I KNEW ALL ALONG, KID
The square buzzed with life, a thousand conversations threading together as I moved through the crowd.
I didn’t stop to admire the booths full of paintings in bright, swirling colors or the cheerful handmade pottery.
That wasn’t the world I inhabited. The booth I’d arranged was a different kind of masterpiece, one that spoke in darker tones, in shadows and whispers.
It was a simple booth with a white canvas backdrop filled with wooden easels displaying a collection of Elona’s drawings that were nothing short of revolutionary.
Not the kind of thing you’d normally see in a place like Butte, at least, not in public.
“How’s it looking?” I asked the man attending the booth.
“Perfect,” he said, adjusting a frame as he scanned the growing crowd. “People are intrigued. No one’s asked about the artist yet, but they’re looking.”
Good. Let them wonder. Mystery carried its own kind of power.
My eyes swept over the crowd. Maeve wove through the market at an unhurried pace, her attention catching on people just long enough to unsettle them.
People instinctively made space for her and Maeve seemed to savor every second of it.
Violet drifted by her side, quieter but just as amused.
Then I found the one I was waiting for: Elona.
She hadn’t seen the booth yet.
“Birdie!” She called out, excitement in her voice.
I turned and smiled, letting the warmth reach my eyes. “Hey, darlin’,” I said, stepping toward her. “How’s the festival treating you?”
She gave a sheepish smile, her hands clasped in front of her.
“It’s. . . actually a lot of fun, I’m really enjoying myself.
” She said, her voice gaining more confidence as she spoke.
“Though I haven’t had a chance to see all of the vendors or their booths yet.
There’s so much to look at, it’s a little overwhelming. ”
I chuckled. “Understandable. It’s easy to get lost in it all, but I’m glad you’re here.”
She glanced around, eyes wide with curiosity, clearly drawn to the colors and motion. “There’s just so much to take in.” She said in wonder.
I let my smile soften, shifting closer to her. “You’ll have time,” I said, glancing back at the booth I had arranged for her work. “And I have a little surprise for you.”
Her gaze followed mine as I nodded toward the booth, and I watched as her eyes widened. The sketches, her sketches, hung in a place of pride. The bold lines, the stark contrasts between light and shadow, the beauty of the women, it was her soul laid bare for everyone to see. For everyone to feel.
Elona stood there frozen for a moment, realization sinking in. “Birdie, I. . .” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” I said. “Let them see. Let them witness the power of your work.” The tone of my words was gentle, like a nudge rather than a push.
I wasn’t demanding, just offering a quiet certainty, a reassurance that she was ready.
Elona had everything she needed to succeed, she just had to trust herself.
And I would be right here to watch her take that step.
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out to touch one of the frames, her fingers grazing the charcoal lines as if she hadn’t seen them before, as if she was seeing them in a new light. The crowd was watching. The women, the men, they couldn’t help but admire.
“What do you think?” I asked her, my voice almost a whisper.
She didn’t answer right away, just stood there, taking it in. Her own work. Her own soul.
“I never thought this would happen.” She said, her voice caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief.
“I’ve dreamed of this moment, but seeing it.
. . it’s so different than I imagined.” She glanced back at me, her eyes wide and searching for reassurance, but I already knew what she was feeling.
The spark was there, the one I had seen from the beginning.
Every hesitant step, every quiet sketch, had led her to this point.
She was ready now, and the world had no choice but to see her.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just the beginning.” I said with a smile, my voice filled with pride.
By the time the sun dipped low, the booth was packed. Piece by piece, her art sold. Each transaction sent a rush of victory through me. The crowd couldn’t look away.
Maeve and Violet made their rounds through the square, drawing the usual stares and whispers while I stood tall beside Elona. We weren’t just part of the town anymore, we were rewriting it.
When the last piece sold, I pulled her gently aside. “See?” I chimed. “Told you they’d love it.”
She looked at me, trying to speak, but the words just wouldn't come.
“You’re finally letting them see you.” I explained. “The version you always kept hidden.”
