“Lawn Twister?”
Tracy laughed. “It’s something Adrian saw on the Internet. He spray-painted big colored dots on the grass to use instead of the plastic mat. Everything else is the same as the regular board game.”
Brooklyn was tempted to rise and have a look for herself. Maybe it was something she could put to use at her B&B, especially for guests with kids. Instead, she made a mental note to look it up on the Internet herself.
Lucca shoved more material and thread in Tracy’s direction. “We’ll never have everything ready for the review stand if we don’t get with it.”
Tracy threw a small scrap of fabric back at Lucca. It didn’t have enough weight to carry across the table, but it made both women laugh.
Brooklyn felt something warm and pleasant coil inside of her. Not just because of the banter between Tracy and Lucca but because of the feeling that she was part of it. That she fit in. That she belonged.
All those years in Reno, she realized, she’d never felt that way. Not really. Not even after she’d found the Lord and become involved in a church. It wasn’t that other women hadn’t been kind to her. Certainly Esther had been a dear friend. But she’d always felt like someone on the outside looking in. Never a part.
As surprising as it sounded, maybe she’d needed to come home.
“Brooklyn, before I forget to mention it,” Tracy said, her needle and thread busy again, “our Wednesday night women’s Bible study doesn’t meet weekly during the summer, but we do have one potluck a month. We hope you’ll join us for the next one.”
That pleasant warmth in Brooklyn’s chest intensified. “I’d love to, if I’m not working. When is it?”
“The twenty-sixth. In the church fellowship hall at six o’clock.”
Smiling, her eyes on the fabric in her hand, she said, “I’ll ask Zach to schedule me for the early shift that day.”
Chapter 18
The downside to being a farmer, Derek had learned, was that he didn’t have the same kind of freedom to do as he pleased on his days off from the sheriff’s department. There was always work to do. Which made it surprising to find nothing that would keep him from spending the better part of the day at the town’s annual Fourth of July festivities.
And even better, the weatherman’s prediction had been spot on. A westerly breeze had cleared the air of smoke during the night. The skies were a cloudless blue, promising a picture-perfect day.
Around noon, his chores completed until evening, Derek swept Miss Trouble into the crook of one arm and got into his pickup. He knew beforehand that the little dog would bring plenty of ribbing from his male friends. Especially since he would spend most of the time carrying her around. Miss Trouble was surprisingly mobile now. She’d learned how to compensate for the cast, especially now that the cone was off her neck. Still, he wouldn’t want her getting hurt in the crowd.
Gran’s property was surrounded on three sides by the town park. As a kid, Derek had thought it great that Gran and Pappy had a park for a backyard. The creek for which the town was named flowed through the middle of that park. Two footbridges allowed visitors easy access to both north and south sides. Tall trees provided shade from the hot summer sun, except for the playground area, where children could run from slides to swings to merry-go-round to teeter-totters, and the west end, which had a large area great for throwing a ball or a Frisbee.
When he arrived in town, Derek parked in his grandmother’s private driveway. He didn’t bother to knock on her door. He knew that by now she was on Main Street with a group of her friends, waiting for the start of the parade.
Dog in arm, he walked into the backyard. From there he could see the food booths that had been set up at the northeast corner of the park. People hustled about, taking care of last-minute things before the rush of hungry citizens arrived. It was the same every year. The moment the parade was over, just about everyone came to the food booths. Brooklyn would be kept plenty busy for the three hours of her shift.
With thoughts of Brooklyn planted once again in his mind, he turned and strode toward Main Street. It wasn’t difficult to find his grandmother, even with people lining both sides of the street. She and her friends set their lawn chairs in the same place year after year.
“Oh look,” Gran said as she moved her umbrella from left shoulder to right. “Derek brought his new dog.”
He opened his mouth to insist that Miss Trouble wasn’t his dog, that as soon as the cast was removed, he planned to find her a new home. But the protest got caught in his throat. He grinned as he realized he had no intention of finding Miss Trouble a new home. Blast Ethan Walker’s sneaky heart! He’d known the dainty little canine would wiggle and hop her injured way into Derek’s heart. Someday Derek would have to get even.
“Hey, Gran.” He passed Miss Trouble onto her lap as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, avoiding the rim of the umbrella. “Looks like I made it into town in time.”
Gran checked her watch. “With a few minutes to spare.”
Derek straightened and greeted by name each of the women seated near his grandmother.
“I brought an extra lawn chair if you want it,” Gran said when he looked at her again.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
Music reached their ears from the opposite end of town. Conversations quieted as a feeling of anticipation settled over the crowd.
Although what was exciting about a Thunder Creek parade escaped Derek. First would come the flags carried by veterans. Next would be the high school marching band and the cheerleaders, the latter kicking their legs and shaking their pom-poms and every so often forming a pyramid, the smallest girl on top. The mayor would roll by in a black, new-model convertible, waving as if it were an election year, followed by the queen of the parade on horseback. More horses and riders representing the county rodeo would be right behind her. Usually there were a couple of floats put together by local service organizations right before the men’s group from church appeared in go-carts, driving them in crazy circles while hooting and hollering. Men acting like boys. Finally, Millie Smith would bring up the rear in a cart pulled by one of her miniature horses, harness covered in bells.
