Chapter Seventeen
Marigold
T he sky stretched above us, a vivid summer blue that seemed to go on forever. Levi stopped the truck in a field filled with haphazardly parked vehicles.
Stepping out into the scorching heat, I felt the warm air envelop my bare shoulders. Levi had insisted I wear my bathing suit today and bring an extra pair of clothes. Why? I didn’t know. The closest body of water was the Tennessee River.
An enormous cheer rose from a commotion beyond my sight. “What’s going on?”
Levi hefted a small cooler from the back of the truck. He reached out his hand like he was going to take mine, but then pointed instead. “Welcome to the annual Labor Day games. This land has been abandoned for a century. Nobody owns this field.”
I gestured to the paved road to our right.
Levi waved off my observation. “True, there is a road, but besides that and a single fire hydrant, there’s nothing out here. A developer slated this land for homes, but when the town put up a riot and demanded Sutton stay nice and small, they gave up and left.”
The sound of spraying water surrounded us as we strolled further.
Levi grinned. “What you hear is the single fire hydrant manned by the good firefighters of Sutton. You see, the games originated from a need for the poor people of Sutton to cool down. Not poor as in money, but poor as in it’s-too-dang-hot-outside . Sutton folk need a reason to roll in the mud, and the Labor Day games give them that.”
“Mud?”
“Yes, mud. Now, let me explain how this works.”
I regretted wearing my cute mint green one-piece. Mud and mint green did not mix.
“They broke the Labor Day games into three facets,” Levi continued. “Number one is the men.” He pointed.
We emerged from the parking lot.
Men congregated around grills that appeared like mushrooms sprouting from the ground. The section of the field closest to the parking area looked like one giant and disorganized tailgate party. A tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, enough to tempt even the most fastidious of appetites.
Levi pointed in the opposite direction. “The second facet is the women.”
Beth Shaw waved as we approached. She occupied the only dry patch on the field, surrounded by an assortment of tables adorned with vibrant beach umbrellas and miniature tents, all laden with every kind of picnic food imaginable.
“And third,” Levi said, “Is everyone else.”
The rest of the town of Sutton—anyone under the age of fifty—was covered in varying degrees of mud. The fire chief, along with a few men from the department, doused the field and overgrown weeds in water using the singular red hydrant.
Beth met us wearing a red and white sundress and a wide-brimmed hat. “You made it just in time. The football game is about to start. Some of your boys were looking for you,” she said to Levi.
I stood beside her, hoping I wouldn’t be invited to play football in a slippery mud pit.
Levi tugged his shirt over his head and handed it to Beth. “Gotta show them how it’s done then,” he said, winking at me. He kicked off his shoes and walked into the squishy mud.
The sight of his bare skin was still unsettling. At the cabin, he was careful not to blur the lines between friend and roommate. So, he never walked around in his underwear, and neither did I. And I’d never seen him without a shirt on.
Until the waterfall.
He wasn’t so handsome that a girl had no choice but to look. Rather, I felt drawn to him because we kept these parts of ourselves hidden.
“So,” I said, turning to Beth. “What do the girls do?”
Before she could respond, a group of girls with varying heights and skin tones made their way toward a volleyball net.
“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” Beth said.
I surveyed the area. Every girl my age was on the field.
It seemed like I didn’t have a choice.
I tugged my tank top over my head and placed it in Beth’s outstretched hand.
“I’ll be cheering for you,” she said.
“Hey, Marigold. You made it.”
The voice made me halt. Standing behind Beth was Courtney King from church, followed by Ezra. Shirtless Ezra.
I focused on his face, not wanting him to think I was interested in his athletic build. The side of his head displayed a patchwork of bruises that seemed to have evolved into an array of colors since I last saw them a week ago—as though he were collecting a rainbow on his cheek, forehead, and jawline.
“Yes,” I said.
“I like your bathing suit.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, more self-conscious than I’d ever been. Stripping down to my bra and panties in the woods with Levi had been nothing because we were alone. But being in a tight-fitting suit in the middle of this crowd felt . . . unnerving .
