It was an hour or two past noon now, and Eve was fully caught up in the excitement of the day. Joshua and Ryan were walking at her side, bantering and horsing around animatedly. The three had been teasing and prodding each other nonstop, their faces red and plastered with wide grins from almost continual laughter.
        They had made their way around most of the plateau, happily taking in whatever spectacles presented themselves. Bakers and jolly housewives had thrust every kind of dessert and entrée imaginable at them, and the trio had cheerfully obliged every one last of them. They had seen drunken brawls, children shouting and running about wildly, and everything in between, but most of all, smiling people everywhere. Despite all the free-spirited cheer, however, Eve made a conscientious effort to stay clear of the peddler and his strange "tests."
        Neither had they run into Isaac or Chantelle. It was just as well, as far as Eve was concerned. It was turning out to be a fabulous day, and she had no desire for that to change by seeing the pair latched on to each other.
        The three were in the midst of a small crowd now, gathered before a modest stage that had been temporarily constructed out of wooden planks for the day's festivities. A young man in his early thirties stood atop the platform, strumming a lute and singing gently in a sweet tenor voice.
        The audience clapped and cheered in genuine appreciation when he finished and the man bowed graciously, humbly thanking the crowd.
        "Hey," a voice near Eve breathed in a low whisper. She turned to see Jonathan standing behind her, gazing at the stage.
        She whispered a greeting and smiled in reply, but her gaze inadvertently slipped past Jonathan and onto Isaac and Chantelle who were strolling hand-in-hand in their direction. Eve quickly turned away, grimacing inwardly.
        The man on the platform raised his hand to the crowd. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," he said. He had a mild-mannered air about him, yet spoke in a dignified and self-assured fashion. "The organizers of this festival asked me to share a bit of my music with you and to oversee the annual competition afterward. This year, we're once again looking for the best of the best singers in Lavenhill."
        "And a challenger for my wife!" a rugged farmer standing near Jonathan shouted.
        The young man on the stage grinned. "And a challenger for Mrs. O'Callum, last year's lovely and talented champion!"
        The audience cheered as a woman standing next to the farmer, apparently Mrs. O'Callum, blushed and gave a quick, embarrassed wave to the crowd.
        "This is your last chance to get in on the competition," the young man continued. "We've already got a nice lineup of contenders here and we're just looking for a few more talented folks."
        Joshua grabbed Eve's arm and raised it above her head as Ryan shouted, "Right here! Right here! We've got someone dying to join!"
        Eve broke into laughter as she wrested her arm free from Joshua's grasp.
        "Miss Eve Madragan," the man on the platform boomed, "are you volunteering?"
        She shook her head wildly in what she hoped was a convincing manner. "I don't sing."
        "Sure you do!" Eve turned to see Isaac standing behind her, grinning. "Who was it that was always howling at the top of her lungs we were little?"
        She opened her mouth to protest, but Chantelle spoke first. "I'll go!" She was holding onto Isaac's arm, staring at his face, her hazel eyes big and round. "I love to sing! I used to take lessons when we lived down in Tyne." Chantelle spoke in an earnest voice, as if trying to convince everyone that she really could sing. "Father used to call me his little songbird." Her face had softened and her feminine and sweetly soprano voice had taken on a nostalgic quality.
        A smile stole onto Isaac's face as he looked into Chantelle's pleading eyes. "Chantelle, dear, you can do whatever you want." He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "And I'm sure that no one in Lavenhill can even come near your singing abilities. The competition is yours for the taking!"
        Chantelle's lips broke into a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. "Come on, let's go," Isaac said, placing his hand on her back and leading her away through the crowd to the side of the stage where all the contestants were assembling.
        Eve sighed resignedly and turned her attention to the platform where the first contestant had already mounted the stage and was preparing to begin his song.
        The competition was not much different from how it had always been every year. There were people with genuinely beautiful voices and others who really had no business being on stage in the first place. And there was always at least one drunken person who insisted on serenading everyone with a horribly garbled and tone deaf rendition of an old traditional song. Some people played a stringed instrument for accompaniment and others went acappella.
        It was always an interesting variety show, but there were inevitable times where one couldn't help but cringe for the poor person on stage who didn't realize how much they were embarrassing themselves.
        And down this road I traveled,
        My heart was leading the way,
        When I came upon a dark young man,
        Whose smile led me astray.
        Eve's attention snapped to the stage, as a light angelic voice began to sing. Chantelle was atop the platform, her melody floating over the audience in a beautiful arrangement of a traditional song sung for generations in the Highlands.
