She could only imagine the thrill of being on the inside.
And, allegedly, somewhere in that musical pandemonium, hermother was singing and playing guitar. Performing like she was twenty, not nearly seventy.
How in the world was Eleanor doing all this? Leanne had barely survived a twelve-hour drive. She felt like she’d gone ten rounds on one of those vibrating belt machines—except instead of her hips having been slimmed, she felt like her organs had rearranged themselves.
Unlike her mom, Nora had leaped out of the car—camera swinging around her neck, her hair catching the glint of neon from the stage lights—all youthful bounce and forward momentum.
Leanne watched her daughter with a strange mix of admiration and envy. To be that young again. She shook her head ruefully.
“You all right?” Nora slowed just enough to glance back.
There it was again—that look. The one Leanne had started catching more and more. Not pity. Not concern. Something new.
Recognition? Acceptance?
It felt like Nora wasn’t seeing just as a mom anymore. She was seeing a woman. One with a past, one who looked a little lost sometimes. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on Leanne’s part. In fact it had been nearly twenty-four hours of complete pleasantness, and not a single argument or snide remark.
“I’m good,” Leanne replied, smoothing her skirt. “Just a long drive.”
Nora agreed, but her voice brightened. “But we’re here.”
She punctuated the sentence with a little hop and a squeal, already bounding toward the stadium gates, full of energy and wonder.
Leanne fished into her purse for cash, fingers brushing old receipts, a tube of lipstick, and a stray mint fallen from the Certs pack lying on top of the folded bills left over from pumping gas that morning. They’d been in such a hurry she hadn’t bothered to put them back in her wallet.
Every time they approached a festival gate, she worried ticketswould be sold out. That they’d be turned away at the last minute. That their chance to finally put eyes on her mother would disappear. So far, they’d gotten lucky. But still, the uncertainty made her stomach twist. From the looks of things, Mile High Stadium was already packed.
As they entered, she was immediately aware that this crowd felt different from the one in California. The atmosphere there had been mellow, almost dreamy—tie-dye and tambourines, patchouli and peace signs. Here in Colorado, she’d expected something similar—mountain air and mellow vibes. But there was nothing bohemian about this crowd. The energy was less euphoria and more edge.
On instinct, she stepped closer to Nora, brushing her hand against her daughter’s in case she needed to grab hold. A strange protective urge that came from within rather than any outward urgency.
True to form, Nora appeared unaffected. She had her camera out, snapping candid shots of the scene—bare feet, shirtless guitarists, a girl with daisies woven into her hair. With wide, enthralled eyes, Nora rode the wave of the crowd, documenting every second to share with her friends back home.
While Leanne wanted desperately to feel the same way, to sway with the music and live in this carefree pocket of time, she couldn’t shake the unease curdling in her stomach. The rock that had settled there, she admitted to herself, could have been the greasy burger they’d picked up off the highway. But more likely, it was the creeping worry that this would be the end of the trail. That her mother had vanished somewhere and they’d never see her again. That they were too late.
A man stepped in front of them, blocking the view and startling Leanne. But his massive grin disarmed her. He juggled five bright balls—red, green, yellow, blue, and orange—each arcing in a dizzying whirl above his head. They spun like planets. Hypnotic.
He grinned with every whirl, his face half hidden behind the blur of motion.
Something was familiar about him. Not just the artistry but the aura.
Beside her, Nora tilted her head, camera half raised.
“The wizard?” Leanne asked, squinting.
The mellow fellow laughed, tossing his arms wide and nearly sending a ball flying into the crowd.
“I am a wizard!” he declared. “A juggling wizard!” He turned in a full circle, tossing the balls high above his head and wiggling his fingers as if conducting a great cosmic spell. Somehow, he caught them all on the way back down.
One wrong toss and that rainbow would’ve smacked Leanne right in the face. Still, she found herself smiling despite the nerves.
“I thought I recognized him,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth, curling her arm around Nora’s and steering her out of the juggler’s path. “Pretty sure I saw him in Vegas too.”
Nora laughed, lifting her camera to snap another picture. Then she let herself be tugged along, the click of the shutter lost in the roar of the music.
Leanne’s eyes drifted toward the stage. She didn’t recognize the band. The musicians glistened with sweat, while their lead singer practically devoured the microphone like an ice cream cone. They were talented, but it was not the sort of music she’d ever play on the console stereo in the living room.
More importantly, there was no sign of Eleanor.
