We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.
Sadie was caught on the carousel of life, her knuckles white against the shining, braided brass pole, but her ribboned horse seemed only to go down. And even then, the guilt bubbled like burnt sugar. Others had it worse than her. Destitute or in slavery, without food or home or love, who’d lost children. And here she was, bemoaning Jake and her brother and her grandmother. Gigi, who’d lived a long life and had given every ounce of love she’d possessed.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Anne asked.
“Do you think we have a right to our pain when so many others have it worse?”
“I don’t think pain is a competition,” her aunt answered without hesitation. “Somebody else’s ten might be your six. You can’t compare heartbreak. No matter what, it’s valid. And that’s all that matters. You’re allowed to feel,” she added, as though aware of Sadie’s internal struggle.
“Sometimes I think if I let myself feel, really feel, I’ll never be able to climb my way back out. I can’t stuff it all back in.”
“You’re not supposed to, sweetheart. You’re like a volcano. One of these days, you’re going to erupt. Do they have jewelry at this market? I’d love to find something for Emily. You know your cousin and her jewelry.”
Sadie chuckled. Just like that, Anne could never stay on one thing too long. It went against her nature.
They ambled around the market, Sadie introducing her aunt wherever they went, and Anne pouring out tidbits of her life before jumping to another subject so fast it gave the listener whiplash. The air was filled with the smell of ripe tomatoes and fresh flowers.
By the time they were halfway through the stalls, their arms were laden with cloth bags full of vegetables and fruits that Sadie didn’t grow in the garden. But there were also the things she never would have bought that Anne pounced on. Lavender-scented soaps and mason jars full of local amber honey so fresh it still had bits of hive in it. She bought a hand-painted ashtray for Gigi and a bottle of pomegranate balsamic vinegar for Brian. And even though Sadie tried to convince her not to, she bought a bonsai for Seth. For Sadie she picked out a hand-carved wood birdhouse to put in the garden. And she found a moonstone pendant for Emily.
“We’re going to need a wagon if you buy anything else,” Sadie said with mock sternness.
“Do they sell wagons here?” Anne asked, completely without irony.
And that’s when she saw him.
Jake.
Standing at Jim’s stall, perusing potatoes. And there, beside him, was a woman whose intense, striking beauty seemed to sing out from her. Bethany.
Sadie had expected her to be showing, but her thin, runner’s frame was lithe, with no visible bump. Of course, she had to be perfect. Her hair was a thick, lustrous curtain the black of a midnight, moonless sky. It swayed as she turned her dark eyes up to Jake. And when he looked down at her, his eyes darted back up, as though sensing her presence.
She wanted to turn around and bolt. The dread pooling in her stomach turned sour, and the bile at the back of throat tasted alarmingly of jealousy.
And then, something Gigi used to say echoed through her head, words she’d whisper to Sadie as a little girl when they’d walk down the sidewalk and mothers would pull their children hurriedly to the other side of the street. Words that would unfurl around Sadie as a gossamer protection when Seth would beg her to use her magic to make them normal, clutching her hand in his in the darkness of a fingernail moon.
“You know who you are. Never let anyone or anything mold you into something different. Don’t let those idiots tell you what to do or how to live your life.” And so she plastered a smile on her face as Bethany followed his line of sight. She could have turned tail and run. Instead, she puffed up her tail feathers and did the right thing.
“Jake!” Sadie called with a smile so bright she thought it might shatter her face. “And you must be Bethany. This is Anne, my aunt. She’s visiting from out of town.” If she let a moment of silence hang, she might crack. Thank goodness Anne could talk the ear off an auctioneer and seemed to sense Sadie’s distress. The next few minutes were peppered with Anne’s questions and Bethany’s answers, and Sadie did everything in her power not to look at Jake, even though she could feel him watching her.
“How are you liking small-town life so far?” Anne asked.