by Tricia Goyer
As they talked, the two men also shared stories about their work on music videos—about the places they’d visited, and some of the people they’d worked with.
“Shae Lynne is a dream client,” Will said. “She’s new enough to still listen to direction, yet talented enough to blow us away with her ideas and input.”
“We’re looking forward to meeting her.” Charlotte gathered the plates and forks.
“Yeah, and I have a feeling she’ll like it here,” Buck commented, glancing around again. “In fact, she may not want to leave.”
Charlotte noticed Will sketching in a notebook as they talked.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” She leaned in for a better look.
“Oh, I’m creating a shot list for the video. I’m thinking about the composition of the shots I want, and then Buck will know how to set up the cameras.”
Emily’s face lit up. “Composition? I’m learning about that. Do you use the law of thirds?”
“Yes, I do, actually. See?” Will showed Emily the sketch, pointing with his pencil. “Picture Shae Lynne singing in front of the sunflowers. One-third of the shot will be her, one-third will be the flowers, and one-third will be the barn.”
“Cool.” Emily’s face brightened. “I think that’s going to be great!”
“So, what song are you going to be shooting?” Charlotte asked, proud of herself to be talking in their lingo.
“Oh, it’s one off her new album that will be coming out at Christmas. The song is called ‘Always and Forever with You.’” Will nodded toward the garden area. “This whole setting should be just right for the song.”
“Well, I aim to please.” Charlotte smiled.
She heard the sound of Pete’s truck approaching even before she saw it. Toby ran out to greet him, and Pete seemed not at all pleased to see the black sedan parked in front of the house. He climbed out and looked as if he were headed to the barn when Charlotte waved to him.
“Pete!” She motioned him over.
Pete strode over wearing his work jeans, T-shirt and ball cap. As he approached, she saw the two men glance at each other.
“Pete, it’s good to see you again.” Will stood and shook Pete’s hand. “And this is my friend Buck Anderson.”
Pete nodded. “Buck.”
“We were just telling stories about the farm.” Christopher turned to Emily. “Remember that time someone was stealing vegetables from the garden?”
“Yeah, and we found out it was a homeless person. But we helped him out. He lives here in Bedford now,” she explained to Will. “We see him at church sometimes.”
The men acted like they were interested in the story, but for the most part Buck kept eyeing Pete.
Finally, when there was a break in the conversation, Buck stood and strode to Pete’s side. “You know, for one of our shots we’d like to have a farmer in the field plowing.”
Pete smirked. “Well, that will be difficult since we don’t plow this time of year.”
“Yes, well, plowing isn’t the point. The point is the farmer on a tractor.” Buck seemed irritated by Pete’s attitude.
“My dad might be interested.” Pete crossed his arms over his chest.
“Uh, that’s not really what we were thinking. We want a younger guy. You know, someone like you.”
Pete’s eyes widened and his jaw grew slack. Then he cocked one eyebrow, as if to say, You’ve got to be kidding.
“Is the farmer on the tractor like a prop?” Christopher’s eyes brightened. “Don’t worry, Uncle Pete. Trudy’s going to be a prop too. If she can do it, so can you.”
Charlotte chuckled. “I don’t think Pete is worried about if he can do it, Christopher. It’s if he wants to.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to, Uncle Pete?” Christopher scratched his head.
“Well, I, uh …” Pete stammered.
Charlotte could tell he was looking for the right words without being rude in front of the kids.
“You know, we won’t need more than a few hours of your time,” Will insisted. “And we’d be willing to pay a third of what we offered to your parents.”
“A third? You’re joking, right?”
“No sir, I’m not.”
Charlotte saw Pete’s hard gaze soften.
“Surely you can help out, Pete. Right? You’d hate for them to have to find someone else around town …” Charlotte let her voice trail off.
“Well, I suppose if it’s not going to take too long. I’ve been wanting to do something special for Dana for a while, so I could use the money.” Pete’s eyes brightened.
