Chapter 13
Iwas watching Gable shoot hoops to win a carnival prize when Marie grabbed my arm. Her cute, manicured nails dug into the flesh of my upper arm.
“He’s here.”
At first I didn’t catch what she’d said. Gable had occupied all my attention, talking about alternative bands and listening to him required a lot of energy.
Being at the carnival was already traumatizing. I kept reliving my old county fairs where I competed in goat competitions. In our county, the rides and games were a marvel because there was nothing else to do in Honeyvale. And all those people came to see the judging.
Marie hit me again. “He’s here.”
I swiveled to where she pointed discreetly with her elbow across the thoroughfare.
Brett stood at the corner of the milk bottle ring toss.
I shrugged. “I texted him.”
“I know, but he never responded so I gave up hope.”
To see Marie be all weirded out by guys totally shook me. She possessed all the confidence and all the poise anyone could ask for. And yet for some reason, Brett caused her to crumple like a milk bottle tower hit by the star baseball pitcher.
“Well, we’d better attract his attention, or he might find some other cute girl to distract him.” I waved him over. He was so not my type. He was too bland and boring. He sported a nice, close-trimmed haircut and a ninety-watt smile, but he probably never said anything shocking. Ever. He was perfect for Marie, but he was as boring as vanilla.
A grin parted his lips when he saw us. Or Marie. Or maybe both of us. I’d like to think he was pleased to see me.
He combed his fingers through his dark hair. “Sorry I’m late. Parking was packed. There are a ton of people here.”
A little jealous flash pierced my soul. Maybe McKenna’s group would win after all.
I elbowed Marie.
She introduced Gable.
Then there was an awkward pause. I wasn’t going to say anything. I zipped my lips, silently willing Marie to be the instigator. I sent subliminal messages: Ask him to hang out with you.
At last Marie, as if emboldened by my telepathic message inhaled and said, “Hey, I was thinking of getting some kettle corn. Would you like some?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Sure.”
Inhaling smells of corndogs and fried funnel cakes, I breathed a sigh of relief. That broke the dam; Marie returned to normal Marie and asked him questions and chatted as they searched out sugary-buttery goodness.
She smiled at me over her shoulder. Marie may have needed a little push, but she could take it from here. I returned my focus to Gable who was shooting hoops.
“Anything you want?” he asked, nearing the number needed for a prize.
“How about that big panda.” I pointed to a stuffed bear hanging along the mesh backdrop.
Gable threw basketballs into hoops with promising success. The big panda was mine.
As he shot, he continued to drone on about the pros and cons of each of his favorite bands. I tuned Gable out, focusing instead on how much money McKenna was making. Everywhere I looked, people spent money either in tickets or in cash at the games, at the food booths, and at the rides. But as treasurer, I knew the rules for tallying the amount of money. We could only count the net profits. Everything but donations had to be subtracted from the total. She might be making a lot of dough, but it depended on how much was donated.
Someone touched my elbow.
I jumped.
Lincoln’s strained expression worried me.
“What’s up?” I stepped away from Gable and the game.
“I need your help.” Lincoln’s somber voice matched his expression.
I barely heard him over the din of the games on the strip.
Mysterious.
“Sure, I’ll grab…” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder.
His gaze flitted to Gable. “The fewer the people, the better.”
I nodded then turned to Gable, placing my hand on his forearm. “Hey, I’ll be right back.”
He held the ball and faced us. “What’s up?”
I didn’t know how to answer.
Luckily, Lincoln answered for me. “I need her advice for something. Service club business.”
Twirling the ball between his hands, Gable scrutinized Lincoln. He stood shorter than Lincoln, by probably four inches. Gable wore a dark T-shirt with “Screeching Monkeys” written on the front. Hair poked from his beanie.
Lincoln dressed in a collared shirt and jeans.
Lincoln was the president of the service club. And I was the newly appointed treasurer. To meet privately about account or other issues related to the club was not uncommon. But from the seriousness of Lincoln’s expression, I knew this was not the case. This wasn’t about expenses unless something had been stolen.
“Sure, babe.” Gable shrugged and bent to give me a kiss.
Lincoln looked away.
“I’ll be right back.” I smiled and floated away on cloud five hundred.
Earlier, the weather app threatened rain. Crossing the green, I looked up at the sky.
