the festival.
Kim glanced at the old man as Rachel led him toward their white, twelve-by twelve
foot tented booth. He looked exceptionally pale, and his mouth was tight-lipped and
grim.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.
“Can you bring me that thing I like to sit on?” he responded.
“A chair?” she asked.
He nodded, and Kim guided him toward a seat at the back of the tent.
“I’m worried about him,” Rachel whispered to her. “He hasn’t spoken much today.”
“Are you sure you’ll manage here without me?” Kim asked.
Rachel waved her off. “Go have fun.”
K IM FELT A flutter in her stomach, but it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. She couldn’t
wait to see Nathaniel again.
She hurried past the other outdoor vendors and counted off their numbered spaces as
she went by. He’d said he had something special planned, something to do with his
brother’s business, although she’d failed to ask what that was. She knew he had set
up a booth selling his prize-winning roses.
Five . . . six . . . seven . . . space number eight. She looked up from the spray-painted
number on the ground and spotted Nathaniel holding a picnic basket and a bottle of
wine. And there behind him was an enormous red-and-yellow hot air balloon.
She froze, her stomach taking a ninety-degree dive straight into a pool of dread.
Did he intend to take her up off the ground in that thing . . . and fly?
Chapter Six
----
Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.
—Helen Keller
“W HAT’S WRONG?” N ATHANIEL asked, his smile fading as she drew closer. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” she said, each step toward him heavier than the next. “I’m afraid of flying .”
He gave her a hesitant half-grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to even try?”
Her gut wrenched with indecision. Nathaniel had looked so excited when he first saw
her. She glanced at the open picnic basket that he had placed on the ground by his
feet and saw sandwiches, red grapes, cinnamon rolls, and two plastic glasses.
Dear God, she didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to ruin things between them
before they even got started. Kim looked from him to the balloon, then back to the
hope in his beautiful blue eyes.
He pulled away from her gaze and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I got the idea
when I carried one of your paintings out to the Cupcake Mobile during the fire. The
painting of the sky full of balloons, with the girl on the ground reaching out her
hand as if yearning to fly over the trees and set off on a grand adventure of her
own.”
Kim stared at him. “That’s exactly how I felt when I painted it.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“My mother. She died in a plane crash when I was seventeen, and my plans to travel
the world crashed with her. I tried to board a plane after college. I got my passport,
bought my ticket, walked up the boarding ramp . . . and I panicked. All the memories
of my mother’s death came flooding back, and I couldn’t go on.”
“So you fear your own death?”
“I fear being hurt,” Kim said, and tried to swallow the painful memory. “She . . .
didn’t die right away.”
“This is my brother’s balloon,” Nathaniel told her. “At festivals we take people up
a hundred feet, but the balloon stays tethered to the ground the whole time. We don’t
have to go up in the balloon if you don’t want.” He shrugged. “We can have our picnic
right here on the ground among the other people waiting to get eaten by trolls.”
Kim smiled and looked up at the balloon again. How she did yearn to fly!
“Maybe we could have our picnic in the basket while it’s tethered to the ground?”
she asked. “Or . . . as long as it’s still held by a rope, we could lift off the ground
just a little bit? Like, maybe only a few feet?”
The enormous smile Nathaniel gave her erased her doubts over the suggestion,
Kim glanced at the old man as Rachel led him toward their white, twelve-by twelve
foot tented booth. He looked exceptionally pale, and his mouth was tight-lipped and
grim.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.
“Can you bring me that thing I like to sit on?” he responded.
“A chair?” she asked.
He nodded, and Kim guided him toward a seat at the back of the tent.
“I’m worried about him,” Rachel whispered to her. “He hasn’t spoken much today.”
“Are you sure you’ll manage here without me?” Kim asked.
Rachel waved her off. “Go have fun.”
K IM FELT A flutter in her stomach, but it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. She couldn’t
wait to see Nathaniel again.
She hurried past the other outdoor vendors and counted off their numbered spaces as
she went by. He’d said he had something special planned, something to do with his
brother’s business, although she’d failed to ask what that was. She knew he had set
up a booth selling his prize-winning roses.
Five . . . six . . . seven . . . space number eight. She looked up from the spray-painted
number on the ground and spotted Nathaniel holding a picnic basket and a bottle of
wine. And there behind him was an enormous red-and-yellow hot air balloon.
She froze, her stomach taking a ninety-degree dive straight into a pool of dread.
Did he intend to take her up off the ground in that thing . . . and fly?
Chapter Six
----
Life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.
—Helen Keller
“W HAT’S WRONG?” N ATHANIEL asked, his smile fading as she drew closer. “Are you afraid of heights?”
“No,” she said, each step toward him heavier than the next. “I’m afraid of flying .”
He gave her a hesitant half-grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to even try?”
Her gut wrenched with indecision. Nathaniel had looked so excited when he first saw
her. She glanced at the open picnic basket that he had placed on the ground by his
feet and saw sandwiches, red grapes, cinnamon rolls, and two plastic glasses.
Dear God, she didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want to ruin things between them
before they even got started. Kim looked from him to the balloon, then back to the
hope in his beautiful blue eyes.
He pulled away from her gaze and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I got the idea
when I carried one of your paintings out to the Cupcake Mobile during the fire. The
painting of the sky full of balloons, with the girl on the ground reaching out her
hand as if yearning to fly over the trees and set off on a grand adventure of her
own.”
Kim stared at him. “That’s exactly how I felt when I painted it.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
“My mother. She died in a plane crash when I was seventeen, and my plans to travel
the world crashed with her. I tried to board a plane after college. I got my passport,
bought my ticket, walked up the boarding ramp . . . and I panicked. All the memories
of my mother’s death came flooding back, and I couldn’t go on.”
“So you fear your own death?”
“I fear being hurt,” Kim said, and tried to swallow the painful memory. “She . . .
didn’t die right away.”
“This is my brother’s balloon,” Nathaniel told her. “At festivals we take people up
a hundred feet, but the balloon stays tethered to the ground the whole time. We don’t
have to go up in the balloon if you don’t want.” He shrugged. “We can have our picnic
right here on the ground among the other people waiting to get eaten by trolls.”
Kim smiled and looked up at the balloon again. How she did yearn to fly!
“Maybe we could have our picnic in the basket while it’s tethered to the ground?”
she asked. “Or . . . as long as it’s still held by a rope, we could lift off the ground
just a little bit? Like, maybe only a few feet?”
The enormous smile Nathaniel gave her erased her doubts over the suggestion,
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