Read Online Bittersweet Summer by Anne Warren Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Warren Smith
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to before Portland.
Dad smiled down at me. “We three are stuck together, you know.” He looked again at the restrooms. “Go check,” he said. “He’s taking too long.”
In the ladies’ room, Tyler’s stall was wide open, and no one was there. How had he gotten past us? I ran back outside.
Dad ran to meet me. “Where is he?”
“Is there a problem?” a voice asked. It was one of the people who sold CDs.
“My son,” Dad said, his voice rough. “He’s wearing a red jacket.”
“I think I saw him go back into the concert,” the man said.
I took a deep breath. That was it, of course. Dad and I rushed down the aisle. Up by the stage, bunches of people were dancing to the music. They all wore cowboy hats and boots.
The people who weren’t dancing were clapping and stomping their feet. We stopped at the end of our row, looking down it for Tyler. Our three seats stood empty. “He’s gone,” I shouted over the music and the clapping. “Tyler is gone.”
I burst into tears as Dad grabbed my hand and rushed back up the aisle. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said to the people who were dancing in the aisle. The music ended, and people began to cheer and clap.
I panted, trying to keep up with Dad’s long legs.
All at once, the clapping around us grew choppy and finally stopped. Someone laughed. Then another person laughed. “Look at that cute kid,” someone said.
Cute kid?
Dad stopped running, and I bumped into his back. We both turned to look at the stage. Mom was telling the audience about her next song. Behind her was a little boy wearing a red jacket.
Chapter 21
The Biggest Question
D AD AND I STOOD without breathing, watching Tyler up there on the big stage. Tyler lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the bright lights and walked toward Mom. Still holding the microphone, she turned around to see what everyone else could see.
“We have a visitor,” the drummer said. He played a drum roll and the crowd laughed.
“Tyler?” Mom’s voice all at once sounded more like Mom than it had all night.
Dad took my hand. “Thank God,” he said. “He’s okay.”
“Should we get him?”
“In a minute.” Dad hunkered down in the aisle and pulled me close.
Mom handed her guitar to the bass player and slid the mike into its holder. “Come see me,” she said, her voice softer, but still being picked up by the mikes. She held out her arms.
Tyler stood still, peeking through his fingers at Mom. “It’s hard to see,” his little voice said. Mom went to him and pulled him into her arms. “I’ve got you now.” She turned to the audience and smiled. The crowd burst into applause.
“We have to keep the songs coming along,” Mom said to Tyler. “Will you sing one with me?” He stuck his thumb into his mouth and shook his head.
“Down in the valley,” she sang into the mike, and then she waved to the audience to join in.
“Valley so low,” the crowd sang.
In Mom’s arms, Tyler raised his head and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. Of course, he could sing the tucking-into-bed song. “Hang your head over.” Tyler’s voice came through the mike loud and clear. “Hear the wind blow.”
Dad rubbed his cheeks against his sleeve. Then he blew his nose and grinned a crooked grin at me. “That kid,” he said, shaking his head.
By the time “Down in the Valley” ended, the people around us were mopping their eyes and blowing their noses. They clapped, and Mom set Tyler down on his feet. She took his hand, and they both bowed. “That’s my boy,” Mom said. The crowd roared.
She shaded her eyes and looked out. “Is your dad out there? And Katie?”
Dad and I ran down the aisle to the stage. “Tyler,” Dad said. “Come sit with us now.”
But Tyler shook his head. “I have to ask Mommy the biggest question,” he said, and once again, the mikes picked up his voice.
“Not now,” Dad said. “Ask her later.”
“Mommy,” Tyler said, and his voice rang through the
Dad smiled down at me. “We three are stuck together, you know.” He looked again at the restrooms. “Go check,” he said. “He’s taking too long.”
In the ladies’ room, Tyler’s stall was wide open, and no one was there. How had he gotten past us? I ran back outside.
Dad ran to meet me. “Where is he?”
“Is there a problem?” a voice asked. It was one of the people who sold CDs.
“My son,” Dad said, his voice rough. “He’s wearing a red jacket.”
“I think I saw him go back into the concert,” the man said.
I took a deep breath. That was it, of course. Dad and I rushed down the aisle. Up by the stage, bunches of people were dancing to the music. They all wore cowboy hats and boots.
The people who weren’t dancing were clapping and stomping their feet. We stopped at the end of our row, looking down it for Tyler. Our three seats stood empty. “He’s gone,” I shouted over the music and the clapping. “Tyler is gone.”
I burst into tears as Dad grabbed my hand and rushed back up the aisle. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said to the people who were dancing in the aisle. The music ended, and people began to cheer and clap.
I panted, trying to keep up with Dad’s long legs.
All at once, the clapping around us grew choppy and finally stopped. Someone laughed. Then another person laughed. “Look at that cute kid,” someone said.
Cute kid?
Dad stopped running, and I bumped into his back. We both turned to look at the stage. Mom was telling the audience about her next song. Behind her was a little boy wearing a red jacket.
Chapter 21
The Biggest Question
D AD AND I STOOD without breathing, watching Tyler up there on the big stage. Tyler lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the bright lights and walked toward Mom. Still holding the microphone, she turned around to see what everyone else could see.
“We have a visitor,” the drummer said. He played a drum roll and the crowd laughed.
“Tyler?” Mom’s voice all at once sounded more like Mom than it had all night.
Dad took my hand. “Thank God,” he said. “He’s okay.”
“Should we get him?”
“In a minute.” Dad hunkered down in the aisle and pulled me close.
Mom handed her guitar to the bass player and slid the mike into its holder. “Come see me,” she said, her voice softer, but still being picked up by the mikes. She held out her arms.
Tyler stood still, peeking through his fingers at Mom. “It’s hard to see,” his little voice said. Mom went to him and pulled him into her arms. “I’ve got you now.” She turned to the audience and smiled. The crowd burst into applause.
“We have to keep the songs coming along,” Mom said to Tyler. “Will you sing one with me?” He stuck his thumb into his mouth and shook his head.
“Down in the valley,” she sang into the mike, and then she waved to the audience to join in.
“Valley so low,” the crowd sang.
In Mom’s arms, Tyler raised his head and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. Of course, he could sing the tucking-into-bed song. “Hang your head over.” Tyler’s voice came through the mike loud and clear. “Hear the wind blow.”
Dad rubbed his cheeks against his sleeve. Then he blew his nose and grinned a crooked grin at me. “That kid,” he said, shaking his head.
By the time “Down in the Valley” ended, the people around us were mopping their eyes and blowing their noses. They clapped, and Mom set Tyler down on his feet. She took his hand, and they both bowed. “That’s my boy,” Mom said. The crowd roared.
She shaded her eyes and looked out. “Is your dad out there? And Katie?”
Dad and I ran down the aisle to the stage. “Tyler,” Dad said. “Come sit with us now.”
But Tyler shook his head. “I have to ask Mommy the biggest question,” he said, and once again, the mikes picked up his voice.
“Not now,” Dad said. “Ask her later.”
“Mommy,” Tyler said, and his voice rang through the
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