Someone stepped up beside him. Donald looked away from the hills to see that Anna had joined him by the stage.
“Here we go,” she said quietly, scanning the crowd.
She looked and sounded nervous. Maybe it was for her father, who had so much to do with arranging the main stage and making sure everyone was in the right place. Glancing back, he saw that people were taking their seats, chairs wiped down from the morning drizzle, not nearly as many people as it seemed before. They must be either working in the tents or off to the other stages. This was the quiet brewing before the—
“There she is.”
Anna waved her arms. Donald felt his heart swell up into his neck as he turned and followed Anna’s gaze. The relief was mixed with the panic of Helen seeing him there with her, the two of them waiting side by side.
Shuffling down the hill was certainly someone familiar. A young woman in a pressed blue uniform, a hat tucked under one arm, a dark head of hair wrapped up in a crisp bun.
“Charlotte?” Donald shielded his eyes from the glare of the noonday sun filtering through wispy clouds. He gaped in disbelief. All other events and concerns melted away as his sister spotted them and waved back.
“She sure as hell cut this close,” Anna muttered.
Donald hurried over to his four-wheeler and turned the key. He hit the ignition, gave the handle some gas, and raced across the wet grass to meet her.
Charlotte beamed as he hit the brakes at the base of the hill. He killed the engine.
“Hey, Donny.”
His sister leaned into him before he could dismount. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed.
He returned her embrace, worried about denting or soiling her neat uniform. “What in the world are you doing here?” he asked.
She let go and took a step back, smoothed the front of her shirt. The gig line of her belt, pants, and top were all militarily straight. The Air Force dress hat disappeared back under her arm, every motion like an ingrained and precise habit.
“Are you surprised?” she asked. “I thought the Senator would’ve let it slip by now.”
“Hell, no. Well, he said something about a visitor but not who. I thought you were in Iran. Did he swing this?”
She nodded, and Donald felt his cheeks cramping from smiling so hard. Every time he saw her, there was this relief from discovering that she was still the same person. The sharp chin and splash of freckles across her nose, the shine in her eyes that had not yet dulled from the horrible things she’d seen. She had just turned thirty, had been half a world away with no family when it happened, but she was frozen in his mind as the young teen who had enlisted, and it relieved him every time to see that she hadn’t morphed into something else, not all the way.
“I think I’m supposed to be on the stage for this thing tonight,” she said.
“Of course.” Donald smiled. “I’m sure they’ll want you on camera. You know, to show support for the troops.”
Charlotte frowned. “Oh, God, I’m one of those people, aren’t I?”
He laughed. “I’m sure they’ll have someone from the Army, Navy, and Marines there with you.”
“Oh, God. And I’m the girl.”
They both laughed. One of the bands beyond the hills finished their set. The discordant mix of noise suddenly morphed into actual music as only one other stage was left performing. Donald scooted forward and told his sister to hop on, his chest suddenly less constricted. There had been a shift in the weather, these breaking clouds, the quieting stages, and now the arrival of family.
He cranked the engine and raced through the least muddy path on the way back to the stage, his sister holding on tight and squealing with delight. They pulled up beside Anna, his sister hopping off and into her arms. While they chatted, Donald killed the ignition and checked his phone. His messages were still sending. And then he saw that an incoming one had arrived.
Helen: In Tennessee. where r u?
There was a jarring moment as his brain tried to make sense of the message. It was from Helen. What the hell was she doing in Tennessee?
Another stage fell silent. It took only a heartbeat or two for Donald to realize that she wasn’t hundreds of miles away. She was just over the hill. None of his messages about meeting at the Georgia stage had gone through.
“Hey, I’ll be right back.”
He cranked the ATV. Anna grabbed his wrist.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
He smiled. “Tennessee. Helen just texted me.”
Anna glanced up at the clouds. His sister was inspecting her hat. On the stage, a young girl was being ushered up to the mic. She was flanked by a color guard, and the seats facing the stage were filling up, necks stretched with anticipation.
Before he could react or put the ATV in gear, Anna reached across, twisted the key, and pulled it out of the ignition.
“Not now,” she said.
Donald felt a flash of rage. He reached for her hands, for the key, but it disappeared behind her back.
“Wait,” she hissed.
Charlotte had turned toward the stage. Senator Thurman stood with a microphone in hand, the young girl, maybe sixteen, beside him. The hills had grown deathly quiet. Donald realized what a racket the ATV had been making. The girl was about to sing.
Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Democrats—
There was a pause. Donald got off the four-wheeler, took a last glance at his phone, then tucked it away.
—and our handful of Independents.
Laughter from the crowd. Donald set off at a jog across the flat at the bottom of the bowl. His shoes squished in the wet grass and the thin layer of mud. Senator Thurman’s voice continued to roar through the microphone:
Today is the dawn of a new era, a new time.
He was out of shape. Or was his chest pounding from the time apart? From missing her and worrying all day? He flashed back to summer camp when he was a kid standing by the road with all the other kids, emotional farewells between new and supposedly eternal friends, but all he wanted was to see his mom and dad, to get home. He remembered nearly wetting his pants or bursting out in tears from trying to hold all the longing inside.
As we gather in this place of future independence—
By the time the ground sloped upward, he was already winded.
—I’m reminded of the words from one of our enemies. A Republican.
Distant laughter, but Donald was concentrating on the climb. The hill was steepest in a direct line toward the Tennessee bowl. Glancing to one side, he saw a crease in the hills where they had been pushed together, sealing up the path that once lay between them. That’s how he should have gone.
It was Ronald Reagan who once said that freedom must be fought for, that peace must be earned. As we listen to this anthem, written a long time ago as bombs dropped and a new country was forged, let’s consider the price paid for our freedom and ask ourselves if any cost could be too great to ensure that these liberties never slip away.
A third of the way up—and Donald had to stop and catch his breath. His calves were going to give out before his lungs did. He regretted puttering around on the ATV the past weeks while some of the others slogged it on foot. He promised himself he’d get in better shape.
He started back up the hill, and a voice like ringing crystal filled the bowl. It spilled in synchrony over the looming rise. He turned toward the stage below where the national anthem was being sung by the sweetest of young voices—