Tasting Notes (18 page)

Rush’s voice held such affection, West found himself looking forward to waking up before the sun. Two days later, West realized he minded waking up that early much more than he thought. Months ago his alarm had been set for that time, but weeks and weeks of repose reconditioned his body to appreciate the rest, and now rousing before seven seemed borderline barbaric.

“Come on,” Rush urged, tugging on West’s hands, trying to get him to sit up. West groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If Rush hadn’t been so cute, his excitement showing through, West would have pulled the covers over himself and gone back to sleep. There was something about a big, burly, bearded man excited to get to the events that swelled West’s heart, though, so reluctantly he stood, his feet hitting the cool hardwood floor as he walked to the bathroom to grudgingly get ready for the day.

Rush was already set to go by the time West was showered and dressed, Casper looking just as excited to get going.

“Why are we up before dawn, again?”

Rush grabbed his keys and shifted his weight from one side to the other as he waited for West to put on his shoes. “Annette is hosting her annual pancake breakfast in the park, and we have to get there before the cinnamon roll pancakes are all gone.”

“Do they evaporate at the first light of day?” West asked sarcastically.

“Smartass. No. They’re so good, and everyone wants them, so they go fast.”

“That still doesn’t justify being up at the butt crack of dawn.”

“We start before dawn because we’re on the crew getting everything ready for the picnic and parade this afternoon. The kids are all snug at home in their beds, and everything is decorated and set up by the time they wake. I think for most parents, it’s an excuse to have a couple of kid-free hours before the festivities begin. It’s like Christmas in July. There’s a picnic lunch in the park, and then later on, we all bus out to the lake for a barbecue dinner, and then fireworks tonight after dark. The celebration lasts all day, and everyone will be there.”

“I suppose that’s a good enough reason,” West said, following Rush and Casper out the door. “As long as they have coffee.”

“They will. And Annette knows you’re coming, so if you’re lucky, she’ll have one of your frou-frou coffees.”

West grumbled but picked up the pace, walking to the side of Rush’s truck and climbing in.

BY THE
time they arrived at Bushfield Park, it appeared as though half the town was already there.

“If I missed out on those cinnamon roll pancakes because you were dawdling, I’m going to take it out on your ass.”

“If it meant I could have slept in an hour longer, I would have gladly given up my ass,” West said.

Rush’s eyes darkened. “Later.”

That one word sounded like a promise, and West felt the surge of heat rush through him. He didn’t think he would ever tire of this. It was incredible to him how deeply he had fallen for Rush after only a few months, and he couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he could stay with him forever.

He blinked the thoughts away, focusing instead on keeping himself from tripping over his own feet. It was a small miracle he was still upright, but there in the center of the park, he spotted Annette. Her hair was swept up into a perfectly smooth bun, and her floral apron was tied neatly around her waist. She was whisking batter in the largest bowl West had ever seen.

“Coffee first,” he said, pulling Rush toward the table that had a large metal coffee urn and neatly stacked paper cups. Annette spied them as they made their way toward the station. She set the bowl on the table and hurried over.

“I’ve got something for you, gentlemen,” she said as she reached under the table and pulled out a weird looking contraption. She grabbed one of the cups and some milk, and a few magical moments later, West had a latté in his hands.

“You’re a saint,” he said before taking his first sip. “That has some bite to it.”

Annette laughed. “I knew you’d be coming this morning, and Rush asked if I could do a latté on the spot. There might be a secret ingredient or two in there.”

West glanced over at Rush, who was feigning innocence. “Predawn drinking is traditional for those who set up for the festivities. You can’t have coffee without a little Baileys in it.”

“Thank you. Both,” West said. He took another long swig of the hot liquid, savoring the flavor across his tongue and taking solace in the fact that caffeine would soon be hitting his bloodstream. “What can we do to help?”

“Yeah, put us to work,” Rush added.

“I think the guys could use some help setting up the bandstand, or you could help get everything organized for the parade. The decorations are under control, but later on we’re going to need someone to head up to the lake and get everything ready for the barbecue this afternoon.”

“We can help with the bandstand now and then head up to the lake to help there. Is Jason looking after the fireworks again this year?” Rush asked.

“He is. And his son is assisting him for the first time. Last I heard, they loaded up the barge and were floating it out to the middle of Springwood Lake this morning.”

“Parker? That’s great. He’s followed Jason around like his own personal shadow every year, wanting to be a part of it. I’m glad he’s finally old enough.”

“Yeah, he seemed pretty thrilled about it. Anyway, I should get back to the pancakes,” Annette said, glancing over at her daughter, whom she left in charge of the griddles. “Brynn looks like she’s being swarmed.”

“Well, yeah. Those pancakes are damn good. You got any of the cinnamon ones left?”

Annette winked at him. “I might have set aside some of the mix for you.”

“West was right. You are a saint,” Rush said

They followed Annette back to the pancake station and stood patiently while she took over for Brynn, whipping up some cinnamon roll pancakes especially for them. West dug in, understanding immediately why Rush was so eager to get there for them.

When they were finished with their breakfast, full and properly caffeinated, they set off to get to work on the bandstand. They found the men near the back of the park, erecting the structure between two copses of trees in an open grassy area.

“You guys need any help?” Rush asked as they approached.

“That’d be great,” one of the guys said, turning and handing Rush a wrench.

Rush made the introductions as the men busied themselves with bolting the side supports to the main stage area.

West repeated the names over in his head, trying to commit them to memory. “Nice to meet you.”

