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"Mom!" Abigail cried as she rushed into the store. "Look what I found!"
Caroline looked up from her clipboard, making a mental note of the parsnip seeds that had already been counted, to find a flyer shoved right into her face. Ignoring Pierre's exasperated sigh from the register, Caroline smiled at her daughter's excitement and took a look at the flyer. It wasn't unusual for Abigail to bring flyers home from Zuzu City, given that she'd begged her and her father to allow her to attend a real high school like the rest of the kids in the town, though most of them were for music venues, including the flyer she was looking over.
On the flyer was the picture of a woman screaming into a mic and a bunch of buzzwords in comic bubbles. There was a list of performers under her, each group made done up in their own special fonts, though the names that Caroline recognized from Abigail's music collection were among the largest of them all. Pierre came over to hover her shoulder, so she shifted so that he could frown with fatherly disapproval more clearly.
"I know it's this Saturday, but it's all ages and fifteen gold admission!" Abigail began, her words coming out in a rush so that she couldn't be interrupted. "I've already done all my homework in class ahead of time, I'm not failing any classes, and Seb said they ID at the bar at shows like these. My favorite band, Iron Age Insolence, is gonna be there, and I've been wanting to see them for so long, they rarely announce their shows but right now they're doing an official tour with added venues because their drummer—"
"Abigail," Pierre cut in. "Did you forget what was happening on Saturday?"
Abigail stared at him for a moment before realization dawned on her. "My… birthday?"
He nodded. "Now, we had plans set out for your birthday already— the whole town knows about it, and Farmer Waylon had cleared out a section of his farm just for the party we were going to have. Everyone is very excited, and you know Farmer Waylon is getting on in years."
Abigail visibly deflated and stared at the floor. Though Caroline usually wasn't one to rock the boat, something in her told her to speak up— to dust off her spine and use it for once against him. "Pierre… we can just reschedule the party."
Pierre scowled, turning his gesticulating ire onto her. "And let her go alone into the city where she'll be rubbing elbows with Yoba knows who? What if she's mugged, or worse? She's already risking so much going to that school every day— I told you I wanted her home-schooled—"
"I'll go too."
The words fell from her mouth before she could process them. Abigail snapped her head towards her mother and Pierre's eyes widened. Caroline wanted nothing more than to shrink under their collective gazes, but she forced herself to stay calm.
"It's her birthday, Pierre," she started, "and you know how much her music means to her. If it's really a big problem for her to go alone, we can invite Sebastian and Maru as well— maybe even the other kids in town. I can chaperone just fine on my own, and the other adults can have a nice party on Waylon's ranch without them. It can all work out."
Pierre scrutinized her over the top of her glasses before heaving a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright. Just don't let them sneak any drinks; I don't want anyone on my ass if they come home wasted."
"Like you did on prom night?" Caroline chuckled. "I still remember how red your father's face was when we walked in."
"You promised you wouldn't mention that in front of our daughter!"
"She'd have heard it from Jodi soon enough, dear."
Abigail's eyes bugged out of her head and her mouth gaped like a fish, processing all the information she was taking in. Finally, she squealed in delight and pounced on the both of them, hugging each of them tightly and jumping up and down. "Thank you guys so much! This is gonna be the best birthday ever!"
Caroline's heart felt ready to soar.
Caroline smoothed out her dress in the mirror— it was her favorite dress that she had worn to the party Pierre had proposed to her. It had needed a few alterations to fit her now, but young Emily had jumped on the chance to tailor it as a chance to show off her newly honed skills.
"Lookin' hot, mamascita!" Abigail wolf whistled as she entered the room, drying off her newly dyed hair. It had taken some convincing to get Pierre to order the purple hair dye for her— he'd worried greatly about a variety of things that boiled down to him wanting to get something special for her and not wanting her to be disappointed in such a simple gift. He was a good father, even if he struggled sometimes, Caroline thought fondly to herself.
"Thanks, dear. I thought about wearing my usual clothes, but… it's your special night! I might as well wear something special!" She punctuated her words with a spin and grinned brightly.
"Damn right!"
"Language, young lady."
Abigail rolled her eyes. "Ah, I'm sixteen, I can say what I want. I'm practically an adult now."