        She sings, too, Eve thought to herself, heart sinking. Chantelle sang with her eyes lifted to the horizon, her arms behind her back, which only seemed to enhance her delicate beauty. Her melody was lilting and sweet, far out-distancing any of the competitors so far.
        She ended her song with a flourish and the mesmerized audience broke from their reverie and into wild applause. Chantelle curtsied deeply and with a high-classed grace. She continued to smile and wave at the crowd, basking in their adoration as she climbed from the stage.
        Eve clapped as well, not able to deny the wondrous talent of the other girl. Beauty and talent both, she thought. Oh, to be born so lucky.
        "Eve," someone whispered behind her, a warm hand encircling hers. Eve turned in surprise to see Isaac standing behind her. "I have to show you something."
        He led her by the hand away from the crowd to a broad flat rock. "Look," he said, reaching deep into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Eve took it from him and carefully unfolded the page. "It's a new one," his blue eyes intently studying her face for a reaction. "I just came up with the idea a few nights ago-this is only a first draft."
        Eve scanned the paper rapidly, her gaze taking in the skillfully drawn charcoal strokes. It was a rough sketch of a young woman on her knees, gently cradling a small infant. "It's lovely," Eve replied, smiling. "Truly lovely."
        Isaac's father was a carpenter and over the years Isaac had picked up the trade. He used his skill in a different manner, however. Instead of sawing beveling boards, Isaac's love for art led him to carving beautiful figures from wood. He had quite a gift for it too; despite his young age, he had gained recognition for his work and had sold several pieces to various villagers. He would sketch out a few drafts before starting to carve, and for weeks he would spend long hours passionately working until his creation reached perfection.
        "My mother's birthday is in less than a month," Isaac explained. "I thought it would be a great present for her. She could put it in her clinic, decorate the place up a bit, you know."
        Eve laughed. "I somehow think she'd rather protect it by keeping it in the house away from where it could be damaged."
        Isaac grinned. "I'm not quiet happy with it yet, though." He took the paper from Eve and laid it face-down on the rock. "Something's missing-it just doesn't have the heart or the emotion in it yet."
        He took out a short charcoal stub from his other pocket and began sketching on the blank side of the sheet. Eve watched from over his shoulder as his sinewy artist's hands raced across the paper, expertly conjuring a revised version of the drawing.
        She breathed in sharply as the new sketch took shape. The woman in the sketch was on her knees, tenderly holding her child. She was not particularly attractive, but the way Isaac drew her, nearly glowing with love for her baby, somehow transformed her face with a different kind of beauty. The infant itself was peering into the woman's eyes in a way that portrayed such innocence and an almost palpable bond between mother and child.
        "It's exquisite," Eve breathed as Isaac finished. He smiled at her in thanks and handed her the paper for a better look. She studied it closely, marveling at the detail and the skill with which he had drawn it.
        "Yes!!" Eve snapped to attention at Isaac's shout-he was staring at the stage and clapping wildly, along with the rest of the crowd. "Chantelle won! She won!" Isaac could hardly contain himself.
        Chantelle was on stage again, this year's champion. Her smile reached from ear to ear as the young man who oversaw the competition placed a gigantic bouquet of flowers and ribbons in her hand and declared her the victor.
        She waved to the crowd and rushed off the platform and to the back of the audience to where Isaac and Eve were standing.
        "Beautiful job!" Isaac exclaimed, enveloping Chantelle in a bear hug when she reached him. "Ah, you were so great!"
        "Isaac," Eve said, deciding it was time to excuse herself, "I need to go." She had spotted Joshua and Ryan, ready to continue on, waving and shouting at her from near the stage. She held the drawing out to him. "And I don't want to leave with your sketch."
        He took it from her wordlessly, but smiled in thanks. She gave him a small smile in return, and turned to leave.
        "Eve, wait," Isaac had caught her by the hand and wheeled her around to face him. He reached into his pocket and pulled another piece of paper, crumpled into a round lump. He wrapped her hand around it and smiled. "It's for you."
        "Thanks," she said, slowly, looking at Isaac curiously. He nodded and Eve turned away, trotting over to Joshua and Ryan.
        "Finally!" they said in unison when she caught up with them. Eve grinned and they once again began walking across the plateau, looking for the next spectacle of the day.
        Joshua and Ryan began a wild conversation almost immediately as Eve turned over the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. She slowly opened it and small object fell to the ground. She stopped dead and examined the note scrawled in Isaac's handwriting on the inside of the paper. Joshua and Ryan kept walking, however, too engrossed in their exchange to notice Eve's absence.