The parade never changed much year to year.
“Look,” Gran said. “There’s Brooklyn and Alycia.”
He followed her gaze. It didn’t take long to find them. Both of them were wearing sunshine yellow.
“Go ask them to join us, Derek.”
It no longer surprised him how eager he was to do that.
Brooklyn saw Derek step off the curb as if he meant to cross the street. But then someone spoke to him and he stopped and turned to exchange a few words. It happened again, then again, and it was easy for her to see how admired and respected he was. As if she hadn’t known it already. The Johnsons were pillars of the community, while Brooklyn had always felt like an outsider. But remembering her time with the women at the Vinton home yesterday, she knew that was changing. Had already changed, in fact.
Music growing louder, Brooklyn turned her gaze in the opposite direction. The honor guard drew closer, the marching band right behind them.
“Here they come,” she said, placing a hand on Alycia’s shoulder.
Her daughter leaned forward to look around the man next to them. “I can see the flags.”
“Hey, you two.”
Brooklyn’s head whipped to the right at the sound of Derek’s voice. He’d made it across the street at last, and her heart gave a small flutter.
He grinned at her. “Gran wants you to join her and her friends.” He pointed in Ruth’s direction. “She’s got an extra chair for you.”
Brooklyn felt a sting of disappointment. Had he only come to issue his grandmother’s invitation?
“Come on.” He spoke louder to be heard over the approaching horns, clarinets, and drums. “Before the band gets here.”
“Let’s go, Mom.”
Alycia was already crossing the street. No sprained ankle slowed her dow
n today. Derek reached out with his left arm, not quite touching Brooklyn, yet gently, subtly encouraging her to go with him. The honor guard was almost upon them. Releasing a quick breath, she hurried after her daughter, Derek right behind.
Ruth smiled as she motioned to the lawn chair next to her. “You’ll want to sit down while you can, dear. You’ll be on your feet all afternoon.”
Brooklyn nodded, but before she could turn, the flag bearers arrived. Those who were seated in chairs stood. The women nearby, including Ruth, all put their umbrellas on the ground. Men removed hats and pressed them to their chests. Most everyone else put hands over their hearts. A blanket of reverence settled over the crowd for a few seconds. And then, with the flags gone by, a cheer rose to mix with the music of the marching band.
“Mom, look!”
The cheerleaders had stopped in the middle of the street and were forming a pyramid. Three girls on the bottom, two girls on their shoulders, and one girl climbing to the top. Brooklyn recognized all of them from the restaurant, especially the one who thought Derek was a hottie.
She felt her face grow warm—and it had nothing to do with the July sun beating down on them.
“I wanna be a cheerleader when I’m older,” Alycia said. “Can I, Mom?”
“Sure, if you really want to.” Brooklyn sat on the lawn chair.
“You look flushed, dear.” Ruth switched the umbrella to her near hand, giving some shade to Brooklyn. “Be careful. You don’t want to have heatstroke. Derek, get something for her to drink.”
“Don’t fuss,” Brooklyn insisted. “I’m fine.”
Derek said, “No problem. They’re selling bottles of water over there. Be right back.”
The smiling cheerleaders kicked and spun by them, followed by the marching band. It wasn’t a large band, but they were loud and played with great enthusiasm.
A short while later, Alycia gasped. “Mom, look!”
It was the parade queen on a prancing palomino. The girl’s outfit and the horse’s tack were rhinestone studded and sparkled with every prancing step the palomino took. The queen wore turquoise, from the cowboy hat on her head to the fancy boots on her feet.
“She’s gor-r-r-r-geous,” Alycia said, stretching out the last word.
Ruth leaned forward on her chair. “That’s Reba Maxwell, Georgia’s granddaughter. Reba’s studying to become a doctor. Walter would be so pleased.”
Was there anything Ruth didn’t know about the citizens of Thunder Creek? Brooklyn wondered.
Does she know that I like her grandson?
Liked him? Of course she liked him. He was a nice guy. Everybody in town liked Derek Johnson. There wasn’t anything unusual or unexpected in that.
Only that isn’t what you mean. Is it?
Her stomach fluttered nervously. She didn’t know what she meant. She didn’t want to know what she meant.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Derek arrived with the promised bottle of water, condensation dripping down its sides. “Here you go.” He squatted beside her chair, looking much too friendly and handsome for his own good.
Heat surged through her a second time. She took the bottle from him, removed the plastic top, and took several long drinks of the cold water.
Awhile later, well after the end of the parade and now seated in the shade of a tall elm tree, Ruth let her gaze roam over the people milling around the park. No matter where she looked, she saw familiar faces. She recognized dozens of men and women, from their twenties to their sixties, along with teens and little children, whom Walter had treated in his clinic. Over the years, he’d set their broken limbs. He’d treated their fevers and their allergies. He’d sent some off to serve in Vietnam. Others to serve in subsequent wars like Desert Storm and Afghanistan. He’d given them good reports and bad. A baby was coming. The tumor was cancerous. Such was life. And she and Walter had been a part of it.