“Something special?” Charlotte tried not to get too hopeful.
“Yes, and it’s something I won’t tell you about because I know how you are, Mom. You’d share it with one or two people, and pretty soon the whole town of Bedford would know.”
Charlotte placed a hand on her hip and tried not to be offended. “Okay. I guess you don’t have to tell me.”
“So you’ll do it?” Will asked Pete.
“Yes, sign me up.” Pete locked eyes with Emily. “If people are going to be talking around town, I might as well give them something good to talk about.”
Pete had just walked off with a twinkle in his eyes when another car pulled up. Charlotte noticed Bill, Anna, and the girls piling out from the car.
“Grandma!” the girls exclaimed as they hurried onto the porch.
“Mother,” Anna said with her arms outstretched.
Charlotte gave her daughter-in-law a quick squeeze and couldn’t help but pat Anna’s round tummy. “This is the rest of our family, as if you haven’t guessed,” Charlotte explained to Will and Buck. “And we can’t wait to meet the newest member.”
Bill walked up too, but he wasn’t wearing a smile like everyone else.
“Bill.” Charlotte gave her son a one-armed hug. “Glad you could come. Would you like a piece of pie?”
“No thanks. Actually I’ve come to read the contract Dad’s going to sign.”
“The contract?” Charlotte patted his arm. “I thought you came for a visit.”
“It’s my job, Mom. I want to see exactly what this video thing entails. It sounds like serious business.”
“Serious?” Charlotte glanced toward Will.
“Yes, of course, Bill,” he said. “Or should I call you Mr. Stevenson? You know, I suggested that your dad have a lawyer look at it. It’s right here.”
Will slipped a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “You’ll see that everything’s in order. No problems here.” He looked at Charlotte. “Yes, your son will be done in a jiffy, so you might as well cut him that piece of pie. I mean, how could anyone say no to something so delicious?”
Chapter Nine
Sam pulled his skateboard from the back of his car and watched Jordan do the same. His car was the only one parked in the high school parking lot, and he let out a sigh of relief. He was glad Paul and Jake weren’t around. At least not yet.
It wasn’t that Sam was embarrassed by his friends … well, at least that wasn’t the biggest reason. He mostly just hated the tension in the air between him and Jordan and wanted that cleared up before more people were brought into the picture.
He felt bad though, knowing that Emily and Christopher would be waiting to see them, even though his grandma reaffirmed they’d have time over the week to spend with Jordan.
“So this is where you go to high school?” Jordan eyed the brick building with a puzzled look on his face.
Sam knew the school was as different from their high school in San Diego as it possibly could be. To Sam, Bedford High School looked like the school in the classic movie Back to the Future. In contrast, their high school in San Diego could be compared to an outdoor mall with tall, picture windows and breezy walkways. Their lockers had been outside because the weather was always nice.
Sam watched Jordan’s face, wondering if he was making the same comparisons between “cool” and “lame,” but Jordan glanced away before Sam coul
d guess his thoughts.
Jordan dropped his board, stepped on it, and pushed off with one foot, gliding across the asphalt parking lot, getting his bearings. The ride home hadn’t been silent, but the excitement they had felt when Jordan first arrived hadn’t returned either. Instead, they’d mostly talked about life in San Diego, people they both knew, and Jordan’s plans for after graduation.
Sam, of course, had nothing exciting to share about Bedford. More than that, his plans for the future were about as solid as the clouds that drifted lazily overhead.
Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and then moved to the sidewalk, where he planted his board near the curb. He thought about showing Jordan the new 360 he’d recently mastered, but even that didn’t sound like fun.
Jordan did some tricks on the flat expanse of the parking lot, but he did them without a smile or the shouts and cheers that usually accompanied his skating.
Sam’s stomach rumbled, and he remembered he hadn’t eaten much of the fast food they’d stopped for earlier. He glanced at the sun that was starting its descent into the horizon and figured his grandma most likely had dinner in the oven. If they left soon they’d be able to join the family.
