The Haunted - Jessica Verday [15]
“Then you’re going to be fine. As soon as the mayor calls you, just read what you wrote.
I’ll be standing right here next to you to give you my support. Okay?” I nodded again, and then Mayor Archer started talking. He greeted the crowd and thanked everyone for coming. Naming all the members of the town council and the building committee, who had “worked tirelessly on this project and shown true community service and pride,” he encouraged a round of applause and then announced that I would be coming up to give the dedication.
Mom had to propel me toward the podium, but true to her word she stood up next to me.
Mayor Archer introduced me as Kristen’s best friend, and then everything fell silent.
I glanced down at the paper I held clenched in one fist, then placed it on the podium and flattened out a folded edge. Everything I wanted to say was there. In front of me. All I had to do was open my mouth and read the words. They were waiting for me.
“Kristen Maxwell was…” I broke off, and then tried again. “She was a…” Someone near the front shifted and distracted me, and I felt the urge to clench my fists. I tried to spot Ben but couldn’t. So instead I decided to try his trick. I looked out at the crowd, picturing everyone in ridiculous underwear.
It kind of helped.
“I could tell you… all the good things that Kristen Maxwell was,” I read hesitantly. “A good daughter. A good friend. A good student. A good person. But that’s what you’d expect to hear.
Who ever talks about all the bad qualities someone had after they’ve died?” My voice wavered, but I continued on. “But what was really important about Kristen was that she loved life. She loved living, and smiling, and just enjoying everything that came her way. That was her best trait.”
I looked over at the bridge. “We used to come here before the construction started. We’d hang out underneath the bridge and look at the water. Just talking and laughing. Spending time together. She really liked it here.” I started to get choked up, and I fought to hold it back.
“Even though she’ll never get to enjoy the simple things in life again, I’ve decided to enjoy them for her. To live each day to its fullest, and to always try to find the happiness in small things. Like Kristen did.”
Several people were dabbing at the corners of their eyes, and then thunderous applause broke out. They kept clapping and clapping, and I looked up into the cloud-covered sky.
These people are clapping for you, Kris.
Mayor Archer returned to the podium and the applause died down. “I’d like to thank Abigail Browning for her touching words,” he said, “and all of you for coming out. This bridge is hereby declared the Washington Irving Bridge, and is dedicated to the memory of Kristen Maxwell.”
The mayor smiled out at the crowd, but already people were starting to shift. Ready to move on. They separated into two distinct groups: Those who were moving toward us, no doubt looking for conversation, and those who were moving toward the parking lot in a polite stampede. They worked against each other, and it looked like everyone was gridlocked.
Mom and I just stood there, waiting for the incoming tidal wave until finally Dad reached us. I was in a sort of haze, blindly shaking proffered hands and saying “Thank you” as people told me what a great job I did, or how I had their sympathies. As soon as I could, I latched on to Dad and put my arm around him.
It felt nice to have something solid to hold on to and just that small gesture helped me immediately feel more grounded.
Dad shook hands too, and he was able to reach more of them faster than I could. Eventually people stopped coming, and I took a moment to scan who was left. I didn’t see the Maxwells or Ben, but I managed to catch Mom’s attention for a second. “Did the Maxwells come?” She shook her head. “They must have decided they just couldn’t do it.” She put a hand on my arm. “You did a great job, Abbey.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom. And thanks for standing up there with me.” We were the last ones by the bridge now, except for Mayor Archer, and I figured