Chapter 6
SIX
DARBY
Don’t make eye contact. Keep your head down.
In and out.
Quick and easy.
Say hello, happy holidays, and return to your cozy cave.
Darby lasered her gaze at the icy sidewalk.
Thirty minutes. That’s what Hilary had promised her.
She only needed to commit to thirty minutes.
A quick greeting to the crowd, cut the ribbon with a pair of ginormous scissors, and send the scavenger hunt teams racing.
After that, it was going to be straight to her couch with a cup of lemon ginger tea and a date with Grease.
She doubted that John Travolta could pull her out of her funk, but she never got tired of the classic.
It had come out on her sixteenth birthday, and Darby would never forget the rush of seeing the T-Birds dance on the big screen.
She literally wore holes into the album that summer.
“Darby, over here.” A woman’s voice cut through the frenzy of activity in the park, which had been transformed into a winter wonderland.
Hilary waved from the amphitheater. She stood tall with an upright posture and a clipboard in one hand.
She was attractive with two long auburn braids tucked beneath a stylish cashmere hat.
She conveyed a sense of self-assurance and authority as she directed the parks and rec team members and checked off tasks on the clipboard.
For Jim. Darby inhaled the frigid pine-scented air as gentle flakes of snow fell gracefully from the sky. You can do this for Jim.
The amphitheater looked like a breathtaking scene from a fairy tale.
It was impossible not to feel a touch of holiday merriment at the sight of the snowy park.
The open-air design allowed for a seamless connection with nature.
Tiered seating was blanketed in fresh, fluffy snow.
Twinkle lights adorned every corner, casting a soft glow on the stage where Hilary scanned the grounds like a secret service agent sweeping the area for any impending threat.
Hilary was in her late forties with silky brown hair touched with natural highlights.
As she approached the stage, Darby thought she seemed a bit thin, perhaps too thin and pale, despite the frigid temps.
She saw lines of worry etched on Hilary’s forehead and dark circles beneath her eyes.
Maybe Hilary wasn’t quite as in command as she first appeared.
“We are so thrilled you agreed to do this, Darby.” Hilary’s face relaxed as she greeted Darby with a half hug.
“I found Jim’s original notes and plans and have had so much fun looking at how the event has evolved over the years.
He really set us on a course for success, and we’re so honored that you’re joining us. ”
The permanent lump in Darby’s throat swelled.
Hilary blew on her hands and then rubbed them together. “The mic is all set up. You’re welcome to say whatever you want. I slotted you for fifteen minutes, but feel free to take as much time as you need.”
Darby gulped. Panic bubbled up her airway. She tried to swallow but instead gasped for air.
Fifteen minutes?
That was more than she bargained for.
“Are you okay?” Hilary reached out to steady her.
“Fifteen minutes? You want me to speak for fifteen minutes? I thought you wanted me to say a few words.” Darby regained control by pressing her index and ring fingers onto her thumbs.
It was a trick she used to help her students center themselves.
Her classroom was always a safe space for deep and sometimes challenging conversations.
That’s what good literature, great storytelling provided—a launching point for discussion and discourse, which sometimes, oftentimes led to tears or big body reactions, especially with all those raging hormones.
Darby was one part teacher and one part therapist.
She concentrated on the rustic wooden stalls set up around the amphitheater. Vendor booths selling fragrant fresh gingerbread, hot apple cider, roasted chestnuts, holiday wreaths, and crafts lined the perimeter.
Name three things you see, Darby. Three things you can smell.
Another technique she taught to show her students how to ground themselves in their bodies.
She had always believed it was her duty as a teacher to provide her students with as many tools as possible for whatever lay ahead for them, whether that was how to use an apostrophe or a life skill like deep breathing.
“I thought I was saying hello and welcoming everyone to the hunt,” she said to Hilary. “I—I didn’t think I was giving a speech. I’m not prepared for that.”
“Oh, no, no, no. It doesn’t have to be a speech.” Hilary sounded breezy. “More speak from the heart. Share your memories of Jim, the event, and anything else that feels right to you. This moment is about you and honoring Jim’s legacy.”