Still, something inside Sam made him hesitant to take Jordan home with him. He stood on his board and zipped down the sidewalk, turning his body to guide the skateboard smoothly around the corner.
If his friend had made fun of those guys at the restaurant what would he say about Uncle Pete? Or Grandpa? And what would he think about a country music singer coming to the farm?
The more Sam thought about it, the more the air around him seemed to grow heavy, pressing down upon his shoulders. He sucked in a big breath of hot, muggy air and wished he could just skate away.
Instead, Sam skated out to Jordan. “Hey, what do you think about picking up some pizza and taking it over to my friend Paul’s house? We can play video games and hang out and stuff.”
“Guys play video games around here?” Jordan asked.
Sam tried to pretend that comment didn’t annoy him. “Yeah, but instead of car races we play games with tractor races. And instead of war games, we see who can be the first one to scatter seeds on a field. Yeah, those are our video games.” Sam shook his head.
Jordan kicked up his board and then grabbed it with his hand. “Hey, you don’t have to be sarcastic. I was just asking. I mean, I didn’t think—”
“Yeah, maybe you didn’t.” Sam interrupted, striding back toward his car with his board in hand.
“Hey, wait. Is this how it’s going to be the whole time? ’Cause if it is, you might as well drive me back to the airport, and I’ll hang out there until my flight home.”
Sam paused and turned. Jordan was still standing in the same spot in the middle of the parking lot. He had a dejected look on his face. It was the same look, in fact, that Jordan had had when they were eight and he’d accidently broken Sam’s favorite water pistol.
Sam let out a low sigh. “No. It doesn’t have to be this way. Just as long as you … as you …” He paused, trying to figure out what to say. “As long as you keep your thoughts to yourself. Yeah, Nebraska is lame. Or at least parts of it are. But for the next year at least, I have to deal with it. So stop reminding me how different everything is. I’m stuck here, and, well …” Sam looked down and kicked at a rock with his scuffed shoe. “There are some things I actually like.”
He turned back and wondered what Jordan thought of that confession. He got in and stuck his keys into the ignition. Ten seconds later Jordan tossed his board through the half-open side window into the backseat and also got in.
“Does your friend have Dark Journey 2?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah, actually it’s Paul’s favorite game.”
“No one can beat me at that game.” Jordan rolled down the window and rested his arm on the door.
“Wanna bet?” Sam asked, starting the engine and backing up. “Dude, prepare to be crushed.”
As he glanced in the rearview mirror, he noticed the softest hint of a smile in his own reflection.
Chapter Ten
Emily ran her fingers over the edges of the gilded frame she carried and glanced back at her grandma and Christopher, who also carried framed photographs. They’d already taken Christopher’s Lego creations to the open-class section, and now it was Emily’s turn to enter her photos at the arts and crafts building.
She’d been excited all day—eager to be here, doing this. She’d let her mind wander in church this morning, thinking about the photos she liked best. Then, when they picked up the enlargements from that nice photo guy, she’d thought about seeing them framed and hanging on the exhibit wall.
Even as she framed her prints, she’d tried to picture all the people who’d be looking at them. Yet, now that she was here, actually doing this, Emily wasn’t so sure.
“Do you think these frames look okay?” she asked again. They’d found all three frames in the attic. They were as old as her grandpa, maybe older … and they looked it. She just wished she’d had money to buy new, fancy frames for her photos.
“I told you, it makes them look original. Lots of people pay big money for antique frames like these.” Grandma sounded positive and upbeat, but Emily was skeptical. They just looked old to her.
The three of them walked back past the sign that read, WELCOME TO THE FAIR. There were other young people filtering in from the parking lot, all of them carrying items to enter in the arts and crafts division.
“Grandma, did you ever have anything go to the state level?” Emily asked, trying to get her mind off her worries about the competition.
