Page 2 of Bonfire with Beckett
While the mayor calls the town meeting into order and reviews the last meeting’s minutes, I take a moment to contain my nerves as best as I can. I think about why I’m doing this. I think about who I’m doing this for.
Mom. I’m doing this for my mom. And while she may not be sitting next to me physically, I know she is here with Dad and me.
When the mayor finally calls my name, my legs wobble like they did the first time I tried to walk in Mom’s heels. I smooth my skirt, stand, and force myself toward the podium.
The microphone squeals before settling into a low hum. Perfect. Just what I need—everyone’s attention locked on me.
I clear my throat, willing my voice not to wobble. “Most of you know me. I’m Willa. Tom the Mechanic’s daughter. I grew up right here in Maple Ridge. I spent more nights than I can count in this gym. Usually losing at volleyball and sometimes winning at debate.”
A few chuckles ripple through the bleachers. Good. Laughter loosens the knot in my chest.
“But what I remember most from growing up here wasn’t what happened inside these walls. It was what happened outside—on the last night of the fall festival. The bonfire.”
A hum runs through the room. Heads tilt. People remember.
“It was more than just flames and smoke. It was a place where the whole town came together. Where you’d stand shoulder to shoulder with your neighbors, wrapped in blankets, sipping cider, eating S’mores, and telling stories. For some of us, it was even the start of something bigger.”
I glance toward Dad. Another lump threatens to lodge in my throat.
“It’s where my parents met. One spark in the fire, one spark between them. Every year after, they came back. It was their tradition.”
I clear my throat and push through. “When Mom passed away this summer, I knew I wanted to find a way to honor her. To honor them. Bringing back the bonfire seemed like the perfect tribute to them and our town.”
I spread my hands, palms open. “I know times have changed. Rules have changed. Budgets have changed. But I’ve already spoken with a couple of local sponsors who are willing to help cover the costs. And I’ll personally take responsibility for organizing volunteers, supplies, cleanup—you name it.”
Taking one more deep breath, I finish strong. “The town deserves to have this tradition again. The festival deserves to end with firelight and celebration instead of a quiet fizzle out.”
I let that settle, then smile just enough to lighten it. “And let’s be honest—it wouldn’t hurt our tourism either. Instagram loves a good bonfire.”
That earns a few more laughs. Relief bubbles up in me.
“So, please,” I finish, my voice softening, “let’s bring it back. Let’s give our kids the memories we had. Let’s give our town the heart of fall again.”
Hands shoot up the second I finish.
Joy, from the General Store, stands first. “What about the cost, dear? It takes money to haul wood and hire musicians and such.”
I nod quickly. “Already taken care of. Two local businesses have agreed to sponsor. And I’m not asking for town funds—I’ll fundraise and coordinate volunteers. The town won’t be out a dime.”
That earns an approving murmur.
The hardware store owner clears his throat. “Who’s gonna clean it up after? Last time we had a bonfire, I spent three days hauling ash and trash from the lake.”
“I’ll handle cleanup,” I say, steady. “I’ll organize a team to sweep the area before and after. You’ll be able to eat off that shoreline by the time we’re done.”
That earns a smattering of laughter and a reluctant grin from the questioner.
Another voice pipes up from the back. “Where’ve you been, Willa? You left town for a long time. Why come back now?”
The question hits harder than the others, but I don’t flinch. “You’re right. I left after high school. Nashville became home for a while. But Maple Ridge has always been where my roots are. And when my mom passed… I realized it’s where I belonged. This is where I want to be. Where I want to celebrate old traditions and make new memories.”
The room softens. Even the mayor leans forward, nodding along.
The chair of the festival committee lifts her pen. “Well, if there are no objections, I think we’d all be glad to see the bonfire return.”
Applause breaks out. Relief surges through me so fast my knees nearly buckle.
The mayor clears his throat. “I agree. I see no reason we can’t move forward with your plans.”
