24. Welcome back? #2
He tosses the first one. “Easy,” he huffs. It drops over the bottle without even rattling.
"Lucky," I say.
“Ha, luck has nothing to do with it.” He picks up the second ring.
He tosses it. Same thing.
I press my lips together.
He turns to me, holding the third ring, and his eyes hold mischief.
"Pick one," he says.
"What?"
He nods at the prize rack. "Pick something. I'll get it for you."
"It's ring toss."
"Pick one, Falon."
I look at the rack for exactly two seconds. "The small bear. The brown one, second row."
He faces forward and tosses the third ring. It spins a little wide, catches the bottle, rattles, and drops.
Just as Bo lifts the little brown bear off the rack and holds it out, Janet comes around the corner with Cassie and three of her science kids; her hands fly to her mouth.
“Your bear, my kind lady.” Bo bows.
"Oh, my kind sir, thou hast stolen my heart,” I say, curtsying and in the most dramatic Shakespearean voice I could muster.
"You're most welcome, my fair lady," he says, mimicking me, and the two of us burst out laughing as Cassie and Janet swoon from the corner.
“Thank you, you two.” Janet’s cheeks are pink, and Cassie winks at me. The three science kids give each other knowing looks.
Janet takes the booth back over, and as Bo and I walk away, I can hear Cassie and her whispering about how cute we look, and how it’s about time. I pretend not to hear, but Bo pulls me closer.
“She’s right, you know, it’s about time I get to kiss you anytime I want.” And with that, he leans down and kisses me on the top of the head, and my heart melts.
Sue, Mason’s aunt, is running the craft auction table near the gazebo, and she waves me over before I'm even close enough to read the table signs. She's in her element, clipboard in one hand, crocheted sample in the other, reading glasses perched on her nose.
"Tell me this doesn't belong in your farmhouse kitchen," she says.
It does. It absolutely does, and she knows it, because Sue has been in everyone's home and knows what belongs where.
"It's beautiful, Sue."
"Bidding starts at twelve." She sets it back on the table. "Bo." She acknowledges him with a nod. "You're looking well. Montana agrees with you."
"Yes, ma'am," he says. "It does."
She studies him over her glasses. "And so does Falon.” Then she nods again, satisfied, and turns back to her clipboard.
“Does it feel like we are in a fish bowl, or is it just me?” he asks, looking around like someone might jump out at him. And who knows? Knowing Everwood, they just might.
Bo drifts to the adjacent table, where Mason and Levi are leaning against the edge, and I stay with Sue for a few more minutes while she tells me about the auction's turnout and whether the dunk tank was a good idea.
I catch pieces of the men's conversation.
I hear things like the east fence line, the water heater, and whether the new feed supplier is worth the drive.
I watch Bo ease into Everwood the way he's been easing into things here all summer.
I've been trying not to notice how natural it looks. I haven't been very successful.
He laughs at something Mason says, tipping his head back, and even from here, I can see the way his shoulders relax, and he doesn’t seem to be on edge as he was in April.
"You're staring," Sue says, without looking up from her clipboard.
"I'm observing."
"Mm." She makes a note on her sheet. "He's a good one."
“I know.” She's right. He is a good one.
For hours, Bo and I make our way through the tables, the crafts, the auctions, and the games.
We eat fry bread standing up near the food booths, pulling pieces off, and burning our fingers because we're not patient enough to wait.
Bo gets a bag of kettle corn from a teenager who gives him entirely too much for his money.
Cassie’s science kids are like a one-class show as they almost run the fair.
Bo and I are at Megan’s soaps and homemade lotions table when I see Kevin.
He was like a weather system hovering over town.
You knew there was going to be a storm, but when and where were the mysteries.
He has Hadley Hornbeck on his arm near the food booths and a couple of guys from town with him, hands in his pockets.
“Lemonade?” Bo asks as we near the lemonade stand. I nod, but my attention is on Kevin and Hadley, who are obviously trying to make me jealous. It isn’t working. Good for Hadley, but Kevin was no prize. Not for me.
Bo notices my change and follows the obvious flirtatious attention Kevin and Hadley are giving.
He doesn't say anything. He just puts his hand at the small of my back, and we move on. The whole day, Rowdy has been right at Bo’s side.
