by Marin Thomas
“What’s that?” Seth pointed to the pink cow.
“Nelson won me this.”
“Kinda dinky, ain’t it?” Seth elbowed Brad and the two boys giggled.
Nelson’s wounded expression made it almost impossible to refrain from joining in the laughter, but she managed to keep a straight face. “Hungry?” she asked.
Seth and Brad stared longingly at the bumper cars.
Nelson must have understood the boys didn’t want to give up their place in line, because he slipped another couple of twenties from his wallet and handed them over. “Grab a hot dog after the ride.”
“Sweet,” the teens echoed in unison, exchanging a conspiring grin.
“Don’t spend it all on rides or games. Make sure to eat something so you don’t get sick.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Sure, Mrs. Tanner.”
She and Nelson ambled off to a chorus of “Thank you, Mr. McKade.”
“I have money, Nelson. I wish you’d stop paying for everything.” She hated to admit she had only fifty dollars in her fanny pack. But she also didn’t want Nelson believing she was a moocher.
“Okay. You can buy my hot dog. What smells so good around here?” He sniffed the air.
“Fried onion rings.” She nodded to a vendor.
They stopped at the small white hut, ordered onion rings and hot dogs, then devoured them standing because there were no empty tables. When they had finished, Ellen asked, “Ready to meet another friend of mine?”
“Does this one have body piercings?”
“No. But Tizzy has the world’s longest neck.”
Nelson’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“C’mon. She’s a really sweet lady and famous, too. She traveled with Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey circus for several years.”
“What’s her story?” he asked, following her across the grounds to a second grouping of colorful tents.
“She was born in a village along the Thai-Burma border near India. Her mother came from the Pai Dong Long Neck People. Tizzy got her first neck ring when she turned six.”
“That young? Will her neck break if she removes the rings?”
“No. The neck doesn’t really stretch. Over time, the heavy brass rings crushed her collarbones, creating an illusion of a longer neck.”
“How did she end up in America traveling with a carnival?”
“I asked her once, but she didn’t go into detail. She would only say she’d been banned from her tribe at the age of fifteen. She joined a circus in India, and when they traveled to America, someone from Ringling Brothers offered her a job, so she stayed in the United States.”
They rounded a corner, then Ellen stopped suddenly in front of the red tent.
“What’s wrong?” Nelson grasped her elbow.
“I’m not sure. Usually Tizzy sits outside, but the tent flaps are tied closed.”
“You better read this, Ellen.” Nelson pointed to an oil painting of Tizzy propped against the corner of the tent.
The artist had captured Tizzy in all her glory. Her dark eyes flashed and she wore her tribal robes, proudly displaying her brass-ringed neck. A copper tag had been glued to the bottom of the frame: Tizzy, Thai Queen. 1945-2005.
Heart aching, Ellen could feel her eyes welling with tears. When Nelson opened his arms, she went willingly and sniffled. “I decided to run away when I was twelve. Then I saw Tizzy and I asked if I could join the carnival and travel across the country with her.”
“I wanted to run away once,” Nelson commented.
Surprised, she asked, “How old were you?”
He chuckled. “Twenty-two. I had just graduated from college and didn’t care to work for my grandfather’s company.”
“Why not?”
“Scared, I guess. Wasn’t sure if I could handle the responsibility and live up to my grandfather’s expectations.”
“So why didn’t you run away?”
“Too chicken to defy my grandfather.” He curled his arm around her waist. “What did Tizzy say when you told her your plans?”
“She said families weren’t perfect. And I shouldn’t take my family for granted. She shamed me into feeling bad so I wouldn’t even think about hurting them by running off.”
“Tizzy was a smart woman.”
“She was.” After a longing glance at the portrait, they moved on, Ellen hating that the world around her constantly changed when she didn’t. Yet, just because she chose to remain on the farm and do the same old thing day in and day out didn’t mean the rest of the world had to follow suit.
