He looks at Lacey, eyes wide, and says, “Holy shit.”
Sal slows to a stop when she and Luke stride up to the house. The world’s aglow in light and flame. “My God. Luke.”
A huge bonfire blazes in the field.
The large party crowd’s been pared to an intimate few. Only Emmy Lou, Jace, Seth, Lacey, Mort, Luke’s parents, and few others remain behind. Buckets of beer, rocking chairs and s’mores kits are set out. The dewy night air is filled with the scent of cedar wood and cypress.
Sal squeezes Luke’s hand. “Is this the ceremonial altar?”
Luke laughs. “Oh, you didn’t know? We’re big on human sacrifice.”
She smiles. “Sorry to say, country boy, I’m no sacrificial virgin.”
His expression, his eyes, turn hungry and wanting at the teasing tone in her voice.
But before Luke can say anything, make a grab for her, Sal breaks their closeness and makes a slow lope to her friends and family. Restored after the river, her time spent with Luke, Sal can’t wait to finish out her birthday night right.
“Sal, you look a mess,” Lacey chides, running up to her. But she’s smiling. She takes Sal’s hand and tugs her forward, pulling her past Seth, who’s heading toward Luke to hand him his guitar.
Their voices follow Sal as she’s seated in a rocking chair.
“You wanna play, man?”
“Ain’t gonna break tradition now.”
As Lacey drapes a blanket around her shoulders, hissing primly, “Your nips are showing,” Sal eyes the Brothers Kincaid.
Luke, Seth, and Jace huddle together, their instruments lit up in the flicker of the firelight.
She glances up at Emmy Lou and smiles. “You didn’t tell me I get a private performance.”
Lowering herself beside Sal, Emmy Lou hands her a glass of champagne. “Birthday girl, you’re gonna love it. You ain’t been to a party till our boys play.”
“Should we dust off ‘Wildman’?” Luke asks Seth.
Seth swigs his beer. Tosses the empty bottle into the grass and, in answer, readies his bow.
Jace picks at a borrowed banjo.
Luke, beating on the side of his old six-string, hollers out, “Hey, hey, hey!”
Everyone hushes, packing in around the fire, leaning in close to hear the Brothers Kincaid play.
Then and there, the dewy night comes alive with music.
The grass is their stage and they’re in their element. Luke’s long fingers fly across the strings, his melodic voice picking up speed as he switches over to a rollicking cover of an old Doc Watson song.
The Brothers Kincaid—they’re more than just music. The music is them.
But Sal only has eyes for Luke. He’s so confident on his instrument. His hair tousled, his face passionate and earnest, his love for the music shines crystal clear as he sings out. So does his love for Sal. Because he doesn’t take his eyes off her as he plays. He holds Sal’s face in his steady gaze, love and desire ringing out in his voice.
As Sal glances around her circle of people, tears fill her eyes. It all feels so celestial. All of it. The full moon hanging above. The glow of the bonfire. The pulse of love, of music in the air. Everything about this day feels absolutely perfect.
That calms something in Sal. A breaking open of love a river wide.
She has no answers for anything in her present. But she does have touchstones. Her family. Friends. Solid rocks she can lean on. She might not remember everything, but she has Luke. She has this. A second chance at love. Marriage. Life.
Just then the air is peppered with claps and hoots and whistles. Sal rouses from her thoughts.