by Olivia Hayle
Austin and I walk through the small lobby and out into the afternoon sun. The day is warm. They'll be happy about that, down at the fair. The image of Lucy strikes me again. Form-fitting denim shorts, long legs, and blonde curls that just beckon a man to bury his hands in them. I see her bright smile and there's an unexpected tug in my chest.
She'd been so unbelievably cute when she came into my office earlier. Hesitant and careful, as if what was hovering between us might disappear with too strong a word. Almost like she wondered if the kiss had ever really happened at all.
It did, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.
Every single inhabitant of Claremont, plus a few extra, would be at the fair. It would be a never-ending parade of shaking hands, nodding to old classmates, answering asinine questions. Making small talk.
I haven't been to anything like that for years.
It’s not hard to imagine her down there, eating a candied apple and laughing with some of the locals. Taking everyone with storm, just as thoroughly as she has up here at the ranch. Someone would make a lame joke, and she’d throw her head back and give that pealing laugh. I know, because she's frequently graced me with it.
Seeing her smile again might outweigh the hassle of being at an event like that, being around so many people. Besides, Sarah and my nieces would be ecstatic if I showed up.
I push up from my seat on the porch and nod to my dog. “Stay here,” I say rather lamely. “I’m going into town.”
Austin blinks up at me.
Ten minutes later, I’ve showered and changed my worn button-down for a clean shirt. I’m turning the keys to the ignition before I can change my mind.
People will talk.
But they're just people.
And I'll be damned if I let that stop me from spending time with Lucy—with the one person who doesn’t look at me like I’m damaged goods.
I park right next to a van with the neon-bright logo of Whittaker Installations printed on the side. It shouldn’t surprise me that Gavin is here. For a moment, I think of flinging my car door open so hard it dents his. I don’t.
I tug my cap down low and walk up Main Street. The streets are lined with cars, but there’s not a person in sight. Shop after shop is closed for the day.
It's not long until I can hear it; the sound of cheery pop music blasting from large speakers. The central square is packed to the brim with colorful stands, banners and flags. Someone must have brought a bubble machine this year, because soap bubbles are flying overhead. I can hear children laughing.
My heart is beating fast and I haven’t even reached the fair yet.
Old Mr. Ronson is sitting by the entrance under a parasol. There’s a large stack of flyers in front of him, and he’s carefully folding each and every one.
“Good day, sir.”
He stops folding. “Oliver Morris?”
I nod. Mr. Ronson once worked up at the Ranch, when my grandfather was still at the helm, decades ago. Many of the men in this town have passed through our employ at one point or another.
“It’s good to see you.”
“Likewise.”
He nods towards the entrance. “I believe your sister is somewhere inside. Is everything alright?”
“I’m not here to pull her out,” I say. “Everything’s fine.”
“Alright, then. You have a good time now.”
I thank him for the flyer and head inside. Had I really been out of the town loop for so long that people thought something was wrong when I showed up?
The smell of popcorn is strong as I weave through the first throng of people. With each step, I’m heading further and further away from the entrance. It’s one of only two entry points to the fair, and the other is on the far end, by Third Street. There are eleven people around me. Four of them are children.
I should stop counting, but I don't know how to.
Tammie Bennett waves at me from the waffle stand. There’s no one there, and I see the chance for a brief respite from the crowd.
“Hello, Oliver. It’s been too long.”
I can’t agree with her on that. “Hi, Tammie.”
“How’s the ranch?” She shields her face from the sun and flips over a waffle. “I heard that you’re expanding into the spa business.”
“Yes, we are.”
“That’s so great to hear.”
I tug at my cap. “Sarah is here, I believe.”
“Yes, I spoke with her earlier. I’m glad to see you out here too, though. It’s not good for you to lock yourself away up there.”
“Right.” The silence turns awkward, and I rack my brain for something polite to ask about her life. It takes me a minute to remember the name of her boyfriend. “How’s Mark?”
