The word hung there, gentle and unthreatening.
We talked then, easily, about who we were, where our roots were, and what our plans were for the immediate future. At some point, I realized I wasn’t thinking about mud or Wickham or floats or expectations.
I was just there with Ephram.
When we finally stood to leave, neither of us seemed quite ready for the day to move on, which I took as a very good sign.
Chapter Eighteen: The Parade
Lydia
I woke before my alarm, the way people do on days that already feel too big to sleep through properly.
The inn was quiet in that early-morning way that made every sound feel louder than it should. Pipes ticked faintly. Outside, the world was pale and still, frost clinging to the edges of the windows like it was trying to see in.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, my stomach fluttering with a nervous energy I couldn’t quite settle. Today was parade day. The words felt unreal, like I had been saying them for weeks without fully believing they would arrive.
I rolled out of bed, went through my morning routine before I pulled on layers, one after another. Thermal shirt. Sweater. Scarf. Gloves tucked into my coat pockets so I wouldn’t forget them. I poured myself a mug of coffee in the kitchenette and took a sip that tasted more like heat than flavor.
Outside, the truck waited.
It looked different in the early light. Bigger somehow. The decorations we had worked on looked good, lights carefully wrapped with greenery, and the inn’s name painted boldly across the sign fixed to the side of the bed. It was festive without being fussy.
I stood there, keys in my hand, and let the reality of it settle.
I was driving this thing. Through Maple Ridge and in front of people.
Behind me, the inn seemed to wake up all at once.
Jane appeared first, already bundled with a steaming mug in her hand. “You’re up early.”
“I never went to sleep,” Kitty said, bouncing down the steps behind her. “This is basically like Christmas morning.”
Meri followed more quietly, wrapped in her coat, eyes sharp and assessing as she took in the float. “It’s just a parade.”
It was and it wasn’t. This was part of my chance to prove myself.
Mom came out next, scarf half-tied, cheeks pink from the cold. Dad was right behind her, carrying a folded blanket under one arm.
“Isn’t it exciting?” Mom asked, smiling like she was seeing something she hadn’t quite let herself imagine yet.
“It is,” I agreed.
Dad walked around the truck once, checking straps and knots with the seriousness of a man who trusted nothing to optimism. “It looks good to me. Are we ready to go?”
I nodded.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good.”
The town square was already buzzing by the time we arrived for the lineup. Other floats were parked along the street, music drifting from speakers, kids darting between parents with candy canes clutched like prizes. I eased the truck into place where I was directed to carefully, hands steady on the wheel, reminding myself that I knew how to do this.
Dad climbed into the bed of the truck first, unfolding the bench we had secured there and spreading the blanket over it. Mom followed with Dad’s help, settling on the bench, both of them bundled up and smiling like they were about to take part in something wonderfully ridiculous.
“Are you both comfortable?” I called back through the rear window of the cab that I had opened a crack.
Helen laughed. “We’re delighted.”
Jane handed up a basket of small candy canes for them to hold onto should my sisters run out.
