Page 50 of Ice Ice Maybe
Mr. Dalton glanced down at his zipper. “Right.” He zipped it up and got back in the car without another word. He turned to me and asked, “Didn’t you have to go?”
I shrugged. “I did, but the urge passed.”
He glanced down at my pants, but kept quiet as he fastened his seat belt.
I pulled into the driveway of a farm next to the cemetery to make a U-turn and drove until we entered the highway. Fifteen minutes later, I flicked on the turn signal and smoothly guided the BMW off Interstate 40 again.
Zena’s brow furrowed with curiosity. “Another stop?”
“You’ll see,” I replied cryptically, navigating the car toward a colorful building with hand-painted signs in the distance that had caught my eye from the highway.
As we drew closer, the quaint roadside fruit stand came into view, bursting with vibrant fruit. Mrs. Dalton’s gasp of delight from the backseat was music to my ears.
“Strawberries!” she exclaimed, brimming with childlike excitement.
We piled out of the car, stretching our legs on the gravel of the parking lot. As Mr. and Mrs. Dalton made their way to the fruit stand, Zena hung back, tugging gently on my arm.
“You’re racking up some serious points with my mom,” she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth.
I shrugged, feeling a mix of pride and genuine happiness. “I love seeing her light up like that. She deserves it.”
Zena’s smile softened. “Keep this up, and you might win us both over.”
“Might?” I said with a chuckle. “Sorry, but I’m pretty sure I already have.” Feeling bold, I glanced quickly at her parents before leaning in and stealing a quick kiss.
“You’re living on the edge lately,” she whispered. “What has gotten into you? You’re more, I don’t know, motivated?”
I grinned, feeling invincible. “What can I say? You make me want to break all the rules.”
Zena laughed. “Don’t get carried away.”
We rejoined her parents as Mr. Dalton paid for two baskets of fresh strawberries and turned to face us. “We can wash these when we get to the hotel.”
Mrs. Dalton’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you kidding? These beauties are freshly picked, fresh as can be, organic, and begging to be eaten right now!” Without further ado, she plucked a plump strawberry from the basket and bit into it. Her eyes closed in bliss, and she let out a contented sigh. “Oh, it’s pure heaven.”
She held out the basket. Zena and I didn’t hesitate, each grabbing one and enjoying it. Mr. Dalton, however, eyed the fruit like it was a complex spreadsheet, clearly tempted but hesitant.
“Oh, come on, Everett,” Mrs. Dalton cajoled. “Live a little!”
After a moment’s internal struggle, visible in the furrow of his brow, Mr. Dalton finally reached out and plucked a strawberry from the basket. He examined it briefly and blew on it before taking a tentative bite. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he nodded approvingly.
“See?” Mrs. Dalton’s voice was triumphant. “This is living!”
“Spontaneity is king!” I declared, the simple pleasure of the moment filling me with giddiness.
Emboldened by his apparent newfound appreciation for spontaneity, Mr. Dalton plucked the largest strawberry from the basket. With a glint of defiance in his eye, he popped the entire fruit into his mouth, leaving only the green leafy end peeking out between his lips.
For a moment, we all stared, caught between amusement and disbelief, at this uncharacteristic display. But our smiles quickly faded as Mr. Dalton’s body suddenly went rigid. His eyes widened in panic, bulging slightly as he frantically pointed to his throat. The hue of his face deepened alarmingly, transforming from a flush of embarrassment to a dangerous shade of red. The jubilant atmosphere evaporated instantly when the realization hit us.
Mr. Dalton was choking.
“Everett!” Mrs. Dalton exclaimed with fear etched across her face.
I sprang into action, jumped behind him, and wrapped my arms around his midsection. Next, I performed the Heimlich maneuver, thrusting upward and inward with all my might. One, two, three attempts, and finally, the strawberry shot out of his mouth.
Mr. Dalton gasped for air, bent over with his hands on his knees. His face was still flushed, but the panic in his eyes had been replaced by relief.
“Dad! Are you okay?” Zena asked.
