by Melissa Tagg
“We’ve been over this, Bear McKinley,” Raegan said now. “My booth was supposed to shut down fifteen minutes ago. I deserve the extra fifty cents for working overtime.”
Around them, the square was a swarming hive of carnival activity, lines of people extending from food trucks and cheers flaring from booths where contestants attempted to toss rings onto bowling pins or knock over piles of soup cans. Rainbow-colored lights traced the white arch of the bandshell, where a bluesy quartet warbled to the clusters of townspeople gathered on blankets and lawn chairs.
“I think I like carnivals, Uncle Bear,” Erin whispered into his ear, squeezing his neck.
“Then I brought you to the right town, kid.” Maple Valley was its own idyllic Norman Rockwell painting of a world. Although, this weekend’s carnival was downright run-of-the-mill compared to some of the things Raegan dragged him to over the years—rubber duck river races, parades on obscure holidays, historical reenactments.
Bear rounded to the front of Jamie’s stool to observe Raegan’s handiwork. “Captain America shield. Nice.”
Raegan leaned forward to blow on Jamie’s cheek, then held up a mirror for him to see the finished product.
“Pretty snazzy, Jamie.”
Seth? When had he crept up on them?
At the sound of Seth’s voice, Erin immediately started kicking Bear’s sides. “Let me down, Uncle Bear.”
He complied, letting her slide down his back until her sandals plopped in the grass. She ran to Seth, the purple flower Raegan had painted on her cheek just minutes ago already smudged. “See my flower?”
Bear lifted his hand for a high-five-turned-hug from Seth. “Have to say, I’m kind of jealous of how much my niece loves you.” Erin had taken to Seth almost immediately at the restaurant yesterday. Then last night at the outdoor dinner with Sara and the Walkers, Erin had insisted on sitting by him.
Seth grinned and crouched. “Hey, you. I was just about to go buy myself a funnel cake. I might be willing to share.”
At his side, Ava made a gagging noise. “Gross.”
Seth glanced up at his wife. “If by gross you mean delicious, then yes.”
“We’ve already had corndogs and ice cream tonight,” Bear warned. “Funnel cakes might send us over the edge.”
“What’s a funnel cake?”
It was Jamie who asked the question, drawing everyone’s surprised attention.
“Heaven on a plate,” Seth answered. “Pure sugar. A carnival staple. Don’t tell me you’ve never had one before.”
Erin replied before Jamie could. “We’ve never even been to a carnival before.”
Maybe a simple statement shouldn’t be so affecting. Maybe plenty of kids grew up without going to carnivals or trying deep-fat-fried batter covered in powdered sugar. Look at his own childhood . . .
Of course, there had been that one school fair once. Some kind of fundraiser thing. He and Rio had ridden their bikes, snuck past the ticket booth, used the change he’d dug from beneath couch cushions to buy cotton candy.
Rio had been all of five or six at the time. Hadn’t been able to get over the way the cotton candy dissolved on his tongue. Kept laughing . . .
Jamie’s laugh—that’s why it’d coiled itself around Bear’s heart. It was Rio’s—the tone, the rhythm, the merry glint in his chocolate eyes. Ten years Bear had spent training his brain to forget. Hard to do with his brother’s spitting image in his care.
“Can we try funnel cake, Uncle Bear?” Jamie asked now.
Uncle Bear.
He blinked. Hard. If the kids wanted funnel cake, they’d have funnel cake. And cotton candy. And nachos. And they’d play every single game in this square tonight. Come back tomorrow and do it all over again.
“Absolutely. Coming with, Rae?”
She shook her head. “I’ll meet up with you after I get the booth closed up.”
Erin was already reaching for Seth’s hand.
“We’ll wait for you,” Bear said. “We can help.”
“There’s no need, really. All I have to do is bring the money box to the center booth, take down the sign, clean up my brushes, and cover the table with tarp.”
“All on that twisted ankle? I don’t think so.” At least she’d been seated for most of the evening. Still irked him, though, that she hadn’t gotten her ankle X-rayed.
