15. Laura

It's just after noon, and the sun is set high in the sky, shining bright on our little event. Perfect weather for a perfect day. I slip eight one-dollar bills into the cashbox and smile back at a family of four I've never met before. They collect their raffle tickets and make their way around the admission booth to the park.

A hand taps my shoulder. "Great turnout," Susan says, beaming.

Her blond hair stops an inch below her chin, and her blue eyes look like two robin eggs sitting in a nest, waiting to hatch. We've been next-door neighbors since 1990, when she, her husband, and their two children moved into the house across the street. I remember liking Susan right away. She has one of those warm personalities that makes you feel like you're standing directly under sunlight, even when you're not.

I nod and glance out at the park. It's around the size of a football field, located in the center of town, sprinkled with large ash and white oak trees. Today, it's buzzing with people and excitement. The Grove feels like one of those big cities I've seen in movies and TV shows. Hundreds of people from surrounding towns have descended upon our small unincorporated community to attend the Groovin' in the Grove fundraiser.

"Can't believe we pulled it off," I say, looking around, trying to take it all in. There are carnival games, food stands, a rickety roller coaster ride for children, and a Tilt-A-Whirl. A clown inflates balloons, twisting them into swords and poodles for the kids. Brian's voice, amplified by a microphone, cuts through all the noise. He calls out B9, as ten tables full of people all ages focus on their player cards, marking their bingo sheets with dabbers.

"You pulled it off." Susan bumps her shoulder against me.

"Couldn't have done it without you."

"I think you could have, but I'll accept the compliment." She laughs, crinkling up her nose.

"Hey, let's get a quick photo," I say, gesturing for her to come closer. I remove the thick strap hanging from my neck. It's attached to a Nikon 28Ti camera, not one we could afford. Brian surprised me with it last Christmas. I told him to take it back, that it was too much, but he claimed to have lost the receipt. I knew he was lying. He's always been a terrible liar. But he was lying for my sake because he knew I'd never spend that kind of money on myself. So, I let him lie to me, and I kept the camera.

"Cheese," I say, holding it out as far as I can from us. We stand next to one another, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, and smile. The camera clicks and makes a winding noise.

I loop the strap back around my neck, letting the camera hang freely, just above my belly button.

"I want a copy of that," Susan says.

"Of course, I'll make sure to get double prints."

She thanks me, and we turn to observe the park again.

I spot Nicole dressed in a Nirvana tee and jean cutoffs that used to be a nice pair of pants. One of her father's flannel button-downs is tied around her waist. She counts down for the start of a sack race, while a line of children and even some adults stand shoulder to shoulder waiting for her to say Go. Their hands clutch the potato sacks, holding them up to their waist, feet and legs snuggled inside. Nicole started the counting at twenty rather than three like we talked about, and people are starting to groan. Finally, she says Go and the competitors hop forward.

"Look at Emma!" Susan beams. My eyes find her daughter, wearing a Britney Spears tee and a determined look. She quickly takes the lead, smiling and laughing, while others fall behind or fall to the ground.

"Go, Emma!" Susan cheers.

"She's fast," I say.

"Yeah, I can barely keep up with her most days." Susan chuckles and claps for her daughter.

Christie Roberts gets a burst of momentum and catches up to Emma. She's got five years and over a foot on her, so she has the advantage, but Emma is beyond intent on winning. The two are neck and neck, that is until Christie slips and tumbles face-first into the grass. Emma's blond hair blows in all directions as she crosses the finish line, taking first place. She hops out of her potato sack, and Nicole holds up her arm, declaring Emma the Groovin' in the Grove sack race champion.

I scan the park again, searching for my other two children. Although Michael is at the far end with his back turned toward me, I know it's him. I can spot my children from anywhere, regardless of the distance, even if my eyes were blindfolded. Mothers just know. He's in the fenced-in petting zoo, feeding a baby goat hay pellets. In the far-right corner of the park, a local band kicks off their set with "Chattahoochee" by Alan Jackson. The stage they're performing on was supplied by the local Boar's Nest dive bar. Bartenders serve cold beer from fresh kegs while people swig from their Solo cups, swaying and dancing to the music.