"At least save it for when I'm out of earshot," she shot back, checking a notification on her phone. According to a text in the group chat for the trip, Pam would be ready to take them to their hotel in an hour, then be back in the morning to pick them up if they weren't trampled to death by the crowd. "You excited?"
"Oh, you have no idea. I get to be there to see the Lance Blackbourne, on my birthday, no less! How cool is that?"
An icy chill wrapped itself around Caroline's heart. "Lance Blackbourne?"
Abigail sighed dreamily, falling onto the bed backwards. "Only the greatest musician in the world! He…"
As her daughter went on about the achievements of her idol, Caroline stared at her hand and the ring upon it. She knew a Lance Blackbourne once upon a time— a shy, gangly ginger boy from Zuzu City who had disappeared from her life nearly seventeen years ago. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye: the long, unkempt ginger hair, the braces that only made his smile more endearing, long limbs that hadn't quite gotten used to being used yet, and fingers calloused by the strings of his grandfather's old and worn guitar.
Caroline could practically see herself in those woods again, her breath reeking of wine, begging Lance to give her a reason to leave Pierre, to leave Pelican Town, to leave everything behind and start a new life with him. How those usually bright green eyes she loved had dimmed with fear, how his newly freed teeth bit into his chapped lips, how he turned tail and ran, leaving her sobbing and alone on the cold, muddy ground until she was found by—
"Hello? Earth to mom? This is ground control, do you read me?"
Caroline jumped and clutched her phone tight to her chest, grounding herself with its consistent vibrations from the group chat. "S-sorry! I was just lost in thought."
"Uh, yeah, I could tell." Abigail's brow furrowed. "You alright? You don't have to come if you don't want to…"
"No!" she cried, surprising the both of them with how forceful it came out. Caroline took a breath and reorganized her thoughts before speaking again. "I mean, I want you to have fun, and we already set everything up. I want today to be special."
Abigail smiled and hugged her. "Thanks. It really means a lot to me."
"So how does this work?" Caroline yelled to Abigail over the crowd as a band she did not recognize from Abigail's posters took the stage and began to set up. "I thought your favorite band was supposed to go first."
"Actually, the main band goes last; it helps expose people to new bands while also giving them a reason to stay the whole night— at least, that's what I think!"
Caroline nodded, taking a sip of her liquor and shifting in place. The kids had made a beeline for the merch table line as soon as they had arrived, Haley and Emily having announced they'd be buying whatever merch they wanted so long as they kept receipts for repayment, while Caroline had been convinced by Pam to get herself a little treat at the drink bar in her honor. The drink itself was meant to be flavored like green tea, though she couldn't really taste it past the alcohol. Still, she had a light buzz already, so she couldn't really complain.
Abigail gasped and grabbed her mother's arm. "Look! We're next! We're gonna meet Lance!"
She turned her gaze from the crowd to the booth as they stepped forward and—
"Lance?"
He looked both completely different and the exact same. He had muscle now to fill out his frame, his hair was elegantly disheveled, gasping lips plump with chapstick, and bright green eyes stared at her in disbelief. He wore a simple black tank top that showed off tattoos all along his arms and chest— it took all of her willpower not to stare at his immaculate pecs and force herself to strain her ears to hear him
"Holy shit— Caroline, is that really you?" he cried, standing up and wrapping her in a hug, showing off his tight, ripped jeans. Oh sweet Yoba, he was comfortingly warm, and she ached as he pulled away to look her over. "You look— I can't believe you're here!"
Caroline gaped at him as Abigail's head swiveled between them. "You- you know each other?!"
She didn't know how to respond, but Lance certainly did, ignoring the tittering crowd that turned their attention to them. "Yeah! She never told you? We used to be best friends in school! I introduced her to Pierre!"
You left me with Pierre, a wicked part of her sneered. She swallowed it down with the lump in her throat and simply nodded.
"Listen," he yelled, sitting back down and gesturing to someone nearby, "Ari, my manager, can set you up with some VIP passes. Is it just you and your cousin, or—"
"Daughter," Abigail corrected immediately, noticing how her mother seemed to shellshocked to reply. "And we're a group, yeah. They were ahead of us in the line."
"Good kids! Nearly bought out the booth!" Lance laughed boisterously as someone— likely Ari approached and whispered something in his ear. "We've held up the line long enough, though, so take a shirt on me! What's your sizes?"
