The Edge of Autumn Read online

Sara laughed and blushed, just the response I’d hoped for. The cornflower blue of her shirt made her eyes pop, bright as the summer sky. “Well then, Holmes, you ready for social overload and more apple-based desserts than you ever dreamed possible?”

  “Oh ho, young grasshopper, you cannot imagine the depth and breadth of my dessert imagination,” I informed her. “I’m quite the aficionado.”

  “Whoa there, cowboy,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “I believe you when you say you are a master of desserts. I look forward to an educational day with such a knowledgeable teacher.”

  I grinned and took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “Aside from the impending gluttony, I will happily endure any painful social situations we might find ourselves in, as long as we’re together.”

  “Aw shucks, Holmes,” she teased. “After last night, I can’t imagine a town square full of elderly baker ladies will be too trying.”

  It looked like every town resident was crowded into the center of town; I managed to snag a halfway decent parking spot a block away from the square. Sara didn’t wait for me to come around to open her door, though I flattered myself by thinking she’d become accustomed to it. She flashed me a quick smile and took my hand, but I sensed her hesitation as she gazed toward the crowded square.

  “We could just find a cozy spot somewhere and spend the day canoodling,” I suggested.

  That earned me a laugh and she shook her head. “No, we faced down my demons last night. This will be fun,” she said sternly, though it sounded like the assurance was directed toward herself. “Besides, you’re not truly a resident of Oakville until you’ve been force-fed apple pie by the elderly population of the town.”

  “Then I can die a happy man,” I said with a satisfied sigh. “Well, shall we proceed?”

  Sara squeezed my hand and planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Indeed we shall.”

  I hung my camera around my neck and we wandered through the crowded square, meeting far more friendly faces than scowls. Tables were set up for sampling a variety of baked goods, with an elaborately decorated table housing the ballots to vote for winners in each category. Sara had insisted that morning was the best time to get there—the samples would be at their freshest and we could snag a spot to watch the parade that was scheduled to kick off at noon. I willingly tasted every morsel put before me, winning—I hoped—the hearts of all the kind bakers. Despite Sara’s jokes about old women, many of the tables were manned by younger generations, and quite a few were men determined to break into the world of award-winning baked goods. All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable morning.

  The parade was about as impressive as I’d imagined a small town parade to be, but the broad smile on Sara’s face as we applauded each float was reward enough for me. Though this town had, in my opinion, failed her completely following her father’s death, it was obvious that Oakville meant the world to her. From what I’d gathered, her father had been the most beloved high school teacher anyone could remember and her mom’s bookstore was practically a cornerstone of the community. I hadn’t grown up with a hometown, had never experienced how a place could become such a vital part of a person’s inner makeup.

  For the first time today, I lifted my camera and snapped a photo of Sara as she clapped for a gaggle of adorable tap dancers, costumed as red and green apples. I felt as though each moment had been seared into my brain, but I couldn’t stand to miss the beatific expression on her face. In that instant, she looked so young, so carefree. It was the look I remembered seeing in those final family photographs that lined the hall in Sara’s house.

  I took a few pictures of the parade, trying to take Sara’s portfolio challenge seriously by attempting to capture things outside the ordinary: an elderly couple sneaking a kiss among the cheering crowd, a woman lovingly nuzzling the top of her curly-haired toddler’s head, a dancer pausing at the side of the road to tie her shoe. I caught Sara’s eye and she smiled knowingly before leaning her head against my arm as I searched out my next shot. Sara laughed at me when I shrugged as each high school class float went by, because I had no idea which one was ours.

  As the parade drew to a close, I popped my lens cap back on, fairly certain I’d have at least a few dozen quality shots to sort through and edit. The crowd dispersed, some branching off toward the dessert tables and others heading further down Main Street to a number of rickety carnival rides. We caught sight of my parents across the crowd and waved; Sara’s grin broadened and I groaned when we saw them sneaking kisses as they strolled among the tables.

  She punched my shoulder lightly. “They’re adorable, let them have their fun!”