“See you out there,” he said, brushing past me.
“Dear,” Beth said. “You truly don’t have to go.”
I toed off my shoes and set them underneath the umbrella that she and Courtney shared. “No, I need to do this.”
I took one step forward and felt the mud slide between my toes. A strand of long grass tangled around my ankle with the next step.
I took a deep breath and gathered courage. It’s not that I hated mud, it’s that I was still the “new girl” in Sutton. I was an outcast. An enigma with my red hair. The other girls might ask questions I couldn’t answer. Questions about my past.
I can do this.
Ezra
I kept searching for Mari, and then I finally found her. Amidst the crowd, she stood in a simple suit paired with cut-off jean shorts, a wide smile and a streak of mud on her face.
Unlike me, who stole glances in her direction, Mari was fully engrossed in the volleyball game, exchanging words with the girls around her and occasionally casting a glance at Levi before refocusing on the net.
I shouldn’t have cared that I wasn’t the one she was searching for. But for some reason, I did.
Had I lied to her about my injury? Yes. But to be fair, I’d lied to everyone.
Could I be arrested by my brother-in-law for growing weed on the farm? Sure.
Was I the kind of guy that she deserved? No way.
But I cared about what she thought. I’d wanted to impress her from the moment we met. I’d visited the Roman Colosseum, boated in Rimini on the Adriatic Sea, seen Michelangelo’s David, and tasted wine so sweet it became a part of my bloodstream. I wished for her to see the real me. The Ezra who yearned not for a life on a farm, but dreamed of nurturing his own path, exploring distant lands, and cherishing a woman—perhaps even her.
The thought was ludicrous. As much as I wanted to live in the luxury of my past, the reality was staggering. I had nothing to offer her.
I’d gone from Italy to Sutton. Grapes to cow manure. Boat rentals to golf carts.
If only she knew the real me—
A body slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs and sending me sideways into the mud. A whistle blew, signaling the game’s ending. The man who’d clobbered me offered a hand and helped me up. “Sorry, man. I was going long for a pass. Didn’t see you there.”
My bare chest was sweaty, streaked with mud and blue chalk. “Who won?”
He pointed at his red chest. “Reds.”
Levi’s team. Of course.
The groups broke up and headed toward the shade to get water.
Seeing Levi and Marigold congregate with Mother and Mrs. Shaw, I veered toward Lilly who sat on the folded-down bed of Jackson’s F-150. She stood and gave me a muddy hug. “How have you been, Ez?”
She handed a plastic bottle of lemonade to me, and we both sat overlooking the crowd. “Married life appears to be treating you well.”
“All five weeks of it,” she said with a laugh.
“Still. You look happy.”
“And you look perplexed.”
“Do I?”
She tipped her plastic bottle toward the field. “Does it have to do with her?”
“Who?”
She pointed to the tent where Mother and Mrs. Shaw talked with Levi and Mari. “Marigold. I met her at church. Nice girl. I’m glad Levi has someone.” There was a note of longing in her voice I chose to ignore.
“She’s okay,” I said, drinking the too-sugary lemonade. My lips puckered.
“I know you better than that,” she said.
“We’re just friends.” And that was true.
She dropped the topic. “I talked to Daddy yesterday. He misses hearing from you.”
I took another pull from the bottle.
“He says that if you don’t call him soon, he’s going to call you.”
Talking to my father was complicated. He knew the state of the farm finances. He might ask questions I didn’t want to lie about.
Before I could answer, someone yelled, “Let’s eat!”
“Not yet,” yelled the half-drunk owner of the animal feed store. “Sledding first!”
Cheers rose from the men.
Father Hosea stepped forward wearing a pair of khaki shorts, a white polo, and a ball cap that said Sutton High. “That’s my cue,” he said as he raised both hands like Moses parting the Red Sea. “They have chosen me to coordinate and simultaneously pray over the sledding games this year.”
The people laughed.
