Then again…maybe it
One Night at a Time by George Strait was possibly an unwise choice for AMOR, considering Amos’ and Lilly’s history.
However, as Jack and I worked on his new table all morning long, I never once heard Lilly screaming downtown whenever it played.
Apparently, love songs were okay for Amos to play, as long as their understanding held true.
It was very Possibly of her, to let Amos do what made him happy as long as he wasn’t trying to influence her.
All morning long, Jack and I had worked on his new project, prepping the wood, sanding and trimming and cutting.
We joked and signed, sometimes I read notes from him on his pad.
A temperate August day made our work easier than it typically would have been.
Though I had learned plenty about woodworking from Jack throughout the morning, I wasn’t sure we had accomplished much.
He’d assured me that the prep work was the most important part of the project, I still felt we hadn’t done much.
Of course, I was going to trust him. He was the expert.
When lunch came around, we had leftover chicken fettucine alfredo from the night before—one of my favorite dinners.
It was just as delicious reheated the next day.
Especially with the buttery, garlic-y bread we decided to make on the fly.
After lunch, the two of us worked together to clean the dishes.
Jack washed and scrubbed while I dried and put away.
It was impossible for Jack to sign or write while we worked, so I did all the talking.
I’d let him know that since lunch was over, and we weren’t going to do anymore work on the table for the rest of the day, Auggie and I were going to hang out.
He smiled teasingly at me at the announcement—and I deserved it after I’d heckled him about Sofia—but I merely bumped him with my shoulder and smiled back.
“We’re going to go ghost hunting again,” I had explained. “We have to walk around town backwards thirteen times again.”
Jack made his laughing expression at that explanation. I laughed with him.
Yeah. Maybe it was silly.
Then again…maybe it wasn’t?
Is something pointless if you do it with someone you care about deeply?
Once the dishes were done and Jack was drying off his hands, I told him that I was going to head out, since I knew Auggie was probably already waiting on me. Jack gave me a stern look—quite unusual for him—before signing one request.
Be careful.
“Ghosts aren’t real, Jack,” I said with a wicked grin.
He cocked an eyebrow at me.
“I know,” I said. “We’ll be careful. Always. Promise.”
His expression softened and he smiled before signing “be careful” to me once more.
I looked down at the floor to keep my rosy cheeks from being on full display, and Jack pulled me into his chest. He gave me a squeeze against his chest and released me.
He didn’t prolong the saccharine sweetness of the gesture.
“All right,” I said, stepping away from him. “I’ll be home for dinner. Gotta do something before midnight, right?”
Jack nodded, amused. Then he signed once more.
Invite Auggie.
“Will do,” I nodded to him as I headed for the door. “See you in a little bit…Jack.”
He gave me a wave and then I was dashing out the door and down the front steps as All the Pennies by Mindy Gledhill began to play on AMOR.
I jogged across the yard as Wyatt’s gun exploded in the direction of the post office.
I could only imagine Levi Lee in the middle of a Pirouette when Wyatt had decided to fire off his gun.
Not that I wanted it to have happened, but Levi Lee stumbling at the shock was just comical.
Though I hadn’t worked at Starbuck’s that day, I could tell what was on the menu. The smell rode along on the Possibilian breeze and tickled at my nose as I jogged down the street to Bend of the Road Graveyard.
Blueberry muffins.
I could practically taste the juicy, tart berries. The sugary, cinnamon-y crumble topping. I could feel the light, fluffy cake dissolve like cotton candy in my mouth and the cream cheese icing filling coat my tongue and stick to the roof of my mouth.
Heaven. Or the closest thing to it.
I was halfway to the graveyard when I spotted Auggie standing by the north corner, their back to me.
Two metal water bottles, one gripped in each hand, hung at their sides.
I picked up my pace and raced towards the graveyard, my excitement for our first date swelling inside me.
Auggie heard my feet on the pavement as I approached and turned to grin at me as I slid to a stop in front of them.
Without a word, they held a bottle out to me.
“Hey,” I said as I took the bottle.
“Hey.”
“Am I late?”
“Your timing is always perfect,” they said. “You always seem to be in the right place at the right time.”
“I’m finally good at something!” I crowed to the sky comically.
Auggie laughed at my display and reached out to nudge me in the bicep. I looked down at them and stared into their eyes, my smile growing.
Auggie sighed. “You think we’ll see our ghosts again tonight?”
“One way to find out, right?”
They nodded resolutely.
“Did you know Levi Lee is into ballet now?”
I chuckled. “Yeah. I talked to him the other day.”
Auggie leaned in to whisper.
“The tights might need a pair of shorts over them, right?”
Grinning, I said: “I don’t know. The view isn’t so bad. Usually.”
Glowering at me for a moment, Auggie couldn’t help it, they burst out into a grin.
“Okay,” they rolled their eyes. “I’ll allow it.”
We both laughed as we stood there at the north end of the graveyard, and I found my eyes wandering to the large headstone at the edge of the grassy area.
There’d been stifling hot days in Possibly over the summer—and Auggie and I should have been sweltering.
Typical of Possibly, I found that the weather was perfectly pleasant there beside the graveyard.
The town could throw a person for a loop once in a while, but Possibly was usually a pleasant place to live. More than pleasant. Enjoyable.
I found, there beside the graveyard, that I felt a feeling I hadn’t experienced in a long time—and rarely, if ever, on the road with Mom.
I felt happy. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t overjoyed.
I was happy. I was content. And, when I really thought about it, I’d been content in Possibly since almost the first day I’d arrived.
It wasn’t Possibly, its citizens, or the unusual way things worked that had made me have sporadic periods of anger and unhappiness.
All of that had been on me.
Instead of leaning into a good thing, I’d rebelled, refusing to adapt for a time.
But the happiest people, the ones who thrive, are the ones who adapt. And if you have a quirky, peaceful town like Possibly to do it in, you’re kind of an asshole if you don’t jump on the opportunity to change.
I Gotta Feelin’—The Cleverlys version—began to play on AMOR.
“You know,” I said, prying my eyes from the headstone to look at Auggie, “happiness is kind of an art.”
They gave me a goofy smile. “Yeah?”
I shrugged. “Takes practice.”
Auggie said nothing; they stepped up and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.
When they took a small step back, a content smile on their face, I knew Possibly was where I belonged.
I’d see Mom again one day—that was for certain.
But she would have to come to Possibly. I was going to stick around.
Why mess with perfection? Why not just be content?
“Ready?” Auggie asked.
“Ready.”
So, Auggie came to stand beside me, turning around as they did, so that both of us were facing the graveyard.
And we started to walk backwards, beginning our first of thirteen laps around downtown Possibly.
I smiled as the Possibilian breeze ruffled my hair and I watched the large headstone grow smaller in the distance we created.
And, just like the night I’d seen Malia under the tree, I wasn’t unnerved by the fact that “Jordan” had been etched above “Burke” upon it.
I was a Possibilian, after all.