“I’m not going to let you carry me around the town square, Bear McKinley, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Did I say anything about that?”
“How about a compromise?” Seth placed his free hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “We’ll get a head start while you two finish your bickering and you can meet up with us when you’re done.” He started to steer Jamie and Erin away.
“Jamie has a nut allergy,” Bear called after him. “Check on the frying oil.”
Ava nodded back at him. Assured, Bear turned back to Raegan. “Now, where’s the money box go?”
But instead of moving from her stool, Raegan simply peered at Bear. Man, her eyes were blue. Blue-blue. There was probably some other word for the color. Azure, maybe?
“Change of plans.” Raegan tapped the stool across from her. “Sit.”
“Why?”
“I overcharged you for Jamie. I’m going to make sure you get your money’s worth.”
She wanted to paint his face? “Unnecessary.”
“Just sit, Bear.”
He sat.
Raegan reached for her paint palette, then hovered in front of him, studying his face. “You know, this would be easier if you bothered to shave once in a while.”
“I shaved this morning.”
“And you’re already this . . . stubbly? Is that a word?” She dabbed her brush into a smudge of brown paint and leaned closer. Close enough he could feel the warmth of her skin, the tickle of her hair against his forehead. She smelled of vanilla and sweetness.
Did she know she had a streak of yellow paint on her right ear? “Raegan, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” She touched her brush to his cheek.
Jamie was right. It tickled. “Why?”
“Because for a second there, after Erin said she’d never been to a carnival, you got the most forlorn look on your face.” She met his eyes.
Cerulean. Maybe that’s the word. “I just . . .” He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap where his knees almost met hers. “I suddenly realized how much I’ve missed out on. By staying away from Atlanta, I mean. I’ve missed Jamie and Erin’s entire lives. I had a reason for leaving Atlanta, for staying away. But when I look at those kids . . .”
A firefly circled in front of him, catching his gaze and leading it into the distance, where the lazy lull of the quartet’s latest ballad drifted and the sun was a mere sliver in the sky.
There had to be so much Raegan wanted to ask him. Why he’d left Atlanta. Why he’d left Brazil. Why he’d kept his past hidden away like a confined specter—allowed to haunt Bear and no one else.
But when she spoke again, there were no questions. No prodding queries. “You might have missed a lot, but you’re with them now. Why not focus on that?” She swirled her brush in red paint. “Just focus on right now.”
“Not sure if I even know how to do that.” Most of the time, he felt like he was in a tug-of-war between the past and the future. If he wasn’t running from his regrets, he was chasing some kind of redemption.
Never quite finding it.
Sure, he believed in a God who forgave his sins; forgot them, even. But the world didn’t forget. Bear didn’t.
“Bear, you could make this the best summer vacation Jamie and Erin have ever had. You’ve been given a gift—this time with them. Don’t miss out on that because you’re too busy thinking about all you didn’t do in days gone by or all you need to do in days to come.”
She caught her lip between her teeth then, a look of concentration in her eyes as bristles brushed his cheek.
Maybe just blue. A rich, swirling
blue with layers as deep as the Atlantic. “Scares me a little, Rae, how well you seem to know me.”
“Funny. Half the time I’m not sure I know you at all. I didn’t know you used to be a paramedic.” Raegan’s fingers were on his chin, holding his face in place.
“I didn’t know you used to paint.”
“Touché. Actually, speaking of that, Mayor Milt stopped at my booth a while ago. Only took him a day to run the mural project past all the powers-that-be.”
“It’s a go?”
“It’s a go.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Her brush stilled against his cheek. “Excited. Nervous. Could possibly throw up if I think about it too much. It’s been a long time since . . .”
Her voice trailed. Her brush moved again.
His curiosity swelled. “Why’d you stop painting, Rae?”
“Not sure it was ever a conscious decision.”
But there had to have been a reason—he could see the hint of it now, something like sorrow—or maybe fear—wavering in her eyes. You have secrets, too, don’t you, Raegan? Things she held close.