Father Hosea’s voice carried across the field. Startled from his grilling duties, he still clutched meat tongs in one hand, using them as if conducting an orchestra rather than addressing a group of muddy townsfolk. “This year will be a bit different. The game coordinators have decided to choose the teams.”
The field went dead silent.
“We’ll also decide who gets to use which truck.”
The men broke into arguments. “No way is anyone other than me drivin’ my truck,” someone yelled. “We been practicin’ this for months,” another called.
Father Hosea pointed his tongs at the voice. “Exactly. You’ve been practicing. For the record, I was against this. It’s too dangerous for my liking, but that’s why I’ll be praying.” He smiled.
“We won’t make you pass over the keys to your rides, but instead of traditional two-man teams, this year there will be two winners. One driver and one sledder.”
Sledding had been a part of the Sutton Labor Day Games since the invention of the truck. Vintage black and white photographs, proudly displayed in historical hangouts like The Haunt, showcased the daring spirit of 1955 Fords participating in these thrilling games.
The sledding games were conducted when the tailgate was removed and attached to the bed with long chains. The sledder would sit on the tailgate and hold on for dear life while the driver navigated an obstacle course. The atmosphere crackled with danger and excitement, often culminating in inevitable mishaps like broken bones occurring almost every year.
In years past, the driver and sledder practiced before the race to get a feel for what the other could handle. Guys who knew each other well worked best together. It was also acceptable to pimp out their tailgates to make special holds or grips. Splitting up the teams assured that there would be less predictability.
“The driving winner is the man who gets through the course the fastest,” he continued. “And the sledding winner is the man who stays on the longest. But—” he held his tongs in the air for emphasis— “if the first truck to cross the finish line also still has his sledder, there is a one-hundred-dollar prize for both men. If you win only the driving or the sledding prize, you will receive only a free round of drinks at The Haunt, and one of Mrs. Goodman’s peach pies.”
The new rules were genius. The outcome would depend on the drivers. If they sped through the race then they might win. But if they worked through the race with their partner, they had a better chance at securing a hundred dollars. Predicting how a man would react to your speed and driving was hard. That’s why men practiced. The new rules made the game total guesswork.
“This sounds interesting,” Lilly said. “Are you participating?”
I took the last gulp of lemonade. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Father Hosea took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and started to announce the teams. Just when I thought he was done he threw out one more sentence.
“Ezra King as a driver and Levi Shaw as the sledder using Levi’s truck.”
Father Hosea paused to look between Levi and me. The whole town did. He must’ve been attempting to bring us together. It wouldn’t work.
Levi looked at me, a question in his eyes.
Would we ride?
Everyone stared.
I nodded once, and he nodded back. For public appearances, we would.
Years ago, Levi would have been my first choice. But now, I wouldn’t trust him to put gas in my truck. I smirked. I was the one driving. I could toss his body off the sled any time I wanted. But the prize sounded too good. One hundred dollars.
If I wanted the money then I had to be smart.
Father Hosea retreated to his grill as the men found each other and ambled to the trucks.
Soon, only Levi and I hadn’t moved.
I crushed the plastic bottle in my fist, handed it to Lilly, and then walked barefoot across the field to stand in front of him.
Levi spoke before I could. “Look, we don’t have to do this. I don’t wanna partner with you any more than you wanna partner with me. But—”
“One hundred dollars sounds good,” I finished. “And they don’t know the huge mistake they just made.”
Marigold, Mother, and Mrs. Shaw all gaped at me.
“We could drive circles around them,” I said. “Some things never change. You in?”
Levi grinned. “I’m in. For the money, of course.”
“Naturally.” I scratched dried dirt from my cheek and let the flakes fall to the ground. “Let’s go.”
Levi’s truck was a chaotic mess, with empty soda cans and crumpled granola bar wrappers scattered everywhere. I kicked aside a sports drink bottle and slid into the driver’s seat.
Ahead of us, a dozen trucks revved at a spray-painted starting line. Another dozen idled behind, waiting for the second race. Levi crouched on the tailgate, his fingers clutching the edge. Mud oozed over the edges of the metal, seeping toward his dirt-splattered calves.