His big brown eyes followed our every move, but when Kevin came into the picture, Rowdy, just like Bo and me, felt the shift.
I only hope Kevin is not up to anything.
When the lights come on at dusk, the whole park transforms into a magical fairyland. Twinkle lights dance in the breeze, and the sun sets behind the mountains, painting the sky into a muted greyish blue.
Rope lights are strung through every tree from one end to the other.
The white canopies glow from inside. The gazebo is lit from below.
The town laid real wood panels down on the grass to form a dance floor.
Each panel was worn smooth from years of this same night.
One by one, people start to show up and sit on the benches and chairs set up for the dance.
This is what most couples have been waiting for.
The band sets up in the corner near the bandstand. Three guys, one on guitar, one on drums, and one on vocals. One woman on the fiddle starts tuning and warming up. They open with something upbeat. The music reaches the far corners of the park. That gets the older crowd moving first.
When the band plays a swing number, who would have thought that Sue and Henry could still move like that?
For a moment, I think they were going to pull a few moves from Dirty Dancing, and I am getting ready for a broken hip, but they move across the dance floor with energy and grace, defying their age.
I feel a little inadequate shuffling my feet back and forth in what Bo and I call dancing while they cut a rug.
I know the fireworks would go off at nine-thirty, right after dusk, but nobody told the kids that.
Like every year, families had their own celebrations. They let off small non-aerial fireworks that whistle, pop, and fizz.
I’d expected a few, but the teenagers decided to go all out. They let the first volley off near the park entrance. Pop, pop, whistle, pop, bang. I feel Bo go still beside me at the sound.
“Hey,” I say, tugging on his arm, Rowdy by the benches where Bo left him, perked his ears up, but stayed. Bo's spent years in places where that sound meant something else entirely. A firework is a small reminder of that past.
It takes maybe ten seconds as I rub his arms and pull him back to the present.
I slide my hand into his free one and hold on, and after a moment, he squeezes back.
"I'm good," he says quietly.
"Glad to have you back," I say, placing a kiss on his cheek.
We stand together at the edge of the dance floor while the band warms back up after a quick break, and I watch the park fill in around us.
Kids on their parents' shoulders. Couples are spreading blankets on the grass.
Mrs. Winslow claimed a bench near the gazebo, having arrived three hours early.
Sue is beside her, clutching a cup of warm coffee.
The band eases into something slow. The fiddle leads, and people drift back onto the dance floor in pairs.
Bo turns to me.
"Dance with me, Miss Williams."
“I would love to, Mr. Gates.” I take his outstretched hand.
Bo places his hands on my waist. We find the rhythm, and I rest my head on his chest as we dance.
"You're good at this," I say.
"Pearl made me take lessons when I was twelve."
"She's a smart woman."
"She's impossible," he says, his chuckle vibrating his chest.
We move through one song and into the next, and the crowd shifts around us.
The fiddle goes soft on the bridge of the song.
I look up at him.
He looks down at me, and there it is. That steady, certain look in his eyes. The rope lights glow above us. The music is quiet.
His hands slide from my waist up to cup my face, warm and loving, and he lowers his head.
His lips meet mine.
The kiss is slow, his lips moving on mine.
The sounds in our little corner of the dance floor fade. Bo's hands remain on my face, and the fiddle plays somewhere behind us.
Then his lips left mine. My cheeks are warm. I smile.
His forehead was nearly touching mine, and that’s when I saw it in his eyes. His hands slide back to my waist, and he dips his head so his lips are at my ear.
"Tyler," he says. Just that one word meant only for me.
I turn around.
The crowd opens a small gap near the far edge of the dance floor. And standing right there in that gap, still in his civilian clothes, a white cast on his left arm, looking like he just stepped off a transport and walked straight into the worst possible moment, is my brother.
Tyler is watching us.
His jaw is set. His eyes move from me to Bo and back again.
The fireworks go off.
Nine-thirty, right on schedule. The first one cracks open above the mountains in a wash of red and white, and the whole park gasps, looking up.
But Tyler keeps his eyes on Bo, and Bo keeps his on Tyler, and I am standing between the two people I love most in the world.