How was it a young girl like Tizzy found the courage and strength to survive on her own and travel to a foreign land like America, while she, Ellen Tanner, lacked the guts to leave her own backyard? Pushing aside the depressing thought, she asked, “Ever been on a Ferris wheel?”
“No.”
“Then it’s about time. Besides, there’s something I must discuss with you.”
He motioned to the ride, visible over the tops of the tents. “You want to talk up there?”
Ellen studied his face. “You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you?”
“No,” he insisted, but wouldn’t make eye contact with her.
“I’ll hold your hand,” she offered, fighting a smile.
He frowned. “You think this is funny.”
“No.” She choked on the word, then lost the battle and laughed.
Clutching her hand, he headed for the ride. “You won’t be laughing when I puke all over you.”
“Eew!” She grimaced at the image.
The line for the ride was short. A good thing, considering Nelson appeared ready to bolt.
“You sure this ride is safe?” he asked.
“It worked okay the last time I rode on it.”
“When was that?”
“Four years ago.” She tapped the underside of his chin, and he snapped his mouth closed.
She attempted to view the ride through Nelson’s eyes: peeling paint, rusty hinges and a few squeaky spokes. But no one fell out while they stood watching. That was a good sign.
When their turn to board arrived, Nelson stalled and she thought he’d chicken out. Then the ride operator asked, “You gettin’ on or not, buddy?” Nelson lurched on to the seat.
As their feet left the ground, his knuckles whitened against the safety bar across their laps. He really is afraid of heights. Feeling terrible for badgering him, she set her pink cow in his lap and assured him, “Fuzzalina will keep you safe.”
“Very funny.”
Attempting to distract him, she pointed north. “There’s the Klayton County courthouse.”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, his eyes shut so tightly his lashes had disappeared.
“If you want, the next time we pass the operator we can ask to get off.”
“I’m fine. Now talk.”
When she’d envisioned the conversation, Nelson hadn’t had his eyes shut. “I wanted you to know I understand why you went to the bank on my behalf.” She paused.
“Go on, I’m listening,” he insisted.
“And…” She hesitated, fearing the words would spill out in a jumble. “I realize it’s been difficult for you to stand aside and watch me do things my way. You’re a man used to controlling everyone and everything.”
“You make me sound like a tyrant,” he grumbled.
“Never a tyrant.” She rested her hand over his white knuckles, and he surprised her by releasing the bar and threading his fingers through hers.
An image of his face while making love to her flashed through her mind. As he’d kissed her, he’d gazed into her eyes and she’d glimpsed the depth of his feelings for her. She was under no illusions he loved her. But she’d recognized deep caring.
It was this realization—he cared for her—that caused her to sympathize with his position. She applauded him for going against his natural instincts and permitting her to take the lead. Her admiration for him made
her determined to meet him halfway.
Her conscience wouldn’t allow Nelson to leave in September feeling guilty or worrying about her situation. If he pondered her at all from time to time, it would be of their lovemaking, and not the farm’s dire financial situation.
It was the least she could do for him. He’d spun her head, flipped her heart and made her feel cherished—something she’d never experienced. “I’ve decided to accept a loan from you.” So I can hold on to you a little while longer.
His eyes popped open. “Are you serious?”
She nodded, relieved the conversation had finally distracted him.
“Why the sudden change of heart?”
He had a right to be suspicious. But no way was she going to spill her guts. “None of your business.”
Nelson snorted. “What’s the catch?”
“Nothing.”
“Then you’ll accept my advice on how to use the money?” he persisted.
“I said I’d take your money, not your advice.” The idea of running a larger operation didn’t appeal to Ellen. Nor did selling. But Nelson was mistaken if he assumed his incessant lectures about the farm’s financial troubles hadn’t gotten through to her. She had a few ideas of her own on what to do with the money—the overdue Visa bill popped into her mind. And Seth.