Although we held a momentary truce, I considered pressing the gas pedal hard enough to throw him from the tailgate. If I did, I might be lucky enough to leave his body in the wake of another speeding truck.
No. For this race, Levi and I were partners, not enemies. If the town wanted a show, we’d give them one.
He shot me a thumbs up and I faced forward, waiting for the shotgun start.
Father Hosea stood at the starting line and waved his arms. His mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear a word he said over the rumble of the trucks.
Finally, he aimed a black pistol in the air and fired a blank toward the sky.
I pressed the accelerator. My desire to force Levi’s grip off the tailgate fled.
One hundred dollars.
Levi and I had won this race many times. I tapped into our shared history as we surged forward.
Levi knew how I drove. I knew how strong he was.
Or how strong he used to be. I hoped his drinking hadn’t made him weak.
My truck pulled ahead of the others, spitting mud in an arc behind us, bathing Levi. He held on surprisingly well with a thick line of dirt dripping down his face.
I pressed the accelerator a little harder.
Orange five-gallon buckets served as obstacles. I veered toward the first one. Once we were out of the mud the truck moved faster, no longer dragging the sled like a spoon through molasses. I rode the brake around the first bucket and then sped toward the second.
The flash of a blue Tacoma nearing my left caught my eye. The driver wanted to cut me off at the next bucket. I checked Levi then pressed my foot to the floor. Levi ducked his head to keep the spray of dirt and small rocks from assaulting his face.
I screamed, hoping my voice would carry through the interior of the Chevy. “Hold on.”
I didn’t wait for him to respond. I took the next bucket without the brakes and imagined Levi white-knuckling the tailgate.
I took the corner tight. The blue Tacoma tried to follow and hit the bucket.
One more bucket and we’d be on our way to the finish line. I checked the rearview mirror. The remaining trucks were too far behind or had already lost their sledders. The ones without sledders were the most dangerous because they didn’t have any reason to restrain themselves.
If I could keep my clip then we’d win.
The same blue Tacoma rode my bumper around the next bucket, his sledder still holding on, but he was more careful this time. I took the turn with the same gusto I’d taken the last two. After clearing the turn with bluey still behind, I punched the gas, and we lurched toward the finish line.
I checked the rearview mirror. Levi was still attached, teeth gritted.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
The blue Tacoma gained.
I floored the accelerator.
The finish line was feet away.
We crossed first with the Tacoma less than five feet behind.
Levi rolled off the tailgate as I drove parallel to the parking lot and stopped. The scent of burnt rubber greeted me as I stumbled out of the truck. For a moment, we were brothers. We forgot why we’d hated each other. We forgot our fathers.
Levi punched his hands in the air, fists toward the heavens. I did the same. We hollered at the sky in victory. Before I could think about what I was doing, I threw my arms around him and slapped his back. He returned the gesture, adrenaline pulsing through me.
When we pulled away, he said, “We still got it.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t lose it around those corners.”
“I figured you’d coast them.”
Four years after we imploded, we still knew each other.
He pointed at my face, noticing the bruise. “What happened?”
My defenses rose. “Just a row with a friend.”
“Is that what it takes to be your friend? A black eye?”
“Only if you’re an idiot.” I tried to smile, but I could feel my pulse rising.
Mother, Mrs. Shaw, and Marigold ran toward us. The light in our mother’s eyes dimmed as they realized that winning the race hadn't mended the chasm between us. Mother hugged me, careful not to attract a layer of dirt. Mrs. Shaw hugged Levi. Marigold stood to the side.
“What did you think?” I asked as Mother pulled away. I was desperate to get away from Levi and his paltry accusations. I assumed he’d seen the bruise before the race. I must have been angled the right way to avoid his scrutiny.
Marigold’s eyes darted between us.
“I’m just glad you’re both okay,” Mrs. Shaw said. “Why they keep this foolhardy race in the games is beyond me. Last year, a boy had to be airlifted to a hospital. But does that stop these crazies from doing the exact same thing again this year? No, it does not. This should be banned.” She looked at my mother. “I say this every year, but I mean it this time. We need to start a petition to stop this madness.”