Over fifty-three years before, she and Walter had arrived in Thunder Creek. They hadn’t known a soul in the town, but he’d believed he was called there to practice medicine, to serve the people of the community. And Ruth, of course, had been called to serve at his side as best she could.
She’d never admitted to him how afraid she’d been at the start. Afraid she would fail him. Afraid she wouldn’t be liked by their neighbors. Afraid she would never belong in Thunder Creek. Walter would belong. Walter fit in wherever he went. It had been his nature. Men had liked him. Women had liked him. Children had liked him.
Their first weeks in town had passed in a blur of activity as they put their new house and his medical office in order. Glad for the hard work, glad that she could fall into bed exhausted every night, nineteen-year-old Ruth had been content to spend every moment with her husband. But then the Fourth of July had arrived. In her memories, that was the day when she’d become a part of this community, the day when Thunder Creek had truly become her home. Suddenly she’d realized people knew her by name, were including her in the festivities, were doing their best to make her feel as if she belonged. If anybody had guessed how unsure of herself she was, they hadn’t let on. And she’d loved them all for it. Still loved them for it to this day.
Maybe that was why the Fourth of July remained one of Ruth’s favorite holidays. Different from Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, which were favorites as well. But those holidays were about family and faith. The Fourth was about community and patriotism.
She smiled to herself as her gaze moved toward the food booths. The sign saying Moonlight Diner was a foot or two above all the other signs, making it easy to find. Of course she couldn’t make out Brooklyn waiting on customers. Not through the throng of people.
But she did, a moment later, spy her grandson. His gaze was also directed toward the Moonlight’s food booth. And something in his expression told her that he had a better view, that he was watching Brooklyn as she worked. It told her something more besides.
He felt something beyond friendship toward that young woman, whether or not he’d realized it.
“Well, I’ll be.”
From the day Derek was born, Ruth had prayed for his future, just as she had prayed for every one of her children and grandchildren. Those prayers for the future had included the people her loved ones would eventually marry.
As for her eldest grandson, he had seldom been without a girlfriend. Ruth had been fond of several of them through the years, but the girl had never appeared on the horizon. In fact, earlier this year Derek had announced he was done with dating for a while. That he had no time for emotional attachments.
From where Ruth sat, it appeared his opinion might have been changed by Brooklyn Myers.
Her smile grew, and she repeated to herself, “Well, I’ll be.”
“Penny for your thoughts.” Camila unfolded a chair next to Ruth and sat on it.
“I’m plotting Derek’s future.”
“Oh dear. Poor boy.”
Ruth laughed. “The danger of being the only grandchild living nearby.”
Her friend laughed, too, before asking, “And just what are you plotting for him?”
“I believe he needs a wife.”
“Have you got one in mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I think I do.”
Sweat trickled down the back of Brooklyn’s neck as she delivered an order to a young couple seated at one of the dozen tables forming a half circle around the sides and back of the diner’s booth. She’d worked some busy shifts in her life as a waitress, but never anything like this. The whole town seemed to want Zach’s food. The instant a table was emptied, someone else arrived to sit there.
At least she didn’t have to worry about her daughter. Ruth and several of her friends had volunteered to keep an eye on the girl, and Alycia had kept her word, checking in with Brooklyn every half hour. The last two times she’d appeared, she’d had Miss Trouble in her arms.
The dog drew everyone’s attention. Especially other kids. Whether it was Miss Trouble’s cute face, pretty ears, petite
size, the cast on the front leg, or a combination of all of those things, Brooklyn didn’t know. But the canine was introducing Alycia to even more children her own age.
“I’ll be done in half an hour,” she told her daughter, who had another girl with her this time, as well as the dog. “So be here on time.”
“Okay.”
“And check in with Mrs. Johnson again.”
“I will.”
The girl with Alycia reached out to stroke Miss Trouble’s head.
“Who’s your friend?” Brooklyn asked.
“This is Wendy.”
“Hi, Wendy. Nice to meet you.”
The girl didn’t look away from the dog. “You too.”
“Do I know you from church?”
The girl shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What’s your last name?”
“Royal.” Wendy’s eyes still didn’t leave Miss Trouble.
Brooklyn smiled, knowing she might as well give up. She couldn’t compete with the small dog in her daughter’s arms. “All right. Off with you. I’ve got orders to take. But don’t go too far and be back at four o’clock.”
She watched for only a few moments as the two girls slipped away through the crowd. Then she headed for a nearby table and three new customers. “What can I bring you?” she asked as she readied her pad and pencil.
Half an hour later, Brooklyn happily whipped off the dark-green apron she’d worn for the afternoon and started watching for her daughter’s return. It was only a few minutes before she caught sight of her. Only this time it wasn’t Wendy Royal who was with Alycia. It was Derek, and now he held the dog in the crook of his arm. The two of them looked so natural together that it made her heart squeeze.
“Hey, Mom. You done?”
She walked toward them. “Yes, I’m done for the day. So what do you want to do now?” Her question, though not intentional, was directed at both of them.
“The ball game!” Alycia said.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not yet. I want to see the ball game. Please.”
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