“Ah.” Mildred chuckled. “So you’ve found a compromise after all.”
“We haven’t. At least, not like that. Will can’t forgive me for the accident.” Emma sighed.
“The question is, honey,” Mildred said, “can you forgive yourself? I’ve seen the way you mope around. Take it from me. Life is too short to carry remorse and regret.”
“I agree,” Agnes said. “If you wait for someone’s forgiveness to move on with your life, you might be waiting a long time. It’s what’s inside you that matters.”
Emma knew that what they said was true. It was convincing herself that was the hard part. “Enough about me. What about the float? Is there any way the council will let Will speak at the festival without it?”
“If we allowed him to speak at our festivities, we’d have to grant the microphone to anyone who wanted to speak about anything. He’s been given time at our council meetings. Fair is fair. Rules are meant to keep order. It’s bad enough Larry bent them at the Grand Marshal ceremony.” Agnes hugged Emma. “Even though I support Will’s efforts to revitalize Harmony Valley, if he can’t convince enough residents to stand with him, Larry will never vote his way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I
T
WAS
LATE
when Emma flopped onto her bed at Granny Rose’s. Her grandmother was being kept overnight for observation in Healdsburg and her mother had come down from Sacramento to stay in the room with Granny.
That left Emma alone with her guilt. She’d messed up royally, starting with the accident and ending with Granny Rose being in the hospital.
After trying unsuccessfully to sleep for several hours, she dragged herself out of bed before dawn. Ping yawned, stretched, protested and then went back to sleep. Emma pulled on an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and returned to the scene of her grandmother’s crime.
The float hadn’t been touched since they’d rescued Granny Rose. It was still a wreck. If she was going to make things right, she had to start here. She considered approaching Flynn, Slade and Tracy to help her, but it hadn’t been their inattentiveness that caused this disaster. No. Emma had to do this on her own.
Emma lifted the five-gallon planters off the trailer. That left the buildings they’d created with wood frames and cardboard. They’d had to special order enough cardboard to complete the float and only had one sheet left, so the salvaged float would need to be simple in design.
She climbed onto the platform and began tearing off the ripped cardboard. With the help of a crowbar, she pried off the two-by-fours that framed the buildings. It was hard work. By the time she was through, Emma regretted doing such a thorough job with the nail gun.
She stepped back and looked at what she had to work with. Tracy had painted rolling green hills on the bottom half of the plywood backdrop and a blue sky on the top half. There was only an inch left of the paint Tracy had used to depict the red brick buildings in town and nothing of the gray.
She’d need paint. And her sketch pencil.
Emma’s hands started to tremble. Her heart thudded. And her ears reverberated with the screech and rumble of a big diesel.
She curled her fingers into tight fists, forced herself to breathe slowly.
She could do this. It didn’t matter if it looked like a kindergartner painted the float. She had to do it.
* * *
“S
O
YOU
’
RE
GIVING
up.” Edwin leaned forward in his recliner to shake Will’s hand. The older man’s skin looked pale. His eyes weren’t their usual bright blue. Edwin glanced at Flynn, removing flags from the Harmony Valley map in the kitchen. “I had hoped... But you can still help. If you meet anyone looking to get off the beaten path, tell them about our town.”
“I’ll do that.” Although it was unlikely he’d find any takers in Silicon Valley, where making your next brilliant career move was more important than sitting with friends and watching the river go by.
“People tend to get lost in the day-to-day out there,” Edwin added.
Will had been lost in his own pain when the ambulance had taken Rose away, so much so he hadn’t gathered his partners for a brainstorming session. It wasn’t until the middle of the night, when he couldn’t sleep, that he’d recalled Emma’s words.
I’m worthless.
Her words had struck like a blow to the head, shuddering down his spine. Emma wasn’t worthless. She was intelligent and caring. She made people laugh. She made him laugh. She was talented. She had an artist’s touch.
And when she touched Will, he felt stronger and more alive. He loved the way she sighed when he nibbled her neck. He loved the way her eyes turned nearly black and slumberous when he kissed her deeply. He loved the determination that straightened her backbone when he told her what to do. That was probably why he ordered her around so much. He loved doing it. He loved...Emma.
Will slumped deeper into the couch, thrusting his fingers into his hair. Could he have screwed up his life any worse? He’d been so callous to her, so idiotic. There was no way she felt the same and no way she’d ever forgive him. He slumped farther, staring at the ceiling.
“Hey.” Flynn pulled a small canvas painting out from under the map. “I remember this.”
