by R. S. Kovach
“I’m going to take that thing away from both of you if you can’t share,” Hank chimed in.
Seeing Colin ready to make another lunge, Ali decided to buy Sarah some time. “What kind of stuff do you like to watch online, Colin?”
The boy shrugged. “Games, mostly.”
“Wait.” Hank glanced over his shoulder toward his nephew. “You watch other people play games?”
“Yeah.” Colin looked baffled at the question.
Hank frowned. “That’s a thing?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ali nodded. “My brother shot this guy for an article in Forbes a few months back who’s not even legally old enough to drink but has already made millions from making videos of himself playing games,” she explained.
“Your brother shot somebody?” Sarah whispered in shock.
“Oh, no. Not like that. He took pictures with his camera. My brother is a photographer,” she explained, and the little girl relaxed.
“Dad shot a buck with a rifle, but Mom’s a vegetarian so she wasn’t very happy about it.” Colin scrunched his nose at the recollection.
“I can imagine.” Ali laughed. It was the first mention of the children’s father. Although she was curious to learn more, it could wait. In case Liz’s relationship had ended in divorce or even his death, she didn’t want to reopen any wounds by saying something she shouldn’t.
Luckily, the kids soon agreed on a schedule for sharing the tablet, and Ali turned back around and faced Hank. “Seriously, though; sorry about the shirt. I’ve been meaning to get it to you, but I’ve been a bit distracted the last couple of days.”
“No worries. Ability is nothing without opportunity.” He sounded a bit like a fortune cookie, but she had an odd feeling his words weren’t meant to be taken purely at face value. The statement could have referred as much to her experience with Pete—the young man had the opportunity to deny his addiction, yet the ability was obviously still missing—as to the delay in returning his shirt.
“Confucius?” she guessed.
Hank smiled without taking his eyes off the road. “Too far east and more than two millennia too early. Napoleon, actually.”
“Interesting.” Ali nodded approvingly. “Are you a fan of tragically fated revolutionaries or early-nineteenth-century French history?”
He shrugged. “A bit of both, I’d say.”
Handsome and smart; she liked the way this was heading. “I’m afraid I know more about Baroque art than continental empire building.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” he deadpanned.
Witty, too. Ali couldn’t hold back a smile. “Thank you. That’s quite considerate.”
The rest of the drive to the fair in Pueblo was mostly uneventful, with Hank only having to threaten to pull over twice to stop the siblings’ bickering.
“Good grief, I’m turning into my father,” he complained when the kids calmed down.
“I still can’t believe you and Liz are related,” Ali admitted. “Are there any more siblings I should know about? Wait, the guy who runs the lodge’s gym isn’t your brother, is he?” she teased with a wink.
“Why?” He laughed. “Do you want me to set you and Mike up?”
Ali pretended to think it over. “Eh. I guess not. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable dating anyone whose job description includes pointing out my flaws and suggesting ways to improve them.”
He glanced at her. “I don’t think you’d have anything to worry about. At any rate, Mike’s great, even if he’s not family, but it was always just Liz and me.”
“Were you a jerk to Mommy when you were little like Colin is to me, Uncle Hank?” Sarah said from the backseat.
“Don’t call your brother names, Sarah. And you’re going to have to ask your mother that.” He laughed before turning back to Ali. “So, no meatheads, huh?”
“What?” She’d lost track of the topic.
He shook his head. “Never mind. We’re here, anyway.” He pulled into the fairground’s expansive parking lot.
After they’d found a free spot, Ali helped Sarah down from the truck’s raised step.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” The girl noticed her cast.
Keep it short and simple. “I broke my wrist.”
“How?” Sarah tilted her head and gazed up at her with wide eyes.
She smirked. Kids and their never-ending questions. “I was clumsy.”
The little girl took Ali’s hand and walked beside her. “I like the color.”
She rolled her eyes at the confirmation that pink was for seven-year-olds and not twenty-nine-year-olds, but Hank smiled as they approached. “Me too.”
Ali responded with a sarcastic grin. “It would look good on you. Goth princess cowboy is so in right now.” She pointed to the black hat on his head.
“I’m usually more pragmatic than modish, but I can’t argue with that.” He reached into the backseat through the still-open door. “And speaking of practicality . . .” Emerging with two hats, he slapped one on each of the kids’ heads.
“Very stylish,” Ali said, complimenting Sarah’s floppy sun hat, while Colin expertly worked to shape the lid of his ball cap.
“You didn’t bring a hat?” Hank asked, making Ali conscious of the relentless sun for the first time. When she grimaced sheepishly in response, he sighed. “All right. I guess I know where we’ll start.”
Within five minutes of entering the fairgrounds, Ali was standing in front of a merchant booth with a straw cowboy hat on her head and Hank pulling out his credit card.
“I can’t let you pay for this,” she protested.
“Consider it a souvenir from the not-too-great, but completely adequate, state fair of Colorado.” He handed the payment to the salesgirl.
Ali reached to remove the headwear. “I’m the one who owes you for bringing me along.”
“Fine.” He relented. “I’ll have Liz add it to your bill. She’s charging you so much for the program, you won’t even notice.”
Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Ali bit her lip before she could reveal that he was actually sticking her company with the expense. No matter. In fact, it served them right.
After finishing the transaction, they started in the livestock barns, which—to Ali’s surprise—were a huge hit with the kids. Apart from the wide selection—who knew there were over a dozen breeds of sheep in the region?—there was also the unexpected entertainment factor. Pig races and miniature-horse shows delighted the crowd, but Ali’s favorite was definitely the dog rally obedience course. The skill and composure displayed by animals and handlers alike were admirable, and in spite of the fact that she was seeing the sport for the first time, she found herself cheering at each success and groaning with each fail like a lifelong fan.
The afternoon heat was brutal, and after guzzling water nonstop, the kids needed a bathroom break before entering the midway. By the time they eventually found the facilities, Sarah and Colin had been sidetracked by the offerings at the concession stand next door. Losing the argument that pizza on a stick was just a regular slice attached to a wooden skewer, Hank was stuck placing an order while Ali kept her eyes on the toilet’s entrance.
She had settled on raspberry lemonade, but he was intent on getting her to try something more exotic. “How about a fried pickle? You get the crunch of the batter and the sourness of the dill pickle in one bite.”
“Oh, really?” She raised a brow at his persuasiveness. “Have you had it?”
“No, I’m just reading it off the poster.” He laughed, pointing at the sign in the background.
Ali politely refused and sipped her drink, glancing toward the bathrooms, but the kids were still nowhere in sight. Hank had his back to her as he leaned forward on the counter and watched the attendant prepare the food. It was the perfect time to ask the question that had been on he
r mind since she’d met the children that morning.
“Colin mentioned his dad earlier,” she began, hoping Hank would get the hint and fill her in without too much prodding.
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t take his eyes off the vendor making the pizza on a stick.
Ali bit her lip before plowing on. “Is he still around?”
“Jason?” He turned toward her. “Yes, but why the sudden interest in the McGhee family?”
“It’s more curiosity than interest, I suppose.” She shrugged, but seeing his frown, Ali put up a hand and waved off any obligation on Hank’s part. “But I don’t want to pry . . .”
He stared at her for a moment. Clearing his throat, Hank finally spoke. “He’s stationed at the air force base up in Alaska. We see him a week every quarter.”
“That must be rough,” she observed, imagining the toll on Liz and the kids. “Being away from his family for so long, I mean.”
“You go where they send you.”
“Of course.” Ali hedged. “And I guess it could be worse.”
He pushed up his hat’s brim with one finger. “What do you mean?”
Ali had to fight off the distraction of fully seeing his expressive eyes emerge from the shadows. Glancing at her shoes to regain her train of thought, she continued. “At least he’s not overseas or in a war zone.”
“No, he’s stuck training the guys who get to have all the fun,” Hank snapped before turning back to the vendor.
She stepped to his side and touched his arm. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” He took the two skewers of baked bread from the vendor. “A guy doesn’t commit years of his life to becoming one of the best damned fighter pilots in the force just to be sidelined.”
Puzzled by how personally he was taking the conversation—then again, he was talking about his brother-in-law—and not wanting to escalate it any further, Ali attempted to finish with something less contentious. “But you said he’s teaching others, right? That’s important, too.”
Hank didn’t get a chance to respond before the kids ran up and demanded their food. It only took Sarah one bite of the sauce-and-cheese-covered treat to admit her uncle was right and it really wasn’t that great, and she handed it off to Ali in exchange for the lemonade. She wasn’t hungry, but she nibbled at the crust while Hank attempted to win his niece a stuffed teddy bear, first at the ring toss and then—after joking the game was rigged—at the shooting gallery. He was more successful at the latter, hitting all three targets successfully and securing a garishly purple stuffed toy for the elated youngster.
“Let’s go in there,” Sarah pleaded as they came upon the aptly named Haunted House ride. The building was two stories tall and had all the expected trappings of a spooky mansion, including painted-on windows displaying ghostly apparitions and bloodcurdling screams emanating from cheap speakers.
Seeing the short line, Hank agreed. When the next train rolled up and the passengers disembarked, he sat in the first car with Sarah close beside him. Ali slipped into the seat behind them with Colin, and after the rest of the cars filled up, they departed with a jolt. Passing through a set of double doors, they entered the dark interior and began turning through the black-light-lit attraction. Canned sound effects accompanied cheesy displays featuring the standard fare of PG-rated horror, including foam tombstones and animatronic zombies, but Ali was more interested in the cowboy up front.
The hair at the nape of his neck was neatly trimmed as it tapered off from the rest of the stylish cut. Ali licked her lips, imagining its soft prickle, tempted to run her fingers up against the grain. The bench seats in the car were fairly tightly packed, and in the close quarters, she swore she could even smell his musky aftershave as the fog machines blasted an opaque mist around them. The blinking strobe lights reflected off his profile as he moved his head from side to side, pointing out the various attractions to his niece.
When a glowing skeleton popped out from an adjacent wall, Sarah shrieked, “I’m scared!” The little girl crouched down to make herself smaller as the prop shook and cackled.
