“Looks like a good crowd,” he said, pulling up and parking the car.
“Yeah,” she said, but her head was swimming. As she looked out at all those people, she realized that she knew so many of them. She remembered them from when she was young, and some of them she even knew now. She could see Sophia in the distance, looking at the wooden crafts made by a man she swore had been her mailman. She saw Jason! How he’d changed. He wasn’t quite as thin anymore—same face, though. Marty was walking toward the beach with his family, and Leanne was parking her car. Thomas and Matthew went running toward them, flying kites with the other kids on the stretch of grass beside the tents. Nostalgia crashed over her like a stormy wave, pitting in her stomach, and she suddenly felt very sad that she wouldn’t see them anymore after she went back to New York.
“You okay?” Pete asked, suddenly on her side of the car, concern flooding his face. She hadn’t even noticed him get out.
“I’m fine,” she said, coming out of her thoughts. She opened the door to join him.
Pete swung a bag over his shoulder and took her hand. “Let’s have a lot of fun tonight. Don’t think too much, and I won’t either.” Together, holding hands, they started to walk toward the beach.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Well look at you two!” Jeanie called out as they walked toward her. Live music from down the street nearly overtook her voice. “Y’all look so sweet walkin’ up, holdin’ hands.” Holding Pete’s hand felt as normal as breathing, as if the last twelve years hadn’t even happened. Knowing it could be the last time she’d be able hold his hand, she didn’t let go.
“Hey, Jeanie,” Pete greeted her, and then looked down at Libby, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He seemed so much like the same boy she’d known all those years ago. The smell of caramel apples and burning embers, the sound of the band in the background among the chatter of the crowd, the sea air, it all took her right back to the years she’d been to the bonfire as a girl with Pete.
She’d loved that night every year. It had been one of the few times she could escape and enjoy herself. As she looked around at all the happy faces, all the children playing, she wondered if her mother realized what she had there. She’d been so bitter about her life; had she ever taken a moment to see what was in front of her? There was no monotony there tonight. There was laughter and celebration, family and friends. It was enough to make her question whether her mother might have been wrong about White Stone after all.
“Your mama’s comin’. I talked to her this afternoon after she left your house,” Jeanie said.
“She said she was coming,” Libby affirmed. Maybe tonight she’d see her mother relax a little more. Celia had been doing so much better. Perhaps Celia just needed time before she could see that she could be content without relying on Libby’s achievements for her own happiness.
“Well, I’ll wait up here for her. Y’all go on down to the bonfire and enjoy yourselves,” Jeanie said.
On the way, they passed the stalls of games. She couldn’t even count how many stuffed animals Pete had won her over the years. Pete stopped, and Libby followed suit. Each game booth had teddy bears the size of toddlers nestled along the shelves at the back. The stall closest to them had a line of baskets. The gist was to throw a baseball into the basket to win a prize. It seemed simple enough, but it must have been rigged in some way as not one person had been successful. Pete was bending sideways to peer down the aisle at the various games. Then, without warning, he started pulling her down the walk.
“Where are you going?” she asked, shuffling along beside him.
“I see a game I want to play,” he said over his shoulder.
They came to a halt in front of a child’s game with yellow ducks floating in a tiny stream of water on the table in front of them. The goal was to choose a duck and match the number on the bottom with a corresponding prize number. Pete pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, separated two dollars, and handed them to the attendant.
“Which duck do you want?” he asked Libby.
With a deep breath, Libby looked down at all of the smiling yellow ducks jiggling past her. There were so many—all the same. She looked at each one, trying to find some sort of significance, some marker on it that would give something away, but their treasures were hidden. Even though they looked like nothing special, each one completely ordinary, there was something different waiting under every one. She just had to pick. Would she get something big and shiny or something smaller? Carefully, she plucked one out of the water.