24. Silas
TWENTY-FOUR
SILAS
The last day of the festival already feels like the greatest day, as if Pine Ridge has left the best for last.
Main Street is at its fullest, with more people than any of the previous days. All the locals, plus visitors who’ve come specifically for the prize-giving and the closing events, are here. The bunting is still bright overhead. The stands are running their last day with the same energy of the first.
At the other end of the street is a stage, and several bands from the county have been playing music all day.
Tess’s stand is doing extraordinary business, and I’m told they’ve doubled the money they raised last year.
I don’t want to tell her, but I’ve looked up the charity and donated a considerable amount in the pride group’s name.
It’s the least I can do after all the work they’ve done to help people like me who haven’t had a good start in life.
I’ve been here since eight, helping with the morning rush, and I’ve learned more about cake than I ever thought I’d need. Teresa is a chatterbox, and every single customer leaves with at least one more slice of cake or loaf of bread than they had intended.
“You and Vaughn,” Tess says, during a lull.
I hand a customer their change. “What about us?”
“The dancing yesterday,” she says, swaying to the music coming from the stage.
“It was just dancing.”
“It was very close dancing.”
“That’s how men dance,” I say. “When they’re into men. If you want a lesson in how not scandalous that was, you should visit a gay club sometime. What Vaughn and I were doing would be considered extremely restrained.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to a gay club,” she says. “Clayton would come if I asked him. He’d stand in the corner looking confused, but he’d come.”
“I’ll tell you what. If the opportunity ever arises, I’ll take you both.”
My phone rings. Zuza.
“Work call,” I tell Tess. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She waves me off and turns to the next customer. I step away from the stand and move through the festival crowd until I find a quiet stretch between two closed shops where the noise of the festival is a little less intrusive.
“Hey. Give me good news, Zee.”
“I wish I could,” Zuza says. She sounds tired. “I’ve got nothing. I never have nothing.”
“And Musgrove is definitely out?”
“Musgrove is in Florida,” she says. “He posted photographs on a private social media account three days ago. He’s very relaxed and very undressed and very much not orchestrating anything from a nudist commune.”
“So we have nothing.”
“Yup. Which means we need to think about engaging with Draven.”
I lean against a shop window and watch the crowd moving past the end of the street.
“If Draven is behind this—”
“If Draven authorized the contract knowing the target was innocent,” Zuza says, “then we need to know that. And the best time to find out is while you’re with Vaughn.
If Draven’s reaction tells us he’s compromised, then at least you’ll know and you can act accordingly.
” She pauses. “If he’s clean, then maybe he can help us find who placed it. ”
“And if he’s not clean, then Vaughn isn’t safer with anyone else.” I say the words, but I’m not feeling the confidence in them.
“Exactly,” she says. “He’s safest with you.”
“I feel like I failed him. In ten years, I’ve never felt like a failure before. Not once. I’ve always known what to do.”
“This is a highly unusual situation,” Zuza says. “You know that. The target isn’t supposed to be someone you know.”
“You mean, someone I love.”
“If I had been on this job with anyone else, if I’d been alone, Vaughn would have been terminated in Warsaw. You walked away from a contract because you knew something was wrong. That’s not failure. That’s the only reason he’s alive.”
It’s true. I know it’s true. But knowing something is true and feeling it are different things, and right now I feel like a man who has been in the field for weeks with nothing to show for it except tire tracks and a ghost. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to call Draven,” she says. “I’m going to get a feel for his reaction before we tell him the complete truth. I’ll ask some questions. See how he responds. If he’s clean, I’ll know.” She pauses. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Thank you, Zuza,” I say.
“Go enjoy the festival,” she says. “You’ve earned it.”
I stand in the quiet stretch between the shop fronts for a moment longer than I need to.
Tonight. It’s time to tell Vaughn. As soon as I hear from Zuza.
I put my phone in my pocket and go back to the stand.
When I get there, Vaughn is standing beside Tess, eating a piece of the lemon drizzle cake, and whatever Tess is saying to him is making him smile.
I almost close the distance and kiss him, but I stop myself just in time.
Vaughn sees me, and his smile changes slightly into the one I know is specifically for me.
“Good call?” Tess asks. “I hope your boss isn’t asking you to go back sooner.”
“Nah, I’m going to take every minute I can from this vacation.” And I hate how easily the lie comes out of my mouth.