  I winked at her, nuzzling my lips against her ear as I replied, “Only if I’m allowed to behave that way!”

  Her responding snort was distinctly unladylike, but the twinkle in her eyes captivated me as I drew back to look at her. “Save it, Romeo,” she warned, the twinkle turning to what looked like promise.

  I straightened my back and offered her my arm like a true gentleman. “As my lady commands,” I conceded. We wandered toward the carnival rides and when I caught Sara eyeing a fried dough stand, I treated us to a giant, sugar-coated monstrosity of carbs and grease. I regretted it almost immediately; watching Sara lick powdered sugar from her lips was enough to send bolts of fire through my every limb. Though she seemed unaware of her own beauty, the look she shot me from beneath her lashes convinced me she knew what power she held. I winked at her and dipped my finger in sugar before tapping it against her nose.

  “Hey!” she protested, laughing as she ducked away from me. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, succeeding only in smearing the powder further. “You’re lucky I don’t believe in wasting quality junk food or you’d have a war on your hands, buster.”

  I couldn’t resist lifting my camera to snap a photo of her sugary grin, fighting the urge to kiss it off of her skin. I settled for sneaking a kiss to her lips and wiping the rest of the sugar off with my thumb. Her expression changed from amusement to something darker, warmer, wonderfully inviting. I leaned in and kissed her more thoroughly, savoring the sweet taste of her, when a sharp whistle pierced the air. Sara spotted the source of the sound and rolled her eyes before I could even fight my way through the daze brought on by her touch.

  “Have you eaten your weight in desserts yet?” Sara called.

  Nelson draped his heavy arm across my shoulders and winked at us both. “Looks like I’m not the only one filling up on sweets,” he teased.

  I grumbled a few choice words under my breath but couldn’t stop myself from returning his goofy grin. “Good afternoon, Nelson,” I said dryly.

  Sara finished off her final bite of fried dough and wiped her face carefully with a napkin. Her smile shone as brightly as her eyes and she held up a finger at the two of us. “Don’t move,” she warned, grabbing her phone to snap a picture of us. “You two are just so cute together.”

  Nelson and I shifted, exchanging a conspiratorial look before lunging toward her and smushing her into a group hug, sandwiched between us. Her laughing, shrieking protests were muffled by our embrace, but she managed to sneak an arm around each of us and nuzzled her face against my chest. Nelson’s smile lit up his whole goofy face and I was sure mine matched it. With one last squeeze, we soaked up the warm glow of friendship and set off like the Three Musketeers to enjoy the rest of the carnival.

  CHAPTER 23: Saturday Afternoon

  It turned out to be a good thing Nelson had found us. Sara was a true thrill-seeker and after the third or fourth spinning ride, I begged him to stand in for me, hoping not to embarrass myself by losing my morning smorgasbord of baked goods all over my beautiful girlfriend. I sat on a bench across from the Tilt-a-Whirl, watching the two of them whip around. Sara’s face glowed with unadulterated joy and Nelson—well, he looked like he’d been waiting for this moment for a very long time.

  I stretched my arms across the back of the bench and took a moment to do some soul-searching, won
dering if I might find any trace of jealousy directed toward Nelson. He had been Sara’s best friend in the world, after all. I could find nothing, though, apart from an intense relief and sense of satisfaction at my role in bringing them back together. As they stumbled dizzily down the steps at the ride’s exit, I tried to imagine what this weekend would have looked like if Sara hadn’t walked by the diner that day, or if I had never moved to Oakville to begin with. Maybe I overestimated my own power over the outcome, I thought, wondering if the universe would have brought them back together one way or another even without my intervention.

  I set aside all existential pondering when Sara collapsed onto my lap in a flushed heap. The ride had pulled wispy tendrils free of her ponytail and I suppressed a shiver when one tickled my throat. “Well, hello there,” I murmured against her ear. The late afternoon sunshine gave her that golden glow that fascinated me; I made a mental note to plan some photos with her at this time of day.

