Page 11 of The Singing Trees
“The Beatles,” Emma answered. The crowd cheered again, another pointless play on the field.
“Yeah? Me too.”
“Really? Have you heardAbbey Road?” Emma asked, coming more alive with each word.
“No, I haven’t,” Annalisa admitted. “I’m typically a little late to new releases. This’ll crack you up, but I still love Elvis.” Another something hit Annalisa’s head, and she looked up. They were under a tree, but it had shed all its leaves.
“I’m sneaking out to go hear Cold River at Fairhaven next Friday night,” Annalisa said. “Do you know them?”
“I think I’ve heard of them.”
“They’re worth checking out. Kind of Creedence-like, I guess.”
Something hit her head again and then fell into her lap. It was a piece of popcorn. “What the...somebody’s throwing popcorn at me.” She turned to see where it had come from, saying, “Cut it out!”
Up came a head from behind one of the other tables. He carried a bag of popcorn in one hand and waved with the other. It took her only a second to recognize him once the lights above caught his face. It was the guy from the museum: Thomas.
He let loose the grin she remembered so well as he approached them. “Are you stalking me?” he asked.
“I should ask you the same thing,” Annalisa said, seriously considering that possibility.
He pointed to Emma. “That’s my sister you’re talking to.”
Emma shrugged. “Yep.”
Looking back at Thomas, Annalisa noticed his red sweater for the first time. “You’re an Eagle?”
“For the rest of my days,” he said, stopping directly between her and the field. “I graduated last year, go to Weston now,” he said, referring to the little Ivy League college a few miles away. “I was with my art class when we first met.”
“That’s right; you’re a sculptor,” Annalisa joked.
“A sculptor?” Emma said, as if he’d claimed that he was an astronaut. “He couldn’t sculpt a snowman.”
Thomas shot his sister a glance. “Don’t call me out. I thought you had my back, sis.”
Annalisa laughed loudly, both to poke fun at Thomas and to lift Emma up. Emma joined her and then finally Thomas.
“So you’re a Spartan, I’m assuming,” he said to Annalisa, wiping away his smile.
“For seven more months.”
“How about that,” he said. “What are the chances?”
He took a seat next to Emma’s feet and rested an arm on her thigh. “So you disappear for a minute and I find you talking with the enemy?” Then, more lovingly, he asked, “Everything okay? We’ve been looking for you.”
Emma shyly glanced over at Annalisa and then back at her brother. “Everything’s fine. I just don’t care about the game.”
Thomas patted his sister’s leg. “It’s all groovy, just making sure.” In an apparent effort to save his sister from further embarrassment, he said to both of them, “This isn’t allowed, you know, you two talking. Emma, this is the girl I was telling you about. From the museum in Portland. Can you believe that?”
“No way,” Emma said skeptically.
Annalisa instantly thought:Why was he talking about me to his sister?
“I hoped I’d run into you again.” He looked entirely too excited for this coincidence. “To think you’ve been living right down the road.”
Annalisa decided things were getting a little too mushy and that it was time to go. She turned to Emma. “It was good to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, Annalisa,” Emma said.
