Chapter 18 #3
Then it’s my turn, and instead of kissing her immediately, I lift her up and spin her around because someone needs to bring levity to this situation and also because I’ve always wanted to do that dramatic spin thing from movies.
She’s laughing and crying at the same time, and when I finally set her down and kiss her, she tastes like victory and the funnel.
“WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS?” she yells, not realizing the mic is still on and her dad’s holding it close enough to pick up everything, including what sounds like Jesse saying something inappropriate about later.
“WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS!” Jesse yells back.
“ALL FOUR OF US?”
“ALL FOUR OF US!”
“THAT’S MATHEMATICALLY IMPROBABLE!”
“WE’VE ESTABLISHED CEDAR RIDGE IS BAD AT MATH!”
The crowd’s reaction is mixed, with cheering, booing, confused murmuring, and at least one person trying to work out the logistics on their fingers. Someone shouts, “How does that even work?” and someone else responds, “None of your business, Barbara!”
Rita chooses this moment to make her move. She’s been surprisingly patient, but goats have limits, and she reached hers. She breaks free from wherever Callie tied her and bolts onto the stage with the determination of someone who’s ready for some fun.
She goes straight for the mayor’s gavel, which he’s been holding throughout this entire drama.
He tries to save it, pulling it away, but Rita’s faster and more motivated.
She grabs the gavel in one smooth motion, unaware that it’s historic.
In fact, there’s a plaque somewhere that says it’s from 1887, having survived two fires and a tornado.
It’s now about to meet its end in a goat’s mouth.
“My gavel!” the mayor protests, reaching for it.
Rita starts eating it in response, making direct eye contact with him while she does it, which is a power move I respect.
“It’s been used to open every town meeting for over a century!”
Rita eats faster, her jaw working with the determination of someone who’s decided history is edible.
Then, because this is already peak craziness, Rita spots Callie’s backup speech cards sticking out of her pocket. The ones she prepared in case the first speech went badly, which technically it hasn’t. It’s just gone sideways, backward, and possibly into another dimension.
Rita abandons the gavel, leaving it half-chewed and definitely no longer suitable for official use, and goes for the cards. She gets them in her teeth and starts chewing with the satisfaction of someone who’s found her purpose.
“My notes!” Callie shouts, trying to grab them back.
Rita dodges, surprisingly agile for a goat.
Rita bleats through a mouthful of index cards, looking pleased with herself. A partially chewed card falls out. I can see the words “reconciliation” and “growth” before Rita hoovers it back up.
“You know what?” Callie says, giving up the chase. “Perfect. This is perfect. We don’t need speeches. We don’t need traditions. We don’t need grudges that were based on lies.”
She turns to the crowd, which is still processing everything that’s happened in the last twenty minutes.
“Cedar Ridge, you have a choice,” Callie announces, her voice carrying without the mic.
“You can keep living in the past, holding onto grudges that were never real, dividing yourselves over expired mayo and mathematical errors. Or you can accept that things change. People change. Thompsons can love McCoys. The town gossip can date the town grump. And maybe, just maybe, that’s not the end of the world. ”
There’s a moment of silence. Complete, total silence, like the town is collectively holding its breath.
Then someone starts clapping.
It’s the judge, already drunk at 2 p.m. Then the church lady joins in, relieved she’s not going to be lynched for the mayo incident.
Her applause is tentative at first, then stronger.
And bringing up the rear is the vet, still holding his charts, clapping with them, which makes a funny flapping sound.
One by one, people start applauding. Not everyone because there are still holdouts, people who look like they’ve swallowed lemons soaked in vinegar, people who are definitely going to talk about this at church tomorrow in disapproving tones.
But most of the town? Most of the town is laughing and cheering and taking pictures that are definitely going to end up on every social media platform with captions like “Love Wins” and “Mayo Can’t Stop Us Now” and “Cedar Ridge: Where Math and Condiments Go to Die.”
Dean McCoy and Hank Thompson are standing near each other for the first time in decades without weapons drawn. They make eye contact, and it’s like watching two dogs decide whether to fight or sniff butts.
“Your daughter’s with my boys,” Mr. McCoy says.
“Your boys are with my daughter,” Hank responds.
They stare at each other.
“This is weird,” Mr. McCoy says.
“Really weird,” Hank agrees.
“Want a beer?”
“God, yes. Make it two. Maybe three.”
And just like that, years of feuds ends with two men who need alcohol to process their children’s choices.
“Did we just fix Cedar Ridge?” I ask Callie, pulling her close.
“Either that, or we broke it permanently.”
“Either way, we did it together,” Jesse says, wrapping his arms around both of us.
“All four of us,” Wyatt adds, completing an awkward group hug that probably looks inappropriate.
“Five,” Callie corrects, pointing at Rita, who’s now wearing the mayor’s regalia chain of office thingy because someone put it on her while she was distracted. “Never forget Rita.”
The festival continues around us, but it’s different now.
Lines that existed for thirty years have been blurred, erased, or possibly eaten by a goat.
Thompsons are talking to McCoys. The mayor’s negotiating with Rita for his chain back, offering her various foods in trade.
Mrs. Delaney and Mr. Thompson are slow dancing to no music, which is weird but oddly sweet.
The sun’s setting, casting everything in gold light that makes even the disorder beautiful. Tomorrow, Cedar Ridge will have to figure out how to exist without its defining feud. But tonight? Tonight, we’re just a town that learned the truth, chose love over grudges, and watched a goat eat history.
“We’re going to be famous,” Callie says, looking at all the phones still recording.
“Or infamous,” Wyatt corrects.
“In Cedar Ridge, those are the same thing,” I point out.
“Worth it,” Jesse says, kissing Callie again.
“Absolutely worth it,” she agrees.
Rita bleats in agreement.
Perfect ending to a perfect disaster.