Chapter 20
“This is not even close to what I was expecting,” Jack says as we pull into town that afternoon.
The streets are packed with cars and people holding cups of cider, hot chocolate, apple donuts, or bags of roasted nuts.
There are dogs on leashes and little kids with pumpkins painted on their rosy cheeks.
“What did you expect?”
I luck out and find a parking spot on the bridge that someone is vacating and maneuver my truck into it. The river below is sparkling in the autumn sunshine, glinting like diamonds.
Jack’s eyes are wide as he takes it all in. “Something smaller, definitely.”
I hum beneath my breath, looking at the festival from his eyes.
Fontana Ridge always shows up for community events.
They take over the entire town, each business decorating their storefronts and hosting sales to lure in all the tourists and townspeople that flock our little mountain escape for them.
They take months of planning, weeks of preparation, and days to execute to perfection.
And I love each and every one of them. The townwide Easter egg hunt.
The Strawberry Jam. Trail Days. The Christmas tree lighting. And so many more.
The Harvest Festival is my favorite, though. The pumpkins and hay bales. Carnival rides and food booths. Stuffing myself with fried food with my parents and renting Practical Magic from the video store to watch when we get home, tired and sticky and happy.
“What do you want to do first? My parents told me this morning that they would probably be here around four, so we have an hour to kill.”
He points at a couple passing beside our car, candy apples in hand. “I want one of those.”
A smile inches up my lips. “That can be arranged.”
We make our way through the throng of people, looking for a candy apple booth, although we stop when I find one selling kettle corn.
“So,” Jack says, digging for a handful of popcorn from my bag. “The point of the festival is to eat until your button pops on your pants.”
I point down to my own pants, olive green and tied with a drawstring, and shake my head. “Pants with buttons are rookie work.”
His laughter is warm and rich and it slips down my spine like honey, settling somewhere deep inside me. It brings a smile to my face that I can’t push down, no matter how hard I try.
I’m still smiling at my feet when Wren, Holden, and the kids find us a moment later in the candy apple line.
“Stevie,” Wren yells, people between us, drawing my attention up to her.
She’s so short I wouldn’t have seen her in the crowd except for Holden beside her, tall and imposing, his hair pulled back in a loose bun at the nape of his neck.
He’s wearing a flannel and has Wilder perched on his shoulders.
Wren and June are in matching sweaters, their curly hair tied back in identical loose braids, and they look so wholesome it makes my heart ache with happiness.
“Hey,” I say when they’re close enough to not have to shout. “You guys look cute.”
June beams up at me and wraps her skinny arms around my middle. She rests her chin on my stomach and looks up at me. “You look pretty today, Aunt Stevie.”
It is my deepest pleasure to be considered an auntie by this little girl.
“Thank you, June Bug.” I hug her a little tighter before letting go.
She finally notices Jack beside me, holding our bag of popcorn. “What’s your name?”
“This is my friend, Jerrid,” I tell her, and I can practically feel Jack rolling his eyes, but before he can correct me, my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down at the screen and see my mom’s name. “My mom’s calling,” I say. “I need to take this.”
Holden and Wren formally introduce themselves to Jack—since they didn’t get much of a chance at the hospital—as I answer the phone, but I know Wren has her attention split between him and me.
“Hey, Mom. We’re at a candy apple booth by the library. Where are you?”
I know what she’s about to say before she even starts speaking, just by the sound of her sigh. “Honey, I’m sorry. Grandma is having a rough day, and I don’t think she can handle the crowds. We’re going to have to stay home.”
Disappointment sweeps through me, but I shake myself out of it, guilty that I’m upset about something out of everyone’s control.
There’s a rock beneath my foot, and I push it around the dirt with the toe of my boot before saying, “I’ll take Jack home and head there to help you guys. I can bring dinner.”
I can feel Wren’s eyes lock on me, but I don’t look up.
“No,” Mom says, and I’m surprised by the forcefulness of her tone. “Stay there. Have fun. We have everything under control here.”
“Mom, really, I can—”
“No, Stevie.”
