Aldo’s therapists had put the kibosh on him walking the race on his new leg and instead wrangled a hand cycle for him.
“If you’re flailing around like an idiot beside me, no one will notice ol’ Peg Leg Aldo on the freaking circus bike.”
“Don’t even pretend you’re embarrassed. You’re going to eat up all the attention,” Harper poked him in the shoulder.
“It’s kind of hard to impress a girl when you’re acting like you’re handicap.”
“Just take your shirt off and no one will care if you’re doing the race on a miniature pony. Is there any girl in particular you’re trying to impress?”
He took a swig of water. “Maybe.”
Now they were lined up next to each other at the start. There had been a flurry of people coming up to shake Aldo’s hand, hug him, and thank him for his service. He handled the attention gracefully. She thought about the reclusive Luke on the receiving end of attention like this. The well-meaning attention after Karen’s death must have smothered him.
More racers filled in around them at the start line and the clock ticked toward 9. Harper put a hand over her fluttering heart. “I’m so nervous! Is it normal to be nervous?” she hissed at Aldo.
“It’s not nerves. It’s excitement.”
The race’s announcer cut in on their conversation. “Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for our National Anthem, sung by Peggy Anne Marsico.”
Aldo climbed off of the bike to stand at attention in a military salute. Harper felt tears well up watching a man who gave so much for his country salute the flag.
What would Luke and his unit do today to celebrate? Was it just another day? Or did they celebrate with the rest of America?
Peggy shocked Harper back to present with an amazing soprano. An entire crop of goose bumps shot up on every inch of her skin.
She stood in the sunshine of a beautiful Fourth of July morning and basked in her pride of the man she loved and his best friend.
***
“Oh my God. I’m dying. Aldo, I’m dying,” Harper gasped.
“If you couldn’t talk, I’d be concerned.”
“You’re not even out of breath,” she muttered.
He flashed her a grin. “You’re fine. You’ve got a great pace.” He waved from his bike at a group of kids cheering from the end of their driveway. Almost the entire course had been lined with Benevolence residents. Harper could see Mrs. Moretta’s house coming up on the left, but she wasn’t outside.
“Where’s your mom?”
“Finish line probably.”
“How much farther? I don’t think I’m going to make it. Maybe I’ll just wait here. You can come back and pick me up.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Do you hear the yelling?”
“I can barely hear anything over the wheezing of my lungs.”
“That’s the finish line.”
“Are you kidding? We’re almost done?”
“Half mile to go.”
“Seriously?” Harper perked up. “I think I can run that.”
“I know you can. And so can I.” He pulled the cycle into his mother’s driveway.
She stopped and bent at the waist to catch her breath. “Aldo —”
