Page 31 of I Do With You

He doesn’t answer for a long time, just returns to playing a bit of the song he’s been working on over and over. “We grew up,” he finally says.

“Adulting is not for the faint of heart,” I agree sagely. “Had my own arguments with Father Time here lately. But your voice really is special.” I remember how I felt when he began singing on the boat. I swear I thought I was gettingPunk’dor something because I wasn’t expectingthatto come out of Ben’s mouth. His voice had been like spiked honey—sticky, pure, piercing, and glowing. It gave me literal goose bumps.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Maybe.”

There’s a sudden knock on the door of the trailer, and it scares the hell out of both of us.

My first thought is,Shit, Roy found me. My second thought is,So what? I’m not doing anything wrong.Ben’s all action, though, instantly jumping up, standing with his back against the door, and gruffly barking out, “What?”

He’s acting like the FBI’s outside and has us surrounded, but I’m pretty sure the statute of limitations is out on shoplifting sodas from the gas station. And even if it’s not, he was a juvenile.

“Oh, hellooo. My name’s Kaitlyn. I’m the social director for the resort,” a voice on the other side says.

My fear dissipates instantly. Ben still seems on edge and doesn’t make a move to answer the door. In fact, when I look at him questioningly, he shakes his head and mouths,Probably lying.

But I know Kaitlyn, and I know that voice. She went to school with Shepherd, comes in twice a year for teeth cleanings, and is, in fact, in charge of activities here. I step up to the door, confused by Ben’s reaction, and while he still looks doubtful, he trusts me enough to move back, allowing me to open the door while he stays out of sight.

I thought I was the one hiding out.

“Hey, Kaitlyn,” I greet her. “What’s up?”

She doesn’t seem surprised I’m here, or if she is, she hides it well. Professional to a T—but I guess she has to be, in the hospitality industry.I’m sure she’s seen some weird stuff at a tourist resort. A runaway bride probably isn’t even in her Top Ten list.

“Hi! I’m making sure all our guests know about our free, special Strawberry Moon event tonight. We’ll have telescopes set up, a fireside sing-along, and complimentary snacks. We’re doing traditional s’mores but also strawberry-themed beverages—iced tea, milk, and daiquiris. Plus, actual strawberries, of course. It’s at nine o’clock, by the fire circle.” She smiles warmly, seeming glad to get her speech out in one go.

“Oh, uh ... okay,” I say.

“Hope to see you there!” she adds with a wave as she walks off to the next trailer’s porch.

I close the door and look at Ben quizzically. He scrubs a hand over his chin. “Sorry, force of habit. Never know who’s banging down your door. And we wouldn’t want your ex to find you.” He finishes with a wink, like he’s teasing that he thought Kaitlyn was with Roy and Sheriff Laurier, coming in like a honeypot to get us to open the door.

That’s not their style, though. If Sheriff Laurier wanted in here, he’d bust the door down, claiming he’s entitled to do what he wants because the voters of Maple Creek elected him to do whatever he wants. If Roy wanted in, he’d probably knock, but he’d come in without invitation, too, expecting that his father would take care of any issues for him.

I think Ben’s reaction also has something to do with his trip down memory lane, but I decide to let him have the redirection he seems to want. He’s helping me with my own issues bit by bit, and I can give him the same leeway. “What do you think about the Strawberry Moon thing?”

He scoffs, but then he sees my face. The one with hope-filled eyes and a sweet smile. “Uh, yeah. I like strawberries, I guess.”

“Yay!” I squeal, clapping.

Luckily, I had jeans in my honeymoon bag, so I’m covered there, but I have to borrow one of Ben’s flannels because even in June, when the sungoes down, the breeze off the lake gets cool. The fire’s doing a great job of keeping everyone warm, but I wrap the soft fabric around me tighter anyway, liking the symbolism of it being like a big Ben hug.

He’s in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots, of course.

“Nice to meet you, Richard,” Ben greets the guy sitting in the camping chair next to him who just introduced himself, but then he goes quiet, his eyes darting around at the mass of people who’ve shown up for this strawberry shindig. I can see the shyness he said sometimes plagues him, so I put my hand in his, supporting him in the face of all the scary tourists who came for free snacks and entertainment. Ben links his fingers through mine and squeezes, and it feels ... good. It feels ... right.

Richard regales us with stories about his family’s vacation, their life back home, and his job as an account representative for an internet wholesaler. I don’t think either Ben or I have any idea what that means, but Richard is eager to talk about it, even if it seems about as exciting as selling propane and propane accessories.

“Everyone, if I could have your attention, please,” Kaitlyn says, standing by the fire. She’s wearing a pink cardigan with puffy red strawberries all over it and has a matching bow in her low ponytail. The girl can carry through on a theme, that’s for sure. Eyes find her from every direction, and once she seems sure of that, she continues, “The Strawberry Moon is a special event that happens only once a year, so we’re very lucky to be here tonight. It’s so named because it marks the peak of the short harvesting season for strawberries.”

“Wait! Does that mean the moon’s not gonna be pink?” a little voice asks, sounding disappointed.

Kaitlyn pauses. “Uh, well ... no. The moon will be white like usual.” She just lost half the little kids here, who obviously thought there was going to be a giant pink orb in the sky tonight. “But you can look through the telescopes and see the craters and rocks on the surface. Maybe even a little green alien.” She holds her thumb and index finger up about three inches apart.

“Lame,” a kid says.

“Mid, at best,” another says.

Kaitlyn is struggling, but she keeps trying. “The Strawberry Moon is thought to be a time to savor life’s sweetness. It’s associated with the heart chakra, so you should feel more compassion for yourself and others”—she puts her hand over her heart—“and connect with all the love that surrounds us.” She opens her arms wide to encompass everyone. “It’s even said that if you consume strawberries under the Strawberry Moon, you’ll find your true love, so if you’re here with a special someone, make sure you give each other a nibble ... of a strawberry, of course.” The adults giggle politely, but the kids have already tuned out of Kaitlyn’s prepared speech. “Which you can find right over there.” She points to a table filled with treats. “Please help yourself, and if I can be of any assistance, let me know.”

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