No longer could she ignore the danger of not carrying health insurance for her or her son. When Buck had died, she’d had to cancel their health plan because she couldn’t afford the monthly payment, never mind the obscene deductibles and office-visit co-pays.
Seth was her purpose in life, her one bright spot in an otherwise dull existence, and she was determined to do better by him. Even if she had to swallow her pride and accept a handout from Nelson.
And hopefully Nelson would feel an obligation to check up on her and his money periodically.
“A smart businessman learns what he’s investing in before he doles out his cash.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to trust I know what’s best for Seth, the farm and me. If you’d like to withdraw your offer…”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay, then. How much interest did you have in mind?” She considered pointing out the Ferris wheel had circled twice and his eyes had remained open the entire way, but decided against it.
“I’m not going to charge you interest.”
“Then I’ll have to refuse the loan.”
“Wait a darn minute, Ellen. You can’t—”
She rocked the seat.
“Whoa!” He clutched the bar and the color drained from his face. “Quit that.”
“What’s the interest rate?”
“Ellen, don’t be stubborn about this.”
Guilt prodded her, but she refused to back off. Pride could be nasty at times. She rocked the seat again, and Nelson’s face went from white to green.
“Okay, okay. Stop. How’s a half percent sound?”
“Ridiculous.”
She reached for the safety bar.
“Wait!” he shouted. “Two percent.”
“Five percent.” When he hesitated, she warned, “Take it or leave it.”
“Fine. Five percent,” he groaned.
The ride ended. Luckily, they were the second couple off. Tossing Fuzzalina her way, Nelson bolted off the seat, stumbled to a garbage barrel and heaved.
Oh, dear Lord. She rummaged through her fanny pack for a tissue. “I didn’t realize you were that afraid of heights.”
He wiped his mouth, then glared. “I told you I was.”
She wasn’t sure if she was angry with herself for being mean or angry with Nelson for being stubborn. Planting her hands on her hips, she demanded, “Then why in the world did you go on the Ferris wheel in the first place?”
“I went up on the damn thing because I wanted to make you happy,” he grumbled.
Blast the man! His image blurred before her eyes. This can’t be happening. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him.
“Oh, hell. I didn’t intend for the loan to make you cry,” Nelson insisted, tugging her into his arms. “Whatever interest rate you choose is fine with me. Please stop crying.”
He believed she was sobbing because of the loan? She bawled even harder.
“What’s wrong with Mom?” Seth asked.
Startled by her son’s voice, Ellen wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, sniffed and tried to calm herself.
“She was frightened. But she’s fine now.” Nelson wrapped an arm around her waist and tucked her against his side.
“Scared? Of what?” Brad asked.
“The Ferris wheel,” Nelson explained.
Ellen buried her face against Nelson’s chest and smiled.
“Mom’s not afraid of the Ferris wheel. Did it break or something?”
Her chest shook with the struggle to hold in her laughter.
“Something like that,” Nelson grumbled, then pinched her side. “I’m thirsty. You boys eat lunch yet?”
“No, sir,” Brad admitted.
“We, um, spent our lunch money on games,” Seth confessed.
Ellen shifted in Nelson’s hold, aiming to scold the boys, but Nelson spoke first. “I could use a drink. Where would you guys like to eat?”
“There’s a taco stand over there.” Brad nodded to a greasy shack on the other side of the runway.
“Tacos it is. Let’s go.” Hand in hand, she and Nelson followed the boys. When she attempted to reclaim her hand, he gripped her fingers tighter. Too busy discussing shooting strategies for the basketball game they intended to play, neither Seth nor Brad paid them any attention.
When Ellen had decided to make love with Nelson, she hadn’t considered how her relationship with him would affect Seth. She had no desire to flaunt anything in front of the boy and was positive Nelson would respect her wishes to keep their affair private. But now that she’d acknowledged she’d fallen head over heels for Nelson, it would be doubly difficult to hide her feelings from both Nelson and Seth.
