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“If Dirk proposed to you, would you say yes?”
My first instinct was to ask who Dirk was, but I immediately remembered she meant Bellamy. I found myself nodding. “Yes,” I said. I realized my mouth had formed the words, but no sound had come out.
“Well, in that case, I guess we’ll be sisters-in-law soon. I mean, if he asks you. It’s not like I have any inside information.” She winked. Then she leaned forward and gave me a big hug. She smelled of sweat and expensive perfume. I reciprocated even though I wanted to pull away.
“You can be in my recipe club one day,” she whispered in my ear. As she let go of me and took a step back she smiled a tight, strained smile. “You should go find him. I think he’s out by the fire. I’m sure he misses you.”
“Good idea,” I said, so glad to slip away from her.
Chapter 32
“Did you have a nice talk with Sherifaye?” asked Bellamy.
I couldn’t help myself from looking at him like he had to be kidding. In his special way, he did not pick up on the message I was trying to send. Instead, he wrapped his quilted flannel jacket around my shoulders and began to strum his guitar and sing. “Oh Sweetheart Lucinda Sue, from down yonder by the bayou,” he crooned. All the others around the campfire jumped right in to the sing-along.
I flipped up the quilted collar and slinked down into the jacket until it came up past my nose. I wanted to plug my ears but I resisted. Honestly, it took everything I had to keep my fingers out of my ears. I kept telling myself that if I could just make it until tomorrow, I would have the time and space to figure out everything. Maybe I did like Bellamy. Maybe it was just all these people and cameras and the constant action. I’d always been someone who liked my time alone. Maybe if I just got a little alone time again, I could sort out what I really needed.
“Don’t you know this one?” Dericka mouthed to me sympathetically. I shook my head. As soon as the song wrapped up she leaned across me and tapped her brother’s arm. “Play one that Emma knows next,” she said.
“First of all,” said Bellamy, standing up, “I need to introduce Emma to all our neighbors. Emma, this is John and Mandy Babcock and their daughter Maeve, and that handsome couple next to them is Prescott and Louise Gentry, and then to their left eating s’mores are Sandra and Bob Arnold, and that’s Josiah,” he said.
“Josiah’s ours,” said Louise, raising her hand.
“And this is Emma,” Bellamy said, pulling me up and giving me a squeeze.
“Hi everyone,” I said.
“Hi Emma!” they all cheered. They sat on L.L. Bean wool blankets that were spread over halved log benches. Canning jars of beverages were in their hands. The children held sticks with browned marshmallows.
“How do you like it here?” asked Louise.
“It’s very beautiful,” I said. In the flickering firelight, the crowd looked like a maniacal version of a Kinfolk magazine spread.
“You’ve got yourself a great guy here in Dirk,” said one of the men. Bob maybe.
“Don’t I know it,” I said.
“Emma, what campfire songs do you know?” asked Dericka.
“Oh, just sing whatever songs you like. I’ll listen. I’m not much of a singer,” I said. Did their expectations never end?
“Oh, come on,” said the crowd.
“No, that’s okay,” I said.
They all chimed in at once in a chorus of encouragement: “Everyone can sing!”
“You don’t have to be perfect.”
“Just jump right in!”
“We won’t be able to tell which voice is yours!”
“Ugh...” I said, trying to think of any campfire song. I looked at Bellamy helplessly. He smiled back at me and plucked a couple of strings.
“Let’s sing the one about the bear in the boat,” Dericka said firmly but cheerily to her brother, mercifully derailing the potential for one of those escalating moments where everyone helpfully, persistently pushes you to do something you have no intention of doing.
I sank back down into the quilted jacket, going back to the happy place where I pictured the airport, the plane ride, my apartment, Pete. Pete. At this time tomorrow I would be right down the hall from Pete. I spaced out as Bellamy and the crowd sang one song after another, my mind alternating between dreams of the next day and sleepy blankness.