  She let her head fall back and studied me for a moment, smiling like she could read every thought in my head. “You must be getting lonely,” she mused. “Think you can handle the ferris wheel?”

  I heaved a dramatic sigh. “Only if you’ll hold me extra tight if we get stuck at the top.”

  The twinkle in her eye held enough promise to make me follow her to the moon if she asked. I felt a little bereft when she stood up, but I rose and offered my arm like a gentleman, soon rejoicing in the feeling of her arm linked with mine. We wove through an impossibly thick crowd for such a small town, making our way toward a ferris wheel that looked older than my parents.

  “Are you sure this thing is safe?” I asked, leaning close to her ear so she could hear me above the carnival music and shrieking children who ran past, covered in cotton candy and heaven knew what else.

  Sara cocked her head at me, as though debating whether I was serious or not. I winked and she broke into a broad grin. “Only seven townsfolk have ever fallen off the ferris wheel, I’ll have you know!” she informed me haughtily. “And in six of those cases, it was clearly their own fault.”

  I laughed, tugging her close enough to plant a kiss on her very un-haughty lips. “Very well then, I’ll just trust you to protect me from myself.”

  She nodded, winking back. “Oh, I will,” she promised.

  We got in line behind a dozen or so people, ranging from families with small children to middle and high schoolers, the latter presumably more interested in the privacy of the cars than the thrill of the slow-moving ride. We waited, arm in arm, snug in our own quiet space amidst the chaos. Though I had enjoyed observing the inhabitants of Oakville throughout the day, there was no greater joy than watching Sara through it all. The insular world of Oakville High School made it feel like there was no escaping the drama that ensnared her; here, among people who’d known the family for decades, she was treated as simply a beloved member of the town.

  I studied her closely now, noting windswept curls, flushed cheeks, and glowing eyes. I saw in that moment the same clear, unworried countenance I’d glimpsed that first day at the bookstore, before she’d noticed me standing there. Beautiful, thoughtful—dare I say peaceful? I didn’t bother to hide my stare, wanting to capture every millimeter of her face in my memory. She gazed up at the ferris wheel, the pattern of its flashing lights reflecting in her eyes. There was a serenity about her that seemed otherworldly, as though she were either under a spell or casting it herself with those aquamarine eyes. I was caught between the desire to let myself get swept into the magic with her and the urge to take her face in my hands, hoping to direct it my way.

  The ride stopped to let the next passengers on and, just like that, the spell was broken. It was replaced, however, with one of her delightfully impish grins. She squeezed my arm tighter.

  “We’re next, bucko. You ready?” she asked, alight with humor.

  I played my part, heaving a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I can handle it, just this once,” I replied, rubbing my nose against hers. I couldn’t deny that her grin was as captivating as her shining inner peace.

  We waited as the ride operator ushered a giggling pair of younger girls into a blue car, locking them in with a thick steel pin before gesturing for us to enter to the yellow car behind it. I held the creaky door open for Sara to enter first.

  Fortunately for me, each car possessed a single bench. We sat and I waited until the attendant had locked us in and turned his attention to the next set of riders before draping my arm around the back of the car. Sara snuggled against my side, resting her head against my shoulder. After a few more pauses to let passengers on, the ride began in earnest. The slow upward whirl took us over the treetops, the breeze whispering against our cheeks like the softest sigh. Sara’s face tilted up toward me and I smiled at her.

  “I could stay here all day,” I said softly, soaking up her smile as much as the afternoon sun and ignoring the vague queasiness that settled in my stomach as we came down the wheel backward.

  Sara must have sensed it, though, and patted my belly. “As long as you don’t barf on me,” she warned, then shifted her hand to my cheek. “Thank you, Travis.”

  I lifted a brow. “For riding the ferris wheel with you? I couldn’t very well let Nelson snuggle up with you like this,” I joked.

  She grinned and planted a swift kiss on my lips. “For being you,” she replied simply. Her blue eyes sparkled at me in the autumn sun.

  I returned the kiss, light, undemanding. “I dig you,” I told her, hoping my tone conveyed enough sincerity to keep her from thinking I was joking and enough humor to not panic her.