Abigail rattled off their sizes and the other merch they wanted as Caroline simply stared blankly at Lance and through him, her mind racing a mile a minute. She didn't realize she was trembling until Abigail dragged her away, passes in her other hand, and towards the front of the pit, where the rest of the teens were staring at them.
"We'll talk later!" Abigail promised sternly as the lights faded and the first set began.
The music was all incredible, to the point that Caroline nearly forgot where she was and what had happened just a few hours ago. She made several trips to the bar to refill her drink and was well into what would turn into a hangover the next morning when, finally, Iron Age Insolence, with Lance at their lead, took the stage. He began to speak to the crowd, grinning and laughing in the spotlight, and Caroline's heart skipped so many beats she thought she might faint then and there.
Then, the first song began.
Waiting for your life to begin
You're always running, running
Waiting for a car to get in
But it's never coming
What is that you want to find?
Tell me now, Caroline
Waiting for your life to begin
Surely she was just hearing things, right? She was drunk and overwhelmed— there was no way her name was in this song.
You're knocking at a shut door every time
With nothing but your heartbeat and your pride
Because in the end it's memory versus time
Oh Caroline, oh Caroline, oh Caroline!
It felt like her entire world was spinning. She couldn't breathe. Lance wasn't looking at her— his eyes were shut as he gave himself to the music— but she could feel every word piercing her heart. The song was about her. It had to be. It was her name, it was referencing the things she'd told him so long ago, albeit far prettier than she'd ever said it. She looked to Abigail, who was cheering her heart out and singing along at the top of her lungs, and it felt like her entire world was about to shatter.
She needed to get out of there.
She couldn't move.
It was such a beautiful song.
"So, what did you think?" Lance asked, plopping down on the chair across from Caroline and Abigail with a bottle of water. "You enjoy the show, birthday girl?"
"Absolutely! Best birthday ever!" Abigail cried despite her hoarse voice. "I still can't believe I'm meeting the Lance Blackbourne, and he knew my mom!"
The other kids had come backstage with them for a bit, met the bands, and enjoyed the catering before taking their leave and heading to the hotel with promises to text once they were in their room. Caroline clutched her phone like a lifeline, staring at the blank screen until it lit up with Emily's confirmation that everyone had made it in one piece. She let out a gentle sigh and forced herself to tune into the conversation, trying to keep down the butterflies in her stomach.
"I used to visit Pelican Town every summer," Lance started with a fond look, "to help Grandpa Waylon while my parents were busy with traveling for work. It was my favorite time of the year— grandpa taught me how to play the guitar as well as how to farm, and I got along well with all the kids in town, especially Caroline and Pierre."
"Pierre is my dad!" Abigail chimed in, chest puffed out with pride.
The smile he wore now no longer reached his eyes. "So I heard. Grandpa still keeps me up with some of the gossip when he calls."
Abigail began to badger Lance with question after question about his time in Pelican Town and Lance humored her, purposefully avoiding giving answers that incriminated Caroline too badly while embellishing Pierre's embarrassing antics. All around them, fans and venue workers bustled about, enjoying the atmosphere, but Caroline could only trace the wrinkles that had begun to mar her former friend's face.
She wondered how old she looked in his eyes, as well.
When Abigail's yawns became too frequent to ignore and the room was almost completely empty, Caroline and Lance stood up at the same time.
"We should head back to the hotel now, I don't want to be left behind by the bus because we overslept," she said, taking Abigail's hand to help her to her feet.
"I'm heading to the nearby hotel, if you want me to walk you to your car," he said at the exact same time.
An awkward spanned between them for a moment before they chuckled. "I should've guessed you don't have a car. Want to come with me to the hotel?" Lance asked, stifling a yawn himself.
"Certainly. Maybe we can catch up properly tomorrow, at breakfast?"
"Sounds good. Let me just grab my stuff and I'll meet you outside."
Caroline nudged a half asleep Abigail to the exit and simply stood in the cool night breeze, taking it all in.
It's never gonna feel this way again, the song repeated in her head.
"So, what brings you to Pelican Town again, Lancelot?" Pam called over her shoulder to Lance.
While the kids sat towards the middle of the bus, overtaxing their vocal chords singing songs from the concert last night, Lance and Caroline took the seats nearest to Pam so that Pam could catch up with her old acquaintance.