Tammie's smile returns. "His construction business is really picking up, which is perfect because we just started remodeling the house. Redoing the kitchen a bit."
“Oh. Great.”
How does my sister handle all this small talk? It’s like walking on hot coals, only if I was doing that, I’d at least be able to stop.
Tammie clears her throat. “I know you’re far too nice to bring it up, Oliver, but I hope you understand why we didn’t invite you to the wedding. It wasn’t anything personal, but we made the decision not to have any exes there. And I know we only dated for a short while in high school, but I…” She shakes her head. “I hope there’s no bad blood between us. It was never meant to offend you.”
Mark and Tammie got married?
“Not a problem. Good luck with the remodel.”
“Thanks.” She pauses, her spatula half-raised. “I hope you find happiness, Oliver.”
What.
“Thanks.”
I walk away as fast as I can without looking rude. Five minutes into the fair, and it’s already too much. Expectations and conversations, both patronizing and hesitant. I want things to be easy.
Things are never easy.
There's no sign of Lucy in the crowd. No bright ponytail or wide smile, even though my eyes don't stop roaming for a second. Six more people stop me to talk as I try to make my way towards the merry-go-round.
Frank Deger slaps me on the shoulder and tells me it’s good I’m back out in society again. “We’ve missed you, Ollie.”
I want to tell him that I’m not seventeen anymore, that the Ollie he’s imagining is gone and dead and buried and that I already know he’s missed. Sarah reminds me regularly.
I don’t say that. I nod and say thank you and push on ahead.
My nieces love the merry-go-round. It’s all they ever talk about, each and every year, without fail. It’s the only place my sister can be, since I’ve already checked the face painting stall. I force my clenched fists to relax as the familiar attraction comes into view. She better be there.
She is—I can see Sarah and her printed dress from the distance. She’s holding her phone up, filming as Nora and Sophia ride on two giant wooden ponies. Round and round they go, little hands clasped tight on the horses’ wooden manes. My heartbeat slows a little bit. Seeing my family is like an anchor in the chaos.
I’m at Sarah’s side in seconds. She nods hello but doesn’t bother to look over at me as she films the girls.
“Did you get the corndogs? I hope you put both ketchup and mustard on mine. No skimping.”
“I’m not John.”
She nearly drops the phone. “You came?”
“Yes.”
“Oliver… wow.”
“Don’t look so surprised,” I chide and reach out to press the screen on her phone. “And you didn’t hit record.”
“I didn’t? Shoot.” Sarah pretends to fiddle with her phone, but I can see the wide smile that hovers on her lips. Rare are the times when my sister is speechless.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
She shakes her head with small, focused movements, and for a moment I think her eyes look a bit shiny. “No. I have nothing to say.”
“Sarah.”
They collide into me with the force of a tiny but very robust tank. For being so small, they have remarkably strong grips. I reach down and swing Nora up and onto my shoulders. She squeals and buries her hands in my hair, tugging this way and that, as I reach for Sophia’s hand. It’s a bit sticky in mine—the evidence of cotton candy. Sarah spoils them rotten on days like this.
“Did you have fun?”
She nods so vigorously that her ponytails fly. “So much fun. We’ve already been on it… five times.”
“Five?”
“Maybe six.”
“That’s impressive,” I tell her. “You could get dizzy.”
She shakes her head with a wide smile, revealing the gap between her front teeth. “I never get dizzy. Do you want to get ice cream with us? Please?”
My sister clicks her tongue in disapproval. "You need to eat some real food too. How about you two share a corndog first, and then Ollie can go get you some ice cream. Nora, don't tug at his hair like that."
Her youngest daughter makes a decisive sound from above my head, and I can practically see the determined look on her face as she squares off with her mother. Unsurprisingly, her mother wins—but I bet they’ll be even before long.
