The music that was blasting earlier is gone now, leaving only the low hum of crickets chirping settling over the land.
When we round the corner to the front yard, I slow to a stop.
The place looks completely different than it did a few hours ago.
The circus is over.
The big vendor tents have been taken down. The news vans that lined the drive are nowhere in sight. Most of the trucks and SUVs have already cleared out.
The evening sky is deep purple over the hills, the last sliver of sun disappearing behind the trees.
And right in the middle of the yard, a big fire roars in the stone firepit.
Axle and Royce are dragging lawn chairs into a loose circle around it, their boots scraping across the dirt as they work.
“Put that one closer,” Royce says.
“You put it closer, dipshit,” Axle shoots back.
Already seated near the fire are Evelyn, Earl, Albert, and Imma Jean, their silhouettes glowing orange in the firelight.
Albert leans forward with his elbows on his knees, staring thoughtfully into the flames, while Evelyn and Imma Jean talk animatedly about something.
A little farther out in the drive, Waylon stands beside Holland and Priscilla’s truck.
Ruby is half asleep against his shoulder.
I watch as he opens the back door and lifts her into the seat, buckling her in gently.
Across the yard near the porch steps stand Mom and Dad, talking with Caison and Matty.
Mom is fussing over the baby in Matty’s arms.
“Oh my goodness,” she says, lightly bouncing on her heels. “Look at those chubby cheeks and legs.”
Matty laughs. “He eats like a grown man.”
Dad stands beside her with his hands in his pockets, nodding politely while Caison talks about Ironhorse.
I glance down at Harleigh.
The firelight dances across her face.
The last thing I want to do right now … is leave.
But I need to get my parents back to the hotel.
I sigh quietly.
“I should go,” I tell her.
Her head turns toward me.
And her face falls.
The change is small, but it hits me like a punch to the ribs.
“Oh.”