"Grandpa wanted me to come; said it was important." Though Lance barely spoke loud enough to be heard over the mostly out-of-key children behind them, the gravity of his voice rang loud and clear.
Caroline's stomach dropped. She'd received the call this morning from a stunned Pierre that Waylon had suddenly collapsed during the adult-only party, though thankfully was still conscious with nothing more than a bruised hip and a fever. Apparently, he'd been told by the doctor who'd recently opened up shop in town that he was working himself to death, but the old man had disregarded the doctor's advice and took it upon himself to set up most of the party by himself all week.
"Ah, I'm sure he'll be just fine," Pam scoffed after a quiet moment, trying to disguise the worry in her voice. "The old man never let anything bring him down— he'll just have to lay in bed for a few days and complain, then he'll be right as rain!"
Caroline wanted nothing more than to reach over and give Lance the strongest hug she could manage, but her arms could only move enough to lay her hand on his knee. "I'm sure he'll be okay, Lance. He just overestimated how much energy he had," she said softly, unsure her voice reached him.
Lance only stared at the dirty floor until the doors of the bus creaked open. He jumped out of his seat without a word and, without grabbing any of his things, rushed towards the farm.
Pierre set a cup of jade leaf tea in Lance's line of sight, who simply ignored it in order to continuing stare down at the damp envelope before him with an empty look on his face. "Listen, bud, I know it's sudden, but Farmer Waylon… he was an old man. It was bound to happen at any moment— I'm just glad he was surrounded by family when he returned to Yoba's side."
Lance did not reply. Since the moment Pierre and Caroline had found him at their doorstep, soaked from the rain and tears streaming down his blank face, they'd known exactly what had happened. Though he'd not been in Pelican Town for 16 years at the minimum, Lance was always the closest family member to Waylon, often referred to as the favorite grandchild by the man when he came up in conversations at the saloon.
Caroline had taken the initiative to bring Lance's things from the bus to their guest room after texting him to come by if he planned to stay in town, so Pierre had been able to coax Lance out of his wet clothing and into warm pajamas before sitting him at their kitchen while Caroline made tea. Abigail, thankfully, was a heavy sleeper, so they could speak as loud as they needed without waking her up.
"Are you going to read the letter?" Pierre prompted after a long minute.
Lance shook his head.
"… Would you like something to eat?"
He nodded. Trembling hands took hold of the teacup and lifted it to his mouth, eyes closing as he let the flavor wash over his tongue before swallowing. When he set down the cup, a broken sob escaped him and he rushed to cover his mouth. "Sweet Yoba… I can't keep doing this…"
Pierre and Caroline glanced at each other as though the other had the answer. "Keep doing what, Lance?" Pierre prompted.
Lance pressed his forehead to the table, his voice shaking with every word. "Dana, our drummer. She died of cancer. She had no idea; she just collapsed one day, and that was that. They rushed her to the hospital, and the doctors said the cancer spread too far to remove. It was a miracle she was still alive, they said. She'd been sick for so long, but she'd kept telling us, 'I'm okay'— Oh Yoba, why did I believe her?! First her, now grandpa!"
Lance grabbed his arms as his body was wracked with heaving sobs. Pierre and Caroline both moved to either side of him without a word, Caroline rubbing soothing circles into his back and Pierre simply holding his shoulder as he wailed. From the entrance to the kitchen, Abigail peeked in and mouthed, Is there anything I can do?
Pierre shook his head and whispered, "It's okay, baby. Just go back to bed."
Though it obviously pained their daughter to not help her idol, she plodded back to her bedroom. No one spoke until the door could be heard shutting carefully on squeaky hinges.
Lance lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, then glared down at the wet spot he left on their tablecloth. "I think I need to take a break from the band. From music. From everything."
Another glance between husband and wife, this time sealed with a nod from Caroline. "Well, Lance," Pierre said, "if you'd like, you could stay here until you feel like you can—"
"No," he declared. "I have an apartment in Zuzu. I have enough money saved to pay rent, if I have to. And a job— my father said that if— when I gave up, he'd have a position for me at Joja, as a data analyst. Put that degree he gave me to good use."
