Chapter 20: The Candle

For a moment Daisy didn't move.

Two hundred people were looking at her, and one little red light at the back was looking at her too.

She could not say no to the candle.

Not here, not at her own father's award, in front of a town that had watched her light every candle since she was a girl.

"Of course I will," she said, and laughed a little.

She took the lighter from her pocket.

It was silver and dented, and I knew it as well as I knew my own hand.

She flipped the cap and struck the wheel, and the flame stood up.

At the front of the hall, Cal's father made a harsh, torn sound.

He gripped the arms of his chair.

The old rancher said, "Easy, now," and Cal was on his knees in front of him, but the old man shook them both off.

He pushed up.

His legs shook, and his good arm locked, and he stood with the old rancher's hand under his elbow.

The whole hall turned.

"I saw her," Mr. Ockenden said.

His voice was thick and slow and carried to the back wall.

"That lighter. Red coat. At the dock."

Nobody breathed.

"I told. The sheriff," he said. "Eight. Years. Nobody. Listened."

Cal made a noise I will never forget.

"He's had a stroke!" Daisy cried. She still had the flame lit in her hand. "He doesn't know what he's saying. Somebody help him, he's confused."

"I am confused," Peg said clearly. "I've been told so by a doctor. So you'll forgive me if I say it all out loud, in case I lose it."

She rose from the front row with the cedar box in her hands.

My father started up out of his chair.

"Mother, sit down."

"Sit down yourself, Russell. You had a stent put in."

A laugh went through the hall, shocked and quick, and died.

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