CHAPTER
thirty

When Norm and I got married, we’d hardly had money enough to pay our bills, let alone go on a proper honeymoon. While I wasn’t bothered by such a thing—but then I hadn’t ever been on any sort of vacation to speak of—Norman felt badly.

So he’d scrimped and saved for a one night vacation to the simple and everyday town of Jackson, Michigan.

It was nothing fancy, but I was excited to have reason to pack an overnight bag, and he’d felt proud of himself, pulling into the parking lot of the roadside motel. We ate our supper of sandwiches that I’d packed from home before going out to explore.

We ended up at a man-made waterfall, walking up and down the steps beside it for hours. As soon as darkness fell, the spurts of water were lit up with lights of every color. Red and orange fanned like a rooster tail or yellow like a sunbeam. Purple and green and blue flowed down the tiers.

We talked, held hands, kissed under the light of a well-placed lamp, and enjoyed being Norm and Betty.

Eventually we ended up sitting on the soft grass, watching the rainbow-colored lights shine up through the water that seemed as if it erupted from the very earth below it. Norm lowered his shoulder for me to rest my head on, and he sang to me in his off-tune voice that I’d already come to love so well.

When I hold you in my arms, doll, I feel a certain charm.

Our eyes met, and the way he looked at me made my heart feel as if it swelled.

It’s a special kind of magic. Not just any kind of magic.

He reached his arm around my shoulder, pulling me even closer to him.

When I look into your eyes, oh my love, I can’t disguise;

It’s a special kind of magic. Not just any kind of magic.

The rush of water tumbled over the hand-cut stones. Splashes sprayed around the people still milling about. Kids ran past us, and a mother called out to scold them.

But sitting beside Norman, all that mattered was my head on his shoulder and his voice.

It’s a special kind of magic,

Your love.

I should have known that the Cascades Park would be full to the brim with people on the Fourth of July. The only parking spot I could find seemed to be forever far away from the entrance, and the picnic basket I’d packed was heavier than I’d realized.

Hugo, ever the tiny gentleman, offered to carry it, but I was afraid that he’d wind up hurting himself carrying something nearly as heavy as he was. By the time we made it in, I was more than a little grouchy.

The only spot we could find to sit and eat our supper was out of sight of the fountain, and I felt put out. My disappointment was more for Hugo than me. But the boy was blissfully unaware of what he was missing and seemed quite content to watch all the people around us while he nibbled on his sandwich.

By the time day began to fade and the fountain lights were turned on, I took Hugo by the hand. We left the basket and our picnic blanket where it was and made our way to the fountain.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” I answered.

When we turned the corner and the boy got his first look at it, I realized that all the hassle had been worth it.

“Rocky’s fountain,” Hugo said, his words riding along a gasp that I couldn’t help but smile at.

We walked up the side of the falls, him holding my hand tight while watching the water turn every color of the rainbow. We took it slow despite the crowd pushing past us in a hurry to get to the very top, I supposed.

When we reached the third tier from the top, I looked at the light pole to my right and remembered kissing Norman in that very spot years before. He’d been so tender with me, so kind and gentle. I’d thought that nothing bad would ever happen again.

Oh, how silly I’d been. How very optimistic.

I wanted more than anything else to stand under that lamp just one more time, to rest my hand on the cool stone of the railing where the beam of light shone.

But I couldn’t have reached it, not while holding on to Hugo, not against the crowd.

“Aunt Betty,” Hugo said, tugging at my hand. “Can you take a picture of me by the fountain?”

He stood against the railing, his back straight and his head held tall and proud.

“Very nice,” I said after snapping the photos.

I turned to a man walking by, asking him if he wouldn’t mind taking a picture of Hugo and me together.

“Of course,” the man said.

I showed him how to work the camera before rushing to stand beside Hugo, putting my arm over his shoulder and placing my hand on his chest.

The man’s face changed when he saw the two of us side by side, and I worried that he might say something untoward. But he put the camera to his eye and snapped the shutter. When I thanked him, he flashed me an uncomfortable smile.

When I turned back to Hugo I saw that he’d gotten himself up on the ledge.

“Don’t worry, Aunt Betty,” he said. “I won’t fall in.”

I sat beside him, hand on his shoulder to be sure.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, nodding at the fountain.

“All of them,” he answered

He made my heart smile.