by D. M. Webb
David smiled. “Yeah. Looking for something pink, delicate, and absolutely beautiful.”
The older man huffed into his white mustache and smiled. “Well, I’ve got beautiful things. Lots of pink, and they’re all delicate. All done by hand.”
“Seriously?” David fingered a small hummingbird that hung on a string from the rail overhead. Light shot through it, casting rainbows over the inside of the tent. “That’s amazing. Must take a lot of patience.”
“Very much so.” The man hobbled to the far end of the glass counter. “Here are some of the newer items I made. Anything among them you think would do? This for a lady friend?”
David smiled again. The old coot really knew how to drum up a sale. “Yeah. Actually. . .” He turned and spotted Maggie across the path at a tent selling totes. He pointed to her. “That’s her in the pink.”
“Oh, Maggie Goddard. She’s a sweet woman.” He held out his hand to David. “I’m Buster Fields. Funny name, I know. Maggie sells some of these items for me in her shop.”
“David Boyette.” David shook the man’s hand. “Apparently, she is well known in the town.”
Buster laughed, reminding David of thunder rumbling across the sky. “Don’t know about that, but Maggie is a dear heart. Wonderful woman. But–” He eased away from the counter. “Things on display won’t do for your woman. A classy female like her needs something special.”
Buster picked up a small cardboard box and set it on the counter. He opened the flaps. David peered in. Nestled inside was an array of colorful creations.
“May I make a suggestion?”
David nodded. “Sure. There’s a lot to choose from.”
“Go for the butterflies.”
“Yeah, she likes those.” He replayed the images of the butterflies that dangled from her earlobes and the anklet that wrapped around her soft, smooth ankle.
He reached forward and ran a finger over the smooth glass of a red and white butterfly, wings folded up above the body. Its neighbor gleamed at him. The pink and aqua colors flowed in a lazy swirl around the wings. “May I?”
Buster nodded. “Go ahead.”
David pulled the delicate butterfly out of its foam bedding. A loop on its back allowed for a string to be threaded through it. Unlike the others, this butterfly’s wings were fully spread open. Light shot through the glass, highlighting the masterpiece. Other colors danced among the pink and aqua. Red specks. Blue veins. Purple swirls. All mingled in a kaleidoscope of gems.
“I think you found the one.”
David held it out to him. “Can you string it for me? It would be nice for her to be able to hang it up.”
“I can.” Buster took the small glass butterfly. “She’s a mighty lucky lady to have someone like you.”
“No.” David smiled and glanced over at Maggie, who had moved down two more tents. No. She wasn’t lucky to have him. “No. It’s more like I’m blessed to have her.”
: : : : :
Maggie handed the vendor a ten and thanked him. She smiled as she slung the pink flamingo motif tote over her shoulder. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any money left. Good thing she was at the end of the line.
She stepped onto the straw-covered path as she stuffed her pocket book and keys into her new tote. She loved these events. Until the next day, when she would realize how much she spent.
A pair of well-worn boots stopped in front of her.
“I know those boots.” She looked up into emerald eyes. “And I know you.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled his Cheshire cat grin. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey back at you, handsome.” Maggie brushed an eyelash from his cheek. “Thought you weren’t going to be here until the ballgame.”
Could the man not look any better with his white button down rolled up to reveal strong forearms and carpenter jeans that hugged him nicely? A pair of aviator glasses sat on top of his head where his short, blond strands glistened in the sun.
David offered her his arm. She rested her hand lightly in the crook of his elbow. “I decided to come a little early. See the sights. Listen to the music.” He guided her along the outskirts of the crowd and through the picnic-table-strewn park.
“That I don’t believe. Folk music isn’t your kind of music, or did you forget what you said the other day?”
He snorted and ducked his head, hiding his face. “Well, I can listen to it for a little while. Besides, they’re playing regular music now.”
Maggie cocked her head. Sure enough, the band played eighties music. Talk about retro.