        It read:

        I know how disappointed you were when the drought killed off the rosebushes at the circle this year...I hope this remedies the situation a bit.

        --Isaac

 
        "Go! Go! Go! Go!" Eve, Joshua, and Ryan were standing in a row chanting and clapping with the crowd. The sheer, unbridled wildness of this little gathering of people was what had drawn the three here in the first place. They were standing around a rickety wooden table this time at yet another competition-Lavenhill's infamous annual drinking contest.
        The point of the competition was to see who could down the most amount of liquor without passing out or vomiting. But over the years, it had become more of a drinking-fest where the "old pros" would initiate the "virgins"-young adults who had little experience with liquor-into the club. It was more of a circus than anything else.
        A young man, one of the virgins, was at the table right now. He had downed a few shots already and was looking a bit tipsy. The bartender filled another glass and placed it before him. "Come on, kid!" someone shouted in encouragement. The man lifted the glass and looked at the crowd.
        "Go! Go! Go! Go!" Joshua and Ryan started swaying back and forth in time with the shouting.
        The young man breathed in deeply, tilted his head back, and swallowed another shot glass. He slammed the glass down and wiped his mouth, his face twisted in disgust at the liquor's taste. Old men standing behind him slapped huge hands on his back in congratulations.
        The virgin waved his hands drunkenly at the crowd. "No more! No more!" he exclaimed. "I can't take anymore!" He stumbled back from the table and staggered away from the crowd.
        "Take that kid to the bucket!" the bartender yelled, motioning at someone standing in the back of the audience. "Awright, folks-who's next?" the man drawled in a burly voice.
        Joshua and Ryan shot each other a quick look and grinned mischievously. "Right here!" they yelled.
        Eve started and raised her eyebrows at them in surprise.
        Joshua put a hand on her shoulder and motioned to himself and Ryan. "Ya see, Evie, me and Ryan don't sing either. But on the other hand, this is something we can compete in."
        "Dare to dream," Eve muttered sarcastically.
        Ryan cracked up. "I bet you could give some of these guys a run for their money."
        Eve shook her head in mock disappointment, "I'm afraid I'll have to pass-but you two can go ahead; I'll cheer for you."
        The two shrugged and made their way to the table amidst a wild cacophony of cheers. Eve followed close behind and watched as they settled on stools on opposite ends of the table. The bartender gave them suspicious looks, but filled two shot glasses anyway.
        "Go! Go! Go! Go!" They raised their glasses and chugged down the drinks as fast as they possibly could. Ryan's face immediately scrunched up into a grotesque expression, his tongue sticking out while he gagged at the taste. He grabbed a nearby rag and began vigorously wiping his tongue off.
        Joshua broke into a hysterical, high-pitched laughter upon seeing this, pointing at Ryan with one hand and slapping the table in mirth with the other. "Another round!" he exclaimed, motioning to the bartender.
        When their glasses were filled, he held his hand out to Ryan and said, 'On the count of three. One...two...three...GO!"
        "Whoa!" Ryan exclaimed when they were finished, throwing the glass to the ground, where it exploded into a shower of splintered crystal.
        "You're paying for that!" The bartender yelled, shaking his fist firmly in the boy's face.
        Ryan just gave the man the thumbs up and sat back down on his stool. "Again!" he yelled, smacking the table with his palm. The alcohol was obviously kicking in.
        This time the pair was more demure, sitting upright and even crossing their legs in a prim fashion. They stuck their noses in the air, and picked up their glasses daintily, with just the thumb and forefinger.
        "This is the magistrate at dinner," Ryan explained in a self-righteous nasal voice. The crowd roared with appreciation. "Cheers, dah-ling," he said, clinking glasses with Joshua. The two collapsed into laughter as they lowered their glasses.
        This time the bartender filled their glasses without being asked. Joshua raised a hand, trying to quiet the crowd. Then he lifted both his arms to his side and brought them around to his back, clasping them behind him. "No hands," he announced, lowering his head until his mouth surrounded the top of the shot glass. He then whipped his head back, holding onto the glass with his teeth, the excess liquid inside dribbling down his face and onto his shirt.
        Ryan looked impressed and immediately followed suit. The two got up from their stools and danced crazily in circles around the table. They plopped back onto their stools and looked at the bartender expectantly, but he had placed the glasses aside and was standing there with his arms crossed stubbornly.
        "I think you two have had enough," he said sternly, waving them away. He looked at the crowd before him. "Who's next?" he called.
        Eve began to follow Joshua and Ryan away from the crowd, but as she crossed in front of the table, a voice called out her name. "Eve! Eve's next!"