“Is that one of Emma’s?” Will stood, needing to touch something she had created. His biggest fear was to lose someone—or something, in the case of the float—for inexplicable reasons, and yet he’d thrown a chance at love away because he couldn’t forgive Emma for things beyond her control. His father was right. Accidents had no clear line of blame. And he’d realized his misperception too late.
“This is horrible.” Will forced levity into his tone as he looked at the painting and tried to forget the pain in Emma’s eyes. “You’ve got a big butt.”
“I was big boned,” Flynn said.
Will clasped his friend’s shoulder, needing an anchor. “And I was good at basketball.”
* * *
“H
OW
. I
S
R
OSE
?”
Tracy stepped into the barn, one hand clenched tightly at her side.
Emma was happy to see her friend. It was late morning. She stood in front of the float, staring at it as if it was going to be her next great work of art.
As if.
She’d been contemplating it for too long. There was no inspirational music playing in her head. Only the distant, disapproving rumble of a diesel engine.
She smiled gently at Tracy. “She’ll be all right. One more night in the hospital. Which is probably as much time as she can take with my mom.”
Tracy rolled her eyes sympathetically. They both knew how militant Emma’s mother could be. “I decided. To suck. It up. And be. Grand Marshal.”
“I’m sorry I got you into that. But I know you’ll do a great job.”
“Knock wood.” Tracy rapped on the barn door. “What are. You doing?”
Emma turned back to the float, clenching and unclenching her fingers as if they’d cramped. “I’m going to fix the float. Somehow.”
“But you can’t. Paint.”
Emma laughed, but it was an empty, sad sound. “Thanks for reminding me.”
Tracy walked inside and stood next to Emma. “I heard what. You said. About. Worthless.”
Emma fisted her hands tighter, knowing she deserved Tracy’s censure, but nonetheless feeling the stab of hurt.
“I agree,” Tracy said.
Emma imagined herself crumpling to the ground, beaten by life’s obstacles and the loss of her best friend. The smell of dirt and defeat were so sharp, so real, she was surprised she was still standing.
“No, no. I am. Worthless.” Tracy sucked in a breath, blew it out forcefully. “Too.”
“You’re not,” Emma whispered. “You’re not broken or disabled.”
“But—”
“I don’t care what anyone says. I know you.” She poked Tracy’s shoulder. “I see the anger when Will finishes your sentences. The joy when you paint. You aren’t broken. And I should know.” She laughed, this time bitterly. “I see the way you hide your laughter when Flynn and Will talk in movie quotes. I hear your frustration when the words don’t come fast enough. And I feel your pain when you hold words in rather than try to join a conversation. If anyone ever tells you you’re disabled, you tell them they don’t speak your language. You are not broken.”
Tracy grabbed Emma and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry. I’m a big B.”
“Me, too.” Emma knew Tracy wanted to say more, but she didn’t need to hear her friend’s words. Because Emma knew. She knew that today she’d finally had her apology accepted and forgiveness offered. Today was the day she’d been waiting for since the accident.
After a brief episode of tears on both their parts, Tracy sniffed. “Do you. Forgive me?”
Emma wiped at her eyes. “Shouldn’t I be saying that?”
“No. I’ve been. Letting people. Boss me around,” Tracy said. “Should have. Insisted. To see you. And said. I forgive.”
Emma couldn’t work words past the tightness in her throat.
“I brought you. Something.” Tracy opened her fist to reveal an artist Carina Career doll.
Emma plucked the doll from her hand and looked at Carina’s paint-stained coveralls and perky ponytail. “Carina looks confident no matter what her career.” Emma could use some of her chutzpah.
“You draw.” She pointed at the float. “I’ll paint. We’ll fix it. Together.”
Emma’s pulse beat so loud it drowned out all the sounds of the accident in her brain. And yet, above the pounding, she heard her grandmother’s high-pitched singing, Ping’s distinctive meow, Tracy’s ripple of laughter and Will’s deep voice telling her most fears were silly.
“I know people believe in me.” Emma drew a deep breath and stared at her hands. “The question is...do I believe in me?”
* * *
“W
HAT
ARE
. Y
OU
doing?” Tracy appeared in Will’s bedroom doorway the morning of the Spring Festival.
Without looking at Tracy, Will transferred another stack of shirts from his dresser to his suitcase. “I’m leaving.”
“Because of E-Emma?”
“Among other things.”
Tracy sat down on the bottom bunk, slouching so she wouldn’t hit her head on the one above. “You like her.”