They ambled toward an empty picnic table not too far behind the gazebo seating. He hopped up on the surface and patted the top beside him. “Actually, Maggie, I thought I would sit with you during the auction.”
“Did you now?” She slid beside him and nudged his shoulder with hers. “What if I told you that another man had asked me to sit with him?”
He sniffed. His mouth turned downward in a fake scowl. “Then I would tell him to buzz off. But not in those exact words.”
Maggie laughed. “I would love for you to sit with me. Oh–” She clapped her hands together and bounced up and down. He would love to know this. “I got Sarah to agree to bid for those records.”
A small light gleamed in his eyes. “Really? That’s cool.”
“Yeah. Maybe she’ll be able to get them.” She brushed at a piece of dirt that marred the knees of her capris. Heat from his body burned against her side. The man ran hot like a raging fire. She cleared her throat as her thoughts slipped into a place they had no business traveling. She glanced at him. “Anyway, I thought that if I got them, you might want to listen to them with me.”
“Are you asking me out on a date, Miss Maggie?” Green fire danced in his eyes as he leaned closer to her, one hand on the table behind her.
She smiled. “Maybe. I put a down payment on a cottage by the river. Should close on it next week. I thought you might like to . . .” She shrugged. What was she doing?
“To what?” His hand reached for hers. Long, hard fingers intertwined with her small, short ones. “Dance in the moonlight?”
“Are you really that romantic?” Her body sighed in relief for the way out of the conversation. “I think you’ve been in the sun too long to talk about moonlight and dancing.”
He chuckled. “Probably. Here, got something for you.” His fingers left hers and dug a small package from the side cargo pocket of his jeans.
She held the small, brown paper gift in her hands. “Oh, David.”
“Um . . .” He scratched his head and gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s prettier than the wrapping. You might want to open it. But if brown paper wrapping floats your boat . . .”
A giggle escaped her. Her fingers shook as they pulled the wrapping away. A small gasp filled the air between them. She picked up the butterfly by its dark pink ribbon. The sunlight brought the glass figurine to life.
She held it higher. Rainbows danced across her lap. She followed the small specks of color over his lap, up his chest, and on his face.
“Do you like it?” His voice spoke in barely a whisper as he leaned closer to her.
Reds, yellows, and oranges played a complex game over his lips.
“I do.” She cradled the butterfly in her hand, ending the light show. “It’s absolutely gorgeous. Thank you.”
His finger caressed her cheek. “I’m glad you like it.” He lowered his head toward her.
Her breath caught. In public? He had to be crazy, but his lips drew nearer. The lure of his scent, a woodsy spice, pulled her closer. The yells, shouts, and laughter faded away. Music from the gazebo–some Kenny Rogers song–grew louder in her ears, competing with the drumming of her heartbeat.
His lips grazed hers for one split second before the world slammed down around her as someone called his name.
“David!”
Sarah.
“Dang it all!” Maggie clamped her hands over her mouth as
David chuckled. Oh, Lord, she shouldn’t have said that.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Maggie smiled at him. “Although I don’t think those were the words you were thinking.”
“No. More R-rated than yours.”
They turned as Sarah approached them, her long legs eating up the distance. “David, I thought I saw your motorcycle earlier. What are y’all doing over here? The family’s over there.”
She pointed across the park on the other side of the chairs. “I was heading over to the Lovejoy’s tent for a bag–” She spied Maggie’s tote. “Oh, I like that.”
Maggie held it up. “They have another one over there.”
“Nah. I’m going for the blue daisies.” Sarah’s glance slid between the two of them. “Did I interrupt something?”
Maggie smiled and cut her eyes toward David. His arms were crossed against his chest, and a dirty snarl twisted his lips as he stared Sarah down. She giggled. “No. Not really. We were just talking.”
David rolled his eyes at her statement and leaned against his knees. “Yeah. Just ‘talking.’”
