10. Devon #2
When I’m done, I step back and motion for Ember to take my place. She steps in awkwardly and starts to bend over when my mother stops her. With a low voice, she says, “It’s customary for you to say a little something.”
“Oh.”
Now Ember’s face is about as bright as her namesake.
She clears her throat. “Thank you for this honor,” she says, a little louder.
“Speak up, Dear,” my mother whispers.
I cringe because I can almost feel Ember’s awkwardness wafting off her in waves, but this is so my mom.
If she feels like someone needs a little push, she’ll make sure they get a shove.
Apparently, she feels like Ember needs to become more a part of the town, so she’ll give her the leg up whether she wants it or not.
“I’m honored to be here,” she says, her voice carrying on with authority.
“Harvest Falls has welcomed me with open arms, largely due to all of you and how special you all are. It has always been my dream to live in a small town with such great people, and I’m so honored to be able to live here.
I hope this Bonfire signifies the bright season we’re all about to have. ”
“Hear, hear,” a male voice calls from the back. It sounded like Joe Bush, the mechanic.
A chorus of more “here, here’s” follow, and finally, Ember bends over to light the paper. As expected, it catches fire along with the other paper products which then starts the wood. Rippling flames catch the dry sticks Trav placed in there earlier, and soon enough, smoke is billowing out the top.
Another round of applause and cheers fill the small square. Ember peers at it, her gaze watching the fire dance. A soft smile appears on her face, and something in me just begs me to say something. “You’re so very honored, huh?”
She blinks at me. “Excuse me?”
“You said honored like three times in your speech.”
The calm look on her face expires, and her face flushes again. I can’t tell which I like better. “You try making a speech with no notice and not repeat words.”
“I thought she spoke from the heart,” Trav says. “Plus, we’ve all been put in the speech position by Mrs. Lachey.”
My mother feigns shock. “Me?”
We all laugh.
“It does someone good to have to speak from the heart at a moment’s notice.” She peers at me, her gaze narrowing. “And I thought what she said was very nice. Something you could take some pointers on, Devon.”
It’s not lost on me what Mom is doing. Maybe she senses the same sort of weird tension that Trav does.
They think it’s something romantic, but it’s not.
It’s… Well, I’m not sure what it is. I want to say it’s genuine dislike, but I don’t think that’s true.
It’s jealousy, and yeah, maybe I am acting like a jerk because of it but there’s only so much a man can take in his life.
All I wanted was to make something of myself.
Genuinely obtainable things keep popping up, but then the finish line moves further and further out.
My mother wraps her arm through Trav’s and tells him it’s time for a “very small glass” of his pumpkin ale.
My mother rarely drinks beer. She’s more of a wine girl, but she frequents the town businesses as much as she can.
However, she’s taking my buffer with her and probably on purpose.
Trav realizes it too. He wraps his arm around my mom, and gives me a wink as they walk away.
“I don’t know why you find fault in everything I do.”
When I turn to face Ember, she has her arms crossed in front of her, her chin sticking out in the air again.
“I thought you were just mad because I bought the house you wanted. I get it. That must have sucked, but you acting this way about everything I do is just plain childish. So… grow up.”
She spins on her heel and marches back to Bea.
The two of them huddle together, and I can imagine the first-hand report that Ember is giving Bea about me.
The worst part about what I said is that I didn’t mean to.
It’s just that my mouth automatically defaults to sarcasm around her.
If I were her, I wouldn’t like me either.
The heat from the bonfire grows, and I take a step back. The flames are now dancing out of the top, making the whole square glow. People drift around, settling in groups. I stand there for a few minutes by myself contemplating my life choices when someone joins me.
“You sure are making a great first impression.”
I peer down at Bea, and she gives me a smile that tries to stay friendly, but I see the disappointment in it.
That might hurt more since we’ve all known each other since we were kids.
We were playing together even before Kindergarten.
She and Trav, and many of the other people around town, I’ve known since we were babies.
Our mothers all met at the park or were in the same book club, or any other numerous things to do around town. That’s small-town life.
“And second and third,” I admit. Hell, it’s probably already up to ten.
“What is it about her that you don’t like?”
“It’s not that.”
Bea laughs, and suddenly, I’m transported back to the school playground when I used to chase her up and down the slide. “It has to be something.”
“She brings out the worst in me. I can’t even put my finger on it.”
“She tilts her head to the side. This is just a genuine observation. You can take it or leave it. You can tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about and honestly, it’s not like I’m a guru for romantic advice, but maybe someone who brings out the worst in you can also bring out the best in you.”
“Not you too,” I groan.
“What?”
“Trav, my mother. You didn’t see that she made me help Ember with the bonfire instead of Trav when he always does it?”
“Your mom can be quite conniving when she wants something.”
“She’s not the only one.”
“Maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m just saying, maybe give her a chance.
She’s great, Dev, and you know I would tell you if I thought differently.
Her family has been giving her a hard time about being here, plus all the stress with the house.
Owning a house is one thing, but owning Sleepy Hollow Manor is another, and it’s certainly not helpful when you use your particular brand of grumpy while around her. ”
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Grumpy is probably an apt word. “So maybe I’ve been a little hard on her.”
“Yeah, maybe. Or most likely. Just like you can’t change the set of circumstances that brought you here, neither can she. Did you ever think of that, Smarty Pants?”
She smirks, and I follow suit when the nickname she used for me in high school slips out. She used to say she couldn’t believe I could be so good at everything. Hockey, school, being a good son.
I don’t know where that guy went, but somewhere along the way, he got mad and nothing was ever normal again.