Page 107 of Fire and Icing

We sell chili and hot dogs all day. Vanessa stops by, boldly flirting with all the single firefighters. I’m grateful she thinks Emberleigh and I are genuinely a couple.

The chili cook-off starts in the late afternoon. The winner is announced from the stage at the pavilion, and then, as dusk settles in, live music fills the air. Most of it is country.

Captain steps over to where I’m talking with Cody.

“Dustin, I’ve heard you play. I hope you don’t mind that I mentioned it to the committee. They’d like you to take the stage after the next set.”

“I … uh … I don’t have my guitar with me. I haven’t prepared anything.”

Cody looks at me. “Do it, man. You’re good. Talent like yours isn’t meant to only be shared in the bunkhouse at the station.”

I glance around our booth. All eyes are on me. And not one of them seems to think this is a bad idea.

“Okay. Why not?”

I performed a lot more when I was in Marbella—even had a regular gig at a local hot spot. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a stage in front of a crowd. And this crowd matters more. Waterford is my new hometown. At least, for now it is.

I take the stage, carrying the guitar someone handed me just before I went on, and address the crowd.

“Evening, everyone.”

The crowd screams and shouts “Good evening!” and “Dustin!” mixed in with whoops and catcalls.

I distinctly hear Patrick’s voice above the din. “Play for us, Rookie!”

I chuckle and ask, “Could someone tell me how long this status of town rookie lasts?”

An older gentleman shouts out, “’Til the next rookie comes to the station.”

I make a show of groaning and the crowd laughs.

Then I see her in the middle of everyone, as if a spotlight is shining down on her.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to a woman who means an awful lot to me. She’s the best baker in Waterford, probably all of Tennessee. And she’s changed my life in a very short time.” I look her in the eyes and say, “Emberleigh, this song’s for you.”

I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is what I want. And I’m a risk taker. So I sing a song I know she’d want to hear. It’s not country. It’s Motown. For her.

I turn to the guy off stage who played drums for the last group. “Hey, you want to back me up?”

“Sure,” he smiles and walks back toward the drum set. “What you plannin’ on singing?”

“You Can’t Hurry Love, by The Supremes.”

“I got you, man.”

He starts in with a rhythm and I strum, looking out into the crowd. “I sing country,” I tell the people. “But some people prefer Motown. So sometimes I switch it up—just for them.”

I slow the song down a little, the drummer follows my intention and slows his beat to match me. Then I do an acoustic rendition of the old classic, only I’m looking at Emberleigh the whole time, telling her I get it. We can’t hurry this. It will come. I’m waiting. That’s the message I’m sending through my song. I hope she hears me. This version is soulful, maybe with a dash of country in some of the lines. When I finish strumming the last chord, the audience erupts into applause.

Emberleigh’s standing at the edge of the lawn, hands in her back pockets, smiling like maybe she forgot not to.For that second, everything freezes, as if the night rearranged itself to give me this opportunity.

I hop off the stage. People approach me, complimenting my voice, telling me I need to shoot my shot in Nashville. I thank each one politely as I make my way through the throng to her. The next band takes the stage, they introduce themselves and then they start playing a slow song. I recognize it after the first few notes.Nobody But Youby Blake Shelton. There’s a female singer in this group of musicians. They’re singing the version Blake sang with his wife, Gwen Stefani.

I approach Emberleigh, my eyes riveted to hers. "Care for a dance?"

She hesitates, but then she nods.

I loop my arm behind her waist and extend my hand in the air. When she puts her arm around me and places her hand in mine, I know. I will go to any length to have her. She’s it for me. Sure, it’s fast. Maybe too fast. But I also know I’ve never felt more certain of anything.

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