Excerpt
Rob, Millie and the kids arrived at the fair together, enjoying the fairytale setting with its colored lights and the convivial ambience. Paul and Janice tugged them along, anxious to get to the rides and games with a pocket of tickets. Once they entered the zone of the carnival, with its music and barking carneys, they were off to the rides. The carnies eyed everyone shrewdly, unhampered by the façades that everyone sported. Their job was to smilingly assess the marks without prejudice or the accommodations that folks made with each other. Their pitiless realism was the key to parting the fairgoers from their money. When the carnival was in a cozy community like Bryson, they were careful to avoid excessive pick pocketing, choosing only the occasional hapless drunk, so as not to run afoul of the constabulary.
Paul and Janice ran around, sampling some cotton candy, and then heading to the bumper-cars, Paul’s favorite concession. He would watch the electric cars until he saw a really good one and race to it when the changing time came. He had rhythm and timing and could really bash his way around the track, hitting one car so hard that their popcorn spilled all over the inside of their car, bringing a cautionary “Hey there, easy does it !” from the operator.
The Ferris wheel jammed for a short time during which Francis Miller, marooned with Jake Borst at the perigee, became hysterical and tried to climb down the structure. When she noticed boys down below enjoying the view of her panties, she climbed back into the swinging seat and the wheel re-engaged. When they came down, she wanted to leave, relenting only after her date calmed her down and promised no more rides.
Hilda and Emil Borst greeted Rob and Millie. “How about this fair, Rob,” Emil enthused. “Isn’t it a hum-dinger?”
“You bet.”
“You just wait till you can go to the Aksarben Fair. It’ll top anything.”
“What is the Aksarben, Emil?”
“It’s the Nebraska state fair, you know, Nebraska spelled backwards, Aksarben.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No, I’m not, cross my heart and hope to die,” Emil gesticulated. The ladies nodded their assent, grinning at Rob. They had him.
The merry-go-round with its calliope was a hit with kids vying to get to their favorite horse, eyes all ablaze with excitement and God knows what visions of adventure. When the apparatus set into motion, they were mesmerized, often not noticing the doting family standing along the periphery, waving with each revolution. They were into their imaginations, smiling, and bobbing up and down, never coming closer to the horse in front of them no matter how hard they wished it.
The whirling cars were something else, with folks staggering unsteadily at the end of their rotating, disorienting adventure. Elsie List threw up on Dan Gage, who was used to Elsie’s weak stomach and laughingly washed himself off with some water from a nearby hose. The two of them headed toward more stable activities. Her easy bouts of vomiting had been with her since childhood but were usually brief with quick recovery, depending somewhat on what she had eaten and drunk. It never seemed to bother Dan, and word was they were going to get hitched.
At the Ring the Bell area, the carnies and bystanders especially enjoyed seeing the proverbial brawny young man say, “Haw, let me show you,” and slam down the mighty mallet, trying to make a marker shoot up to ring the bell. The carney would relax the controls, making it impossible to ring the bell and then tighten the apparatus for the subsequent scrawny fellow so he could ring the bell loudly. Some of the burly Palookas would try again, and some never caught on. The carnies could read these suckers from half a mile away.
When Millie convinced the reluctant kids it was time to leave on the second try, they started slowly toward the parking area, whining, but soon became distracted with chasing each other on the paths. As Rob and Millie strolled along the willow lined creek on this harvest moon evening, Rob said, “What kind of grape vines are those that wind along the stream, Muscadine?”
“A type, maybe, but they’re so old that people call them Dakota Vines.”
“Dakota Vines, well, why not?” After a pause, Rob cleared his throat, “Ever think of getting married again?”
Millie stiffened a bit with surprise, “I haven’t given it much thought, Rob.”
“What if I were to ask you?”
“Is that what you would call a theoretical question?”
“Not really, if there’s a chance that…”
She was pensive for a time, as they stopped to watch the reflection of the moon on Wine Creek. “Yes, I think there is,” she said, facing Rob. They shared a quiet kiss, not noticing that it was observed by Doris Werner, the town gossip, who could scarcely believe her unexpected good fortune at accidentally witnessing this private event. The children came running along about then and Rob said, “A nickel to the one who gets to the car first.” They were off like a shot.
On the way home, while the kids chatted and laughed, a layered fog settled in, and they undulated in and out of it as they drove on the hilly sections of the road. Both Millie and Rob were pensive. Millie wondered why she had said yes to someone she knew so little about, someone who was locked in a distractive struggle. Rob was asking himself if this really made sense, but, such is love.
The following day, as the carnival packed up and headed out with their large trucks loaded with fantasy, Doris was on the main street talking to Ginny Webster, one of her trusted sycophants. Ginny had always been under Doris’ thumb, always siding with her, nodding approval of her rendition of Bryson’s goings on. About the time they were beginning their exchange, Rob walked by, tipping his fedora.
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