Caroline shifted uncomfortably. No one in Pelican Town liked Lance's father, as far as she knew, besides Mayor Lewis. He had always pretended to be better than the "country bumpkins" that Lance's mother grew up with and had always expressed his disproval of Farmer Waylon in particular, his wife's father. She knew Lance also had a poor view of his father and that they fought whenever they spoke, but it surprised her that he would help support his only son— backhanded insult as it was to him.
Pierre opened his mouth to argue, but Lance simply glared at him, seemingly determined to follow his chosen path, so he simply sighed and said, "Alright, we can discuss this in the morning— you're in no state to leave right now, and Pam's probably fast asleep or drunk. Or both, knowing her. You know where the guest bedroom is, I presume."
Lance smiled for the first time since entering, a small, sad shift in expression. "Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you."
With that, he made his way to the guest room without a further word, shoulders hunched as he closed the door behind him.
For some reason, Caroline felt like something in her chest had blossomed and died, all in two nights.
It would be three years before they ever heard from him again.
"He's moving into the old farm next week!" Mayor Lewis had declared loudly to Marnie at the saloon after a few beers too many. Marnie tried to get him to lower his voice, but the old man was simply too far gone. "It's been so heartbreaking to see it fall into ruin— Waylon must be tossing in his grave!"
Pierre couldn't help but perk up at that, shifting in his seat to make sure he caught everything the both of them were saying. Mayor Lewis had told him he'd be needing to buy extra spring seeds in the next shipment, but he'd assumed it'd just been for the community garden Leah was hoping to set up, not a new farmer.
"Can you believe it? I tried for years to convince his family to sell the farm, at least to someone who could care for it, or even Joja, but Martha didn't have the deed! Said it wasn't in the inheritance! I said, how did he not give you the farm? Surely you would be first in line to have it? You practically grew up there!"
"Lewis, please," Marnie sighed. "You're being far too loud— you're just going to fuel gossip."
Lewis very specifically ignored her pleas and continued even louder, practically addressing the crowd. Pierre turned fully in his seat to give him his undivided attention. "You'll never believe it, she told me— he gave it to my son, she said! I was flabbergasted! The kid had practically fallen off the face of the earth! Apparently, he's been working in Zuzu City this whole time, when, suddenly, he just quit! Called me up yesterday and told me everything— he was sick of his job and just needed to get away from the city life.
"I asked about the farm, and he said that he had the deed, kept it in an envelope from Waylon for three years and never opened it! Ever since he read the letter, he's been reading up on farming methods and whatnot—"
Pierre felt like his head was spinning from giddiness and confusion. Though he'd tried reaching out the first year after his grandfather's death, Lance had stonewalled both him and his wife, if not the entire town, so they'd simply given up trying to reach him. It wasn't odd for Lance to make sudden decisions either, but he usually stuck to his guns much longer than three years; he must have been miserable at his desk job.
Mayor Lewis continued chattering loudly about how this would be a huge boon for the community, possibly even bigger than allowing Joja to build their damn supermarket on across the river, but Pierre was no longer paying attention. He downed the last of his beer and stumbled out the saloon, waving over his shoulder for Gus to put it on his tab.
Caroline smoothed out her dress nervously in the mirror. Damn it, she was an old, married woman, she kept telling herself, not a some young lady with a silly crush! Still, after Pierre had told her the news that Lance would be returning to the farm, her heart fluttered and butterflies practically hiccuped from her mouth every time she spoke. She had spent all week preparing the shop and their home for his arrival, as though he would be staying with them, or even care about the state of their home.
The bell chimed the arrival of a new customer and Caroline perked up at the muffled sound of Pierre and another man greeting each other exuberantly. Her heart rattled in her ribcage as she rushed from the bedroom and into the shop to find—
Sure, it had only been three years, but the time had definitely taken a toll on Lance. The first thing she noticed was his short cropped hair— no doubt a holdover from his time under Joja and his father's thumb— dusted with gray. He was obviously making an effort to stand straight rather than slouch, and his clothes looked like they hadn't seen the outside of a closet in years. More wrinkles lined his face, making him seem older than he really was, and his once vibrant eyes had dimmed; but, when Lance turned his tormented gaze upon her, the smile he wore never felt more sincere.
Caroline wanted to puke the butterflies onto the polished floor.
Pierre was saying something, probably pretending that they didn't know about his arrival or something inane like that, but the blood rushing in Caroline's ears blocked out all sound except the sound of his voice that night three years ago, crooning her name.
