I nod. “I’ll be here waiting.”
Luke
“Hey there, Luke! Kids! Happy Last-Day-of-School!”
We stop to chat with friends for a few minutes until Meghan’s pulling on my hand. “You promised me popcorn, Daddy!”
“And I want a raspberry ice,” adds Gilly.
Every year, on the last day of school, the Department of Public Schools hosts a town concert in Totem Park with various vendors offering popcorn, flavored ice, cotton candy and other kid-friendly treats. Parents run carnival games, folks put blankets and chairs out on the lawn and bring picnic dinners. It’s a fine celebration and one of my kids’ favorite annual traditions.
“What time are we meeting Aunt Bonnie?” asks Chad.
“She said to meet her by the bandstand around seven-thirty.”
“Is she bringing cluck-cluck?” asks Meghan.
“That’s what she said,” I tell her, “but whatever Aunt Bonnie brings, I want to see an attitude of gratitude, okay?”
We stop by the concession stand where I get them each a sweet treat, then move across the lawn to a row of games. Chad asks to do the one where you toss rings over milk bottles, while Gilly and Meghan join their friends at cornhole.
I look over at the small bandstand they’ve set up where a local band, The Rockabilly’s, will be playing songs by Patsy Cline, John Denver and a host of other country/rock ‘n roll songs until sunset at 9:30pm.
“Fine night for a concert, Sergeant,” one of my recruits offers as he passes by holding hands with a pretty girl.
“No doubt, cadet. Have fun,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch them walk away and missing the feel of a woman’s hand in mine on a cool summer evening.
And it’s then—just then—like fate or destiny or like God hearing the very thoughts skipping through my mind, that I see Amanda over at the concession stand buying a paper cone of bright-blue cotton candy.
Unlike the last two times when I’ve seen her wearing jeans, or, frankly, nothing, she’s wearing a dark-colored sundress with a bright green sweater. Her red hair is back in a ponytail and her feet are—for once—not in flimsy flip flop sandals. She’s got little black ballet shoes on and they make her feet look so small, I remember the way they feel snuggled up against mine.
She laughs with Greg, the guy from the local candy store manning the booth, and I stand up straighter. I went to high school with Greg and I’ve always thought he was a pretty decent guy, which is why my sudden instinct to smash my fist into his face doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.
Watching them for a second, I gather that Greg won’t accept her $5 and before I know it, I’m reaching into my hip pocket for my wallet and closing the distance between cornhole and concessions.
“I’ll cover Miss McKendrick’s refreshments, Greg,” I hear myself saying as I hold out a twenty-dollar bill.
“Howdy, Luke,” says Greg, looking back and forth between me and Amanda as he takes the money from my hand and quickly makes change.
“Luke!”
The warmth of her smile makes my breath catch, and everything I feel looking into her pretty face tells me it’s a good thing she’s leaving in a week or so. I don’t think I’d be very good at honoring our no-strings attached agreement in the long-run.
Greg gives me my change and I give him a Keep Your Distance look which he accepts with a subtle nod before sliding down the counter to help someone else.
“Hey, Amanda,” I say, grinning at her.
“You’re here.” Her voice is full of wonder, like it’s completely shocking that we should run into one another again so soon.
“Everyone’s here.” I chuckle at her genuinely surprised smile. “How was your meeting?”
“Great! I learned so much about what’s been going on with the bears.”
It’s like a pebble in my shoe, this story she’s writing. “Gonna sell my little city down the river?”
Her expression closes and there may even be a little hurt behind her eyes. “I would never do that. Sitka’s growing on me.”
I want to believe her, but she’s not from here. She’s from the city and her job is to write a story that sells newspapers.