the cheese sandwiches I have to.” He shakes his head, his beautiful brown eyes so sincere and hopeful. I can’t help myself. I lean into him and kiss him with fervor. I laugh with my lips pressed against his. “You’ll think about it?”
I smile gently and for a moment I try to picture me as his wife, with his ring on my finger, beside him here in Louisiana, carrying his baby… I conjure the image but it’s not me I imagine at his side. It’s Lisa and like a little kid that nearly got the giant teddy bear, on the inside I collapse in tears.
On the outside I just smile, employing the hard-won skill of faking it. Sy’s phone begins ringing and vibrating against my butt so I scoot off his lap and out of the photo booth. Sy steps out, fishing the phone from his pocket then answering it.
“Yeah,” he says. “Oh hell. Okay, I’m coming to the tent now,” he says then ends the call. “That was Dale. Judging is about to start and they’re going to introduce us and talk about the non-profit,” he says smiling with tremendous pride.
“Okay, hurry! I’ll be around,” I look around us. Sy slips his fingers around the nape of my neck and lays a kiss on me that will probably never in my lifetime be matched.
I wander around the fairgrounds for a while, thinking about what Sy said. So much of me wants to say yes. So much of me knows I could be happy but there are things he doesn’t know, things I can’t forget. Then there is the small issue of my career. He can’t leave Louisiana and knowing how therapeutic it is for him to help other people with his non-profit, I wouldn’t ask him to. I could try to work remotely and travel when it’s necessary, perhaps. Sy could continue his work here with me helping and working as a campaign consultant when I can. It’s worth seeing if it’s even possible. Maybe I can’t say yes just yet but I can entertain the possibility. I smile to myself as a sense of ease spreads through my chest like warm honey, coating my heart completely. I don’t have a yes for him but I have a maybe and that is everything considering everything.
By the time I make it to the judging tent the actual tasting is over and the judges are sitting at the long table in front of the stage, giving their marks for each contender. People are chatting loudly as they wait for the final say regarding who in Cattail Parish makes the best jambalaya, a title that comes with endless notoriety you’d think by the looks of the people waiting for the judges to render their verdict. I slip up quietly near Sy’s seat at the table. A large vinyl banner with his non-profit’s information and website instructing people how they can donate is hanging from a tripod stand at his back. I move to step around the banner and scare him as he had scared me at the photo booth but the mention of my name makes me freeze and shamelessly eavesdrop.
“I worry about your friend Raegan having anything to do with the non-profit,” says Mr. Yoder.
“That’s ridiculous. Rae made our fundraiser. Why would you not want her involved with BCF??” Sy asks flatly, not bothering to look up from the scorecards on the table in front of him.
“Well, frankly son, she’s a viper. Her reputation is not all that flattering and given the news about her carrying on with a married man…” he trails off and my blood boils in my veins. Who the hell does he think he is? “I just worry that attaching a negative image to Buzzsaw and to you now will only hurt us more at a time when we’re already in bad shape. Even with the success we had with the fundraiser—”
“Thanks to Rae,” Sy interjects.
“We still have a way to go if you expect to expand this operation. We need more love from the public and I’m sorry to say it but the woman leaves no shortage of enemies in her wake. I already told you Jennings withdrew his standing annual donation on account of her. Jennings relayed to me several extremely unflattering things she said to him. She even threatened him. Who else will decline to support BCF once they know she is associated with it and you?”
Sy snorts humorlessly. “Yoder, you know I appreciate