“Actually, we’re almost sold out. Another half hour, and we’ll be closing up in time for the pumpkin prizes. You’ve been a tremendous help. I’m going to tell everyone I know that you’re available for hire.”
“Please don’t,” I say.
“Too late.” She laughs. “I’ve already told three people. You’ll be busy next year.” She waves a hand at Vaughn. “Take him. He’s been very good, and he deserves a break.”
Vaughn takes my hand. ”Come on.”
He leads me away from Main Street toward a side street two blocks over. Here, the festival noise becomes background and the street is just a street, with houses on both sides, cars parked along the curb.
Vaughn stops between two large trucks parked back to back, and before I can ask what’s going on, he pulls me into a kiss.
His arm comes around my waist and his other hand is on my face. This is the kind of kiss he gives me only at home because it inadvertently leads to only one thing, and that’s not something we can do in our present location.
I want to tell him we should stop, but my brain is offline. I forget everything and kiss him back.
We break apart, breathing harden than after a session at the gym.
“What was that for?”
“Because for now,” he says, “I can.”
For now.
He’s expecting me to leave. I know he is. We agreed on the terms weeks ago, and he’s been counting down to the end of my visit since I said I would stay through the festival on the day I arrived. He thinks I have a few days left because I have to return to work.
He doesn’t know the reason I’m still here has nothing to do with my supposed work and everything to do with the fact that I can’t leave him unprotected and I don’t know who the threat is.
He doesn’t know any of it.
I’m standing between two trucks on a quiet street while the festival continues one block away, and he just kissed me like he’s making the most of the time we have left, and I don’t want to leave.
Because I love his kisses. I love the coffeepot already full by the time I wake up, and love it even more when I get to do that for him.
I love the breakfast we have together while I tell him what I’m going to work on in his garden.
And I love the wooden bear on the windowsill and the way he says my name in the dark and the fact I have been in love with this man for thirteen years, and I am running out of ways of pretending I can leave.
“Silas,” Vaughn says.
I’ve been quiet for too long.
“Sorry. I was—”
“Thinking.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
He takes my hand, and we walk back toward the festival without him pressing. I just hope he doesn’t feel the same way about me as I do about him, because I’ll figure out a way to handle my heartbreak, but I don’t think I’ll live knowing his heart is broken too.
The prizes for the giant pumpkin competition will be announced at the main stage in the town square.
The crowd is enormous, and the sun setting behind the mountains washes the scene in golden light. Every contestant has been working toward this for months, tending to their beloved pumpkins.
Tess and Clayton are near the front, holding hands.
Kai and Atlas are right next to David and Mark. Teresa and Emilio Navarro are here too, and I spot Priya and Dom, who wave at us.
The Knot Today women—without their only gent tonight—are all in a row, still with their clipboards in hand. While the giant pumpkin competition is the big event of the festival, the winner of the dick competition must also be announced.
The person who steps up to the mic is a man who looks like he takes this competition—or any competition—far too seriously.
I wonder if he’s in anyway related to Chris.
He starts his speech, building to the announcement with the ceremony that the moment deserves.
The finalists are named, and the weights are announced.
The crowd responds to each number with growing energy.
“And the winner of the Pine Ridge Pumpkin Festival Giant Pumpkin Competition”—he holds the pause, and the tension in the crowd ratchets up a notch—“is Brenda, grown by Clayton Briggs of Briggs Farm.”
The crowd erupts with unrestrained enthusiasm. Tess and Clayton are frozen in shock for a moment before they hug each other, Clay picking up his wife and twirling her around before setting her down and planting a kiss on her lips.
Vaughn is clapping beside me, as proud of Clay as if he’d grown Brenda himself, which, considering Brenda grew on his soil, Vaughn has at least godfather rights.
Clayton makes his way to the stage with the slightly dazed expression of a man who can’t believe he’s living in this moment.
He thanks Tess for her endless patience as he spent more time with Breanda than with her. Then he thanks Vaughn and the festival committee.
The crowd cheers again.
Vaughn puts his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him. As night settles around us, I can’t bring myself to care about anything else but this man.
“Tonight,” I say quietly, against his shoulder.
He pulls away to look me in the eye.
“I need to tell you something tonight,” I say. “When we get home.”
“Okay,” he says.
“It’s … it’s important. And I should have told you sooner.”
“Okay.”