Chapter Nineteen #2
When he spotted us, his face split into a grin. “About time you guys showed up! I was starting to think you’d skip the best booth here.”
Toby puffed up dramatically. “Excuse you, I’m here to fund the dreams of children everywhere.”
“By throwing things at them?” Bryan muttered, adjusting his glasses.
Justin smirked. “By throwing rings near them. Ideally at the buoys. It’s not that complicated.”
Justin handed Toby five neon-colored rings after taking a ten-dollar bill from him. “Red buoys’s the jackpot.”
Toby weighed one in his hand like it was a grenade. “What’s the best round?”
Justin looked at his clipboard. “Two for yellow, one for blue. No one has gotten a red yet.”
Made sense since red was the furthest away and smaller in size. There was only one of them compared to the other ones.
“Oh, challenge accepted,” Toby said grinning at me. “Wiles, back me up. Let’s make Havenway regret their generosity.”
I laughed, reaching into my pocket for a few bills. “Okay, I’m in.”
Bryan crossed his arms, clearly amused. “This I have to see.”
The first ring Toby threw bounced off the rim of the yellow buoy and skimmed across the water. Justin winced. “That’s twenty bucks of humiliation.”
Toby grinned. “That’s twenty bucks closer to success.”
I took my turn, lining up my shot. My first ring hit the edge of the blue buoy and slipped right in.
“Ten dollars by Havenway!”
I smiled. “Watch and learn,” I said, aiming the second ring. It flew nice and landed in the yellow one.
“That’s twenty dollars by Havenway,” Justin declared.
“So thirty total?”
Justin confirmed with a nod.
Bryan clapped lightly. “She’s singlehandedly saving the youth of America.”
“You’re showing off now,” Toby said.
I grinned. “Maybe a little.” Though I didn’t want to admit that all this was pure luck on my part. I usually did pretty badly with these kinds of games.
“Definitely a little,” Toby said, his next ring actually making it into a yellow one. He grinned big and turned to me. “Now we’re cooking.”
We tossed the rest of our rings. When my last ring landed short of the buoy, I shrugged, a small rush of warmth rising through me. “Almost.”
“Almost still counts,” Justin said quietly. “Sometimes the try’s the best part.”
Toby bumped my shoulder. “Look at you, professional philanthropist.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He grinned. “Fine. Basketball prodigy-slash-ring-toss champion-slash-hope dealer.”
Bryan sighed dramatically. “Someone take his sugar intake away before he starts rhyming.”
Justin chuckled, checking off the donations on his clipboard. “You guys added a nice amount to Havenway’s donations. We appreciate your successes.”
“Good,” I said. “They can afford it.”
We lingered for a while, talking and laughing while watching others make their own attempts. There was someone who was able to get the red buoy so that was a fun celebration.
After a while, Toby and Bryan decided to check out an event near the courtyard and Justin was called back to run the next hour of a Sink or Swim challenge. I told them I’d meet up later and headed to where the official Hope’s Embrace Foundation table was set up.
The closer I got, the calmer the energy felt. Laughter still floated through the air from the games nearby, but this corner carried a different kind of warmth. It was quiet and calming.
The table was decorated with lavender and gold ribbons, pamphlets about music therapy and support programs fanned neatly across the front. A speaker played soft instrumental piano, familiar notes from one of the songs I’d written for them. The melody lingered, tugging at my chest.
The table was filled with handmade bracelets, little jars of lavender balm, and folded cards painted by kids who’d gone through Hope’s Embrace art therapy programs. Each one carried a message in looping handwriting:
“You are enough.”
“Keep your light.”
“The world is better because you’re here.”
A hand-painted sign rested at the front:
Donate $2 – Take a Message of Hope
All proceeds fund creative therapy supplies for local shelters and hospitals.
People filtered by, donating money and picking out bracelets or cards.
Every so often, someone would pause to read one of the messages aloud and smile.
Helping at the booth, seeing some of the rawest reactions to the messages, was only a reminder that while people looked like they were happy or living a good healthy life, there was no real way of knowing what they were going through.
This was more about being abused behind closed doors, but also depression, health issues, and even the stress of their daily lives.
“Hey, Cadence,” one of the volunteers said. She was a kind-faced girl named Rachel, a sophomore at the school. “We’re running low on bracelets.”
“I can restock them,” I said, kneeling to grab another box from beneath the tablecloth. The lavender scent filled the air.
Rachel grinned. “People really like the cards this year. Especially the ones with lyrics.”
My stomach tightened. “Lyrics?”
“Yeah.” She handed me one. On the front was a painted sunrise, the brushstrokes uneven but full of feeling. Inside, in careful handwriting that made my breath catch, were words to the lyrics I’d written in the past:
“When the dark feels louder than your name,
And the quiet starts to sting,
Remember—every breath you take
Is proof you can still sing.”
My breath hitched.
“They’re using your lyrics for some of the cards,” Rachel said softly. “People love them.”
I stared at the card for a moment before going back to setting up the table with more cards, doing my best to keep my emotions in check.
Someone approached the booth, brushing her windblown hair out of her eyes.
The woman looked to be in her thirties, wearing a Hope’s Embrace T-shirt layered beneath a cardigan that looked like it needed to be run through the dryer to get the wrinkles out of it.