"Mom, Mom!" Emma calls out, running full speed at Susan. "Look what I won." She holds up her hand, showing off a First Place blue ribbon. A mood ring colored orange sits loosely on her slender finger.

"Wow! You gotta display this proudly," Susan says, pinning the ribbon to her daughter's T-shirt.

"We saw you out there." I raise an eyebrow and smile. "You even beat a few teenage boys."

"And they say boys are stronger than girls." Emma giggles and slaps her knee.

"The egg toss is about to start. Are you playing?" Susan points to a group of people halfway across the park, who are in the process of pairing up and filing into two lines.

"Yeah, I'm going to collect all the blue ribbons today," Emma says with a firm nod. She has the confidence of a girl three times her age, and I can already picture her taking on the whole world one day.

"You better get out there and find a partner then," Susan says, giving her a pat on the back.

Emma turns on her heel and bolts toward the egg toss, switching between a casual skip and a full-on sprint.

I scan the park again, looking for my oldest daughter, hoping she hasn't run off with her boyfriend.

"Have you seen Beth or Lucas?" I ask.

"Not since earlier, when we were setting everything up. They should be around here somewhere," she says, flicking her hand.

Susan doesn't worry like I do, and I envy her for that. She hasn't encountered loss like I have, so she can't fathom it. But I know the worst things always happen in an instant, and once you've experienced it, you'll forever be on the lookout, bracing yourself for it to happen again. It's both a blessing and a curse because it forces you to live in the moment while also fearing the next.

Susan places her hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you go and mingle? It's my turn to watch admissions."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go, I'll be fine."

"All right. I won't be long, and I'll bring you back a corn dog," I say.

"A beer would be great too." She laughs, but I know she's serious.

I head deeper into the park, exchanging greetings and smiles with several people from the Grove. Many compliment the event, and I respond the same way to each of them, that I couldn't have done it without all the volunteers, donations, and the others who helped organize the whole thing. A hand taps my shoulder, startling me. I turn to find Nicole.

"Can I hang out with my friends now, Mom?" Her arms are folded across her chest, her way of telling me she's over this. Nicole wasn't one of my willing volunteers, but she agreed when I promised to buy her that new Blink-182 CD she's been wanting.

I scan the park again. Michael isn't near the petting zoo anymore. I spot him lining up for the egg toss game. Brian calls out B4 to a group of bingo players. He adds, "I hope one of you wins B4 the keg taps out." It garners a handful of chuckles. I shake my head and laugh at his cheesy joke.

"Mom!" Nicole groans, stealing my attention.

"Where's your sister?"

"How the heck am I supposed to know? She's probably off getting jiggy with Lucas."

I give her a stern look and let out a heavy sigh, hoping she's yanking my chain and there's no truth to it. Beth is almost seventeen, and I know how teens can be, but I'm just not ready for my little girl to grow up yet.

Scrutinizing the park once more, I finally spot Beth. She's slow dancing with Lucas in front of the stage, while a local band performs "Amazed" by Lonestar. Her hands are draped around his neck and his arms are wrapped around her waist. They sway back and forth to the music, their eyes never leaving one another. It may be young love but that doesn't mean it's not real love. I looked at Brian the same way at her age and still do.

I hold up the camera, placing my eye over the viewfinder, and snap a photo of the two of them and then a few others—an egg splatting against Michael's chest, Brian pulling a ball from the bingo machine, and Nicole grimacing right in front of me.

"Mom, stop being a buzzkill."

I release the camera, allowing it to hang from its strap again, and focus on my wild child.

"So... can I hang out with my friends now?"

"Fine, but make sure you're home before dinner, and keep an eye on your brother."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she mutters as she runs toward a table full of teens her age. They're dressed similarly to her—grunge, as they call it. I only recognize one of them, a boy named Casey Dunn. He and Nicole have been friends since middle school, and he seems to be a good influence on her. The rest of them I'm not so sure.

