Chapter 28 Fourth of July
Fourth of July
WALKER
The Fourth of July is like Christmas in summertime as far as my son is concerned.
He gets to ride his favorite pony, Biscuit, in the Marble Falls Fourth of July Parade, right next to his grandpa up on Colonel, his rescue draft horse. Then we come back to Rosemont for my dad's all-day cookout, an institution as reliable as the mountains, running since before I was born.
The celebration here is nothing fancy, nothing crazy, but loud and chaotic and perfect all the same. Everyone who works at Wild Rose Ranch can cycle through with their families all afternoon, the grill going from ten in the morning until the fireflies come out.
It’s unchanged from my own childhood memories of it.
Charcoal smoking on the grill, kids on the slip-and-slide shrieking at the cold water, adults with full plates and a drink in hand, just soaking up the sunshine.
There’s music and the cottonwoods along the river throwing puffy white tufts like confetti across the blue sky.
Burgers and hot dogs and grilled corn and watermelon and enough popsicles to dye every child in Marble Falls red, white, and blue from the mouth down.
Jonah is proof of concept on that last point.
I spot him from across the yard. He's on his fourth or fifth firecracker popsicle by my count, standing in the afternoon sun with his pearl-button shirt he wore to the parade now untucked and his hat pushed back. His hands are stained the color of the American flag.
Sadie's kneeling in front of him with a wet napkin, attempting damage control, while Jonah bounces on his toes and tells her a story that apparently involves a catastrophic crash.
His arms are going in every direction. She's got her lips pressed together, clearly trying not to laugh but her eyes wide and serious.
Treating him like whatever he's describing is the most important thing she's heard all day.
This is exactly why I came back to Marble Falls.
These people. This land. These family traditions. I see Jonah settling into it the same way I have, like a pair of boots that finally fit right after years of wearing the wrong ones.
A hand lands on my shoulder. I turn to find my dad beside me, two cold beers in hand. He twists one open and passes it to me without being asked, and we stand there together watching Jonah regale Sadie, whose laughter urges him onto even greater embellishment of his story.
“Those two get along like a house on fire,” my dad observes.
Across the yard, Jonah’s reached the climax of his tale. He throws both arms wide to demonstrate the explosion.
“Been like that from day one,” I say. “You know he can read a whole book cover to cover now? Fifteen pages, sits right down and reads every word aloud.” I shake my head. “Sadie's a miracle worker.”
“I'd say so.” My dad takes a slow sip of his beer. “Look at what she's managed with you.”
I look at him sideways. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Just that when you came back home you were surly as a mountain lion with a thorn in its paw.” He squints out at the yard, perfectly innocent. “Now you can hardly wipe the smile off your face.”
“I'm not smiling.”
“You are. All the time. With your eyes.” He laughs. “Don't gotta act tough with me, son. I know the look. Same one on my face every time I looked at your mother.”
She should be here. It always hits me hardest on holidays, at celebrations like these.
Especially at the same house I grew up in, with my own son tearing around the grass looking more like my mother with every year.
The big green eyes, that look of intense concentration when he’s interested in something, the way he throws his head back to laugh. It’s pure Marianne Rhodes.
Mom would have loved Sadie. Would have recognized her as a kindred spirit immediately, would have been treating her like a daughter before the end of the first conversation.
“Mom should be here,” I say, voice thick. “She should be watching her grandbaby grow up and be playing piano and standing here with us right now, holding your hand. It was too soon. It’s not fucking fair.”
My father sucks in a breath. When I look at him, his eyes are misted with tears.
He’s always been the rock of this family, but who’s been the rock for him?
He lost the love of his life ten years ago. He still sets two coffee mugs out every morning before he remembers she’s gone. He told me that once, late at night, after enough whiskey. Said he doesn't try to stop anymore, that it's the one part of the day she's still there.
I think about the coffee I’ve been making for me and Sadie every morning before she wakes. In a few weeks I won’t need to make enough for two anymore.
I’m not gonna think about that right now.
I put my hand on my father’s shoulder. “I’m so damn sorry, Dad. I should have been around more when she was sick. I should have been home. For her. For you.”