They got to work, the guy in charge, Brad, directing them on how everything should fit together. West had never been the down and dirty, build shit with his bare hands type guy, preferring indoor activities and academics instead, but since he arrived in Canyon Creek, he realized he had changed. He rose to the challenges, taking on the physical labor around the winery and jumping into helping Rush with his trees as well. He hadn’t balked at a little hard work and getting his hands dirty. He wasn’t overly adept with a screwdriver, but he did his best, and before he knew it the bandstand was up. The construction didn’t even appear all that shoddy, and West felt a little surge of pride and happiness at having accomplished building something and being a part of the community.

He stood back and looked around, impressed at what the small group of volunteers could bring about. The park was transformed from a peaceful place for families into a space that looked a little like Uncle Sam puked patriotism all over everything. Twisted red, white, and blue streamers created the backdrop for the bandstand, while balloons created the frame for the stage.

Crepe paper fans hung from the ceiling of the covered stage, and flags hung from branches of the trees. There were tables set up along one side of the park, draped in American flag tablecloths, with red plates, white cutlery, and blue cups stacked at the edge. There was a large vase that held hundreds of tiny flags in the center, surrounded by red and white carnations.

It was all quite incredible.

“This looks amazing,” West said as Rush handed him another cup of coffee—this time plain old drip.

“It does. Diane is the head of the decorating committee, and she outdoes herself every year. I have no idea where she finds the time, but the Fourth is her crowning glory. She spends all year planning and collecting the decorations. City hall has a room set aside just for her to keep everything in. We should get going up to the lake, though. It’s getting later, and we want to make it back down in time for the parade.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They walked the short distance to Rush’s truck and climbed in. The air was already heating from the sun, and West rolled his window down and stuck his arm out. Rush pulled onto the street and headed out of town, along the winding road that led to the lake up the hill.

THE SETUP
at the lake didn’t take any time at all, and then Rush and West were back in town waiting patiently with a group of other people for the parade to kick off the celebrations. Rush pulled West in close for no other reason than he wanted to. There were quite a few people sitting in folding lawn chairs along the side of the road, but the majority of the town’s population was in the parade.

The mayor stood on the second-floor balcony of city hall, ready with his microphone to do the announcements as the different groups passed through. Annette and her daughter sidled up next to Rush and West.

“Mind if we join you?” Annette asked.

“Not at all,” Rush replied.

A moment later, the mayor’s voice was amplified over the crowd as he gave a brief introduction. Annette threw her arm around Rush’s shoulders and squeezed tight when the mayor reminded everyone to keep the armed forces in their hearts that day. West gripped his hand a little tighter.

The music started then, a soft melody floating over the street as the high school band marched closer. They were led by a row of baton twirlers in patriotic costumes, the same ones that were used every year since Rush attended that same school. The gold tassels were a bit frayed, but it didn’t hamper the spirit of the students who marched proudly down the middle of the road.

The children, who had been sitting patiently waiting for the parade to start, were now all on their feet, dancing and swaying under their parents’ watchful eyes as the marching band passed and the fire truck rolled behind them. The firemen hung out the windows of the truck and off the ladders in their bunker pants and American flag T-shirts, throwing candy to the crowd.

It was identical to the Fourth of July parade from the year before. The floats—or rather the flatbeds pulled by tractors—were the same, the music was the same, and as was tradition, kids on bikes decorated with balloons and streamers for the occasion brought up the rear. Rush had seen it all before, but this time somehow it felt different, seeing it through West’s eyes. The sun-faded paint on the pickup truck that carried the happily waving Miss Canyon Creek seemed shiny and new as Rush saw it for the first time through West.

The music faded into the distance as the parade procession made its way further into the distance, and Rush realized how much he loved having West with him. He felt like a different person, as though his days had purpose beyond maintaining his business. The fervor with which he had despised the man when he first rolled into town transformed, and the thought of West returning to Chicago left Rush feeling empty.

He’d never been the type of guy to dodge doing what was right, no matter how difficult the situation was, and in this case the right thing was for West to stay in Canyon Creek. He didn’t belong in Chicago. He belonged here, with Rush.

The mayor announced the end of the parade, thanking all the volunteers and participants, then invited everyone back to the park for the picnic. Rush resolved to ask West to stay. He wanted it to be the right time, but he knew it would have to be soon. The summer was speeding by, and West would need to return to Chicago eventually. Rush intended to see to it that West’s return was brief.

BY THE
time they returned to the park, everything was set up for lunch. Even in the few hours they were gone, the area was further transformed from city space to a patriotic wonderland, and the mounds of food that were presented on the table would have been enough to feed two cities, rather than the few hundred people who would be filtering in through the gates as the parade-goers made their way over.

“This is incredible,” West said.

“It is. I forget sometimes how lucky I am to live in this community. Every year is like this. It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“It’s really nice. Not that I went to many celebrations in Illinois, but they were nothing like this. Even when I was a kid. This looks like Mayberry on crack. It’s too perfect.”

“It is, but it’s home, you know?”

“Yeah,” West said, and Rush thought he heard an air of something in his voice. Longing? Sadness? He wasn’t sure, but he intended to ask him about it later. For now there were hot dogs to consume and beer to drink. They made their way over to the table where the food was piled high and filled their plates with more than even Rush thought he could eat. Stopping at the grill, they thanked Jack Monroe, who was in charge of barbecuing the hot dogs Gleason’s Market provided for everyone in town.

They found a spot at a picnic table in the shade and sat with their plates and bottles of beer to watch the kids hop across the lawn in a potato sack race.

“From here we go to the lake for the fireworks?” West asked.

Rush shook his head. “Oh no. There is still the anvil firing and the baseball game before we ride up to the lake.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” West said.

“About what?”

“Anvil firing?”

“You’ve never seen it?”

“I don’t even know what it is.”

“Well, don’t let me ruin the surprise for you,” Rush said, grinning wickedly. He knew exactly what was coming, and it sounded much more exciting than it actually was, but he wasn’t going to let West know that. The letdown was half the experience.