"Mom!" Michael whines, stealing my attention. Egg yolk is splashed across his shirt. "Look what they did," he says, gesturing to the mess. There are tears in his eyes, but they don't escape. He's trying not to cry.

"Oh, honey," I say, getting eye level with him and patting his shoulder. "Why don't you go home and change quick? Just throw the dirty shirt in the washing machine, and I'll take care of it later."

"But I'm going to miss the water balloon toss," he groans.

"No, you won't. And bring another shirt just in case," I tease.

He stomps his foot, letting his head fall forward. I place my hand under his chin, lifting it, and promise him cotton candy when he returns. That garners a smile and gets him moving. He takes off across the street and down our road. I can see the mailbox from here, so I keep an eye on him until he reaches the driveway.

"Hey, babe," Brian calls from behind me.

I turn to find him holding two cups of beer and wearing that boyish grin I fell in love with twenty years earlier. Dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of Wrangler jeans, he closes the distance and leans down, planting a warm kiss on my lips. A swarm of butterflies flap their wings inside my stomach. Brian always has that effect on me.

"I'm proud of you," he whispers.

"Thanks," I say, smiling up at him.

He hands me a beer. The thick foamy head clings to my lip when I take a gulp.

"Need any help?" he asks.

I look past him out at the park. My eyes land on Charles, a tall, gangly man with a horseshoe mustache, long thin hair, and a slight hunchback. He's in his forties and lives on the corner of our street. Not only is he an eyesore but so is his yard, which is filled with run-down vehicles he refuses to get rid of. He stands alone, staring at a group of teen girls who are attempting to create a human pyramid. A beer is clutched in one hand and a lit Marlboro cigarette is in his other, pinched between his pointer finger and thumb.

"Can you just keep an eye on things?" I say to Brian.

By things, I mean Charles, but I don't specify.

"Yeah, sure. Where are the kids?" Brian asks.

I tell him Michael ran home to change his shirt, and then I point toward the stage where Beth and Lucas are.

"For crying out loud!" I groan.

My gaze swings to Nicole. "Damn it."

"What?" Brian asks.

His eyes follow my finger first to Beth who is making out with her boyfriend in front of the whole damn town, and then to Nicole, who is seated at a picnic table, sipping a beer. I take a step forward, ready to march over and yell at both of them, but Brian stops me.

"I'll take care of it, Laura."

Letting out a heavy sigh, I throw my hands on my hips. "Those girls are going to send me to an early grave."

"Now you know how your mother felt when you and I were that age and sneaking off, knocking boots, drinking beer down by the nature trail." Brian waggles his eyebrows.

"Oh, stop. We weren't that bad."

He kisses my forehead and whispers, "I remember you being pretty bad."

I giggle and smack my hand playfully against his chest. For a moment, it feels like we're teenagers again. But I like what we have now more—the deep connection threaded through decades, children, a home, and a life we've built together. I wouldn't give it up for the world.

"All right, time to put my stern father face on," he says, forcing his expression to turn serious. Brian plods toward Nicole like he's on a mission. He throws a silly look over his shoulder, and I can't help but laugh.

"Here, Mom!" Michael yells.

Just as I turn around, a balled-up shirt is hurling in my direction, but I catch it before it hits my face.

"What's this?"

"My extra shirt because you think I'm going to drop the water balloon too." He rolls his eyes.

"I don't think that, Michael. It's just better to be prepared," I say, unfolding the shirt and hanging it over my shoulder.

"Whatever." He shrugs and runs away, heading toward the water balloon toss.

Observing the park again, my eyes stop on Charles. He flicks his cigarette butt and steps on it with his old dirty work boot, grinding it into the ground. The flapping butterflies are gone from my stomach, the ones that Brian always conjures up. In their place is a sinking feeling, a warning that something bad is about to happen. I know this because I've felt it before...