Chapter 20: The Bridge

Ciara's POV

The old iron bridge over the Marlow River had white lights strung along both rails.

By eight on the ninth of June, two hundred people stood on it.

I knew every one of them.

I came up from the riverbank path with Tobin on my left and my father and mother behind me.

I was wearing jeans and Tobin's gray work jacket, the one I had never given back.

In my pocket was a thin silver chain with a blue glass bead.

"You're sure?" Tobin said, low.

"No."

"Good. Me neither."

He took my hand, and nobody on that bridge missed it.

At the center span, under the biggest lamp, Harriet Sutcliffe stood with her cane and her pearls.

Brendan stood at the rail beside her in a dark suit.

On his other side was a young woman in a cream dress, with a nervous smile and her hands folded.

She was the minister's niece, and she had known about this for exactly four days.

Heads turned as I came up the bridge.

The mayor's wife said something behind her hand.

The editor of the Courier took out his notebook.

Harriet saw me, and her face did not change at all.

"Friends," she said, to the crowd. "Thank you for coming on such a warm evening."

"Mrs. Sutcliffe," I said.

She went on as if she hadn't heard.

"It is my great pleasure, on the eve of my grandson's birthday, to announce his engagement.

"The young woman is from this town."

"Mrs. Sutcliffe," I said again, louder.

The crowd drew apart in front of me, and I walked up the middle of it.

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