CHAPTER 7
T he carousel is at the far end of the fair. I hold tight to Sophie’s small hand as we weave through the crowd, the smell of cotton candy and popcorn floating on the evening breeze. Ms. Lucy walks between Gavin and me, chattering about the fair’s history and how it’s grown over the years. I keep my eyes fixed ahead or on Sophie, though I can’t help but catch fragments of Gavin’s responses in his deep, warm voice.
I don’t look at him. Don’t engage. Keep walking.
The neon lights from the carnival games paint the ground in shifting patterns of blue, red, and yellow. Sophie’s grip tightens on my hand as we pass a particularly loud game where people are throwing darts at balloons.
“Look, rings!” Tommy points to a booth where dozens of glass bottles gleam under strings of lights. “Can we play? Please?”
Molly laughs. “One more game, then we have to head home, we have an early day at the shop tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Sophie, you wanna play too?” Tommy bounces on his toes, looking at my daughter with hopeful eyes.
She grips my hand tighter looking up at me with uncertainty. Before I can respond, Gavin speaks up.
“Here,” he says, holding out a red ticket. “I’ve got an extra one.”
My chest tightens. I don’t want to accept anything from him, it feels like I’ll get in trouble if I continue to engage with him but Sophie’s eyes the ticket and looks at me, silently asking permission.
It’s just a ticket. It doesn’t mean anything. Let her have fun.
I reach across Ms. Lucy and take the ticket, careful to avoid any contact with his hand. “Thank you,” I murmur, still not meeting his gaze.
“Can I try, Mama?” Sophie’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“Yes.” I hand her the ticket, and she hurries over to join Tommy at the counter.
The carnival worker, a teenager with braces and a striped vest, hands them each five plastic rings. “Land one on a bottle neck and win a prize!” he announces with rehearsed enthusiasm.
Tommy goes first. One comes close, bouncing off the neck of a green bottle, but none make it.
“Your turn, Sophie!” Tommy steps aside, giving her room.
Sophie clutches her rings, looking back at me. I give her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead, baby. You can do it.”
She turns back to the bottles, her small face scrunched in determination. Her first throw falls short, landing between bottles. The second spins wildly off course.
“Like this, Sophie.” Tommy demonstrates the throwing motion. “You gotta throw it like a frisbee.”
She tries again, this time getting closer but still missing. Her bottom lip trembles slightly as her fourth ring clatters to the ground between bottles.
“Last one,” the carnival worker says kindly. “Make it count!”
Sophie takes a deep breath, just like I’ve taught her to do when she’s feeling nervous. She pulls her arm back and throws. The ring sails through the air, clips the edge of a bottle, and falls.
“Oh, so close!” The worker says. “Want to try again?”
Sophie shakes her head and runs back to me, burying her face in my leg. I stroke her hair, feeling her disappointment as if it were my own.
“You did great, honey,” I tell her. “Those games are really hard.”
“But Tommy won before,” she mumbles into my jeans.
“It’s okay Sophie,” Tommy calls out.
Molly checks her watch. “Time to head home, Tommy. Bailey, Sophie, it was wonderful meeting you.”
Sophie peeks out and gives a small wave. “Bye Tommy.”
“Bye Sophie! Bye Ms. Bailey!” Tommy waves enthusiastically as his parents lead him away.
Ms. Lucy claps her hands together. “Well, shall we make our way to the carousel? It’s getting late, but I think we have time for one more ride.”
I glance down at Sophie, who’s still pressed against my leg. “What do you think, Soph? Want to ride the carousel?”
She nods, but her earlier excitement seems dampened by her game loss. I hate seeing her disappointed, knowing how much courage it took for her to try in the first place.
“The carousel’s my favorite,” Gavin says, and I catch myself almost looking at him before dropping my gaze again. “Those horses have been here since I was a kid. Each one has its own name.”
Sophie’s head perks up slightly at this information. “They have names?”
“Sure do,” he continues, his voice gentle. “There’s Thunderbolt, the black one with the gold saddle. And Starlight, she’s pure white with silver stars painted on her sides. Then there’s…”
As he continues to list more names, Sophie gradually emerges from behind my leg, her eyes wide with interest. I feel a flutter of panic in my chest at her showing interest in him, but I force it down. He’s just being nice. Not every man is like Matt.
“Can we find Starlight?” She asks, looking up at me with renewed enthusiasm.
“We can try,” I say, grateful to see her spirits lifting. We follow them toward the carousel, its calliope music growing louder with each step.
The line isn’t long and soon we’re walking up the metal steps onto the platform. Sophie immediately starts searching for Starlight, her small hand still firmly in mine.
“There she is.” Gavin points to a beautiful white horse with silver stars scattered across its hips. Sophie’s face lights up.
“Can I ride her, Mama?”
“Of course, baby.” I help her onto the horse, making sure she’s secure before stepping to stand next to her. The platform begins to move, and Sophie lets out a delighted gasp as Starlight starts to rise and fall.
Ms. Lucy and Gavin take up positions nearby, Ms. Lucy on a stationary bench and Gavin leaning against a pole. The lights of the fair blur into streaks of color as we spin, and Sophie’s giggles mix with the tinkling carousel music.
For a moment, watching my daughter’s joy, I almost forget to be afraid. Almost forget to keep my guard up. Almost forget about Matt and all the reasons we ran.
But then I catch Gavin looking our way, his amber eyes warm in the carousel lights, and the familiar fear creeps back in. I turn away, focusing entirely on Sophie, on her small hands gripping the pole, on her blonde hair that escaped her braids flying in the breeze.
We’re safe here, I tell myself, even as my heart races. We’re safe, we’re safe, we’re safe.