Oh Caroline!
"Hello? Caroline? I swear, we should get you a check up with Doctor Harvey, I'm afraid your hearing is starting to go!" Pierre laughed nervously. "I swear, she's usually not like this, Lance."
"It's fine, I often have that effect on people," Lance said with a sly wink towards her.
Caroline cleared her throat and gave a smile she hoped was convincing. "I'm sorry, Lance. I was just so surprised by your sudden arrival, I couldn't think of what to say!"
Lance's smile faltered. "Right. I'm… sorry for ghosting you all. That's the word the kids use, right? Pierre was just asking me about that."
"You don't have to explain yourself, Lance," Caroline was quick to pipe up, despite her gnawing curiosity. "You were grieving, and we were just worried."
He nodded and pursed his lips, unable to look her in the eye. "I should've at least told you all what I've been up to."
"Well, you can tell us with a round of drinks at the saloon," Pierre said in a way that brooked no argument. "And we can tell you all about what's happened with our little girl in the meantime."
That radiant smile returned to Lance's face. "Abigail, right? She actually found my address, somehow, and sent a few letters. I still have 'em."
Pierre frowned. "I'm sorry, Lance. Her… boyfriend? One of them, at least, is a programmer. He's probably the one who found it. It's not the first time she's had him do this, even though we've told her not to pressure him."
Lance laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made Caroline's knees weak. "It's fine. It was the push I needed to come back to reality, honestly."
To come back to us, Caroline's mind helpfully supplied.
They made plans to meet at the saloon on Friday— it was the busiest night, but it gave Lance a chance to work on cleaning up the farm and also greet the other villagers. Pierre seemed to have a pep in his step the entire week, though maybe that was because the shop was doing the best it had in years, thanks to Lance's frequent purchases.
Caroline didn't see Lance too often, but he waved when he passed her in town on some errand or another, once even stopping by to ask her to deliver her a gorgeous parsnip for dinner. His hand was already covered in blisters and new callouses, but he'd simply laughed off her fussing, promising to use the lotion she insisted he use.
When Friday finally came, both her and Pierre were excited for what felt like opposite reasons. Pierre was looking forward to reminiscing with an old friend, dressed in his finest button up to impress him, while Caroline was fussing over her foundation, desperate to cover her crow's feet and the laugh lines on her cheeks. Lance may have aged gracefully, but that certainly didn't mean she did. It took gentle words of affirmation and a kiss on the cheek to get Caroline away from her vanity, but she could still feel the mountainous layers of foundation not covering her wrinkles with every step.
Usually, Caroline avoided the saloon— not because she didn't like alcohol or anything like that, but more because she enjoyed staying at home with a cup of tea and a good book, maybe some music if she felt like the world around her needed a bit of noise. She hadn't realized, however, how long she'd avoided Friday nights at the saloon; it seemed like everyone had a certain place they belonged, an equilibrium all hashed out, and Caroline was intruding on their sanctuary.
When they entered side by side, Caroline was hit by a wave of nostalgia for her wedding— the booze especially. The scent seemed to flood the air, almost making her gag with how strong it was, but she managed to hold it down and awkwardly smile at the stares that turned their way.
"Hey! You made it!" Lance cried from a nearby booth, waving his arm in the air as though they couldn't see him through the small crowd.
"Like we'd miss catching up with you!" Pierre waved back, pulling Caroline along behind him. "How's the farm treating ya, bud?"
"Like you don't already know," Lance snorted as Pierre scooched into the seat across from him. "Everything on it is fucked to hell and back, the bed's shoddy and uncomfortable, and my back fuckin' hurts. So nothing new from my touring days!"
The two of them laughed heartily while Caroline simply stood there, her head already beginning to pound from the smell of booze and weed smoke. "I'm gonna grab some drinks and food— I haven't eaten yet," she yelled over the music.
Lance nodded and reached for his wallet, but Pierre stopped him. "Just use my tab, honey. I'll take care of it."
Caroline said nothing, just turning on her heel before the endearment sunk another hole in her stomach and marching to the bar. Gus and Emily both greeted her amicably, though their surprise at her being there showed easily on their faces, and set about making her two glasses of beer and some pizza to share.