“Yes, actually I did. When I was eleven or twelve, I was in 4-H and my mom gave me the idea of making a prairie skirt.”
“What’s that? Is it a skirt to pray in? Get it? Prayer-ee.” Christopher laughed at his own joke.
“No, just a long skirt with flowered material and lace on the bottom,” Grandma explained. “So I made the skirt and remember vividly having to redo the hem three times.”
“And you won?” Emily felt her heartbeat quickening the closer she got to the exhibit building.
“Well, yes,” Grandma continued, “we went to the county fair and there was my skirt with a blue ribbon on it. I was so excited. But the lady in charge of the sewing section said I was too young to go to the state fair.”
“Did you cry?” Christopher asked.
“Yes, I believe I shed a few tears. I remember being disappointed and walking back to our 4-H booth. Then, a few minutes later, another one of the girls in my group ran up to me and said the judge wanted to talk to me. Turns out, they said I could enter my skirt at the state level after all.”
“Did you go to Omaha?”
“Actually, we did. We only went for one day, but it’s a day I’ll never forget. Of course, the best thing was that blue ribbon got me excited about sewing,” Charlotte continued, “and I’ve been doing it ever since.”
“Did you win at the state level?” Christopher asked.
“No, unfortunately I didn’t, but I still have that skirt and the blue ribbon around the attic somewhere. Maybe I’ll find it one day.”
“That’s great, Grandma, really great.” Emily bit her lip, seeing that the line to the arts and crafts building stretched out the front door of the exhibit hall. Many of the kids had wagons or boxes filled with projects, and they stood there with confidence and eagerness. Emily slowed her footsteps, regretting she’d come and wondering what Grandma would do if she turned around and said she wanted to return to the farm.
Christopher readjusted the frame in his hands.
“Don’t drop it. Be careful,” Emily scolded.
“I won’t, I won’t. I’m not a baby, Emily.”
“Emily, Christopher, be nice. No arguing.”
They neared the building, and Emily smiled at the girl and her mom standing in front of her. Then she turned back to her grandma.
“I can remember when they first built this building
,” Grandma was saying. “I was just a little girl.”
“Uh-huh,” Emily said, pretending she was listening to Grandma. Instead her gaze moved down the line of waiting young people, checking out the photographs they were entering and sizing up their entries against her own. One thing she noticed was that they all had nice, new frames.
“Looks like we got here just in time. They’re only accepting entries for fifteen more minutes. We almost missed it.”
“Grandma, look!” Christopher pointed to the horse barn two buildings down. Outside it a large trailer was parked and a teen boy was leading out a row of miniature horses.
“Can we go look, Grandma? Please?”
“Not today. Today is still a set-up day. But I promise, once the fair opens, the horse barn will be one of the first places we stop.”
“Can we look at them when we bring back the flowers and vegetables to enter?” Christopher asked. “Toby might want to see them too. I bet she’s never seen a horse the same size as her.”
“We’ll see,” Grandma said. “And speaking of Toby, we need to sign you up for the showmanship category.”
“Today? Seriously?” Christopher’s eyes widened.
“Well, you don’t perform today, but you sign up.”
Emily pressed her framed photo to her chest. “Why don’t you go ahead and sign Christopher up. I can carry all three frames.” Emily hoped her voice sounded convincing.
Charlotte glanced at her watch. “Well, it is getting close to the cutoff. Are you sure you don’t mind standing here alone?”
“No, Grandma. I’ll be fine, honestly.”
“All right then. Hang around this area when you’re done, okay?”
Emily nodded, and then she watched as Grandma strode off with Christopher half-walking, half-skipping at her side.
As she stood there with the heavy frames in her hands, Emily tried to convince herself that everything would be okay. Just in front of her, another teen girl had a wagon with five framed prints stacked inside. The one on top was a beautiful photo of white, fluffy clouds hanging over a bright, red barn. The photo looked perfect, just like the girl. It looked professional. Worthy of a blue ribbon.