Talk of the Town

by Lisa Wingate

  Finally, I walked to the Ferris wheel and purchased a ticket, still mulling over the problem of finding a truck, a trailer, and some form of livestock. Before tomorrow afternoon. I was going to need help. Somebody local. Someone who knew where short-term rental livestock could be procured. Someone who could be trusted not to reveal the plan… .

  Who?

  The attendant took my ticket and I entered the Ferris wheel enclosure, then followed the line onto the platform as the ride unloaded, one seat at a time. I watched as Andy and Amos stepped off, followed by Avery and Imagene. Her puffy gray hair had been rearranged by the ride, and she was laughing while trying to smooth it back into place.

  Maybe her?

  Could she be trusted?

  Would she be willing to help?

  Clutching the guardrail, she waved at me as she started down the steps. “We’re headed to the roller coaster! I’m going to do it.”

  “You go, girl!” I hollered, then gave her the thumbs-up. The entry line moved forward and I focused on boarding the Ferris wheel. A little twitter started in my stomach as I tipped my head and gazed upward into the maze of lights and girders. It looked huge from here, the highest seats seeming to touch the wispy clouds as they surrendered the final blush of sunset to a blanket of deep twilight blue.

  I could hear gears grinding and bolts creaking. Overhead, the seats swayed with each movement of the wheel. A teenage couple kissed as they waited for their chair to descend. The seat jerked as the wheel moved again, and the girl clutched the bar, then laughed and snuggled into the crook of her boyfriend’s arm. They looked as though they’d be content to stay there forever.

  I missed David. I didn’t want to be here, riding the Ferris wheel alone. I wanted to be half of a pair, curled up together, spinning slowly into the sky. With someone. Not with just anyone. With David. I wanted to be with David.

  “Lady … lady …” The operator touched my arm. “Step forward, please.”

  Shaking off the fog, I moved into the loading area, looked over my outside shoulder, and waited for the seat. Breath caught in my throat as the basket slid across the platform, the wooden footrest making an almost inaudible swish. In another moment, I’d be on my way up.

  “Pardon me, ma’am, I have to test this ride for safety. Mind if I go up with you?”

  I turned around just in time to see Carter step into position beside me. The seat bumped me in the thighs, I landed awkwardly against the padded vinyl, a second operator slapped the safety bar into place, and we were spinning skyward.

  I scooted gingerly into position, trying not to rock the chair as we went up. “I take it you’ve been talking to the ticket taker at the gate.”

  His eyes reflected the red light from the gyrating Mister Twister Rocket Ride next door. “Not much fun to ride the Ferris wheel alone.”

  Oddly enough, I’d just been thinking the same thing. “Well, considering that you saved me from the singing Elvis head last night, I guess I owe you one.”

  “You definitely do,” he agreed.

  “On the other hand, you led me into a life of crime.”

  He laid a splay-fingered hand over his chest, feigning innocence. “You said you were hungry. Would Little Joe Cartwright let a lady go hungry? I don’t think so.”

  Our chair moved upward, then stopped as the last seats on the opposite side were emptied and rolled forward for reloading. I pressed a hand over my eyes, not so much afraid of heights as humiliated by the image of the night before. “I’m sorry about the Bonanza marathon. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”

  “That’s not exactly your normal hotel.”

  The gears below whined and squealed as the last baskets were loaded and the Ferris wheel started into a continuous backward motion. Carter leaned over the safety bar, causing the seat to tip forward.

  I grabbed blindly for something solid. “Stop that, okay? This thing’s been in operation over seventy years. It might not be that … strong.”

  His knee touched mine and the chair wiggled again as he leaned over the side. “I figured it was about that old. We had one like this where I grew up. My granddad worked over the summer helping to put it in so he could pay for Mawmaw’s wedding ring.”

  Mawmaw, I thought. He still calls his grandmother Mawmaw? How sweet. “Where’s that?”

  “Where’s what?”

  “Where you’re from.”