The tugging stops, and a small hand pats my head as if I were Austin. "Pretty hair," she mumbles. "Pretty uncle."
Sarah laughs, her eyes dancing. “So pretty.”
I shoot her a dark look. “They get it from you.”
“They have some of your genes too, you know.”
John returns. He’s balancing four corndogs and a bottle of soda, a sweater tied around his waist. My sister’s husband and I are very different men, but we respect each other. He’s an accountant; calm, methodical, and Sarah’s complete opposite. I might have made it explicitly clear to him when he started dating Sarah just what would happen if he stepped out of line. She was furious at me, but I like to think that he appreciated it.
I’m secretly convinced that Sarah did too.
“Good to see you here,” he tells me.
“You too, man.”
We have a seat and I swing Nora down onto my lap. They eat in silence, passing a soda bottle back and forth, while I ignore the looks Sarah keeps shooting my way. I know she’s curious as to why I’m here, or how I’m doing. It’s only thanks to the kids that I get a pass from the twenty questions.
From our corner of the fair, I have a clear view over the crowd. No one is asking us to join a ring toss or to buy a raffle ticket. The fewer interactions I have to deal with, the better. Which reminds me…
“Sarah, did you mention that Tammie got married?”
She chews for a little bit. “Well, no,” she says finally. “I didn’t.”
“Why not? You tell me about everything else that happens in this town.” I pull the empty stick away from Nora. “That’s not for eating. It’s sharp.”
“She was your first girlfriend, Ollie. I wasn’t sure if…”
Oh, for the love of God. “Sarah, please.”
“Just trying to look out for you.”
“You don’t need to.” My voice is low. I want her to stop trying to set me up, to reintegrate me, to coddle me.
"Okay, okay." She leans forward and runs a hand over Sophia's braid. "I know you wanted ice cream, sweetie, but how about a cookie instead?"
Nora springs to life and I have to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from bouncing off. “Cookie! Cookie!”
“Can we get the ones with the frosting, Mom?”
“Sure! Why don’t you go with them, Oliver? John and I will follow.”
I tug at the collar of my button-down. It would mean walking through the throngs of people again. Back past the giant speakers, the blaring bass, the chaos. Avoid situations that can trigger it. That’s what we’d always been told with regards to PTSD. But how long would it take until I was sound again? Until I was me again?
“Where do they sell cookies?”
“The Rhodes have a stand. It should be right next to the bouncy castle. I saw Lucy there earlier, actually. She was roped into manning it.” Sarah’s eyes, wide and innocent, meet mine.
Ah.
“Better than ice cream, huh?” I ask dryly.
“Much better. Wouldn’t you agree?”
I roll my eyes at her, but she’s given me a destination, and with that, I might make it through. “Let’s go, girls.”
Nora asks to sit on my shoulders again, and I can see that Sarah wants to protest. I shake my head at her silently. Nora is light, and the twinge in my shoulder is nothing but a faint ache. I’ll be damned if I can’t carry my own niece. Besides, the small pinprick of pain will help me focus.
Sophia slips her hand in mine again and we head off towards the cookie stand. She skips with little bounces in her step, watching the people around us.
“Will you go on the merry-go-round with us later?”
“It's not for adults. It's for kids.”
She tugs on my hand. “Both Mommy and Daddy have gone on it, and they’re adults.”
“If I'm on it, I can't watch you ride it.”
She nods gravely. “That’s true. What does rec-lus-ive mean?”
That’s a big word for a seven-year-old. “Someone who doesn’t like spending a lot of time with people. Where did you hear that word?”
Sophia looks behind her, before smiling up at me with glittering eyes. “Mommy said that you’re rec-lus-ive, but I see you spending time with people all the time!”
Nora grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs, giving an excited squeal. “Cookies!”
“You’re right,” I tell Sophia. “I’m not reclusive, but I’m not as talkative as Mommy. And yes… cookies.”