He shakes his head. “No. Don’t you do that, Walker. She told you herself. Life is for the living. Your mother would've been spitting mad at you if you'd given up your dreams just to come watch her die. She wouldn't have let you try. I wouldn’t have let you try.”
“I put my career first. Over my family. Over my own son.” I look down at my beer. “Don't let me off the hook for that.”
“You're here now. That's what counts.”
I look at my father's profile. Salt and pepper hair, tanned and weathered skin with deep lines carved into it. The face of a man who's spent his whole life outdoors. Strong shoulders that haven’t slouched an inch in all these years.
This man who built everything I used to take for granted. Who held this family together when Mom was dying and it felt like everything was falling apart. Who’s been helping me with Jonah ever since we moved back to Marble Falls and never once made me feel the debt of it.
How'd a selfish prick like me come from a man like this?
There’s so good answer for that, so I just clink my beer bottle against his. “Fuck cancer.”
“Amen to that.” He takes off his sunglasses and wipes at his eyes with the back of his wrist, quick and private, like he doesn't want to make a thing of it. Lighter, he adds, “Besides, tell me this, when in your life have I ever let you off the hook? Didn’t that jail cell sleepover teach you nothing?” He grins at me now.
The afternoon light shifts, going that honey color it gets when the sun is dipping and the moon is starting to rise. Across the yard Sadie surveys Jonah's hands with a patient sigh while he grins at her. Dad is watching them too.
“You’ve been doing letting me off the hook all day long,” I tell him. “Not asking about what’s going on with me and Sadie, even though I know you’re dying to.”
“I’ve got eyes, boy. Know what I'm looking at when I watch you two together.” His gaze swings to me then. “Question is, what are you going to do about it? Love like that don't come around twice. Trust me. I know.”
I don't argue with it.
I just stand here on my family land and look at the woman that my heart is telling me belongs here. With me. With us. Always.
She fits here. That's the only way I know how to put it. She fits here the way the mountains fit the sky. Like the picture isn’t complete without her in it.
Jonah throws his arms around her neck, and then he's off, running toward his friends, already onto the next thing.
He doesn't stop and look back to check she's still there.
A month ago he would have. A month ago he still had to.
Still had that anxious backward glance of a kid who's learned that people leave.
He just goes now. Trusting she'll be there when he comes back.
I think about autumn. About the fact that she won't be there.
I take a long pull of my beer and look at the mountains like they’re gonna tell me the answer to all my problems. Like they’re gonna tell me how to stop loving someone that’s gonna leave.
Sadie starts across the grass back toward us, blue dress and bare shoulders and that smile, and I try to tamp it all back down. But I don't quite manage it. When she gets close enough I drape my arm around her shoulders and pull her against my side because I can’t help myself, discretion be damned.
She fits against me the way she always does. Perfectly.
My dad clocks it, but just smiles that private smile and takes a sip of his beer.
“Jonah's due for one hell of a sugar crash in about an hour,” Sadie tells us. “I counted six popsicles. I tried to cut him off, but he got sneaky.”
“Six,” I say, looking heavenward. “Sweet Jesus.”
“It’s a special occasion.” She looks up at me. “Still. Better batten down the hatches.”
I run my thumb slowly across her bare shoulder, beneath the strap of her dress. “He's been talking all week about watching the fireworks. Let's see if he makes it.”
My dad's eyes are sparkling. “How about I keep him for a sleepover at Rosemont? Let you two get on and watch the fireworks yourselves.”
“Are you sure?” Sadie asks.
“Deal,” I say, at exactly the same moment.
She looks up at me. I look down at her and feel the grin pulling at the corner of my mouth. I tell her, “I've got a surprise for you at home tonight, darlin.’”
Her eyebrows go up. “Care to share with the class?”
“Nope. Wouldn't be a surprise then, would it?”
Dad just watches us volley back and forth with that knowing smile.
“All right. I gotta go check on the grill.” He claps me on the back, turns to Sadie. “You keep doing whatever it is you're doing with these Rhodes boys, honey. Got the both of them two-stepping on cloud nine these days.”
He pats her shoulder once, winks at me, then walks away.
Cloud nine.
That’s the thing about clouds. You can’t hold them.
They always drift away.