[title subtitle=”words Sarah Phillps “][/title]
Kate couldn’t explain it, the certain kind of magic that worked its way through her fingers when she created a new piece. The glass beads, crystals, metals and natural fibers felt as welcome to her hands as the warm water in a soothing bath. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure what she was making until it was done. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, and rings, all adornments inspired by nature and created with magic which now lined the cases spread out in her tent.
This was her second year at the festivals in downtown Van Buren, Arkansas. She did a lot of business on Etsy, but when it was suggested that she “join the club” as a local vendor, she only had to think briefly about the rewards and then asked, “Are there funnel cakes?” Now, she loved being able to network twice a year, drawing in the creative types who wanted to learn to make jewelry themselves. She could always recognize the “I would love to learn how to do that” twinkle in their eyes. She once had it herself, years ago. Information was handed out about her beginner’s classes at least ten times a day here. Occasionally, a special request for an item was made, a birthday present, or a wedding veil encrusted with light blue gems, which was sketched up on the spot.
When she wasn’t doing business, she people-watched. The festivals drew in every type of person you could think of, all looking for deals or food, or just looking. And when she wasn’t watching them, she spent a little time checking out the stilt walkers or finding an antique that she loved, depending on the time of the year. With her day winding down and her customers thinning out, she began to pack up. That’s when she saw him. “Is that…?” she thought, but then quickly dismissed it.
A few seconds later, he passed by again, going the other way. She knew it was him, Michael. Flashes of her past came to her, quickening her pulse, making her flush. The two of them riding in his baby blue S-10 pickup truck a little too fast down country backroads, Alan Jackson and Garth Brooks blaring on the radio, and him reaching for her hand. So many late nights on the phone, sneaking in past curfew, laughing and feeling like their time together was always cut too short. So many firsts she had with him, the most important being the first time she imagined sharing a life with someone. She was only a junior, he a senior, but they both knew that it was love.
She saw him pass by her tent again, this time stealing a peek inside, and then continuing to walk. They stayed together even after he graduated. He would have been her date to her senior prom, but he left the night before. Just like that, he walked out of her life and moved to California. “It’s just something I have to do,” he told her. He was leaving to search for his biological father. She hadn’t seen Michael since. Yet, here he was again, pacing back and forth on Main Street in front of her.
“You tryin’ to wear a path in that concrete or are you going to come in and say, ‘hey, how are you?’” Kate said with her hands on her hips. Michael stopped, tilted his head down and shoved his hands into his jean pockets. He was caught. His face tilted up at her then, his blue eyes squinting through the setting sun, noticeably blushing.
“Hey,” he said as he stepped inside.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she asked as she gave him a quick hug hello. It shocked her that his scent of soap and Polo cologne was still so familiar after all these years.
“That… is a long story.” His attention went to the display cases; he bent down to look closely, just barely touching the blue beads on her waterfall necklace. “You make these,” he said, the words coming out more as a statement than a question.
“Yes, I do. So, are you in from California?”
Without looking up, he answered, “No, I’m back in Ozark, been home for about eight months now.” After straightening, he looked at her, searching her eyes, “You want to grab a bite to eat?”
“I know the perfect place,” she smiled. “I just need about ten minutes to get closed up here.”
They made their way up the hill, looking at each other and grinning, passing the candle vendor and kettle corn maker who were also clearing out their inventory. Most of the food stands had already closed their doors for the evening, but Kate’s favorite was still open for business. “Y’all are just in time! I was just about to turn off the fryer,” said the older man in the red ballcap, “what can I get you?”
“Hey, Roger. I’ll have a funnel cake, please.”
“Of course, you will, Miss Kate,” he said before looking at her companion. “This may or may not be her third funnel cake of the day,” he said with a giggle. Kate hid her face behind her hands, laughing.
“I’ll have the same,” Michael said.
“Coming right up.”
After Michael paid for their food, they sat at a folding table by the museum. Conversation came easy then as they took turns asking questions. “How were things in California? Did you find your dad?”
He nodded, wiping powdered sugar from his mouth, “Yes, I found him. Turns out, he was just as Mom described him, a selfish drunk. He didn’t want anything to do with me, so at that point I had to figure out what to do with myself. I did a couple of jobs here and there, and then I worked for a guy who made furniture. He designed and built everything himself and I learned a lot from him. Started my own business, too,” he said as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through pictures of his pieces.
“They’re beautiful,” she said as she noted the pride on his face before he asked her about her life after high school. She told him how she met Victor at a party when she was nineteen. They dated for a little while before she became pregnant, a boy they named Joseph. She and Victor married and had another child, a girl named Rose. Kate pulled out her phone and showed him pictures of her now grown children.
“They both look so much like you,” he said, his grin showing his dimples.
“You think so?” He nodded.
“Anyway, Vic and I knew that the marriage wouldn’t last, but the kids were almost grown, so we stuck it out that long. I really felt like I had lost myself in those twenty-two years, didn’t know who I was. Then one day I decided to take a jewelry making class.” Kate closed her eyes, focusing hard on her memory of that time before opening them again. “Honestly, it was the jewelry that saved me. After the divorce, I wasn’t sure what I was capable of doing. But I opened up my online shop and then started teaching classes and…”
“…the rest is history?” he finished her sentence.
“Exactly,” she said as she touched his arm, feeling the same spark she felt when she was seventeen. “So, what brought you back to Ozark?”
“Mom had a stroke. She died in the hospital three days later.” Michael’s step-father (the man he now considered his dad) never left her side. “It was so sudden,” he said as he choked up, swallowing hard before talking again. “And then it was as if he couldn’t live without her, and before I knew it, he was in the hospital.” Within four months, Michael’s step-father was gone, too.
Michael softly reached up and brushed away a tear falling down Kate’s cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. He nodded as he stared in her eyes. It was dark now and they tossed their plates and walked along the sidewalks that were now clearing. On the top of the hill, a band still played for stragglers, performing a cover of Kacey Musgraves’ “Late to the Party.” Eventually Kate’s hand found its way around his arm as they made their way to a small garden area.
“I have a confession to make,” Michael said as he stopped and turned to her.
She cocked her head, “Oh, yeah?”
“I looked you up,” he said with caution on his face, “that’s why I’m here today. I knew you would be here.”
“Is that right?”
He took her hand. “The last thing Dad said to me was that I needed to quit wasting time and go find someone to love.”
Kate’s eyes teared again as she squeezed Michael’s hand.
“I told him I already had.”
