with your father."
"No, Honor - " But she was already gone. Closing his eyes, Dylan rubbed his pounding temples. "It's all spinning out of control."
The judge put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Some things are like that. Sometimes circumstances spin away from us. Sometimes we do the wrong thing with all the right intentions. Sometimes we can't decide if what we did was right or wrong, and we'll never be sure."
Dylan waved an impatient hand. "I know, I know."
His father half smiled. "I'd like to believe that. I'd also like to believe that what I said to you eight years ago didn't send you running from town. But then, I've been trying to kid myself about a lot of things."
Dylan shook his head. "You didn't do anything that made me leave Hot Water."
"No? Not even when I asked you why you couldn't save Alicia?"
Dylan jerked his gaze away from his father's. He looked around at the milling people, old Spenser Marsh resettling his straw hat, a mother spreading sunscreen on a squirming toddler, a father strolling with his young daughter on his shoulders. The little girl suddenly turned her head and looked at Dylan, her big brown eyes focused intently on his face.
His stomach lurched and his hand rose to touch the St. Barbara medal hanging over his heart. "Don't you think I wanted to save her, Dad?"
The judge sighed, as if in pain. "It was a stupid thing for me to say, Dylan. I can't tell you how much I regret it. Tensions were high, as were emotions, frustrations. It just came out of my mouth."
"It was the same question I'd been asking myself, though," Dylan said slowly, unable to look away from the little girl's eyes. "From the moment I saw Alicia being dragged into the woods. Alicia was staring at me, Dad, and I could hear her panic, her fear, in my head. And the sound has never gone away."
A tear rolled down the little girl's cheek. Dylan squeezed the medal as a second teardrop spilled from those big brown eyes.
"Dylan - " his father began.
"Dylan Matthews!" the mayor boomed through the microphone. "Will you please come up onstage? We have a surprise for you."
Dylan froze, then slowly turned. Shit! While he'd been uselessly rehashing the past with his father, the ceremony had begun. Obviously Honor had failed to call off the Odd Fellows plan.
"Dad," Dylan said quickly, "could you, would you - " But even as he spoke, the crowd that stood between him and the stage parted, leaving nothing separating Dylan from the beaming mayor except a cleared path through the citizens of Hot Water.
All of whom looked at him expectantly. Temporarily out of options, Dylan started slowly forward, forcing himself through the gauntlet of old friends and neighbors. Someone called his name, and on his left he saw his first-grade teacher, Mrs. Macy, the first witness to his return to town a few short weeks before. She held out her hand, and he automatically reached for it, pressing her frail fingers with his. Another person touched his shoulder, and then another called his name. He passed Micah, Dani, Willa, and their parents, their faces wearing identical, tentative smiles.
Time and again he was forced to pause, shaking hands with some, returning the kisses of others. It was like his first day back in Hot Water when his dad had led him from one old friend to another, but this time their welcomes didn't hurt so much. This time, strangely, they started to make the hurt better.
Once he reached the bottom of the stage, though, the clawing pain resurfaced. The stairs were to his right and he eyed the distance, gauging how quickly he could run past them and then out of the park and from there out of town. You'll be free, Kitty had said.
Suddenly a hand appeared in front of his face. Dylan looked up, right into Bram Bennett's green eyes. The other man leaned down from his place on the stage. "Let me help you up," he said.
Dylan almost laughed. Bram was the one person in the world he couldn't refuse. Grasping his hand, Dylan leaped onto the stage. He didn't immediately let go of his old friend, though. "Thanks, Bram," he said, forcing the words past his tight throat.
There were a hundred memories they shared. King Arthur - Bram - and his loyal page, Dylan. Rival pirates fighting for dominance in the seas, a.k.a. the grass field behind the school. Bicycle rides,