The Rhodes have set up a large table with a parasol above it. Small, colorful flags decorate the edge. The table is heavy with trays of baked goods. There are thick slices of carrot and coconut cake arranged in a beautiful semi-circle. The biggest trays, of course, are filled with their signature chocolate chip cookies. Nora is bouncing on my shoulders with excitement, and Sophia is staring wide-eyed at the selection.
But I only have eyes for the person standing behind the table.
Lucy’s smile is wide as she hands a toffee cookie to a small boy, and I’m instantly back in the glen, when that smile was turned on me and me alone. She’s changed into a flowery sundress that hits halfway down her soft thighs, with a neckline that shows off smooth shoulders and freckled skin. It would be so easy to tug up it up or to tug down. To tug her close and see that smile up close.
I’ve never wanted like this before. I feel like I might explode from it.
“Come on,” Sophia wails, pulling me forward.
Lucy's smile disappears as she spots us heading her way—her face temporarily a mask of shock. But then it's back, and the smile is warmer than before.
“Hello!” Sophia declares. “We would like to buy some cookies, please.”
Lucy drags her gaze from mine to my oldest niece. “Of course! Do you know what kind you want?”
I lift Nora down so she can stand next to her sister, their eyes glued to the vast assortment of cookies. She reaches out with a trembling hand, but I tug it back.
“The lady will package them for you. No touching until you’ve decided which one you want.”
Lucy looks from them to me with warm eyes. Her hair is undone around her face, soft tendrils of hair curling over her forehead and down her neck. I want to push it back and kiss her hello.
“You came,” she murmurs.
“I did.”
Her smile feels intimate. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Neither did I.”
Nora leans in close to her older sister. “Which one are you having?”
“I don’t know yet,” Sophia says.
Lucy grins at me.
“And who are these little ladies you’re chaperoning today?”
“My name is Nora!”
“I’m Sophia. It’s nice to meet you.”
Lucy smiles. “It’s nice to meet you too. Is this your uncle?”
Sophia nods gravely and tugs at my hand. “Introduce yourself,” she orders me.
I can see the laughter dancing in Lucy’s eyes and have to stave off my own grin. “We actually know each other, bud. Lucy works up at the Ranch.”
“She does?”
Lucy nods. “Yes, I do. I work with both your uncle and your mom, actually, when I’m not selling cookies.”
“I’ve decided!” Nora declares, in the same way she declares everything. She points at a star-shaped sugar cookie with pink sprinkles.
“Good choice.” Lucy wraps it up a napkin. “How about you, Sophia? What do you feel like?”
“I’ll have the double-chocolate chip, please.”
Lucy hands the girls their cookies and shoots me a teasing glance. “How about your uncle? Do you think he wants anything?”
Nora is chomping away at her cookie, sprinkles flying everywhere, but she looks up at the question. "He wants a cookie!"
I ruffle her hair. “I’m good, thank you. How much for the two?”
“Oh, no, this is on the house.”
“Lucy.”
“No, I insist. I’m not going to charge you.” Her eyes flicker from my nieces to me. “And there’s no point in hitting me with your death stare, Oliver. It doesn’t work on me.”
I raise an eyebrow at her, but she just breaks into laughter. “I mean it!”
“Look! There’s a bouncy castle!” Nora tugs at my hand, but I hold her still.
“Yes, there is.”
Sophia looks up at me with a picture-perfect replica of her mom’s pleading eyes. “Can we go? Please?”
“Wait a moment. When does your shift end, Luce?”
“I should be able to—“
“Let’s goooooo.” Nora grabs my hand with both of hers and tugs with all of her strength. It doesn’t do much.
Lucy laughs. The sound is familiar to me now, but it still makes my chest tighten. “Go on,” she tells me. “Go have fun.”
I frown. “When you finish, let me—“
“There you are! How were the cookies?” Sarah scoops Nora up, John at her heels. “Sorry we took a while.”