She nudged her shoulder against him. He got the message and pulled her closer to his side. “Oh, let me show you what David bought me.”
Sarah let out a small gasp as she held up the glass butterfly. “It’s beautiful.” She batted her eyes at David. “How romantic.”
He rolled his eyes again and turned to Maggie. “You want to go with Sarah? I can meet you at the family table later.”
She reached up and laid a hand against his cheek. “Okay. Save me a seat for the auction?”
“I will.” He gave Sarah one last dirty look and hopped off the table. He threw Maggie a wink. “Try not to spend too much.”
She watched as he stuck his hands in his pockets and disappeared into the crowd.
Sarah turned to her. “I did interrupt something, didn’t I?”
Maggie scooted off the table with a sigh. “Sort of. But it’s okay–oomph!”
She broke off as her world whirled about her. An arm wrapped around her waist as a hand cupped the back of her head. Soft, hot lips settled over hers in a bone-melting smooch. Just as quickly, she was set back on her feet.
David tipped a nonexistent hat, winked at Sarah, and disappeared again.
Maggie blew out a breath. Amazing she even had any left. Oh, boy, that man knew how to surprise her. She turned wide eyes onto Sarah.
Her cousin’s face lit into a wide grin. “Like Jeremy said, David always upped the ante.”
“I’ll say.” Maggie eased forward on trembling legs. “I don’t know if he’s good for my health or not, though.”
Sarah’s laughter floated through the crowd as she led Maggie back to the crafts.
: : : : :
David flicked a bug off Maggie’s leg and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You think he’ll shut up pretty soon? I’m getting pretty tired of his rattling on and on.”
Maggie thumped his knee with a fist before letting her hand settle on his. “Hush. He’s almost through.”
David leaned back against the plastic chair and crossed an ankle over his knee. He scrubbed at his face and then let his arm fall onto the back of Maggie’s chair. Most of the crowd had settled into the chairs, waiting for the auction. A motion at the front of the rows caught his attention.
Jeremy, decked out in full dress uniform, sat at the edge. That had to be hot. Even with the sun sinking below the horizon, the air hung over them in a hot, humid sheet.
Maggie was right. The mayor finally wound down.
“. . .and this city is better for it. So it is with great pride and tremendous honor that we can award two fine officers of Jasper City. Please, let’s give a warm welcome for Sergeant Thaddeus Baers and Sergeant Jeremy Boyette.”
David narrowed his eyes as his brother climbed the short steps to stand beside the mayor. Baers’ tall form dwarfed the two others. Mayor Wellington raised his hands to quiet the crowd.
“Sergeants Baers and Boyette, it is a privilege to award you both for a job performed above and beyond the call of duty. Because of your brave and fast action, this town is one step closer to ending its war on drugs. Please accept these plaques as Jasper City’s appreciation. . .”
David turned away from the proceedings. Great. He risked his life to save the little twerp, and Jeremy gets the recognition. A burning knot built inside his stomach. Figures that the city would hail his brother as the hero. Always Jeremy. Never him.
He clenched his fists. The anger fought back, but he forced it down. Down past the pit of his stomach. Slowly the feeling receded, leaving in its wake a bitter taste on his tongue.
It didn’t matter. It was just a piece of paper. His nostrils flared. He had to reign in his thoughts.
People stood around him. Maggie glanced down at him, questions burning in her eyes. He stood and clapped along with the others. Acting was like lying. Recently, he had gotten better and better at it.
They sat as the mayor reclaimed the microphone. “Now, what everyone had been waiting for, Jasper City’s Charity Auction. Let’s welcome Michael Dunbar as emcee.”
David leaned over to Maggie. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Worry flooded her eyes. “Something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ll be back.” He patted her knee and then excused himself past the older couple seated next to him.
Eyes watched his every move, piercing him with their gazes, following his every step. He shook his head at his imaginings. No one watched. As fast as his legs allowed, David skirted past the assembly and through the throngs of people standing at the back.