“Cadence Wiles, right?” she asked in a kind voice.
I blinked, surprised she knew my name. “Uh, yeah.”
She offered a tired but warm smile and extended her hand. “I’m Mara. I run the Hope’s Embrace branch here in Higginham.”
Oh. I’d seen her before at events, but she was always busy, moving quickly, juggling volunteers, running off to meetings, always looking like she was in three conversations at once. We’d never talked, though. She was always too busy, and I was always too...me.
“It’s nice to actually meet you,” I said.
“You too.” She exhaled, shifting awkwardly, her eyes moving over the booth as if checking for a dozen things at once. Up close, I could see the faint shadows under her eyes. Worried. Exhausted. Distracted by something she wasn’t saying.
“We really appreciate your help today,” she said. “And your songs...they mean a lot to a lot of people.”
I swallowed, unsure what to do with that.
Mara hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek before adding, “I’m also sorry about the musical. About everything with Ardens.” The name landed like a stone in my stomach. “I know since we canceled that project you lost out on a lot of money. I know how much time you put into those drafts.”
So that was why she looked like she’d been carrying fifty pounds of stress on her back.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said quickly. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” Rachel muttered under her breath, not even trying to hide that she was eavesdropping.
Mara winced. “She’s right. It isn’t.” She blew out a breath, rubbing her forehead briefly before meeting my eyes again.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I’d like to make you an offer to buy the songs you’ve already written.
They’re good, Cadence. Really good. And it’s not fair that you’re taking the financial hit for something that wasn’t your fault. ”
My heart made a strange little flip. “You...want to buy them?”
“Yes.” Her expression softened despite the exhaustion in her shoulders. “Hope’s Embrace can still use them. If you’re willing, I’ll reach out later this week with a contract and official terms. No pressure today, I just wanted you to know the option is there.”
“I—” My throat tightened. “Thank you. Really.”
She smiled faintly. “You deserve to be compensated for your work. And it’s the least we can do after everything that’s happened.”
There was something else beneath her words and it felt heavier. Like what happened with Ardens wasn’t just about a canceled musical. Like the fallout was bigger than I understood.
But she turned away and busied herself by straightening a stack of cards.
“All things considered,” Mara said softly, “thank you for being here. It means more than you know.”
I nodded, unsure what to say. My heart felt both swollen with warmth by her offer but also achy, anxious because I could feel there was something behind her words.
Something was wrong, I just didn’t know what it was.
I went back to running the booth, settling into a rhythm with Mara and Rachel.
We moved around each other easily, refilling baskets with bracelets, straightening displays, handing out cards with smiles.
Rachel took over the bracelet table, chatting brightly with anyone who wandered too close, while Mara organized the donation jars with efficiency despite the fatigue still clinging to her features.
I had just finished helping a little girl pick out a card for her mom when a quiet voice said behind me, “Didn’t realize you’d be here.”
My pulse tripped.
Paxon stood just across the table, his hands in his pockets, blond strands of hair poking out from underneath his beanie. His grey eyes caught the pale light and seemed clear and focused as he stared at me.
“Hey,” I managed, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be.
“Hey,” he said, glancing at the bracelets, the donation jar, the cards. “You, uh, helping out?”
“Yeah.” I left it at that.
“That’s really good.” He picked up one of the folded cards, turning it over in his hand. His thumb brushed the edge where a brushstroke had bled into the paper. “These are beautiful.”
“I’ll make sure the kids know.”
Paxon hesitated, his jaw tensing before he set the card down.
I wanted to say something else. I wasn’t sure what exactly, I just felt like I needed to. But before I could find my voice, someone called his name from a distance.
He hesitated again, and then said, “See you around, Cadence.”
And just like that, he was gone.
The sound of laughter from a nearby table filled the space he left behind. I busied myself with straightening the donation cards again, pretending the motion could settle the storm building inside of me.
That was when Micah appeared before me with a camera around his neck and a bottle of water in his hand.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
I tried to smile, but even I could tell it was wavering. “Yeah, just busy.”
He leaned on the table, eyes flicking toward the crowd where Paxon had vanished. “That’s not busy. That’s being haunted by a bad pimple that refuses to pop.”
I let out a startled laugh, trying to remove that weird imagery from my head.
Micah’s tone gentled. “Don’t let Paxon break you, Cadence. You’re strong, even if you don’t think you are. I know though.”
The simple sincere way he said that cut through the ache.
“Thanks,” I said.
He smiled faintly. “Any time. Now, do you want me to take a photo to share far and wide? You’re giving off strong ‘local angel doing good work’ energy.”
I groaned, laughing. “Only if you promise not to tag me.”
“No promises.” He raised his camera, capturing the moment before I could protest. He glanced down at his camera and nodded to himself. “Lillian will be proud of this one.”
I laughed as I straightened the last stack of cards. Micah dug through his pocket and then tucked a few loose bills into the donation jar.
“Thanks,” I said as my fingers brushed one of the messages. It was a painted flower with the words You are enough written in gold ink.
“Come on,” Micah said, slinging his camera back around his neck. “Let’s go find something with sugar before you start brooding again.”
I rolled my eyes, but after getting a thumbs up from Mara, followed. Micah had a good point. I couldn’t keep brooding. I needed to figure out how to move forward and keep doing it, no matter the outcome.