        Eve wheeled around to face the owner of the voice, and her eyes narrowed when she saw who it was. Evan Macintyre, in all his round-faced, evil glory. He had taunted her since she was little, never missing a chance to make her life more difficult. No one could enrage her as this boy could.
        "Not a chance," she growled, sauntering away.
        "Come on, show everybody how the ladies drink!" The crowd roared at the taunt, eager to see the outcome of this new situation.
        "Or are you afraid of what your lover will think?"
        Eve stopped in her tracks, whipping around to look right in Evan's round, beady eyes. "He is not my lover." She spoke in a dangerously low voice, each word clearly and evenly pronounced. "He was never my lover."
        Evan smacked himself on the head with the butt of his palm. "That's right," he said, mocking her. "Isaac's in love with a real woman. What's her name? Chantelle? You know," he said, looking at her viciously, "the magistrate's pretty little daughter."
        Eve could feel her face darkening as he spoke.
        "Oh, I think I've hit a nerve! Are you gonna cry, Eve?"
        She stalked to the table and plopped onto a stool. "I never cry," she said with steely determination. She pointed to the opposite stool, speaking in a clipped manner, venom in her voice. "Sit."
        Evan settled his massive girth on the other stool, a look of satisfaction on his face. "Well, may the best man win, then," he snarled.
        The bartender gave Eve a hesitant look, as if he wondered whether he should continue. She nodded to him, and the man poured a two shot glasses of Farmer Reilly's best liquor.
        "One...two..." Evan counted down.
        "Three," Eve finished, tilting her head back and pouring the liquid down her throat. She grasped the edge of the table and shook her head, as if to purge the horrid taste from her mouth.
        Evan smirked at her reaction and stood up from the table. "Behold the victor," he said, bowing to the audience.
        Eve slapped the table with her hand. "We're not done yet."
        Evan turned to look at her. "I don't know, Eve," he said condescendingly. "I think you've had more than you can handle already."
        She simply glared at him, and motioned to the bartender to pour more.
        They picked up their glasses and downed another round. Eve shut her eyes tight at the repulsive flavor. When she opened her eyes, she saw Evan gazing at her.
        "My, oh my," he said, shaking his head sadly. "What ever would lover boy think if he saw his drunken little wench now?"
        Eve didn't bother to respond, but instead mounted the table and lunged at Evan, knocking him off his stool and onto the ground. She landed on top of him and wasted no time in wrapping her arms around his neck in a firm chokehold. All around them, the crowd was cheering and shouting "Go! Go! Go! Go!"
        Eve suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her off of Evan. She stumbled to her feet and turned to see the bartender behind her. "You got him good, little lady," the man chuckled, "but we'll take care of him from here." He patted her on the back and gave her a gentle push away from the crowd.
        She fought her way through the ruckus, feeling slightly dizzy. People waved to her and congratulated her as she passed, but Eve could only manage a weak smile.
        She wandered a bit beyond the crowd and dropped to her knees wearily in front of a bucket filled with icy cold water. Her hands dove into the water and splashed her face with an appreciated coolness. She lingered there for several minutes, rubbing her face and neck with the cool liquid, her senses slowly awakening.
        "The maypole's up!" somebody shouted. Eve snapped to attention, turning her gaze at once to a grassy area teeming with Lavenhill's citizens. Sure enough, a gigantic wooden pole decorated with colorful ribbons was being secured in an upright position.
        A low rumbling sounded behind Eve, and she turned around to see a mass of people from the drinking competition rushing towards her at breakneck speed as they hurried toward the much anticipated festival highlight of the maypole.
        Eve's eyes flew open wide in panic and she scrambled to her feet just as the crowd was upon her, jostling and carrying her with them on their mad rush to the grassy area. It was a struggle to keep up with the mob, with people stepping on her heels from behind and no room to pass anyone ahead of her.
        The crowd hurried her along in its haste, finally slowing and spreading out as they came upon the grassy area where the maypole stood. They blended in with the other villagers and soon everyone was transformed back into the smiling, cheerful citizens of Lavenhill that Eve had grown up with.
        A hush overtook the crowd as a single, piercing note sounded from a fiddle. A stream of twelve young girls dressed in white filed onto the main area around the maypole. Someone started clapping, and soon the whole audience was clapping in time. Gloriously cheerful music erupted from the band at the far side of the maypole, and the girls began dancing around the pole, twirling and leaping, wrapping ribbons around it and showering the area in a flurry of flower petals.