Challenging or not, at the end of the summer, when Nelson returned to Chicago, she was determined that the only heart broken would be hers.
Chapter Twelve
“How often did your father bring you to Lake Culver?” Nelson asked Seth. He’d decided that while Ellen and Flo made pies for the upcoming church bake sale, he and the teen would spend Sunday afternoon playing Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
“Dad never took me fishing. But my grandpa drove me here when I was real little.” Seth cast his line into the water, acting as if his father’s lack of attention hadn’t bothered him. Nelson suspected better.
The boy was starved for male attention. Since their trip to the Klayton County Fair three weeks ago, he’d made a concerted effort to spend more time with Ellen’s son. After chores, they’d thrown the baseball, shot baskets at the hoop attached to the storage shed and played video games. As a result of the extra attention, Seth had opened up to Nelson.
Their conversations included typical guy stuff—cars, sports and computers. Then one afternoon the teen had confessed that he didn’t understand why he missed his father, when the man had never spent any time with him. Without having considered the consequences, Nelson had hugged the boy. When Seth’s skinny arms had squeezed back, a fragile bond had formed—a bond that troubled Nelson. How would Seth react when Nelson left the farm in five weeks?
Five weeks. The prospect depressed him. “Does your mom cook fish?”
“She fries ’em in batter.”
“Then we’d better bring a few home for supper.”
Seth grinned. “I bet I’ll catch one before you do.”
“Loser washes and dries the dishes,” Nelson wagered, as he baited his hook.
“You’re on.” The boy reeled in his line, grabbed the tackle box and swaggered a few yards farther down the embankment, explaining, “So you don’t steal my fish.”
Nelson chuckled. After he and Seth settled into a companionable silence, he remembered thinking his first
week on the farm had passed slower than a tugboat on the Mississippi. Each night he’d settled on the hard cot in the barn, the smell of cow manure pungent in the air, and he’d prayed he’d wake up the next morning and discover his life had all been a nightmare. Which of course hadn’t been the case. Fanny Farmer, her cows and their odors had been as real as real could get.
Now, when he settled on the uncomfortable mattress, he wished he could roll back the hours. Days. The idea of never seeing Seth or Ellen after he left the farm made his chest physically ache—an ache the likes of which he’d never felt before. “Seth, you think you might want to visit me in Chicago sometime?”
“Heck, yeah.” The teen’s grin flipped upside down. “Mom can’t leave the cows.”
“I could always drive out to the farm and pick you up for a long weekend.”
“Cool.” Grin restored, the boy laid his pole on the ground, then rummaged through the tackle box.
Oh, hell. Why had Nelson raised Seth’s hopes before conferring with his mother? He admitted his feelings for Ellen were complicated, tangled and confusing. And it wasn’t because of the sex. Sex with Ellen had been incredible, exciting and emotional.
Sex aside, she’d come to mean something to him in the short time they’d been together. Regardless of what direction their relationship headed, he couldn’t fathom permanently dropping out of her or Seth’s life.
“If Mom won’t let me see you, then I’ll hitchhike to Chicago,” the teen boasted.
Great. Ellen would blame him for enticing her son away from the farm with fascinating stories of life in the Windy City. “Thumbing rides is dangerous. If you really wish to see Chicago, I’ll work something out with your mom.”
“Promise?” Eyes as blue as his mother’s begged.
Wincing, Nelson mumbled, “Promise.”
They settled into an easy silence, affording Nelson the time to untangle his jumbled brain. If only he could figure out where he and Ellen stood as a couple. He considered them a couple, but wasn’t sure Ellen did. The few times he’d hinted about the future, she’d changed the subject.
When he envisioned his life with no Ellen and no Seth, the picture wasn’t pretty—it was gray, mundane and damn lonely. Could they survive a long-distance relationship if he returned to Chicago and she remained on the farm? His secretary had tried with an airline pilot and in the end the relationship hadn’t survived the frequent separations.