Her smile was small, careful. “And they didn’t run,” she whispered.
“No, dear,” I said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “they stood in line.”
Somewhere behind us, Maeve barked a laugh.
Violet’s soft snort followed. I glanced over my shoulder to see the two of them approaching from the food carts, Maeve licking powdered sugar from her fingers, Violet clutching a paper bag of fried dough.
Maeve caught me watching and lifted a sugared finger in a salute.
“Did she cry yet?” Maeve called out.
“Not yet,” I answered, glancing at Elona with a knowing smirk, “but I give it five minutes.”
Violet beamed. “You were stunning, Elona. Each piece hit like a gut punch.”
Elona’s cheeks turned a soft pink color that she hated; she always insisted she didn’t blush, even though she did. Constantly.
“You’re all insufferable,” she muttered, though her smile betrayed her.
As the festival wound down, the booths emptied, and by the time the last vendor closed shop, the square had quieted to a hush, its energy spent.
I was zipping up the last crate—every drawing sold, not a sketch left—when Maeve sauntered over. “D’you want the interesting bit first, or the strange one?"
“That depends,” I said, wiping the dust from my hands on my coat. “Are you drunk?”
She smirked. “Fair question, but no.”
I straightened up. “Hit me.”
“The interesting bit?” Maeve said, slipping in beside me with that foxlike smile of hers. “The sheriff’s wife bought Elona’s sketch, the one of the boy with the wolf tattoo.”
I tilted my head, letting the grin bloom slowly. “Let me guess. Said it reminded her of someone?”
“Ah, she didn’t say a word,” Maeve purred. “But the look she gave it? Like she meant to tuck it under her pillow and dream of it twice.”
I snorted. “Does the sheriff really not know his wife and his deputy are knocking boots? The whole damn town knows.”
Maeve gave a low chuckle. “If he does, he’s playing dumb with real commitment.
You’d think the smell of guilt and Marlboros would’ve clued him in by now.
” She went on, lips twitching. “Poor lad still wears his wedding ring like it means somethin’.
” She paused, then gave a wicked smile. “I’d be happy to take it off for him. . . among other things.”
I gave her a knowing look before I let out a soft laugh. “Well, that’s going to be quite the conversation over dinner. And the weird news?”
Her smile dimmed. “The church crowd’s buzzin’. Father Frederick was found early this morning, kneelin in the alley behind Matthison’s butcher shop. Holdin tight to some poor lad.”
My breath caught. “Dead?”
She nodded. “Knife to the gut. Nobody saw who did it, but folks say the priest was whisperin’ prayers over him like it was the second coming. Said he refused to leave the body until they pulled him away.”
A chill crept along my spine. “What was he doing out there?”
Maeve shrugged. “Not a clue, but here’s the kicker. The dead lad? It was one of the fellas from the bar, the one next to the lad Emil had to toss out on his arse.”
I glanced toward the center of the square.
Violet sat on the edge of the fountain, flipping through a notebook with that faraway look she got when she was daydreaming about the future.
Elona stood nearby, sketchpad balanced in her hand, already creating something new from the fragments of the day.
Pulling beauty from the static, as she always did.
Maeve let out a long breath, then clapped her hands once in mock finality.
“Well now, that’s all the wicked gossip I’ve got for you today,” she said brightly, brushing imaginary dust from her coat.
“Come back tomorrow and I might have a scandal or two more, if the town doesn’t burn itself down before then. ”
I chuckled, the tension finally easing from my shoulders. Maeve stretched, her eyes following my gaze, and grinned. “Should’ve come with a bottle in hand.”
I gave a small smile. “Let’s go get some wine. Elona’s art sold out, and that deserves a proper toast.”
But my eyes still drifted toward the alley.
Toward where Maeve said the priest had been seen.
A man dying in the dirt, his last breath caught between heaven and hell, and Father Frederick there to cradle it.
Something in this town was shifting, but for tonight, we’d let it wait.
I turned toward the street, brushing dust from my skirt.
“Come on,” I said, voice light. “Let’s go celebrate Elona. ”