Brilliant sunlight sparkled through the trees. Fresh air massaged her bare arms and legs. She felt invigorated with a combination of excitement and apprehension.
“Put all the face-painting supplies over here,” China directed a few of the local volunteers.
A burly fireman tapped her on the shoulder. “Ms. Seabury?”
“Captain Glendower, what can I do for you?”
“We’ve got two fire trucks set up next to the police cruisers, and we’ll have the firemen’s hose race right after you give the opening address.”
“That will be great.” She shook his hand and glanced around the park. There must have been close to a hundred people milling around, setting up booths and equipment.
“China?” A lady approached. “Where are the tickets for the booths?”
She dug into her huge shoulder-bag, found a roll of red tickets and handed them to the volunteer.
“The pizzas are starting to arrive now. We’ve got the warmer ovens and heating lights in place. Oh, and the chilidog people are all set up. And ice cream will be sold over there.” The woman pointed in three different directions.
The local high school band climbed out of a huge orange bus in the adjacent parking lot and unloaded their instruments, making a big racket.
The race-car simulation booth would definitely be a big draw for them. She’d schooled the facilitator to make sure he constantly reinforced her mantra, “Don’t try this at home.”
She’d assigned herself to the face-painting booth, and another booth down the way would show the high school video from the teen driving assembly. She’d never waste an opportunity to pound her message home: teenage driving wasn’t a right. It was both a privilege and a responsibility.
She forced a deep breath and took a swig from a bottle of water. She’d do everything in her power to make the day a success.
A warm breeze brought the distinctive smell of a barbeque from across the park, and though her stomach was wound tighter than a spool of thread, her mouth watered at the aroma.
A familiar figure caught her off guard. Dr. Morell approached, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in weeks. He was probably celebrating the departure of the constant thorn in his side, his son Rick. A bitter taste worked up the back of her throat, but she hid her dislike of the man.
“China.” He extended his hand, and looked genuinely pleased to see her.
“Dr. Morell. I’m surprised to find you here today.” She fought off a cold, reserved response to him. “Did you pick the short straw?”
His gray eyes glimmered in the sun when he smiled, his tan skin in stark contrast to his silver-white hair.
“Actually, I volunteered to do a couple of hours in the dunking booth.”
She stopped herself from snickering, and thought about how long the line would be to throw the baseball at the lever that would drop him into the water tank once word got out.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Life’s too short not to enjoy every minute, China.” He winked and strolled off, leaving her flummoxed.
What had that been all about?
Sierra and Timmy came running her way, waving.
She smiled and returned the greeting.
Her nephew threw his arms around her waist before stepping back with huge eyes. “Wow, Aunt China, your scars are awesome. Did you get attacked by a lion or something?”
“Sort of. More like a big metal elephant.”
“Wow.”
Cass strolled up to the group, using a new and flashy black cane for support since the angioplasty through her femoral artery. She gave China the once-over. Her face softened at the sight of her legs, and she broke into a grin. “That’s my girl.”
They hugged and China kissed her mother’s cheek, savoring her presence after remembering the close call in the ER the week before.
“I want to see the fire truck. Come on, Grammy and Mom.”
Timmy dragged off the best women in China’s life before they could make plans to meet for lunch. She figured she’d be too busy to socialize with anyone for the rest of the afternoon anyway. From the corner of her vision she saw the fire chief approach with a bullhorn in his grasp.
“Show time, Ms. Seabury. Let’s get this party rolling.”
She cleared her throat and headed for the makeshift stage in the center of the park, her heart doing a jitterbug in her chest.
“Attention, attention,” the fire chief blared through the voice amplifier.
She did a quick mental rundown of what she needed to do. First she’d offer an innocent greeting, encourage everyone to have fun, and later, when the crowd had enjoyed themselves for a while, she’d hit them with reality and ask them to open their pocketbooks for her cause.
And though her public speaking coach had recently helped her get past her stuttering, her confidence wavered when she climbed up the steps to the stage. She recalled her coach’s words. “Remember the girl who took all-county on the debate team ten years ago. Don’t forget, you have the ability. Remember who you are.” She’d reminded China with the same words at every meeting. At first, China had resented having her past dragged up meeting after meeting. Now she was grateful.
Yeah, it was definitely time to embrace the person she’d once been and, more importantly, accept who she had become.
She scanned the gathering crowd, recognizing many coworkers, friends and teenagers from the local schools. She waved and smiled until she thought her cheeks would turn to stone and her arm would fall off. She even thought she saw D’Wayne, wearing a bright orange bandana over his dreadlocks somewhere towards the back of the park. But maybe she was imagining things.
“Welcome, everyone.” She smiled and waved more while the audience applauded. Her lower lip quivered, but she stretched her grin wider to cover it up. “Isn’t it beautiful out today?” She glanced at her notes and hoped some saliva would soon form. “I want to thank our chamber of commerce for allowing us to use this fantastic park, and everyone else who has donated items or pitched in to help bring this event together. And most of all I want to thank Mercy Hospital for seeing a need to educate teenagers about their responsibility as new drivers, and pursuing it by raising public awareness. We’ve got lots of fun planned today, so eat, keep hydrated, and enjoy yourselves. But first the Valley View High School swing band is going to start things off.”