        The music slowed at last, and the girls stopped and curtsied, red faced from exertion, but grinning. "Let the good times begin!" one of the band players whooped, sending a happy frenzy of people onto the green.
        Eve suddenly found her arm linked to Avery's who shot her a wide grin and led her out to dance on the green with the rest of the villagers. He was a rather clumsy dancer, but seemed oblivious to the fact, so Eve decided to be, too and danced with him whole-heartedly. He was enjoying himself so much that Eve danced with him until one of the band members yelled "Switch!"
        She whirled her way into the arms of an unfamiliar young man, who was rather handsome but appeared to be a year or two younger than Eve. He was a bit uncoordinated at first, probably from nervousness, but after a few minutes he proved himself to be a rather skilled dancer, smiling shyly at Eve every now and then.
        "May I cut in?" a voice with a lilting accent boomed behind Eve. The young man looked at whoever was behind her and backed away slowly.
        Eve turned too see a large and powerful man with brownish red hair and fair blue eyes that twinkled standing there, arms outstretched. She smiled in recognition-Jacob Aerian, Isaac's kindhearted father.
        "But of course," she replied, advancing towards him. She had danced with him many times when she was little, when she was so small that he had to lift her off the ground and carry her in his arms in order to dance. It was even more fun now; his massive arms could easily dip and twirl her around with ease.
        "Don't hog her all to yourself, father." Eve smiled at Isaac's familiar voice.
        "Oh, of course not, son," Jacob chuckled good-naturedly. "I wouldn't dream of keeping a boy from his best friend." He handed Eve over to Isaac with a smile. "Have fun."
        Isaac instantly drew Eve close to him and encircled her in his arms. They moved effortlessly to the music, gracefully moving across the green.
        Eve looked up at Isaac and found him gazing intently at her face. He had a deep look of concentration on his face.
        "What are you doing?" she asked.
        "Seeing how long I can stare at you."
        She looked at him strangely for a moment, before responding with a slow shake of her head. He continued doing this for some time, his blue eyes unmoving and expression unchanging. Eve would glance at him quickly every few seconds, wondering what he was up to. She licked her lips nervously, feeling a bit unsettled by all this close scrutiny. He broke his gaze and chuckled at this gesture.
        "You're insane," Eve whispered.
        He laughed out loud. "Oh, Evie, I'm sorry," he said, drawing her nearer and resting his head gently on hers.
        She smiled to herself as she leaned against him, suddenly becoming acutely aware of his sweet scent and muscled arms around her.
        Their dance began to slow and Isaac took Eve's hand and placed it on his chest, his hand holding it securely in place. Eve let her eyes close, the warmth of their bodies enveloping her.
        "Switch!"
        Eve felt a bittersweet twinge of pain as she realized the moment was over. Villagers scrambled around them in a hurry, trying to find new partners.
        "Thank you for the wonderful dance," Isaac said, bringing her hand to his lips.
        She shook her head. "No, the thanks goes to you for the rose. It was breathtaking."
        "As are you when you're happy," he smiled at her softly. "I hope you stay that way."
        She smiled at him in return and felt herself being tugged away by another person eager for a dance. The man was a young farmer, at least five years her senior. He said something that Eve did not quite catch and she mumbled a half-hearted reply to him.
        She watched over the man's shoulder the crowd, searching for a glimpse of Isaac. She found him, leading Chantelle in a spirited dance. She blinked back tears and reached into her pocket to finger the rose woodcarving he had given her. A jumble of images and emotions floated into Eve's mind.
        Flash.
        A funeral procession winds its way through the green hills of the countryside. An overwhelming sense of personal loss washes over Eve.
        Flash.
        Black cloaked figures dart through the night, ushering a slender figure along. They stop before a window where a young man is peacefully sleeping. His face is obscured in darkness, but a cloud covering the moon disappears, and lunar light floods the golden locks and tanned face of-
        "Isaac!" Eve shouted hoarsely, the visions in her mind receding instantly. The world was spinning and she was breathing heavily from fright.
        "Are you okay?" the farmer asked her, only the words seemed like they were coming from across a great distance. "Are you all right?" he repeated, concerned.
        She looked at him, his face blurred. "I'll be fine." She tried to force a weak smile onto her face. "I just think I drank too much. I really need to go clear my head." She stepped out of his reach. "If you'll excuse me, please," she whispered.
        Eve staggered away from the green and the crowds, rubbing her throbbing temples with her hands. She sprinted away to find a place to rest, her flight watched         unawares by the peddler, who stood hidden on the fringes of the crowd.
        "Very interesting," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Very interesting, indeed."

. . . m o r e  t o  c o m e  . . .