Festival Day 1, July 1996
Kara wasn’t always lucid. To other people, she chalked up any lapses to old age. But a deeper truth rested beneath. Kara knew she forgot easily—she just didn’t care.
But some nights, she awoke fully aware. Like tonight. There was too much to avoid thinking about. So, she rocked on wooden porch planks under moonlight, a glass of iced tea sweating in her hand.
MJ hadn’t returned after the concert. Nelson Nash, Lucky, rocketed away with her holding on at the back of his bike. The young couple must be celebrating MJ’s success with the First Annual Roseberry Music Festival. Maybe they were camping at the reservoir, splashing in the lake in the shadows of evergreens. Like Kara once had so many years ago.
Under cricket cover, musicians slept in campervans and neighbors snored through open windows. A fox tittered at the tree line past Red’s abandoned place.
Kara murmured, “Good riddance. I’ll never worry about locking my windows again.”
“Mumm mmm.” Sleepy rustling came from inside the kitchen.
Kara called low, “The tea’s in the fridge…”
The planks beneath Kara’s rocker creaked like memories. Soft, painful, and enduring. The night air was heavy with the scent of roses. It was the Kirsch rose hedge that encircled the yard. Roses were MJ’s favorite. Beneath the hedge, the note of some old rotten thing.
“I haven’t forgotten you,” Kara whispered.
She gazed upon the white polyester flag sticking out of the ground. Was a snippet of red and beige flannel showing under thorny branches?
She hissed: Every little disturbance revealed it: seasons’ change, scavengers, David’s tractor cutting hay and shaking the soil. She’d have to get rid of it at some point, as soon as there weren’t a bunch of people and feds around.
A silent breath, or an expectant space behind her rocker, alerted Kara with shivers that she wasn’t alone. Kara whipped around.
“Evening.” Her friend came outside looking grateful.
Kara’s heart raced. She’d practically forgotten about her young friend. So easy to put problems out of mind.
“Damn it, Missy! Nearly gave me a heart attack. Sit down before I keel over.”
Her friend sat in the other rocker. “We don’t need more dead people around here.” She sipped iced tea. “Spearmint?”
“It ain’t hemlock.” Kara started rocking again and breathing.
The woman leaned back in the rocker, her blonde fluff framing her face. It was flat on top, like a halo. All day, this woman had worn a baseball hat, sunglasses, and a t-shirt screen-printed with kittens. And no one had given her a second glance or questioned Kara about who her houseguest was.
She wiped the glass of condensation over her brow. “How’s MJ?”
Kara sipped. “She got the job managing the musicians and stage. Wants to go back to college this fall. Not sure if it’s the Festival or Lucky driving the decision, but I won’t say no!”
Her friend sat up. “She’s in love?”
Kara donned a patient look. “He’s got a good job, and he treats her well. I do hope she keeps him.”
Her friend bit her lips. Her rocker grew still. “It’s probably best if I head out in the morning.”
Their eyes met.
“Yes.” Kara refrained from saying more.
Her friend looked sad, liked she’d hoped for something else. “Where will she live?”
“She’ll come back here between semesters.”
“The little house?”
Kara shook her head. “She’ll never go there again. She can stay at my place. Too bad she can’t do anything with that little house.”
A surprised look. “Could she get a lot of money for it? Would you sell it for her?”
Kara huffed a laugh. “MB’s realtors would be thrilled. Developers wanna build a ski village. I don’t want condominiums in my field, but the land trust would buy the development rights. The Historical Society can still rent it for the festival. But it would look mighty strange if I’m the one selling.”
Both women took a deep inhalation of moist river air and exhaled into the night.
Kara continued, “It probably is for the best her parents are gone. If she owns the place, she could sell the development rights. Pay for college and have an income from renting. Probably seal the deal on her running the show next year, too.”
Her friend’s eyes glued to the rose hedge. “I might just let myself out early in the morning after I do some laundry and gather my things. Hit the road before it gets busy.”
Kara nodded and rocked, watching the big red barn—that is, stage—silhouetted by a setting moon. Things really were starting to shake loose.
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