She clapped along with the crowd as the youthful conductor took the stage and a lively rendition of one of the Beatles’ early songs started up in a marching band arrangement. At the very first opportunity she snuck off the stage to head for a bathroom where she could recover from her nerves before she started painting faces.
So far, so good, she reassured herself as she walked.
Determined to survive the day, she instinctively knew the rest of her life depended on it.
“Were you in an accident or something?” asked what seemed like the millionth kid of the afternoon.
“Yes, a long time ago. I’m lucky to be alive,” she said when she’d finished painting the child’s cheeks. On a whim she painted the tip of the girl’s upturned nose kitten pink, then drew whiskers on her cheeks. “So when you grow up, you must promise to be a safe driver, OK?”
“OK.”
A tall shadow surprised her when her next customer stepped up. “D’Wayne?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I want my face painted. Dang, what happened to your legs?”
“Long story.”
He glanced at them again, and must have figured that was all he needed to know. “You got any fluorescent paint?”
“Sure.”
“I want you to paint ‘Will you go out with me?’ on my head,” he said, and removed his bandana. “Right here.” He pointed to his forehead. “Then, tonight at the movies, I’ll take this off, and Desiree will see it in the dark. Cool, huh?”
“Sit down, D’Wayne. I’m confused. Aren’t you already going to be on
a date?”
He nodded.
“So why ask her to go out with you tonight?”
“Going out is different than going on a date.”
She stirred the brush in fluorescent yellow. “Now I’m really puzzled.” She started to paint.
“Asking her to go out makes her my girlfriend.”
“Whatever.” China shook her head, mystified by the current teenage terminology for going steady and dating. She soon finished her task of painting the message on his forehead. “Here,” she said, handing him a mirror. “Make sure to let it dry before you put your bandana back on.”
He smiled, “Dude. That’s off the heezy.”
“I’m glad you like it, but I’m a dudette.” She glanced at her watch, realizing it was time for her speech. Her previously efficient lungs lurched to a halt. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” She sounded breathless. “Be sure to let me know how your proposal turns out.”
She picked up her notes with trembling hands and stuffed them back into her purse, deciding to speak from her heart instead.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, taking one last gulp of water and striding with determination toward the stage.
On her way, she heard a huge splash and loud cheers coming from the dunking cage where Dr. Morell held court, and smiled. Sweet justice.
Fire Captain Glendower, still soaking wet from the hose relays, used the bullhorn to quieten down the crowd.
A large banner of a crashed and mangled car got unfurled behind the stage, with the before and after accident photos of Brianna Cummings hanging next to it. One of the firemen ran the siren for a few seconds.
Having the audience’s full attention, China stepped to the microphone, aware that everyone who hadn’t noticed her legs before did so now.
“Before I invite Mayor Dixon to speak, I’d like to tell you a story about a beautiful summer day ten years ago.” She cleared her throat and began her story, hoping she’d be able to stay composed. “My best friend and I were heading to the beach. We had the car radio blasting and we swayed to our favorite song.” She snapped her fingers and swung her hips back and forth. “We were having a ball, and I was driving. I glanced at Amy and joked, ‘Look! No hands.’” She grew silent and stared at the audience for a couple of seconds. “And that’s the last thing I remember.”
She paused to allow her tale to sink in and also to gather her thoughts. She bit her lip and prayed she’d be able to finish her story. “Two days later, I woke up in the hospital in traction with pins, metal and wires sticking out of one leg and the other in a full-length cast. I had already had one surgical procedure and was told I would have several others before I could use my legs again.” She glanced at her legs. “They were doubtful that I would ever walk normally again. I know, they don’t look so hot, do they?” She walked back and forth across the stage so everyone could see. “But they work. And I was the lucky one.” She choked back the urge to cry, swallowed hard and blinked.
She took a deep and ragged breath.
“You see, Amy died that day, and it was…” Her eyes welled up and she swallowed hard. She wiped them with a trembling hand. “It was, uh, my fault.”
Not a sound could be heard from the audience.
Air caught in her lungs. Her lower lip quivered. “We all make mistakes. Some you can fix, but some you can never take back.” She sniffed, fought back more tears, and gathered her composure. “My hope and dream is that none of you teenagers ever have to go through what I’ve had to experience.” Her voice cracked. She pounded a fist into her other hand, knowing this was her one shot to drive the point home. Fired up, she went for it. “That’s why we’re all hitting you so hard about the privilege of driving. Heck, we live in a world of iPods, cellphones, Mac attacks, and far too many other distractions. But even one second of inattention behind the wheel can be fatal.
“When you take someone’s life away, a part of you dies with them. It takes time to heal the body, and longer to heal the soul.”