He eased toward the parking lot. Once through the gates of the park, he sank down on the wooden fence rail along the sidewalk. What was wrong with him?
He needed a drink, that was it. He hadn’t had one in almost a week.
He wiped the sweat off his lip and drew in a deep breath. His mom should have told him that Jeremy was getting an award tonight. He would have made sure to miss it.
Jeremy the hero. Jeremy the Great. David the–he cut off the thought.
Buck up. No revisiting that memory. He buried the thoughts back into the black depths of his mind. He could get through this. He had to get through this.
He stood and dried his hands on his jeans. He’d grab a drink and something to eat before rejoining Maggie. An excuse as to why he got up and left. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and leaned his head back.
A few stars peeked through the dusky sky. Streetlamps kept their bright glow at bay. The park scents of sugary confections, corn dogs, and popcorn drifted along the small breeze. A chill crept across his arms. The weather was turning again. Maybe it’d cool off by the time the ballgame started.
He blew out a breath. Calm replaced his turmoil. He turned and took a step, almost colliding with an older couple leaving the park.
He looked up to murmur his apology and stopped. Panic set in as Mrs. Johansen stumbled to a stop. Shock rooted him to the spot.
Rebecca’s parents were here? They had moved. What–?
Mr. Johansen placed a steady hand on his wife’s arm. They looked well. David brought his eyes to Mr. Johansen’s watery blue eyes. They looked old.
“David.” He held his hand out to him.
David automatically shook the man’s hand. “Victor.”
Mrs. Johansen stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. Shock morphed into utter horror. Was she searching for a place to bury the knife?
She pulled back. Her eyes, so much like Rebecca’s, searched his face. “Oh, David. I have been waiting for this day. I’ve been wanting to see you again.”
“Come again?” He shook his head. Did he fall into another dimension? First Jeremy, and now this.
Mr. Johansen pulled his wife to his side, an arm around her waist. “We parted on horrible terms, David. We regret the things we said to you. We’ve prayed for a time to personally say that we’re sorry.”
D
avid’s voice croaked. “I don’t know what to say.” He buried his hands in his pockets. “I . . . I never thought I would run into you. Mom said you had moved to Canton.”
Mrs. Johansen smiled, tears glistened in her eyes. A perfectly manicured hand with those French style nails brushed at her nose. “I heard you left for St. Louis. Did you like it there?”
“I did. For a while. But decided big city life wasn’t for me.” He swallowed against the lump in his throat. What was he supposed to say to them? What did they want from him? “Y’all opened a gallery down there?”
“We did. Showcasing a lot of Rebecca’s work. Picked up a few more local artists.” Mr. Johansen turned to his wife. Wariness leaked through his expression as he glanced at David. “Come on, Madeline, we’ll be late for the dinner. It was good to see you, David.”
They nodded to him and turned towards a line of parked cars at the end. David watched them. Nerves in his legs jumped around. His stomach jack hammered against his spine. He should go to them. He had forgiven them long ago. He needed to tell them that. They would have been family, and didn’t family forgive?
He clenched his fists. He couldn’t do it. It was asking too much of him. They approached a sleek, gray Jaguar.
He had to stop them before they got into the car. David bit back a curse and hurried to their side.
“Victor! Madeline! Wait.”
Their surprised faces turned to him. He slowed to a more sedate walk.
Mrs. Johansen rounded the front of the car and met him halfway. Without thought, David wrapped her in a hug. Her pouf hairdo wobbled dangerously on her head. She buried her face into his chest.
“Thank you, David.” Her whisper was a sweet balm to his ears.
She pulled away, patted his chest once, and hurried back to the car. Mr. Johansen squeezed David’s shoulder as his wife slid into the passenger seat.
“That meant a lot to her.”
David pressed his lips together for a second and then sniffed. “I couldn’t let her think I hated her. I know we said awful things to each other. I won’t ask you to forgive me. What I said was hateful, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”