How had he never sensed that about her? She’d always just been Raegan Walker—Seth’s carefree cousin with the funky hair and the happy family. And, yeah, the pretty eyes and pretty smile and pretty, well, everything else. But he realized now there was a depth to her he hadn’t allowed himself to notice before.
Probably because he’d been trying so hard not to notice too much, to keep at least some degree of distance between them. How many times had he repeated the same thing over and over throughout the years? You can be attracted to her, but you can’t act on it. Because you’re leaving. Because she’s staying. Because . . . Annie.
But Annie seemed far away tonight. And if he did what Raegan said, focused on right now—no past, no future . . .
He stilled in an instant when he felt Raegan’s breath against his face. She’d bent forward to blow on his cheek, just like she had Jamie’s.
He sat frozen on the stool, trying to pretend every nerve in his body hadn’t immediately come alive. “What, uh . . . what did you paint?” His voice came out a rasp.
She leaned back. He let out a breath. She held up her mirror.
“A bear? Really?”
Her dimples appeared. “Not just a bear. Smokey the Bear. Don’t you recognize him? Just a sec, don’t move yet. Smokey’s hat is a little crooked.” She touched her finger to his cheek and rubbed, biting her lip again.
“I’m probably going back to Brazil.” The rushed words skidded off his lips. “There’s a community center connected to the church I helped build. We’re going to do children’s programming, a free clinic. I’m hoping to help run it.”
Raegan looked away. “Okay.”
“So I’m not really sure how long I’ll be in Iowa.”
She set the mirror down, folded her arms. “Are you trying to tell me something, Bear?”
No, he was trying to tell himself something. And it wasn’t working. “I just thought you should know.”
“Well, now I know.” She picked up the metal money box and thrust it at him. “Here, you can deliver it to the center booth.”
He opened his mouth to say . . . what? There was nothing to say. He’d made one too many bad calls in his life, the worst of which had cost him Annie.
He wouldn’t risk it again.
7
“Did half the town really need to come out and watch this?”
Raegan stood in the middle of the street that traced the Blaine River, clumps of people gathered along with her, watching as the scaffolding went up around the old Hay & Feed building. Members of the Maple Valley High School varsity football team waited close by with buckets and scrub brushes, ready to give the brick a wash down once the city crew had the scaffolding in place.
“They’re excited, sis. We all are.” Kate lingered at Raegan’s side, the smell of her half-eaten scone pulling a growl from Raegan’s stomach.
She hadn’t even bothered with breakfast this morning. Too much to do. She needed to stop by the hardware store to order paint supplies, finalize her design, get started on priming the brick as soon as Coach Leo’s team finished its work.
And force herself to ignore the distraction that was one Bear McKinley. She was convinced that abrupt little announcement Friday night about his plans to return to Brazil had been a signal of sorts—just like his first stint in Iowa. “Don’t get too close. I’m leaving.”
So, why, then, in the four days since, had he kept pulling her into each day’s activities? As if perfectly synced to her thoughts, her phone dinged for the third time in the past ten minutes.
We’re going horseback riding later today. Come with.
She should be flattered that Bear had so thoroughly taken her advice to heart. Ever since the carnival, he’d gone all out to bond with Jamie and Erin. Jamie seemed slower to respond but Erin had eaten it up. After those first few nights, the bad dreams had subsided. Her adoration for her uncle was obvious.
I know how you feel, kid.
Which was why it was important that today she stay focused on her many errands, on her real life. Not the pretend one in her head where Bear settled down in Maple Valley and stopped pushing her away.
Can’t join you, but have fun. I’ve got a mural project to work on.
“Let me guess—Bear?” Kate elbowed her. “That man is spoiling those kids rotten—fishing and swimming and that sleeping bag fort he built in their bedroom last night. I think he’s taken them to the ice cream shop every day this week.”
“Keeping tabs on him?”
