Emma leaned against the window ledge. “What should I think?”
He glanced at his wrist: +94 percent. “That our time is almost up and whatever ye needed to push ye forward here is nearly done.” But that felt like a half-truth because he sensed some season had passed in him as well, though he couldn’t say what that meant. “I kissed ye for selfish reasons—none of which were about lettin’ ye go, I’m sorry to say. If ye asked my superiors about my behavior, then you’d likely to get an earful from them. And worse. But I don’t care. What I know is you’re free to move forward now, without my bitterness—or accusation—draggin’ ye down in whatever ye choose for yerself. That’s the best I could do for ye here.”
Disappointment filtered through her expression as she glanced out the window at the sky, turning a deepening shade of blue and pink and red. “Look. It’s nearly sunset. They’ll be setting off the fireworks at the park. I say we go before that clock on your wrist strikes midnight and our coach turns back into a pumpkin.”
“Coach?”
“Never mind,” she said with a smile, taking his hand. “Just take me to the park, kind sir. It’s stifling in here, and I need the air.”
He tried to memorize the feel of her fingers against his, the dark color of her eyes, and the way she smiled up at him just now. He would need that memory for later, when he wanted to replay this moment in his mind. Council or no Council, rules or no, he would not easily rid himself of the memory of these last few days. No matter what white lies of kindness he told her.
“As ye wish,mo ghràdh. As ye wish.”
*
The usual Fourthof July buzz resonated in the evening air at the Schooner’s Bay Community Park, where hundreds of people had been celebrating already for hours. Savory-smelling smoke from smoldering barbecues drifted on the air along with the sulfur tang of dozens of sparklers being waved around in the dark by children, whose decorated bikes were scattered around the field, abandoned for now.
The twenty-piece orchestra stationed in the central gazebo was playing familiar Fourth of July fare, and around the grassy park, children chased one another in games of tag and keep-away. Parents, drinking wine and hot chocolate from flasks and thermoses, gathered with neighbors and friends to listen to the music.
Emma felt the tension in her shoulders release a fraction at the sight. This felt…normal. A night she would have taken for granted only a few days ago. But now she saw all of it differently, as a moment to be savored. Remembered. The easy comradery of friends making time for one another, stopping to enjoy the moment. Smell the fireworks, so to speak.
She pressed four fingers against her mouth. She’d come to this place year after year, and yes, she’d enjoyed the show, but it hadn’t struck her until now how important the friendships that were built on moments like this were. How much time they deserved. How much appreciation.
But even more than that, being separated from all of them made her realize how much she missed them. How much she would miss them if things went the wrong way for her.
And yet the world went on spinning without her in it. Those friends’ lives continued while she watched from afar. As it should be, she supposed.
It reminded her of the first time she’d gone to Paris, the city of lights, whose history was as ancient as it was rich. There she’d stood, in the Place de la Concorde between the bronze fountain full of gods and an Egyptian obelisk, in a street full of Parisians, all going about their lives as they did every day, while she, on the other side of the world, had until that moment been completely unaware of their lives or their struggles. And they of hers. She didn’t matter a bit in the greater scheme of things. She’d felt so small and insignificant then, but also like a single, solitary cog in the great wheel that was this planet.
That feeling surged again in her now. Emma the outsider. Emma the insignificant. Yet now she saw she was part of something much greater than she could have imagined.
As they walked among the spread-out blankets, deftly avoiding small children and leashed dogs who often noticed them walking past, Mayor Marks took the microphone at the gazebo. “Who’s ready for some spectacular fireworks? Anyone? Anyone?”
The crowd roared with applause, and he quieted them finally with a gesture. “But first, can we please say thank you to this amazing orchestra? Aren’t they incredible folks?”
Again, the crowd showed their appreciation.
“This has been a wonderful day here at the park,” the mayor continued. “But before we get to the fireworks, I just want to say a word here. So many people help this event to happen, not the least of which are all the volunteers that helped us decorate and set up chairs. All the extra food and treats. But honestly, we have one true friend of this celebration, who, every year, donates time and money to make it happen, fundraising with some of her friends in the business community here in Schooner’s Bay. Without fail, she is here every year, too, to help us celebrate. But this year, she’s in the hospital. She’s needing our prayers. So, I’d like to ask for a moment of silence for Emma James. Please keep her in your thoughts tonight as you watch the show, and we wish her a speedy recovery from the accident that put her in the hospital this Fourth of July. Thanks, everyone, and enjoy the show.”
The shock of the mayor’s words reverberated through Emma. Really? For her? She couldn’t believe it as the whole audience fell silent. That silence lasted almost thirty seconds before the first firework exploded overheard, bursting into a brilliant ball of red, white, and blue.
Connor’s fingers tightened around hers. “Did ye think they’d forget about ye?”
Emma shook her head. “I never imagined they’d even noticed I’m gone.”
“Perhaps ye underestimate your impact here. You’re not gone yet. C’mon.” He tugged her with him toward the small office building at the edge of the park, where they settled on the low-slung roof. “’Tis the best view from here.”
Overhead, the sky had darkened to a velvety black, and a wash of stars lit the backdrop as the fireworks exploded above them.
“You’ve done this before?” she asked. “Sit here on the rooftops, watching?”
“Oh, aye. Ye’d be hard pressed to find a guardian who wouldn’t take a moment to sit in the murk an’ watch this.”
“Drawn to the sparkles, are you?”
He grinned. “Perhaps. Or it could be the whistlin’. Or just the plain spectacle of it all.”
If she ever got out of this, she’d never attend another fireworks show without looking for interloping angels on every rooftop.