  “Down near Austin. One of those little spots on the map that’s been absorbed by urban sprawl. When I was a kid, it was like this place, though.” Our seat swept past the platform again and headed toward the apex. Carter gazed beyond the midway, toward the dim glow of ambient light surrounding the nearby town of Daily. “My folks moved into Austin a few years after my brother and I graduated from high school. They couldn’t keep up with the farm anymore, and all the land around was going for development.” He gave a somber, closed-lipped smile. “Kind of sad to see the old climbing trees plowed down for houses and golf courses.”

  “I guess that would be hard.” I tried to imagine having that kind of attachment to a place. “My father’s a real estate lawyer. He buys and sells properties, so we moved a lot. Always around LA, though. It was a fun place to grow up. A lot going on.”

  His gaze cut toward me, and he grinned. “Party girl, huh?”

  “Hardly,” I admitted. “My parents were gone quite a bit. The minute they’d walk out the door, my sisters and my brother would take off with their friends and threaten me with my life if I left the house. It stinks, being the caboose baby.”

  He laughed softly. “My parents were never gone. We used to wish they would go somewhere—not that it would have made much difference. There wasn’t much trouble to get into around town. Our parents never needed to give us a curfew. They just figured we’d get bored and come home.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t imagine teenagers getting bored and coming home before curfew.

  “It was a good place to grow up, you know?” Even though he was looking at me, his gaze seemed far away, filled with private thoughts and old memories. “We’d take off in the morning, and as long as we were home by the time the streetlights came on in town, nobody worried about us. I feel sorry for my nieces sometimes. Kids don’t have the same kind of freedom these days.”

  We swept past the platform and the waiting line of customers. I realized I’d momentarily lost track of the fact that we were going around and around on a Ferris wheel. “How old are they—your nieces, I mean?”

  He smiled. “Eight, five, and two.”

  “Oh, they’re cute at that age.”

  “They are that.”

  “So, is your brother older than you or younger?” Why I wanted to form the complete picture of his family, I couldn’t say, but I was enjoying trying to figure him out.

  “The same age, actually.”

  “You’re a twin?” I tried to imagine Carter, times two. “Identical or the other kind?”

  “My brother’s adopted,” he said flatly. “I am too, actually.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Open mouth, insert foot. “I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed … I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Actually I did, and my mother would have said, This is where being nosy will get you, Mandalay Maria. “It’s none of my business. I have a bad habit of asking too many questions.” I fanned a hand in the air apologetically. “It’s one of those things my mother hoped to cure me of before she sent me out into the world. Too late now, I guess.”

  Carter chuckled. “I think your mother did just fine.” Grabbing my hand, he squeezed my fingers, then fastened them on the bar as the Ferris wheel reversed directions and started forward, spinning us toward what looked like the edge of the world. “Hang on,” he said. “Here comes the good part.”

  Chapter 14

  Imagene Doll

  Standing in line for the roller coaster, I thought I’d have a stroke for sure. My heart raced, my breath came short, and my palms turned clammy and wet. Avery di
dn’t seem to notice. He was hanging on to me for dear life. He’d never been on the roller coaster, either. He’d only been to the fair one time, when Amber took him, and after they paid to get in the gate, they only had enough money for ten ride coupons and a couple of caramel apples. Amber let him go on the rides while she watched, and to save on tickets, she told him not to pick rides where he’d need an adult along.

  Avery was real excited to have a grownup to ride the roller coaster with him this time. Andy and Amos seemed excited, too. They didn’t say it, but I had a feeling they’d never been on the roller coaster, either. The Lightning Snake was a pretty expensive ride. When I bought the coupons, Andy tried to give me the money he got paid from working at Donetta’s, but I told him this was my treat. It embarrassed him a little. Andy was a good boy but kind of careful about getting too warm toward folks. I think he would have said no about letting me pay for the roller coaster, but he didn’t want to cheat Amos and Avery out of the ride.

  The closer we got, the bigger that thing looked.