Her gaze swept across the gathered crowd. She saw Rick off to the right and felt suddenly off balance. Her heart jumped in her chest, and she decided to add something meant only for him. “And until the soul is healed, you just keep on hurting yourself and the ones you love. Believe me. I know. I’ve done it all.”
She looked at Rick. “And when the people who love you can look past your scars and still care, you doubt them. Because you can’t believe you deserve such joy when your best friend is dead, and it was your fault.”
She took a deep breath to keep from breaking down, deciding to wrap things up. “So when you’re driving, don’t drink, disconnect, or tune out. Be sure to buckle up. Stay focused. And if you haven’t done so already, go to the Valley View High School booth and watch the video we made last month. Teenage accidents happen every fifteen minutes, and people of all ages are dying.” Being true to her crusade, she wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please, do your part, donate money for the cause, and drive carefully.”
After a brief pause, and long and heart-warming applause, she had the presence of mind to introduce the mayor before she left the stage.
No sooner had her feet hit the grass then a field reporter from the local news station approached with both a cameraman and soundman in tow.
She saw Rick nearby and caught his attention, knowing she might never have another chance to talk to him. Buoyed by her recent confession, she called out, “I’m working the face-painting booth. Please, come and see me.”
“Ms. Seabury, we’ve just recorded your speech. How much money do you hope to raise for your cause?”
Tearing her gaze from Rick, she focused back on the reporter.
“Mercy Hospital is hoping to raise $50,000 today. But the amount of lives it could save with driver awareness training is priceless.”
“If a parent wanted to purchase one of the videos for their child, how would they go about it?”
“Go to the Mercy Hospital website and click on the teenage driving icon.”
“OK. Easy enough. We at MXW network hope today’s event is a great success.”
“Thank you. If your television station is interested, we have a matching fund program for employee donations. We’d love to have you on board.”
Looking a bit flustered, he nodded and said, “You heard the lady. Signing out from Central City Park, Jess Atkins, for MXW news.”
China didn’t know if one minute or fifty had passed. All she knew was the incredible rush of relief that washed over her. She’d finally confessed her sins in public. She felt as though a thousand pounds of brick had been lifted from her chest. She could breathe deeper now, stand taller, and even see clearer. Almost euphoric, she strode back to her face-painting booth, ready to volunteer more time.
While organizing her paint and brushes, another large shadow loomed over her. But this time the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end. Both afraid and eager to turn around, she took a deep breath and slowly rotated in the chair, hoping she would see the man she loved.
Rick stood before her in all his glory, with a blinding sunburst behind him. She couldn’t make out his features, but she’d recognize the shape of him and his full head of coffee-and-cream-colored hair anywhere. She stared until it hurt, until her eyes adjusted and she could finally see his face.
He looked at her like a man who’d been on another planet, one without women, for several years, first sweeping his gaze from her head then all the way down to her sandals.
With an eruption of nerves, she forced small talk. “How was Seattle?”
“I didn’t like the scenery,” Rick said.
He went back to staring at her legs and clicked his tongue. “Nice.” He plopped five red tickets on her counter. “I want my face painted.”
“Not so fast. How did your interview go?”
“Great. They loved me.” He pointed to the tickets. “I want my face painted,” he said again.
Completely undone by h
is presence and his less than forthcoming remarks about an interview that would change his life and the course of their relationship, she objected. “I can’t paint your face.”
“Sure you can. I paid my money.” He waved the tickets in the air.
She held her hands before him to show him how much they trembled. “I can’t even pick up a brush right now, let alone paint.”
Looking pleased at the affect he had on her, he crossed his arms, stroked his chin, and said, “Here’s an idea. I’ll paint your face first. Then you can paint mine.”
She tried to give him an “as if” glance, but, feeling completely flustered, she wasn’t sure if the look was sassy or just plain silly.
A cautious smile spread across his face, slowly widening to a full grin. Suddenly she didn’t care how she came across, just as long as he kept looking at her in that time-stopping manner.
“Sit,” he commanded, and strolled around the counter to her supplies. He came up beside her and wiped her cheek with rubbing alcohol then lightly blew across her skin.
Each hair on her face, neck and chest stood on end as fine prickles formed on her skin. She tried not to sigh, choosing instead to sit perfectly still in the false guise of helping him out.
Rick ran his fingers through her ponytail, as if it was silken and precious. He traced the outline of her short bangs with his fingertip and followed along her hairline and around her ear.
She shuddered and exhaled, as though she’d forgotten to breathe for a long time.
Needing a modicum of control, she did her best and tried to sound nonchalant when she asked, “What are you doing back in town?”
“I live here,” he said, appearing to be in deep concentration over color choice.
Trying to keep things light and bearable, she continued, “Did you know your father volunteered to work one of the booths?”
“I already dunked him. Twice.” He’d dabbed a color or two on her skin, and stepped back to study his handiwork.
“You did?”
“Yeah, didn’t you hear the cheers? Sweet.”
She grinned. She could get used to the mesmerizing touch of Rick again.
Her L.A. Knight Page 14