The words echo in my ear for a moment, harsher than I’m sure she intended, and I blink at the ground, trying to figure out what to say.
I can hear the stress in her voice, feel it through the phone.
I imagine her at home, ducked in the pantry to call me, somewhere quiet so she doesn’t disturb Grandma.
There’s an ache in my chest, spreading outward at the vision of it because I know she wishes she could be here, that though she would never complain, she has to miss the simplicity of her life before her mother-in-law moved in with her.
My parents haven’t missed the Harvest Festival in over thirty years, and I hate that this is just another thing that has changed.
That it, too, has slipped away without my permission.
“Okay, Mom,” I say. “Just call me if you need me.”
“We’re fine, Stevie. I promise.” Her voice is softer now, like she’s intentionally subduing it for my sake. “Don’t worry about us.”
“Yeah, okay.”
She says goodbye and ends the call, and I stare at my phone for another minute before returning to the conversation with my friends. Holden and Jack are talking about something, but Wren’s gaze is on me.
“My parents aren’t coming,” I tell her. “Grandma is having a rough day.”
Her face softens. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”
“My mom said they don’t need anything, but I feel bad. I might just go there anyway.”
A sigh slips out of her, and my eyes snap to hers.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
“No, tell me.”
I’m not sure why I’m pressing, but I’m disappointed and frustrated, and I’m annoyed at myself for feeling both of those emotions. I’m a grown woman, upset that her parents can’t come spend the day with her.
“Just…” Wren says, chewing on her bottom lip. She looks like she’s choosing her words carefully, and it makes defensiveness claw up my throat, but I swallow it back. “Just enjoy yourself for the day, Stevie. They would ask for help if they needed it.”
My skin feels prickly. I know Wren is right, but she also tends to oversimplify things when it comes to my family. She’s never quite understood why I offer so much of myself to them, and I’ve never been able to explain it.
I don’t know how to respond, but I’m saved from it by the feeling of Jack’s hand on my shoulder, warm and steadying. “We’re next in line.”
I glance at the couple ahead of us, ordering their apples, and then back at Jack.
He’s watching me closely, concern written in the lines of his face, and I realize that while he may have been talking with Holden, he was also focused on me.
That he sensed my mood change and is giving me an out from my conversation with Wren.
Gratitude blooms like a flower in my stomach, spreading out. I give him a small smile, hoping he can tell that I’m thankful. His hand lingers for another moment on my shoulder before slipping away, but the heat of it persists, tingling beneath my skin like a sunburn.
I turn back to Wren to find her watchful eyes on Jack and I, flicking between the two of us, and I wonder what she sees. What she thinks she’s seeing. How we look, and what assumptions she’s making.
Because I’m just now realizing what I would think, and it sends an awareness sparking through me.
“We better get going,” Wren says. “We’re supposed to be meeting Grey and Finley in a few minutes.”
She leans in to give me a hug and I wrap an arm around her, too, breathing in the fruity scent of her.
She smells like summer, familiar. Guilt nicks at me for feeling frustrated with her when I know that she’s just trying to look out for me, but it doesn’t completely erase the nagging sense of frustration I feel either.
We need to talk. When we’re not surrounded by her kids or all of our neighbors in the local bar.
But we’ve barely had any alone time in the four years since she started dating Holden, when she became a stepmom then got pregnant.
“I love you,” she whispers into my hair, and I say it back. She pulls back, looking me in the eye. “Call me, okay?”
I nod and promise I will, my chest still tight with all the emotions I can’t quite name.
I watch them disappear into the crowd for just a moment before turning back to Jack. The couple in front of us is finishing up, and we should be moving forward, but he’s standing still, eyes only on me.
“You good?” he asks.
I could tell him no, that I’m upset. Explain all the thoughts that have been filling my head.
But he’s watching me so intently, looking for all the world like he wants only to make sure I’m alright.
And for some reason, it helps. It burns away some of the sadness and frustration and longing that have been swirling inside of me, leaving behind only a pleasant warmth.
So I tell him, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
And I mean it.