AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Whatever. You were enjoying yourself.” I scoop up more ice cream. “That’s what I think.”
I’m teasing, but Cam looks sheepish as if I’ve hit a nerve. He gazes around. His expression is hard to read. Is he searching for inspiration? He casually changes the subject.
“Hey, isn’t the Floral Display Awards on soon?”
“Do you want to see it? Really?” I say, surprised by Cam’s suggestion.
“Sure. I want to witness absolute competitive determination. Come on. Let’s go.”
Chapter 14
Cam
Molly and I finish up the enormous multi-scoop ice cream sundae and luckily, I don’t get a call. I am still on duty, so I can’t relax yet. I’m hard-wired to be prepared: to drop whatever I’m doing and run at a moment’s notice. However, I’m fairly confident that the fire department has taken every precaution and preventative measure to keep people safe at the Spring Fair.
We’ve placed fire extinguishers, beaters, and buckets at strategic points around the venue, as well as water tankers with additional hoses. We’ve trained up a small army of volunteers for the day, to monitor the various zones on a roster, so if there is an emergency the event is covered. But I’m the one in charge and the buck stops with me if something major does kick off.
As Molly and I wander toward the central marquee, threading our way around knots of families, and passing couples wrapped together with arms around each other, I watch for signs of smoke along the roof lines of the tents and trucks. With all the food being grilled and barbecued and sparks flying, there’s a real possibility that a misplaced cinder could ignite on the tinder-dry grass, or discarded paper, and a small flame might quickly spread.
I turn over all possibilities in my mind. I am here to protect. It’s what I’m trained to do, but I feel even more protective around Molly. I guide her through the crowd between food stalls. I want to put my arm around her and pull her close, but I don’t. The path opens out to a wide clearing where there is space to walk side by side. We still walk close together, and our hands brush sometimes as we go. We fall into easy step toward the central marquee.
“Hey, did you see Doggy Dress-ups?” Molly says, out of the blue, as if she’s just remembered.
“Yeah. It was great. You did a great job.”
“We did a great job,” Molly says shooting a grin my way. “It was a team effort, remember?”
Memories of Molly and I hanging out and planning, organizing things for the event cause an involuntary smile. But my happy memories are tinged with sadness because I know I’ll be gone soon. Time is racing away. The Spring Fair will be over and tomorrow I’ll be on my way back to the city. I look at the ground, trying to mask my emotions.
“Ernie and Sinatra were brilliant,” I say brightly. “So funny. I was disappointed when they didn’t win.”
“Yes. Me too. But it didn’t matter. I saw Ernie afterward. He was just happy that he was here and took part. The prize wasn’t important really. You could tell he loves showing off. And Sinatra, as well.” Molly looks one way and then the other. “They’re around somewhere. I’m surprised we haven’t seen them.”
“I suspect Sinatra is stealing sausages, or something like that, right this minute.”
Molly laughs. “Oh, you’re right. He’s a menace. But we love him.”
I feel as if we’re friends again. I want to tell her that I’ve missed her. I want to say sorry for being distant; for not being honest about how I feel. I want her to know she’s beautiful and perfect in every way. I want to tell her she’s the best thing in my life and I am heartbroken to leave. But now is not the time. Too many people. Later. I’ll tell her later.
We arrive at the central marquee and join the crowd watching the twelve finalists of the Floral Display Awards who furiously add finishing touches to their creations. The elaborate displays are set out on round tables in the middle of the marquee space which has been roped off to the public: contestants and judges allowed only. Within the roped-off area there is frenzied activity as each entrant snips stems, sprays mist, knots raffia, and fans out leaves and petals. The displays are astonishing.
“The flowers can be anything at all,” says Molly. “Each contestant gets the same vase to work with. They bring whatever they need for the display. But all stems must fit inside the vase. And those are the rules.”
A short bald man wrestles with huge orange tiger lilies, stalks of green bamboo, and what look like origami frogs on sticks. His neighbor, on the next table, has gone for a majestic spray of pink carnations of varying shades. The air is filled with the flowers’ sweet fresh fragrance. On another table, a dramatic arrangement of tulips bursts, like fireworks, from the vase, and are woven in place with lengths of ivy. I had no idea flower arranging could be this interesting.
Lydia and two other judges prowl between the tables. They jot notes on clipboards. Lydia confers with another judge who checks her watch.
“Five minutes, please. You have five more minutes to complete your display.”
Tension escalates beneath the canvas roof. Expressions of concentrated effort form lines on foreheads of contestants and judges. Hands and fingers are a blur of activity with scissors, pocket knives, and secateurs. The atmosphere is electric as contestants, with swift exact movements add, pull, and tweak their creations. A hush descends as the final anxious minute is announced.
“Time’s up, ladies and gentlemen,” Lydia says with crisp authority. “Please step away from your displays.”
An audible sigh of relief resounds as the contestants clear the discarded flowers, stems, and leaves from their tables, tidy away their equipment, and step back to form a line.
“This is intense,” I whisper in Molly’s ear.
“I told you,” says Molly grinning impishly. “These guys are the final twelve from the selection process. They are seriously competitive.”