While she waited, her mind wandered and hands fidgeted with the hem of her dress. It'd been years since she'd felt like this; like something was off with her. With everything around her. Or perhaps she was just more aware, thanks to Lance's homecoming? He'd left so abruptly, barely stopping to even say goodbye and thanks for their hospitality in his rush to run away again.
Again.
You're always running, running
Waiting for a car to get in
But it's never coming
"Caroline, are you alright?" Emily piped up as she handed over a tray with her order on it. "Your aura is very muddled and stormy…"
Caroline forced a smile that clearly didn't convince the other woman. "I'm alright, Emily. Thank you for checking in, however."
"Let me guess," she said, voice lowering into a loud whisper over the din of the saloon, "boy troubles?"
Caroline's fingers nearly slipped in their hold on the tray, and Emily had to quickly reach over the bar to keep it from spilling everywhere. "Wh— no! I'm not having—" her voice lowered to a whisper as well, "boy troubles!"
Emily glanced over at Lance and Pierre, smiling as if she could see something Caroline couldn't. "Right. Well, ma'am, if you're ever in need of a shoulder to cry on, you know where I am."
Gus called for Emily's attention from the kitchen and Emily turned on her heel as though she hadn't put a crack into the illusion she'd been trying so desperately to uphold.
After the encounter with Emily, Caroline's nerves were incredibly frayed for the remainder of the visit, to the point that she could barely hear past the noise of her own thoughts. The crack that had formed was quickly spreading, and it was noticeable to everyone, to the point that Pierre insisted on taking her home.
It should've been a sweet gesture. It should have soothed her to know that her husband cared about her wellbeing. It just made her feel like a liar.
As the days turned to months, Caroline tried to forget that night and live her life as normal, but it was hard when Lance kept worming his way into every facet of it. Every Friday, he'd drag a drunken Pierre home, obviously far more capable of holding his liquor than her husband. When the weather was poor, Caroline would let Lance sleep in their guest bedroom, or the couch if he really couldn't stumble his way past the living room.
Those nights, Caroline would put Pierre to bed and find Lance waiting to chat with her, always with a word to say about missing her presence at the bar. She'd tell him an unconvincing lie, he'd nod and smile understandingly, and then they'd chat until the sun began to peak over the horizon, or one or both of them fell asleep.
(She said nothing about the nights he'd obviously carried her to bed. And he said nothing about the amount of times she'd obviously faked being asleep just to be in his arms.)
"Are you coming to the Flower Dance tomorrow, Caroline?" asked Lance over a cup of morning tea and biscuits. Pierre was setting up the shop, so it was just the two of them, as it had been for the past two years.
Both of them had more grey hairs and wrinkles than they did before; Lance's freckles and tan made him look like Farmer Waylon had stepped out of a picture of himself at the same, while Caroline simply dyed her greys back to their original color and wore makeup every day to maintain some semblance of youth. She had far more wrinkles to her brow now, she felt, thanks to trying to help plan Abigail's marriage to Sebastian and Sam while also dealing with the increased hours of the store being open.
"Right, the dance," she sighed after a moment. "I… want to go, but Pierre is going to be running a booth and I don't feel like going alone."
"Who says you're gonna be alone?"
"Huh?"
"I'll be there. We can dance together— I already asked Pierre if he would be alright with it, and he said it was perfectly fine."
Caroline blinked at him, flabbergasted. "You did?"
Lance smiled sadly. "Yes, Caroline. He cares about you, even if he might not show it. He wants you to have fun at your daughter's last Flower Dance as a bachelorette."
Caroline looked down at her tea, her heart thumping and stomach roiling. A usual feeling these days when they spoke.
"Right. He certainly cares enough to leave me alone at every festival in favor of having his damn booth," she found herself muttering, the vitriol in her voice surprising even her. "Sometimes I wonder if he even loves me, or if I'm just a mannequin to him."
Lance's look could have made a warlord feel guilty. "You don't mean that, Caroline…"
She didn't deign to reply.
Pierre came home drunk, as seemed to be the usual occourence these days. What wasn't usual, however, was the black eye he sported, his bloody knuckles, and the lack of Lance Blackbourne at his side. Emily had rung the doorbell, her surprising strength keeping Pierre somewhat upright.
Caroline invited her inside. She casted a sidelong at Pierre and, reluctantly, agreed.