But another voice, smaller, persistent, whispers: But for how long?
The carousel begins to slow, the music winding down. Sophie’s cheeks are flushed with excitement as I help her down from Starlight.
“Did you see me, Mama? Did you see how high we went?”
“I sure did, Soph.” I smooth her windblown hair. “You were flying.”
“Thank you for showing me Starlight,” Sophie says, surprising me by directing her words to Gavin.
“You’re very welcome,” he responds, his voice warm but careful, as if he can sense my tension. “She’s a special horse.”
Sophie yawns, the evening’s excitement finally catching up with her. I lift her into my arms, and she rests her head on my shoulder.
“I think that’s our cue,” Ms. Lucy says with a gentle smile. “Time to head home.”
As we walk toward the parking lot, Sophie’s weight grows heavier in my arms. I can’t help but think about how different this evening could have been. In another life, without the shadow of Matt hanging over us, maybe I could have enjoyed the simple pleasure of a carnival night. Maybe I could have looked Gavin in the eye when he spoke or joined in the conversation instead of hiding behind my wall of silence.
I adjust Sophie in my arms as we navigate through the thinning crowd. Her steady breathing against my neck tells me she’s fighting sleep, the excitement of the evening finally catching up to her. Ms. Lucy and Gavin walk slightly ahead of us, their conversation drifting back in fragments.
The fair lights cast long shadows across the grass, and I find my thoughts wandering to Gavin. He’s different from Matt in ways that unsettle me—not because they’re bad, but because they make me question everything I thought I knew about men. Where Matt was all sharp edges and unpredictable storms, Gavin seems… steady. Like a harbor in calm waters.
Stop it. Stop comparing them. Stop thinking about either of them.
But my mind refuses to obey. I remember how Matt would get frustrated when Sophie was tired, how he’d snap at her to walk faster or complain about having to carry her. Yet here’s Gavin, slowing his pace without being asked, making sure we don’t get separated in the crowd.
“The clinic’s hosting an adoption event tomorrow,” Gavin’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “We’ve got some wonderful dogs and cats looking for homes. You should come by if you’re interested.”
I freeze for a moment, my arms tightening around Sophie. The invitation catches me off guard, and I feel the familiar flutter of anxiety in my chest.
“I… um…” The words stick in my throat.
Ms. Lucy turns to me with her gentle smile. “That’s entirely up to you, dear. No pressure at all.”
Sophie stirs against my shoulder. “Puppies?” she mumbles sleepily.
The hope in her voice tugs at my heart. Back in Oklahoma, she’d always wanted a pet, but Matt… well, Matt had his opinions about that too.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, surprising myself. “Maybe we could stop by.”
“Wonderful!” Ms. Lucy softly clasps her hands together. “I’ll come along too. Been thinking about getting a cat for company.”
We reach Ms. Lucy’s car, and Gavin steps forward to open the back door. The gesture startles me, such a simple thing. Matt never… Stop. Stop thinking about him.
I carefully maneuver Sophie into her car seat, buckling her in as her head lolls to the side. When I straighten up, Gavin’s already holding the passenger door open for me. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before I quickly look away, but not before I catch the warmth in his gaze.
“Thank you,” I whisper, sliding into the seat.
“My pleasure.” His voice is soft, careful, like he knows any sudden movement or loud noise might send me running. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I nod, still not meeting his eyes. “Tomorrow.”
Ms. Lucy exchanges a few more words with him before getting in the driver’s seat. As we pull away, I catch a glimpse of him in the side mirror, a tall figure standing in the glow of the parking lot lights, watching us leave.
The drive home is quiet except for Sophie’s soft snores and the hum of the engine. My mind keeps circling back to Gavin, to the way he spoke to Sophie about the carousel horses, to the gentle way he held the door open. Each interaction feels like a puzzle piece that doesn’t fit with what I know about men, about relationships, about danger.
He seems nice, a small voice in my head whispers.
Matt seemed nice too, at first.
Gavin feels… different. There’s no underlying current of tension when he’s around, no feeling that I need to carefully measure every word and action. That could have been because I barely said three words to him.
“You know,” Ms. Lucy’s voice breaks through my thoughts, “Gavin’s been running that clinic for a few years now ever since his daddy passed, God rest his soul. Helps out at the animal shelter too.”
I recognize what she’s doing, offering information without pushing, letting me draw my own conclusions. “That’s… nice,” I manage to say.
“Mm-hmm.” She turns onto the gravel road leading to her property. “He’s got a good heart, that one. But don’t you worry about any of that. You just focus on what makes you and Sophie feel safe and comfortable.”
The knot in my chest loosens a bit at her words. She understands, maybe not everything, but enough.
As we pull up to the house, I look back at Sophie, peaceful in her car seat. She deserves a chance at a normal life, at making friends, at maybe even having a pet someday. And maybe… maybe I deserve a chance too. Not at romance. I’m not ready for that, might never be ready for that but at learning to trust again, even just a little.
“Thank you for tonight,” I tell Ms. Lucy as she parks the car. “For everything.”
She reaches over to pat my hand and I feel my body stiffen slightly. “Anytime, dear. Now, let’s get this sleeping beauty to bed.”
I climb out and carefully lift Sophie from her car seat, her weight familiar and comforting in my arms. As I walk toward our tiny house, the stars twinkling overhead, I find myself thinking about tomorrow. The thought of going to the clinic still makes my palms sweat.
One step at a time, I remind myself. Just one small step at a time.
Sophie snuggles closer in her sleep, and I press a kiss to her forehead. Whatever happens, whatever choices I make, they’ll always be for her. But maybe, they can be for me too.