  The mix must have been just right, because she smiled brilliantly. “I dig you, too.” She snuggled back against my side, where I could just barely see the smile lingering on her lips.

  The ferris wheel continued to turn a few more times, though my stomach had miraculously settled. The sensation of being in our own little world was magnified tenfold there on that yellow bench. When the ride finally crawled to a stop and the young attendant opened the door to let us out, the reluctance with which Sara peeled herself from my side was palpable. I caught her hand in mine as we stepped back onto solid ground.

  We strolled aimlessly through the crowd, hand in hand. I breathed in her presence like a perfume, the kind that reminds you of something so essential to your soul that all you can do is close your eyes and bask in it. I fought to keep mine open, though, realizing that if I tripped I would take us both down. Every so often, she squeezed my hand. At first I thought it was a loving gesture; eventually, I stopped walking to gape down at her.

  “Are you trying to make fart noises?” I asked, incredulous but also fighting the laughter that bubbled into my throat.

  Her expression went utterly blank, even as her cheeks grew pink. “Um . . .” she stalled. “Well. Yes.”

  I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I burst out laughing and pulled her against my chest, burying my face in her hair to try to smother the chortles that escaped my lips. I could feel her shoulders shaking with laughter, even as she pulled her hands from mine to cover her face.

  “Oh. My. God. You are the awesomest girl ever, did you know that?” I gasped. “I think you’re my soulmate.”

  Sara went still in my arms and I closed my eyes, mortified. When she pulled back to gaze up at me, I opened one eye just a crack. To my relief, she didn’t look completely freaked out; her expression was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. She reached up and cupped my cheek in her hand.

  “You’re a hopeless romantic, Travis Holmes,” she declared. “Or a complete sap. I can’t decide which, but you’re making it very difficult for me to resist your charm.”

  The burst of warmth that flooded my chest spilled out in the form of a smile so wide it could have cracked my face open. It was no declaration of undying love, but it wasn’t an outright dismissal of my sentiment, either. The glint in her eyes was optimistic; a ray of hope speared straight into my soul. I rubbed my cheek against her hand. “I�
�m very glad to hear that,” I said.

  Sara gave a small sigh and shook her head at me. “What am I going to do with you?”

  My expression surely gave away the entire host of answers that flooded my hormonal teenage brain; she blushed a deep, rosy pink and moved to withdraw her hand. I captured it and kissed her knuckles. “I suppose you’ll just have to keep me around,” I suggested. “Surprise is good for the soul.”

  Her answering laugh filled my ears and my heart. I leaned in to kiss her but the sound of a clearing throat halted my progress.

  Nelson stood a few feet behind Sara’s left shoulder, next to the guy Sara had shaken hands with at the dance. I clasped my fingers more tightly around her hand as we both turned to them. Sara had promised to explain later, but the short, bull-like teen had completely slipped my mind until now. I surveyed him, wondering what role he played in Sara’s life, even as I cast sidelong glances toward Sara to search for any sign of distress.

  Though her cheeks were still flushed, her demeanor was calm and cautious. I glanced at Nelson, waiting for someone to speak, and he cleared his throat again before gesturing for the stranger to speak.

  “Look,” the boy began, his voice deep and strangely hoarse. “I’m sorry about your dad, Matthews, and I’m sorry I was such a shit afterward. None of us meant for anyone to get hurt. Not even Jay or Teddy.”

  Her face exhibited none of the surprise I was feeling. I just barely heard the long intake of breath before she nodded. I hadn’t even thought to press Nelson about who else was in the car that night, aside from the Hallowell brothers. His apology struck me like a fist to the gut.

  Silence stretched an interminable moment longer, then Sara cleared her own throat and squeezed my hand for strength. “Thank you,” she said quietly, seemingly unable to say more. Her eyes were bright with tears but she held the boy’s gaze until he inclined his head briefly in our direction, rested a hand on Nelson’s shoulder for a split second, and melted back into the crowd.