Page 20 of Surrendering to the Grump

"He'd be furious with you. He'd grab you by the collar and drag you into that festival himself. And you know what he'd say?"

My eyes burn. "He'd say 'take your time' is not the same as 'stop living.'"

"That's right." Her voice breaks on the last word. "That text didn't kill your brother, Rhett. The ice did. You've been carrying something that was never yours to carry."

We sit on the phone. Both of us breathing. Both of us crying in that quiet way our family does, where the tears fall but the voice holds.

"Go get her," Mom says. "Wear the good flannel."

"Ms. Shelly said the same thing."

"Ms. Shelly sounds like my kind of woman."

I hang up. Wash my face in the utility sink. Pull the dark flannel from the hook. Trim the beard with the toolbox scissors.

The rocking chair. White oak. Sanded smooth. Arms wide enough for a coffee mug or a hand or both.

I load it into my truck.

Drive down Maple Lane.

The festival is in its final hours. Sunday afternoon, golden light, families getting their last rounds of cider and corn maze. The FALL IN LOVE sign glowing in the town square. String lights everywhere.

I park on Moss Street. Pull the chair from the truck bed.

People stare.

Hank freezes mid conversation with someone outside his bar. Dolly grabs his arm. Ms. Shelly is standing in front of The Book Nook with a hand over her mouth. Lina steps out of the café, phone already out. Maya from Pistachio Sweets elbows the woman next to her. Miles from Maple Auto stops scowling at his phone long enough to look up. Kitty from Toe Beans clutches Sunny the cat tighter.

Rhett Gallagher, the man who doesn't leave his shop, walking through the Maple Lane Fall Fest carrying a rocking chair.

The crowd parts. Not because I'm scary. Because they know where I'm going. This town knows everything. This town has been watching.

She's at the craft booth. Kneeling with a kid, helping glue something to a paper plate. Yellow sweater, twist out, gold hoops. Smiling in that dimmed way she does when she's running on empty and doesn't want anyone to notice.

"Kennedy."

She looks up. Her face goes through everything. Surprise. Pain. Her eyes drop to the rocking chair.

"What are you doing?"

I set the chair down. Right there. In the middle of the walkway. Blocking traffic. Good.

"I built this." My voice is rough enough to sand wood with. "Started it a month ago. Told myself it was just a project. Something to keep my hands busy."

She stands slowly. The kid with the glue watches with his mouth open.

"My brother Liam died three years ago. I texted him 'take your time' because I was running late to dinner. He did. The intersection was icy. He was twenty nine." My hands are shaking and every person in this town can see them. "I moved here because the road ended and I didn't have a reason to keep driving. And for three years I sat at the end of that dead end street building things for other people's lives because building something for my own felt like a betrayal."

The crowd is silent. Dolly has her face buried in Hank's shoulder. Ms. Shelly is openly crying. Lina's hand is shaking too hard to hold her phone steady.

"You walked into my shop with donuts and a clipboard and treated my refusal like a first draft. You came back every day. You saw through every wall I put up and you stayed. You asked me for one thing and I said no because showing up scares me more than being alone."

Kennedy's eyes are bright. Tears on her cheeks. Her hand is over her mouth.

"I was wrong." My voice cracks. "You asked me to show up. So I'm showing up. In front of this whole damn town. With a chair I built because I want you to sit on my porch every morning. I want to bring you coffee in the blue mug. I want to be the person who reminds you to eat and tells you to sit down and holds things together so that for once in your life, you don't have to."

A sob comes from somewhere in the crowd. Definitely Hank. Dolly is going to hold that over him forever.