Page 71 of Falling Inn Love
I walk by the food vendors and grab a caramel apple from Kameron, one of the baristas from The Freedom Bean. “Hey, man, how are you?” I ask.
“Hey, Evan, did I tell you I enlisted?” he asks.
“What? No, you didn’t. What branch?”
“Army, like my grandpa. But you inspired me with your time in the Marines.”
“Congratulations, buddy,” I say as I clap him on his back. “I’m so proud of you. When do you head out?”
“After the first of the year.”
“You’ll do great. Let me know if you want to get a few workouts in with me before you go.”
“That would be awesome, man.”
“Proud of you.” I head over to the caramel popcorn and buy a bag. I scoop a handful in my mouth and savor the flavors—salty and sweet—and the fresh kernels just melt in my mouth. It’s so good. In fact, aside from the thousand questions about Beth, everything is good today. Music is playing and people are milling around, shopping and having a great time. If my dad was here, he’d be visiting and laughing right along with them. The success of the festival makes me happy.
I head through the festival which has been planned down to the tiniest details and staffed with volunteers. It runs so smoothly that even my dad would be impressed, and he ran the annual fall festival here at the inn for decades. People joked he was like Taylor Doose fromGilmore Girls, only a friendlier version. I never watched the show, but I’ve heard it from several people, even down to the goofy hat and bow tie he wore.
The aroma of kettle corn, funnel cakes, and coffee fills the air. Laughter, chatter, and kids having fun in the corn maze are like music to my ears.
I hear a loud bang and follow it to the back field where I spot Sasha scolding Pete, who’s standing with half a dozen other guys as they launch pumpkins across the field with the pumpkin cannon he created. They roar and high five each time a pumpkin launches and crashes to the ground in pieces. “This is not funny!” Sasha shrieks.
Pete seems to disagree; he roars with laughter.
He then hugs Sasha and kisses her on the cheek. She looks like she’s impressed but trying to hide it.
My mom joins me. She’s holding a mug of coffee with our Golden Gable Inn logo on it, wearing an orange shirt that reads, “Freedom Valley Fall Fest.”
“Nice shirt. Where did you get it?” I ask.
“Beth had them made. They’re over there.” She points to a booth in the corner. “I saw one with your name on it.”
My heart races as I head over and find a box in the back with, sure enough, a shirt in my size with my name pinned to it. There’s a heart drawn under my name. She must have done this before she got upset and left. I switch out my shirts and put this one on under my open flannel.
When I come back to where I left my mom, she smiles at me and says, “Hey, honey, the airplane candy drop is scheduled for three. The kids are so excited.” She explains that a neighbor’s taking his crop duster plane over the clearing for the candy drop.
“How did they come up with that? It’s genius.”
Kase runs by with Ninja Turtle face paint on and shrieks, “Hi, Evan! Cowabunga, dude!”
“Beth did all of this,” my mom responds. “We’ve had over five hundred people come through here so far today, and we still have tomorrow, too.”
“This is incredible.”
As I scan the festival, so many memories of my dad come back to me. Some I may have tucked down deep inside because it hurt to remember. Grief is never easy. I think of Beth and her enormous loss and the grief I know she has felt for the past six years. How did she function enough to create all this? It’s like, without even realizing it, she brought a piece of my dad back here that we were missing. My dad would have loved seeing all of this. And he would have loved Beth.
I head over to where Sam and his band are playing and he motions to me to grab a guitar and join them for a while. I do, and it feels good. It puts a smile on my face, and for a brief moment, I almost forget her. Almost. But it’s impossible when every love song makes me miss her. Then, Sam suggests we play “You Are The Reason” by Calum Scott, and the lyrics hit me in the gut.
TWENTY-EIGHT
EVAN
I won’t forget this.
* * *
The festival was a huge hit. Not only did we make a ton of money, we also had so many new bookings. So much of the community came out and showed their support. It was something my dad would have been so proud of.
