Page 42 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Christopher cleared his throat and smiled down at her. “Haveyou been having fun today?” One of her eyebrows arched up, reminding him ofHolly’s knowing look at the hat stand.
She said in a strange, distant way, “Yes. Have you?”
Christopher squatted to be closer to her height, but she wastaller than he realized, and she towered over him haughtily. “It’s been a goodday, sure. I work here, though, so I haven’t been havingfunreally. How about you? Did you go on any rides yet?”
Brigid shrugged. “The Ferris wheel. All the good rides areclosed until spring, though.”
“The Firebender’s open.”
“No one will ride it with me.”
“Oh?” He looked up at Jesse. “Scared?”
“Dad pukes on rides like that.” She rolled her eyes. “Hejust comes here for the shows. I hate the shows.”
“Brigid,” Jesse started, but Christopher interrupted him.
“What rides do you like best?”
“The water ones. So coming here in fall and winter is justcold and boring.”
“It’s not boring,” Will said calmly, not tearing his eyesfrom Gareth’s work. “Dad likes to watch that man sing, you know the one.”
“Will, pay attention. This is the man,” Brigid said, hercold eyes raking over Christopher in a way that made his palms sweat.
Will ignored her. “Besides, you’re wrong. The music is good.It makes me want to dance.” He turned from Gareth and with twinkling eyesdemonstrated some over-the-top square-dance moves clearly designed to mortifyhis sister.
“You’re so…ugh.” Brigid crossed her arms over her chest.
Christopher glanced up to see firelight shining on Gareth’ssweating forearms and handsome, bearded face. He seemed oblivious toChristopher’s presence, absorbed in his work of heating and hammering.Definitely a pleasant change from the glaring and snide remarks. At least theman had some discretion.
“The shows are boring,” Brigid insisted.
“No, they’re not,” Will said, cheerfully, stopping his sillydance and smiling up at Christopher. “You’re a good singer, Christopher.”
Brigid made a soft sound that sounded like a snort, butJesse’s hand came down on her shoulder, and she looked up at him and sighedbefore frowning and glaring at the fire in the forge again.
“Thanks, Will.”
“I like the shows. And at Christmas I like the lights, andthe trees, and I always like that awesome gingerbread.”
“You like the baby parades too,” Brigid murmured. Jesse’shand squeezed her shoulder but she didn’t flinch.
“They aren’t baby.”
“Yes they are. And the baby jugglers.”
“Juggling babies takes real skill, Brigid,” Jesse said.
She snorted.
“Oh, you know what I like best? The man who carves the bigwooden eagles with a chainsaw,” Will said.
“Harry Jones,” Christopher offered up the name, but Will wasalready on to another thought.
“Oh!And the real eagles!At thesanctuary. Granddad’s eagles. They’re cool.”
Brigid shrugged again like she wasn’t necessarily impressedwith any of those things.
