CHAPTER 42
Finn
There.
It’s done.
I’m holding Emma’s hand. And now we’re walking to the ticket booth. At first I’m thrilled that she isn’t pulling away. But then Emma’s long, slender fingers curl around the edge of my hand and I almost let out a groan of relief.
“My wife died eight years ago, Emma.”
“I know.”
“Not once since have I ever wanted to hold a woman’s hand at the fair.”
“Until tonight?”
“Until you.”
I stop and turn toward her. She faces me. Her hand is still in mine. I stare into her pretty face, all lit up with carnival lights, and I have a thousand things I want to share with her. Blurting them out all at once is not the way to go, however.
“I sure messed this up.”
“You sure did.”
“I didn’t expect it—you.”
“I didn’t expect you, either.”
“You’re in charge here, Emma.”
“Yes, I am.”
I laugh. Emma does too.
“The next move is yours. You need to tell me what you want.”
“I will.”
“And then I’ll give it to you.”
The tip of her little pink tongue slides along her bottom lip. “Good.”
I squeeze her hand. Someone jostles me. “Sorry, man,” he says. I look around to see people streaming in from the parking lot, and we’re standing in the main thoroughfare.
“Come on, Finn. Let’s go to the fair.” She gives me a shy smile but keeps her hand in mine as we make our way to buy tickets.
Phoebe Travis is manning the ticket booth. She’s the youngest of the Travises and the nurse who took care of Evander. She is, bar none, the most patient woman on the face of the planet. She survived Evander, didn’t she?
“Hey, Phoebe.”
“Hi, Finn!” She looks at Emma and holds out her hand. “I’m Phoebe. You must be Emma. Summer told me all about you.”
“Nice to meet you, Phoebe,”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to say hi. I have a gift basket for you, but I’ve been on double shifts at the hospital lately and haven’t been able to drop it off.”
“Oh.” Emma looks at me, surprised. “That’s very sweet. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m the gift basket queen in these parts, and I have a reputation to uphold.”
I pull several hundred dollars from my pocket and hand them to Phoebe.
“That’s two thousand tickets, Finn,” she says. “You sure?”
“You know the drill, Phoebe. You know what happens every year.”
“Right. Are all your brothers coming tonight? Here’s one thousand.” She hands me half the tickets.
“Thanks. Cal’s on his honeymoon, but the others will probably show. Anyway, it’s for a good cause, right? What’s getting funded this year?”
“Paving the drive-in,” Phoebe tells me with a shrug.
“There’s a drive-in in Sweetbriar?”
“No, but there will be. Jim Larson bought a vintage drive-in projector at an estate sale in Aspen, and now he’s itching to turn his unused cow pasture into one. Here’s the other thousand.”
“Any of your brothers make it home this year?”
“Nah. Everybody’s busy.” She smiles softly, then looks over my shoulder. “Is Evander coming?”
“Who knows. If he’s not in Vegas getting a mani-pedi.”
Phoebe snickers. “Have fun, you two! Nice to meet you, Emma!”
“You too!”
I spot Jasmine by the funnel cake stand, clutching a deep-fried Snickers in each hand. Uh-oh. I’m pretty sure there’s a cap on how much sugar an eight-year-old girl is supposed to eat in one day. Even at a fair.
On our way there, Emma eyes one of the giant stuffed pandas at the ring toss.
“You want me to win you one?”
“One of those?” she asks, startled. “No. I mean, yes. I mean, you don’t have to do that. I mean, these games are a scam.”
“They are? You say that with an air of authority.”
Her face reddens slightly, and her hair falls forward, covering half of her face. I long to tuck the hair behind her ear like I’ve seen her do so many times since she arrived at Yosemite Ranch, but she beats me to it.
“I worked a carnival for a summer when I was eleven. Everything was rigged. Magnets, fans, you name it, to bilk the customers. We didn’t give away one single panda all summer. Just those little rubber toys.”
A look of sadness washes over her face and something else. I think it’s shame.
“You worked at a carnival when you were only eleven? You were allowed to do that?”
“I didn’t have, you know, parents.” Her voice is soft, and I understand immediately that this is part of the topic she doesn’t want to discuss.
Her background check revealed her work history, schooling, legal background, and previous addresses, but it didn’t go back to when she was eleven years old and a foster child. None of those details are available publicly. What I know is what Phyllis has told me.
I really don’t know the first thing about this beautiful woman.
And I’ll never press her for the details. I’ll wait for her to share, and only if she wants to. Seeing her vulnerable expression, and the shame that’s been etched into her psyche, all I want to do is be here for her.
“Let’s get you that panda,” I say.
I win three pandas for Emma and five goldfish for Jasmine before Declan, Special K, and Evander invade the fair. And here it comes. I just throw the tickets out into the grass and they fight over them like vultures over roadkill.
By now, Emma’s met all of my brothers, but she’s still confused. “Are they always like this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t get it,” she says. “They could just buy their own tickets, right?”
“They could, but this is more fun.”
“Do the MacLaines make everything a competition?”
“Pretty much.”
Declan grabs Jasmine and throws her over his shoulders, then runs around with her. The sound of her hysterical laughter is my favorite sound of all time. He sets her down, and she’s dizzy from spinning.
“Let’s do the Tilt-a-Whirl!” Jasmine says.
“You were just on the Uncle Declan Tilt-a-Whirl,” he says. “But okay!” He picks her up and carries her like a football. Evander and Special K go check out the food trucks.
“Can I get you anything?” I turn to check on Emma, and I’m shocked. “What’s wrong?”
She’s turned white as a sheet, and for a moment I think she’s having a health emergency. I nearly send for Phoebe to help her.
But it’s not a health emergency. Emma is staring straight ahead into the crowd, her eyes unblinking and huge.
Someone’s got her upset.
No. That’s not it. Not at all.
That’s terror.