"I'm afraid of what he might say," Emily had said after the door to their bedroom had shut, "or what he might do. His aura… it was a horrible blood red and ivy green..."
Apparently, Pierre and Lance had gotten into a fight. It started with something about how he never seemed to spend time with his wife, even after Abigail had moved out and was about to start her own life as a wife. Things had escalated from there, mostly from Pierre's side, and the two friends had traded punches, both leaving a nasty mark on the other.
"Seems like your boy troubles have come to a head," Emily said. "My offer still stands."
Caroline was silent as she began to prep the tea for her guest. Emily didn't say anything else— she didn't need to; her knowing gaze was all it took for Caroline to say everything that had been on her mind since that fateful night after the concert.
You're sleeping with your windows shut so tight
Because demons come to find you every night
They're screaming, "Oh my god, you're losing time!"
"I'm in love with Lance. I have been for years. He didn't love me back," she began plainly, going about the motions like a puppet on a string. "Pierre's parents and mine decided we should marry— they set up the wedding and everything without asking us how we felt. Pierre never went against his parent's word, and I… I was a coward. Until my wedding day, at least. After I went up the altar, I cornered Lance in the forest and begged him to run away with me. You can see how that well that went.
"After that, he disappeared. Turns out he back home, started a band that got famous, then wrote songs about…"
"About you and Pelican Town," Emily finished for her.
Caroline nodded, sitting in her chair carefully, as though too much weight would cause it to come crashing down under her. "There was one song specifically. Just called Caroline. It was obviously about me— I mean, it had my name and everything, even some of the stuff I kinda remember saying. And when we saw each other again… I realized I was never in love with Pierre. I just pretended to be."
"For Abigail?"
"Everything I've done is for Abigail."
"Your aura says you're lying."
"You're too smart for your own good," she chuckled darkly. "Yeah. I'm a coward. I could've left by now. Pierre hasn't had sex with me since our honeymoon. I laid there like a dead fish and he cried after. I don't even think Abigail…"
She left the words hanging in the air. Emily didn't need to know that, but she probably could put two and two together.
"You should tell him," Emily stated after a long, gentle silence.
"I can't."
"But you should," croaked Pierre from the corner. "You have to."
Lance lifted his bride into his arms as she squealed, wearing a childish grin as he paraded her before the entire town.
"Lance!" Caroline Blackbourne screeched, cackling and kicking her feet joyfully. "Put me down, babe! We gotta do the first dance!"
"I can dance perfectly fine like this! Watch!" He shuffled his feet a bit, jostling her as he did; the drunken attendees cheered as his old band fired up the music, the crowd beginning to move their feet just as badly as he had.
"What'd I tell ya, they love my moves!" Lance crowed, setting her down after planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Look at these lovebirds!" Pierre, Lance's best man, shouted as he stumbled towards them, leaning on his daughter's shoulders. "You take care of her, y'hear?! I better not be seein' any tears from that beautiful lady!"
"Oh, and what will you do? Punch me in the face?" Lance countered.
Both men cackled, and Caroline's heart swelled with happiness to see them acting so amicably.
"Listen, listen, listen," Pierre suddenly said, face solemn. "I've been talkin' with my baby girl here… and I think I figured somethin' out. Why I couldn't make Caroline happy…"
Caroline's face fell. "Pierre, don't—"
"No, no! It's okay!" he cried, waving his drink about and narrowly missing spilling some on Abigail, "I'm somethin' called… aromatic!"
"Aromantic, dad," Abigail chimed in.
"Right, whatever… Means I can't be all lovey-dovey, is all… I thought I was broken… but it's just how Yoba made me!"
"I'm happy for you, bud!" Lance grinned, turning so he could bump shoulders with him. "Seems like you got it all figured out!"
"And I do! But don't let me keep ya waiting, you got a lady to take care of, if you catch my drift," he yelled conspiratorily, winking before kissing Abigail on the head and stumbling towards the dance floor.
"I'm happy for you, mom," Abigail said, her eyes swollen red. "But I'm not calling Lance 'dad'."
Lance snorted. "No problem, kiddo."
Abigail faked gagged and walked off after hugging both of them. Lance shifted his grip on Caroline and whispered, "But Pierre is right— I got a lady to care for."
"Damn right you do."
No more running. No more waiting.
It was time for her life to begin.