’s another burst of fireworks, the sound exploding not far from us. Harper just whimpers in response.
She needs somewhere safe and quiet, and I hoist her up to get her there.