“This is Maple Valley, Rae.” Kate said it as if it explained everything. Which it did. “Dad’s the one who told me about the fort, though. I think he’s getting attached to them.”
Dad wasn’t alone. Raegan was already dreading the day Bear had to take Jamie and Erin back to Atlanta. If she was feeling that way, what must Bear be thinking about his eventual separation from his niece and nephew?
Rattling metal pulsed in as one of the city guys rounded the scaffolding, shaking its supports and testing its steadiness. Gosh, she was going to have to climb that thing. Probably should have factored that in before taking on this project. At least her ankle no longer bothered her.
“This one.” Mr. Hill spoke up from her other side. She’d almost forgotten he was there. Her old art teacher held Raegan’s iPad open in one hand, having swiped through every one of the designs she’d spent nearly the entire weekend and the first couple days this week working on. “This is it. The one with the sunflowers.”
Kate leaned over to check out the screen. “Ooh, I like it, too.”
Each of Raegan’s mural concepts was a collage of community scenery—the train station, the riverfront, the square, the old church bell tower she and probably every current and former teen in Maple Valley had climbed on a dare at some point in high school.
But the sunflower design was unique, including a tangle of stems and petals that wove through the medley of images, tying them together.
“I like that sunflower heads are actually made up of a bunch of tiny flowers,” she explained. “It’s the coolest, most intricate spiral design. Each tiny flower is part of a whole picture. Feels like a good metaphor for Maple Valley.”
Still, she couldn’t get over the feeling that her design was missing something. But she’d stared at the digital sketch endlessly without knowing what.
Mr. Hill grinned and handed over her iPad. “Have I told you yet how glad I am you finally said yes to this thing?”
Only about fifteen times since she’d arrived to see the crowd gathered in front of the Hay & Feed building. Raegan slipped her tablet in the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. “I’m honestly not sure why I did say yes.” Except that she couldn’t deny her budding desire to nurture the seed of a dream planted so long ago. One long-abandoned, thirsty, and yellowed—but maybe not entirely rootless.
She was doing it for her town. Sh
e was doing it for herself.
The building rose up in front of her, sunlight skating over its burgundy brick. What had been a shadowed structure, empty and forgotten, suddenly teemed with life and potential.
I’m doing it for Mom.
Mom, who had seen possibilities everywhere she looked. Who’d loved this old riverbank eyesore. Who’d once called Raegan her favorite artist.
“When you paint, daughter, you put your heart on display. You give shape and color to your emotions. And you challenge the rest of us to see in a different way, to feel what we might not otherwise. Your art isn’t for you and you alone, Raegan. It’s meant to be shared.”
A tender breeze feathered over her cheeks, the scent of cherry blossoms and the frothy river tugging at her senses. Raegan could do this. Despite her nerves, despite her tight timeline, despite her fear of the whole town watching her fail . . . she could do this.
She could, couldn’t she?
“Raegan Walker!”
Her eyes snapped open. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. The call came from atop the scaffolding. T.J. Waring, captain of the varsity team, had both arms propped on the railing, his sandy hair flopping over his forehead. The metal structure clattered as more team members climbed up to the platform behind him.
“Decided whether to go out with me yet?”
Beside her, Kate snorted. “That Waring kid doesn’t give up.”
Raegan cupped her hands around her mouth. “I thought I told you I don’t go on dates with minors.”
The guys around T.J. jostled his sides, but the kid was entirely unfazed. “Turned eighteen last week.”
She glanced at Mr. Hill. “I used to babysit him. He proposed to me once when he was seven.”
“Is that how you got the whole football team to clean the brick for you?”
She shook her head. “No, that was all Mayor Milt’s doing. He told Coach Leo it’d make for good team bonding.”
But cleaning the brick was just the first step. It’d need primed next, and then would come the chalk or pastel outlining. All this before she could even start painting.
And once the painting was complete, the whole thing would need at least two coats of sealant to protect it from the elements—either a gel gloss or matte seal and then a removable acrylic varnish.