  Oh mercy, I thought, watching that train zip around the curves, turn almost sideways, then whip up a hill, rush down into the valley, go up again, and take another fall. The riders threw their hands in the air before the cars jerked sideways around another curve. Fat as I am, I’ll pull that thing right off the track and we’ll all die.

  It came into my mind that there was probably a limit on how much riders could weigh, and when we got to the front of the line they’d tell me I couldn’t get on. That’d be embarrassing, and one of the older boys would have to ride alone, since it was two per car, but at least they’d all get a turn on the coaster. I could sit and wait on the bench without looking like I’d chickened out.

  I got a heavy feeling as I pictured myself left behind on the bench. Jack would sure be disappointed in me for sitting this one out. “If I die, Imagene, I’m gonna die livin’,” he used to say. The day he died, he was out on horseback sunup to sundown, helping work some cattle at Frank’s ranch. Jack came home tired and sore, and as happy as I’d ever seen him. He died in his chair sometime during the late show. When I woke up and went down to rouse him to come to bed, he was already gone. Everything changed so fast—just like that roller coaster whipping around the track—on top of the world one minute, racing downhill the next, and no way to stop or go back.

  “Here it comes!” Avery said, and pointed as the blue train whizzed into the loading deck. The red one was still rushing around the other side of the track with folks screaming and girls’ hair flying in the air.

  If I got on the roller coaster, it’d ruin my hair for sure, too. It’d be silly to wreck my hair, since I’d had it styled only yesterday, after the buzzard …

  “It’s here! It’s here!” Avery squealed, pulling me forward as the line moved. Andy and Amos were already headed through the zigzag of ropes to the platform.

  “C’mon!” Amos turned around and waved at us with a big grin. “They’re letting people on!” It was the most I’d heard Amos say all day, the first time he’d smiled like he meant it.

  Avery bounced up and down on my arm, trying to move my dead weight. Next thing I knew, I was headed through the ropes.

  I’ll just go far enough until they tell me I’m too fat, and then I’ll put the little guy on with his brothers… .

  “Hurry, it’s getting full!” Avery broke into a trot, and I had to step quick to keep up. A couple of teenagers slipped under the rope in front of us and cut in line, and Andy and Amos broke into a run, not wanting to lose their spot. They made it past the line-cutters and got the third to last car, the two teenagers plopped themselves in behind them, and a young couple took the final car. Next thing I knew, there stood Avery and me, watching the safety bars lock into place and the blue train click forward.

  Andy looked around and realized Avery didn’t make it, but by then it was too late. “You get the red one, Aves!” he called, and then away he and Amos went.

  Lord, have mercy, I thought. I can’t let this boy ride the roller coaster alone.

  I started looking around for a friend or neighbor who’d be willing to share a car with Avery. The blue train made it up the hill and swooshed downward, and I heard Andy and Amos laugh and yell.

  “Here comes ours!” Avery pointed as the red Lightning Snake swept by with a rattle and a crash, then whipped around and around the corkscrew inside the track.

  I checked back down the line. There had to be somebody I knew… .

  “Here it is! Here it is!” Avery tugged. “Come on, we get the front!”

  I’m too fat. I’m too fat and too old.

  “Come on! Come on!”

  The red train glided into the unloading area, and right there in the third seat was Otis Charles. Pastor Harve was in the seat behind him with one of his little grandkids. If they’d let those two big lugs on the train, they’d put me on without so much as a by-your-leave.

  I waved my hand and tried to catch O.C.’s attention. If I could get him to see me, he’d take Avery on the roller coaster.

  The crowd was closing in, pushing us forward. I waved harder. “Otis Charles? Otis Charles?” O.C. looked around like he’d heard me, but then the blue train whooshed by and the sound was lost.

  “Come on! Come on, let’s get the front!” Avery pleaded, bouncing and pulling my hand as the red train moved forward for loading. “Come on, Mrs. Doll!”

  “Avery!” Before I knew what was happening, I’d turned around and snapped at Avery like he was one of my own sons.

  He froze in place, his mouth hanging open and his big brown eyes going wide.