“I do.” He looked at Tracy, expecting to see the frail woman he’d taken home from the hospital. But there was color to her cheeks now, even if there were circles under her eyes. Harmony Valley was good for her. “I realized something in the past day or so. You can’t blame people for accidents. I...I forgive Emma. I’m going to tell her before I leave.” But he wouldn’t tell her he loved her. He couldn’t stand to see her disdain when she rejected him. And she had many reasons to reject him.
“You like her,” Tracy repeated, wonder in her voice.
“Do we have to have this conversation?”
“Yes.” Tracy snorted. “You don’t...know best. For anyone...not even. You.”
Will stopped packing and sat on the bed next to her. “Am I really that much of a mess?”
“Yes.” But she was grinning. “A friend. Called me. About a. Job in. Santa Rosa. I want. To take it. When I. Can drive.”
Will hugged her. “That’s wonderful. But you realize I’m going to call you every day when you’re gone.”
“Call?” She pulled back to look at him, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Talking on the phone was definitely not the best way to stay in touch with her, at least for now.
“You’re right. I’ll text or email.”
“Okay. Now. Come to...the festival.”
“No.”
“I have. A surprise...for you there.”
“I can’t. Rose will be there. And you know how I upset Rose.” And Emma. She’d be there. He didn’t think he could stand to see Emma in front of everyone. He had to see her alone.
Tracy stood up and held out her hand. “Come on. Y-you’ll like. My surprise. And I’m the...Grand Marshal.”
Will relented, letting his sister lead him out to the living room.
She let go of his hand and walked over to their dad, who was reading the newspaper in his recliner. “Dad. Time to go.”
Ben lowered his paper and looked at his two children. “I think I’ll skip the festival this year.”
“Grand Marshal.” Tracy tapped her chest and walked to the door without looking back.
Shrugging, Will went out after her, followed by Ben.
Tracy led them to the far side of East Street, where the floats were hitched to trucks and lined up for the festival’s parade behind Mayor Larry’s white convertible.
“Do I really need to see them?” Will muttered, meaning the floats from the Ladies Auxiliary, the Lions Club and the Veterans.
Tracy turned around and shook her finger at him.
Ben laughed.
And then Will realized that there was a fourth float hitched to Flynn’s black truck. It was their float, stripped down to nothing but the plywood backdrop and painted with the delicate lines and brushstrokes of a true artist—Emma. Oh, there were still thick strokes that had Tracy’s magic on them, but the buildings, the oak tree in the town square, the communications tower on top of Parish Hill, all had Emma’s finesse.
A group of kids from Rose’s production of
The Music Man,
complete with their T-shirts painted to look like band jackets, started swarming the float.
“Careful.” Tracy helped some of the smaller kids up.
“I’m going to go really slow.” Flynn hopped over the hitch, a grin splitting his face beneath his ball cap. “Nobody’s going to fall off. Uncle Will is going to walk next to the float to make sure of it.”
“But—”
“It was all Emma,” Slade said, leaning out the window of Flynn’s truck, his bright red tie a signal flare of hope.
“Hey!” Tracy protested.
“And Tracy,” Slade amended with a salute her way.
“Together?” Will couldn’t believe it.
“She’s my...best friend.” Tracy grinned. “She said she...painted this...because of. Rose and. Me...and you.”
This was the heart of Harmony Valley—people pulling together and creating everyday miracles, helping each other heal, giving and receiving forgiveness. Will could see it now in the smiles of his friends and family. He could feel it in their energy and enthusiasm. With a community like Harmony Valley behind him, he could do anything.
And then he saw something else. The kernel of an idea for a new app.
“Where is this best friend of yours?” Will had to talk to Emma. He had many things to say to her.
But no one had seen her.
* * *
“A
ND
FIRST
PLACE
in our float competition goes to...” Mayor Larry’s gaze ranged over the crowd.
Most people in the town square were sitting on folding chairs. A few were taking a little midmorning snooze, waiting for the ceremony to end and the barbecue to begin.
Will held his breath and Tracy’s hand. She’d done a spectacular job making announcements throughout the morning. Her speech was halting, but heartfelt.
Mayor Larry put an end to the suspense. “A New Future for Harmony Valley! By Will Jackson, Emma Willoughby and friends.”
Will didn’t hear anything for a few minutes but enthusiastic shouts followed by slaps on the back from Flynn, Slade and his father.
“Speech! Speech!” his father yelled, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m proud of you, son.”