The tightening returned. Darby glanced around the park.
The towering pine trees were wrapped with twinkling lights.
Santa, Mrs. Claus, and a bevy of elves gathered near the gazebo resembling a snow-coated gingerbread house.
Participants were already beginning to gather.
Darby couldn’t believe some of the costumes—ugly light-up Christmas sweaters, a Grinch complete with his face painted green, and an entire team wearing matching pink bunny pajamas from A Christmas Story.
Most people were bundled up for inclement weather with Bend’s uniform—a puffy jacket, ski hat, and boots.
The scene was so lovely and wonderfully festive that it hurt Darby’s heart.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” Darby said, returning her attention to Hilary.
“I’m not in a place to be able to talk about Jim like that.
Not here. Not in front of all these people.
” She glanced at the crackling fire pit nearby, where people gathered to keep warm, sipping on steamy drinks.
Rosy-cheeked children giggled, running around the bandshell, tossing flimsy snowballs at each other.
Lines grew at the vendor tents as participants poured into the venue.
A look of pity washed across Hilary’s face.
Darby was familiar with the hint of judgment behind her eyes.
In the early days after Jim’s death, she had been bombarded with casseroles, bouquets of flowers, thoughtful notes, and emails.
But slowly, as time moved forward for everyone around her, Darby had become a burden, at least in her mind.
Acute grief was acceptable. Her friends, neighbors, and colleagues shared her sorrow in the weeks surrounding the funeral by baking bread and delivering groceries to her front door.
Long-term, lingering grief was another story.
She first noticed the shift when a friend suggested she join an online dating app, and then a co-worker tried to set her up.
Phrases like “maybe it’s time to move on” were whispered softly.
The thing no one seemed to understand was that just because Jim was dead didn’t mean Darby had stopped loving him.
“Okay. No problem.” Hilary cleared her throat and gave a sharp nod.
She tucked her clipboard under one arm, laced her fingers together, and then yanked them apart, indicating it was definitely a problem.
“Plan B, then. Don’t give it a thought. I’ll figure it out.
Uh, give me a minute. You hang tight, and I’m going to see who I can round up to kill some time before the mayor is slotted to give his speech. ”
Darby watched her scurry away, feeling a pang of guilt.
She didn’t know Hilary well. Hilary had joined the Chamber shortly before Jim died and then had been immediately promoted to his role.
Not that she held it against her. Someone needed to take over Jim’s position.
It was hard to see the scavenger hunt and holiday festivities move in a different direction, though. Was bigger always better?
Jim would be impressed with the scale of the event and how far it had come in the last decade.
Still, Darby felt nostalgic for the first year, when the two of them, along with a handful of volunteers, had sketched out routes on pads of legal paper for a small band of fun-loving participants, instead of tracking contestants on apps, and hundreds of eager adventurers racing to get a leg up over their competitors.
She wondered if she should take a seat. There were plenty of empty benches.
Maybe Hilary’s replacement would mean that she didn’t need to speak at all.
That would be fine with her. The park was only a ten-minute drive from her house.
She could be home and under the fleece blanket that she hadn’t washed since Jim died, before the crowds arrived.
Darby’s breath puffed out in front of her. The temp was already below freezing and falling fast with the setting sun. Hot chocolate sounded good, and Hilary had disappeared. If she had to hang around a bit longer, she might as well keep warm.
Darby started moving in that direction when she noticed someone approaching her.
It was a man, about her age, with a thick head of dark hair streaked with silver and familiar eyes.
There was something about his stride and his easy smile that made Darby question if she knew him.
She shook her head. No, she didn’t know him.
Did she? Could she know him from the parks department?
His black puffy jacket with the Bend Parks emblem must mean he worked for the city. Had he given a presentation at school?
She squinted. Her eyes weren’t great at night anymore, and with shimmering lights everywhere, it was hard to focus on anything without seeing halos.
“Darby? Darby? Is that you?” the man said as he came closer.
She froze. She knew that voice. She would have recognized that voice anywhere.
But it couldn’t be him, could it?