I plugged along through the day, gradually checking off the items on the list. Every once in a while I’d catch glimpses of him working with my dad or brothers. Coop didn’t try to meet my gaze, but if we happened to look at each other, he didn’t look away; he neither frowned nor smiled. His attempt at neutrality? To let me decide without pressure?
By the time the first star of the evening came into view, the guests were settling down on their blankets or chairs in anticipation of the fireworks show.
I surveyed the grounds, full of laughing families. In the distance Ezra pulled the boys away from where the pyrotechnicians were making final adjustments to the fireworks. The volunteer fire department stood nearby, all suited up, their equipment ready.
“We can sit here.” I pointed Mellie to the blankets Mom had set out for the family. Off to the side, on the outside edge of the crowd, Coop sat with his parents.
“I’m too tired.” Mellie took my hand and tugged on it.
“Don’t you want to watch the fireworks, sweetie?”
“No, I want to go to bed.” Mellie’s last word broke into an almost-sob.
Mom usually made sure Mellie had a chance to take a nap. I doubted there’d been time, so I lifted her chin, where the dim light exaggerated the shadows under her eyes. “We can go inside, but it’s still going to be noisy.”
Waving my hand, I got my mother’s attention and pointed at Mellie and then the castle. Mom nodded and then had to turn away to answer a guest’s question.
Inside, the citadel seemed especially still after the chaos outside. Mellie would have crawled into my bed still in her clothes if I hadn’t insisted she change into her PJs. Her head had barely hit the pillow when her breathing slowed. Poor baby. I lay beside her but didn’t get under the covers.
When the fireworks began, the castle’s thick stones muffled the explosions, the lights only a dull glow against my window. Mellie didn’t even stir.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind rolled the same thought around, over and over. Even though Taylor had texted three more times, I still hadn’t replied.
Like I would a blouse, I tried on my choices to see if I liked them. Every time, whichever choice it was, I felt like I’d lost something precious.
