“I have her checking on some things.”
Sylvie’s mouth dropped open. “Look at you not tellingmewhat’s going on.” She meant it half-teasing but George looked serious.
“Just be careful, Syl.”
She nodded. “I heard Brian Tylor is out on bail.”
“His parents sprang him.”
“Which sucks because otherwise, he could’ve been questioned right away about Glass.”
George nodded. “Feels a little contrived, don’t it?”
“Anyone seen him?”
“He’s staying with his folks, but Brianna’s performing all weekend. He might be stupid enough to show up.”
Sylvie couldn’t agree more. “I’ll keep an eye out for him. I want to know everything he can tell me about Glass.”
They got out of the SUV and headed back to the festival, George to the security office, and Sylvie into the crowd. The music was in full swing now and the crowd was boisterous and happy. She grabbed a program off a volunteer table and checked the lineup for when Brianna played. Damn, she’d just missed her. Maybe Brian was still around—if he was around at all.
“Sweetie!”
Sylvie turned at the familiar voice to find her mom waving at her from under a tree along the river. Cynthia came every year to catch up with her friends—her ‘festival family’ who came from all parts of the country. She was standing on a blanket strewn with lawn chairs, backpacks, and a big cooler.
“Mom.” Sylvie wove through a stream of people heading up toward the stage. “Where are your friends?” She glanced at the empty chairs.
“They went up to see Rachael Collins guest-sing with The Willow Trees, but I saw you and wanted to say hi first.” She opened her arms and Sylvie stepped into her mom’s warm, familiar hug. All at once, she felt like a little girl again, but not scared, not alone. And yet, she felt like crying all of a sudden. Sylvie blinked back tears.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Cynthia studied her face.
“I don’t know. I’m…” She sighed heavily. “Can I ask you something? Something kind of personal?”
“Of course.” Cynthia motioned to one of the chairs and they sat down.
“How hard is it for you to be married to George?”
Cynthia’s smile looked puzzled. “Your father—”
“No, not Dad, I meanGeorge. How hard is it being married to a police officer?”
“Oh!” Cynthia’s laugh was soft and sweet. “Now I understand.” She laid her hand on Sylvie’s. Her smile remained but her eyes turned serious. “I’ve had to learn not to be afraid every time he puts on his uniform and walks out the door. And I’ll admit, I’m counting the days until he retires.” She tilted her head. “Am I being any help? I don’t think I am, judging by your expression.”
“No, no, you are,” Sylvie quickly reassured her. “I guess I’m asking, how do you feel when he can’t talk about his day?”
“Ah, I see. Well, at first I did feel like I was on the outside some days, knocking on the door and trying to come in. It took me a while to get used to the idea that we couldn’t share everything, that there would always be a part of his life that I couldn’t know or be a part of. But honey,” she squeezed Sylvie’s hand, “he shares all the important things with me. He shares his dreams, his thoughts, his heart. We’ve shared being your parents.”
“That’s a hard job.”
Cynthia laughed. “At times.” She smirked good-naturedly. “But mostly it’s been a joy. The only time it’s been really hard is when you’re hurting and we can’t help you. Like now.”
Sylvie bit her lower lip to take her attention away from her prickling eyes. She blinked back moisture. “You sent your friends packing when you saw me, didn’t you?”
“Well,” she drawled. “I didn’t have to twist their armstoohard.” Her smile softened. “I know what you’re asking now, and why. Your dad shared with me what’s going on. With Alex.”
Sylvie sat up straighter.
“Honey, if you’re asking me these questions in order to suss out what Alex might be feeling, or how your relationship with him might go, I can’t tell you. It’s up to the two of you to figure that out. Every relationship is different, but the important thing that you need to share is the love. If you love each other, you can find your way past the parts that you can’t share. And, you’ll realize that in the end, you’re sharing everything anyway. Well, everything that matters.”