“It’s just a little fun,” I said.
Levi’s jaw twitched as he inspected my face.
I patted him on the bicep. “Thanks for the hundred dollars.”
He nodded and then led Marigold away.
Marigold
The landscape of the field changed as the sky melted against the horizon in every shade of rose.
The barbecue potluck was over, the fire chief had stopped up the hydrant, and the games were over. As night approached, people convened around four giant bonfires in the dry area of the field. Food trucks had replaced the tents, and more than a few people held guitars.
As Levi and I walked from the parking lot to the field, both of us dressed in new clothes with our faces mostly clean of dirt, I inhaled the aroma of fire smoke, popcorn, and hot dogs. We passed families roasting marshmallows, couples tangled together, and groups gathered around stringed instruments.
“This part of the day is low-key,” Levi said, holding the handle of his guitar.
He laid a blanket beside a campfire occupied by one couple. The lovers ignored us in favor of making out as he unclasped his guitar case and pulled out the sleek wooden instrument. They turned when he played.
The guy did a double take. “Are you Levi Shaw?”
Levi avoided eye contact and nodded once.
He sat up and snapped his fingers. “You did a song with Ryker Tucker, right?”
His girlfriend sat up. “I love that song. Will you play it for us?”
He ignored the question. “Where are you folks from? I reckon you’re new or passing through.”
“Is it that obvious?” the girl said with a blush. “We’re from Bowling Green, Kentucky. We wanted to get out of town for the long weekend and Ghost Mountain sounded intriguing. It didn’t amount to much though. I didn’t run into a single ghost, not even a fake one. Shouldn’t there be some sort of haunted attraction?”
Levi chuckled. “Most folks want to keep Sutton as tourist-free as possible.”
Her shoulders slumped. “That’s what we gathered. The only juicy information we found was about a place called Skeleton Cliff where several people have offed themselves. Is it haunted?”
Levi stiffened. I sucked in a breath and caught a whiff of sugary caramel corn. Popcorn would be a perfect distraction. “Why don’t you play for a spell, and I’ll get us a snack?” I asked, touching his arm.
The girl sensed her question hadn’t landed well, and she snapped her mouth shut. Levi ignored her and focused on his guitar. I left him to strum for the awe-struck—and now uncomfortable—couple as I ambled around people and fires toward the popcorn wagon.
I carried a bag in each hand when a voice stopped me. “Marigold?”
I couldn’t place the tone until I turned and saw her auburn hair.
Lillian.
We met at church but had never spoken.
She sat on a blanket beside Jackson. “That popcorn looks delish. Do you mind getting me some, Jack? And Marigold, why don’t you sit?” Her tone was neither welcoming nor hostile.
Jackson left.
“What’s going on between you and my brother?” she asked.
A few kernels tumbled out of my bag as I faltered. “We’re friends.” I’d noticed the way he looked at me today. The same way he looked at me last week as I cleaned the cut on his face.
She rolled her eyes. “C’mon. I’m his sister. I can tell he has feelings for you. What I can’t figure out, though, is you. Whose side are you on? You’re living with Levi but getting close to my brother. Do you expect to bring them together?”
I recognized the fear in her voice. She cared for them. Why did she care for Levi?
Dusk settled as I crouched beside her, interested in learning more. “I’m friends with both of them. Only friends.”
“Which one are you in love with?”
I set the bags of popcorn in my lap. “Neither.”
She faced me. “I love them both. I don’t know you, and I’m not sure why you came to Sutton. I hope you don’t plan on breaking either of their hearts.”
My retort was fast and spicy. “Whose fault is it that Levi’s heart is broken?”
She turned away. “I did what I had to.”
“Lil, I’ve got the popcorn,” Jackson said as he approached. His words were like a warning, a tentative step toward quarreling wolves to make sure they didn’t attack him.