“It’s just plastic,” Hank said, attempting to ease her fears, but Sarah shook her head.
“I don’t like this,” she cried. “I want to get out.”
“Baby,” Colin chastised his sister, making her squirm even more.
Ali leaned forward and tapped the girl on the shoulder. “Here. Hold my hand,” she offered. When Sarah reached back and gripped her fingers, she continued. “Now just close your eyes and think of what ride you want to go on after this one. Okay?”
Sarah nodded, while Hank mouthed a silent thank-you. For the rest of the ride, the girl was quiet and calm, huddled into her uncle’s side, and Ali found herself a little bit envious of her position.
Only the kids went on the next two rides as Hank and Ali both opted out of the twirling teacups and the tilting pirate ship. Somehow Sarah had no such objections to heights or rotating as she did to dark rooms, and she ran to the waiting couple with a huge grin.
“Let’s do the giant swings next.” She jumped up and down.
“Oh, yeah. That’s one of my favorites,” Ali agreed, but Hank looked more dubious.
“Which one is that?” He squinted in the setting sun, glancing up the midway.
“That one.” Colin pointed to a tall structure laden with blinking lights. Plastic seats hung from an umbrella-shaped canopy by long chains, and although the line snaked around a cordoned-off area, it moved quickly as the fairgoers embarked after each round.
“Please, Uncle Hank.” Colin tugged his sleeve. “Let’s all go.”
He took a step backward, nearly running into a young couple. “Whoops. Sorry.” Digging into his jeans pocket, he pulled out his phone. “I’m going to sit this one out. I need to call Liz and let her know we’re okay, but you guys go ahead.”
He appeared much too frazzled to just be worried about checking in with his sister, but seeing no real reason to argue, Ali took the kids by the hand and walked to the end of the queue. They managed to get on the ride without having to wait a full turn, and soon they were buckled into the swinging chairs. When everyone was secured, the operator started the contraption and turned up the music. The seats lifted a few feet off the ground before the entire canopy began turning. As the speed of the rotations increased, so did the height of the riders dangling in the air.
Ali grinned as Sarah and Colin rocked their swings and kicked their feet in delight. Keeping her eyes above the orange-tinted horizon, she watched the blur of passing trees, rides, and buildings as the swings continued to float through the air in a counterclockwise direction.
“I’m flying!” Sarah exclaimed, letting go of the chains and holding her arms out perpendicular to her body.
Ali shuddered at the sight, gripping her swing with that much more force. After a few more turns around its axis, the canopy slowed and eventually lowered the riders back down to the ground.
“That was so fun!” Colin gushed as they left the ride behind. “Can we do it again?”
Taking a deep breath, Ali focused on trying to get the world to stop spinning. “Sure. But how about something a little less . . . um, centrifugal, first?”
“What does that mean?” Sarah asked Hank, who was waiting by the ride’s exit.
He smiled. “It’s a fancy way of saying that Ali’s dizzy.”
“Oh, I’m fine now,” she protested, but stepping forward, her foot landed in something—whether a scoop of melted ice cream, a piece of fallen cheese, or an item she was better off not knowing about—and she lost her balance. Tumbling forward, Ali threw her hands out, expecting to hit the pavement, but instead fell against something much more pleasant.
“Are you okay?” Hank had his arms around her as she leaned against his chest. His body was warm and firm, and she could feel his heart thump
ing erratically under his T-shirt. He also smelled nice; the combination of body wash, aftershave, and his natural scent made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Realizing she’d shut her eyes during the collision, she looked up to see him staring down on her. He didn’t appear angry or amused, but perhaps a bit puzzled as to why she was still holding on to him.
Pushing away, she lifted her shoe. “Yeah. I stepped in . . . oh, gross.” Wiping the sticky brown substance on the concrete, Ali scrunched her nose as the children giggled. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“Your mom wants you guys home soon, so how about one more ride and we’ll hit the road?” Hank suggested to Sarah and Colin.
Faced with an array of choices, they began to concurrently spout off ideas for the final activity. “There’s the coaster . . . I wanna try shooting again . . . can I have cotton candy . . . we haven’t been to the fun house.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. How about the Ferris wheel? Do you guys like that?” Hank pointed to the vintage ride all decked out in colorful lights and slowly spinning vertically on its axis.
“I’m not great with heights, so I’ll skip out on this one,” Ali whispered after they joined the end of the line.
“I’ll keep you company.” He nudged her elbow with a smile, making her stomach do a figurative flip.
Taking a calming breath, Ali shuffled along and gathered her thoughts. Judging by the speed of the ride, she’d have at least five minutes relatively alone with him to talk about anything she wanted. But what exactly was that? Dear god, she had no idea! At least she had time to wrack her brain for a safe but amusing topic of conversation while Sarah recalled every detail from their day at the fair.
“Remember that chicken with the funny tail? The feather bent into an O shape? Or how about that goat with the black horns? I really liked those soft bunnies, too. Can we get one, please?” The little girl didn’t even seem to take a breath as she raced on.
When it was their turn to get on the giant wheel, Hank guided his niece and nephew toward an empty pod, but the operator stepped in. “They’re too small to ride alone,” the teen drawled.