  “Now hold on a minute, son. I can’t …”

  Avery’s little face melted like frosting off a cake. I looked at that boy, and I wondered how many times he’d had promises made to him only to be taken back later. Standing there on that platform, he didn’t seem a bit surprised about the roller coaster. He looked like he’d expected things to fall through.

  Imagene Doll, if you don’t get on that roller car with this boy, you might as well lie down in your grave right now. You might as well be dead already.

  Giving Avery’s hand a squeeze, I squared my shoulders. “I can’t get on that roller coaster without sayin’ a prayer first.” I closed my eyes and verses whipped through my head in rapid-fire. “I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest”—I hoped that counted for roller coasters. “My flesh and my heart faileth”—which was true enough. “The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me”—or little boys. “But strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age”—I qualified for that, sure enough.

  “There, now let’s go before somebody else gets our spot.” The two of us hurried forward and Avery pulled me into the very front car of the red train. A lady in the blue train screamed bloody murder as it swooshed by and whipped around a corner.

  The Twenty-third Psalm came to mind. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death … Thy rod and thy staff … Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me …”

  “Oh mercy!” I heard myself holler as the safety bar clicked down hard over my knees and the train jerked forward. It seemed like the bar should be up on my waist. Real tight, so I couldn’t fall out.

  “Get ready to fly!” the attendant called, and I swiveled around to tell him to stop this crazy thing—our safety bar wasn’t near tight enough. But it was too late. The Lightning Snake let out a big hiss, and we were headed up the hill.

  I shut my eyes as the car moved upward—click, click, click, click. It reminded me of the old elevator at Woolworths when I was a kid. That thing rattled and squeaked and jerked up and down like it’d fall any minute. My mama hated it. We kids thought it was the berries.

  I felt along the safety bar and closed my hand over Avery’s. One way or another, I would hold us both in this car until we were safe on solid ground again. Lord, give me strength. Help me keep us both—

  “What are you doin’, Mrs. Doll?” I open
ed one eye, and Avery was watching me with the darnedest look on his face.

  “Praying, Avery. I’m praying some more.” I glanced over my other shoulder and the folks on the ground looked like chickens in a yard. We’d almost made it to the top of the hill, and from where I was sitting, it seemed like there wasn’t a thing holding us up. I couldn’t see the track or the trestle or anything. Down below, the blue car was going through the corkscrew and coming in for a landing. I wished Avery and I had gotten on that car, and it would all be over by now.

  “How come?” Avery asked, and I turned back to him.

  “Because I’m scared, Avery. I’m scared to death, and when you’re scared the thing to do is pra-aaaaay!” Off we went over the edge. Tears whipped into my eyes on the way down, and I promised God if I survived this, I’d never gossip, skip Sunday school, doze off during a sermon, overeat, put more than a nip of rum in my eggnog, think a mean thought, or get on another roller coaster as long as I lived.

  No sooner were we at the bottom than we whipped up again, and sideways around a corner. After that it was up, down, around, sideways, around, up, down, around, and around, and around. All the while, I was screaming as loud as I could. Sometime during the ride, I left off praying, and the screaming turned to something between a holler and a war whoop. I felt like I was a kid again, bareback on my old pony, Whirley, galloping as fast as we could along the cow trail that went up and down the earthen terraces in our south pasture. Each time Whirley topped a hump, his feet cleared the ground for a minute as he leapt down the other side. My rear end left his back as we flew through the air, and for a piece of a second, I was hanging on just by my fingers in his mane. It was the closest I’d ever come to flying.

  The roller coaster was the next best thing. As we topped the last hill, I threw my head back and imagined I was that little brownlegged girl, my hair streaming out behind me as Whirley took flight.

  The minute our train came in for a landing, I gathered up the boys and said, “That was the most fun I’ve had since I was little. Let’s do it again.” All three boys were game, and we rode the roller coaster two more times, right in a row. I couldn’t believe I’d walked past the roller coaster for fifty years, and just now, nearly seventy years old, I finally gave it a try. It made me wonder what else I might’ve missed just because I was afraid.