We weren’t fighting. We were trying not to lose our hearts. She’d thrown her sunflower dress away, yes, but she hadn’t thrown away Levi.
His words repeated in my mind. “I don’t think you ever stop caring for your first love.”
We stared at each other, our eyes communicating things we didn’t say.
Me: I’m trying not to get hurt too.
Her: Be careful.
Me: I will.
“Thanks, Jack,” she said aloud. “We’re finished here.”
Mind reeling, I gathered my popcorn and headed toward Levi.
“Hey, Mari.”
I knew who had spoken before I saw him. Only one person called me Mari. As I turned, a teenager rushed past, jarring the bags of popcorn from my hands and spilling them across Ezra King. He sat on a blanket before a crackling fire. If we were closer, flames would have vaporized the popcorn.
“Sorry,” I said, kneeling to brush kernels off his shoulder.
“Not your fault. I’ll buy you another.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Heat radiated off the fire, warming one side of my face.
Did he just sigh with relief?
“I wanted to apologize,” he said.
That got my attention.
He pointed at the molted colors on his face. “I’m sorry for the way I acted when you came over last week.”
I picked apart a piece of popcorn and threw it into the grass. “Are you sorry for trying to turn me away or for lying about your injuries?”
He rubbed his healing knuckles. “Both,” he said. “But I’m still not ready to talk about what happened. I meant what I said when we spoke about your living situation. You are always welcome with me. In a separate bedroom, of course. And I hope we can still be friends.”
Levi would come searching for me if I didn’t return soon. “Yes, we’re friends. I still need a truck part from the graveyard.”
“Ah, yes, I had forgotten. Stop by anytime this week.”
I stood and brushed my shorts off, feeling the dirt caked beneath my tank top. Looking up, I caught sight of Levi standing in the light of a bonfire, watching us.
Levi
Ezra grinned at Marigold. The girl I was trying to protect. His eyes crinkled and his teeth showed in that genuine good-ol-boy way the town trusted.
I wasn’t fooled.
Marigold beamed back at him, oblivious to the way he could turn violent within a millisecond. He hadn’t always been that way. The change had happened after Samuel went to jail and he became convinced that Dad was the one who turned him in.
The truth was, not even I knew who turned in Samuel King. When I’d asked Dad, he said he didn’t know. Then, a year later, he was dead.
After that, Ezra changed. I guess I did too.
She was talking to him like they were best friends. If she was chummy with Ezra, I’d already failed her.
Today, as Ezra drove across the finish line, I’d wondered if we might mend the brokenness between us. Then I saw his face. I’d seen it before the race, of course, but I was too busy deciding if I would be his partner to focus on the massive bruise.
For a second, we were the old Levi and Ezra. Brothers of Ghost Mountain Farm. The moment passed within an instant—in the time it took for me to remember who we’d become.
If things were different, we might have been friends. But hatred and distrust were hard things to scrub from the mind.
Marigold saw me staring and wound around couples on blankets to get to me. “Sorry. A teenager spilled my popcorn.”
“So, you got cozy with Ezra?” I hated the snide in my voice, but I couldn’t tamper it.
A huge log popped in the nearest fire and then collapsed, sending ash into the air around us. An ember landed on her shoulder, and I smudged it out with my forefinger, smearing gray across her white skin.
“I was scheduling a time to find the truck part,” she said.
I wanted to argue with her. Insist that she allow me to bring her. But I didn’t want to trap her. “When are you going?” I asked in a tone I hoped sounded supportive.
She shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow.”
I had to tell her about the night she arrived. If she knew, I’d hug her in the middle of these people so Ezra would know we belonged together.
But I couldn’t claim her affection until I told her everything.
I tried to calm the tremor in my hand as I pointed at the food trucks. “Should we get more popcorn?”
She nodded. “I’m starving.”
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “You almost always are.”
“Not true,” she said. “But I do love to eat.”
We both laughed.
I couldn’t tell her in this crowd. I’d have to wait until we got home.
Tomorrow.
I’d tell her tomorrow.
What would she think of me once she found out the truth?