Page 49 of Off the Beaten Path

As the crowd begins to disperse, I quickly send the video to Holden and then head toward the backstage area to find June. Despite how happy I am to be here, a sinking feeling sits heavy in my gut as I think about having to tell her that Holden isn’t. I’m scared she’ll fall apart like she did at the dinner table, and I don’t know if I can handle that.

I find June as she’s exiting backstage with a few other background performers and…Charlotte. Her eyes catch on mine before drifting down to June.

“Holden called,” she says when I get close enough, her voice low so June can’t hear. “He said you’d be taking June home if he didn’t make it in time.” I don’t miss the way her voice feels full of meaning. For the first time, I want to tell her that the thing between Holden and me isn’t real. Or at least, it wasn’t, and I’m not so sure now.

“Wren!” June yells, finally noticing me. A lump forms in my throat when her skinny arms band around my knees, almost knocking me over. “Where’s Daddy? Did you come with him?”

Bending to my knees to get on her level, I meet her eyes. “June, I’m so sorry, but your daddy got stuck in really bad traffic and couldn’t make it.”

Confusion and surprise wash over her face. I’m a little amazed at how clearly her childish features show the emotions. “He didn’t see me?”

“No,” I say, reaching for her hands and giving them a squeeze. “But I recorded the whole thing for him and sent it to him so he could watch it in the car while he’s stuck in traffic.” I pause, watching her face for any hint of tears, but she’s taking the news better than I expected. “He’s so sad he couldn’t be here.”

June watches me for a long moment before asking, “What about Grandma and Aunt Finley?”

My shoulders feel heavier. “They’re stuck with your dad too, June. I’m sorry.”

“But you got to see me?” she asks, and the words catch me off guard as much as the hope in her voice.

I nod and squeeze her hands three times, just like my mom has always done for me. “Yeah, June Bug. You were amazing.”

Her mouth splits in a gap-toothed grin, and she puts her wrist right in my face. “That’s because I have people cheering for me all across the world.”

I wrap my fingers around the beaded bracelet on her wrist, tracing the letters of the words I told her last week, my throat clogging with emotion.

“Daddy made it for me,” June says proudly.

An image of Holden, hair pulled back in a messy bun, firelight dancing across his skin as he hunched over this little bracelet after June went to bed, fills my mind. It’s so clear it almost feels as if I were there.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her, my lips forming a wobbly smile. Her grin widens, and I give her hands three more gentle squeezes before standing back up to my full height. “Let’s get you home, June Bug. I’ve got a present for you in the car.”

Twenty minutes later, after securing a booster seat from Mrs. Heeter, who was here to watch her grandson and told me I was free to borrow it, June and I pull into her driveway. The lights illuminate the front porch, spotlighting the package there. It’s probably the replacement light fixture I ordered for the bathroom at the cabin. I had it delivered to Holden’s house again, even though he accidentally broke the last one. I probably shouldn’t have risked it, but I also wanted to force him to come over and knock on my door.

June has already climbed out by the time I open my door, the extra flower arrangement I stole from the auction clutched in her hands. When we got to the car, I told her every performer deserves flowers, and she beamed brighter than the streetlamps. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me with that much admiration before. It felt heavy and warm and out of breath all at once.

As we climb the stairs, it hits me that I don’t have a key to Holden’s house. “June, I don’t have a key to get in.”

“Oh,” June says, handing me her flowers. “I know where Daddy hides it.”

This feels like information I shouldn’t be allowed to know, but my mind is also running with prank ideas I could employ with a key to Holden’s house.

June crosses the front porch to the wooden bench, which she shoves aside before I can move to help her. Then she presses her foot into a floorboard that pops up, revealing a golden key that winks under the porch lights.

“June,” I say as she hands the key to me. “Your dad tends to go a little overboard.”

I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing when she props her fists on her hips and says, “Don’t I know it.”

Fitting the key into the lock, I push it open and flip on the light switch. The place looks just like the last time I was here, a mixture of clean and chaos, the remnants of both the people who live here stark in contrast. Holden’s plain black coffee cup rinsed in the sink. June’s sticky pastel purple plate with half a piece of unfinished french toast on the counter. Holden’s work boots lined up by the door, June’s discarded in a colorful heap beyond the entryway, like she walked straight out of them and kept on going.

It feels intimate being in their space, seeing the evidence of their life. And strangely, there’s an ache in the middle of my chest, something that feels like longing, as I look at it. I can almost imagine my plate in the sink next to Holden’s coffee cup, my shoes kicked off next to June’s.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I shake the thought away, reaching for it, expecting a message from Holden. It’s a response from Stevie instead, assuring me that everything is going well. When I made it to the school earlier, the auction all but disappeared from my mind. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten June buckled into the back seat that I remembered to check in.

I type out a message and then turn to June, who has already discarded her shoes and carried her bouquet into the kitchen.

“We need to put these in water,” I tell her, rifling through the cabinets. “Do you have a vase?”

She shrugs, climbing into one of the barstools. “Daddy just puts the flowers Aunt Finley brings him in one of the big jars in that cabinet.”

---