Dark clouds gathered ominously but held their moisture. We just needed the rain to hold off for a few more hours. Then it could pour all it wanted. Even in my heart of hearts, I didn’t really want rain to ruin all McKenna’s work. But as I looked around at all the people playing games in the sweltering heat and high humidity with the coming storm, no one was having real fun. Sure there was carnival music blaring, the air was heavy with smells of funnel cakes and nachos. People were spending money, but nobody looked truly happy.
Lincoln didn’t say anything. His mood was damp like the weather. He stopped in front of the quilt booth.
Several older ladies had been tending the booth earlier as part of the Old Ladies’ club or something, and we’d gotten permission to receive a portion of their earnings or a booth fee of some sort. Earlier, I’d seen the hand-quilted patchworks spread over several frames, their colors brilliant, even amidst all the chaos of flashing lights and calling barkers. I was getting a bit of a headache just standing there. I was hoping Lincoln would tell me why he’d dragged me from my almost-boyfriend to stand in front of the quilt stand.
“McKenna,” he said in a whisper.
I leaned closer. “What?” I’d heard what he said, but his words didn’t register.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
I realized now that he was barely keeping himself together when he first approached me by the bottle rings. Now he was nearly unglued. “McKenna needs help.”
I had to lean in closer as he was still whispering. “What’s wrong?”
“She needs a doctor.” His voice was tense, strained. Hoarse.
Millions of scenarios rushed through my mind. Did she fall from the Ferris wheel, get hit by a dart or a ball, or run over by the tall man on stilts? The pit in my stomach grew as big as my fears. “What happened?”
He put his hands on my lips. “Shhhhh.”
He pointed toward the quilt stand. I was still confused. “Lincoln, what is going on?” I whispered but it was a loud whisper.
“McKenna is not herself. Will you see if you can get her to come out?”
“What do you mean she’s not herself?” Did she get knocked on the head?
Sprinkles fell from the dark clouds. Large drops. I heard them, plopping on tents. I don’t think he even noticed. His eyes were wide and glazed.
He took me around the booth and folded back a blanket draped over the booth stand. There, crouched inside the wooden structure, wrapped in a blanket, huddled McKenna. Her blotchy face was a mess, and she trembled, rocking side to side.
I crouched down. “McKenna? Are you feeling okay?”
“He’s leaving, isn’t he?” She didn’t recognize me. Her expression changed to sheer horror that terrified me. “You, devil! It’s all your fault. I knew it! He won’t admit it, but you, you!”
She spat her vitriol-laced words with such passion. They made no sense. They tumbled out of her mouth as if she had no control over them.
Taking her hand in mine, I stroked it. Speaking soothingly as if to a child I tried to coax her out. “Everything will be okay, McKenna. Nobody’s leaving. Let’s get you out of there. Want to come with us for a drive?”
“Nooooooooo!” she screeched, withdrawing her hand and babbling unintelligibly.
I tried again, but she pushed me away violently. She needed the medics and now. Enormous rain drops pelted me. I was impatient for her to come with us. “McKenna, shall we go for a drive? Lincoln will take us for a ride. Just you, me, and Lincoln.”
Her expression contorted then she burst out crying. I patted her back, afraid of retaliation. But she just sobbed into the blanket leaving streaks of black mascara.
“What happened?” I stood and faced Lincoln who looked horrorstruck.
He focused on where McKenna stayed under the table. “The stress of organizing the Fall Fling was too much for her. I already called the EMTs. They’re on their way. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Behind me, sirens blared. An ambulance drove up over the curb and onto the grass. The ladies who were minding the booth had been waiting for them and motioned them over to us. A crowd gathered to watch two men and a woman fly into the fray.
The booth burst into a flurry of activity as rain sprinkled down with heavy plops. One of the quilt women hurriedly removed the quilts form their frames.
Two blue-clad EMTs were more adept at removing McKenna than I had been. They helped her to the ambulance. I held her purse. Lincoln and I stood behind the three feeling stupid and unhelpful.
“Want us to follow in her car?” I asked.
One of them, in a blue baseball-type hat and gloves, stayed behind while the others, the woman and an older man, led McKenna away from the booth. “Are any of you family or know how to contact her family?”
“No, I’m a friend. This is her boyfriend. I might be able to find something on her phone.” From her purse, I pulled it out and scrolled through her contacts, not really seeing any of the names, my mind replaying the whole event, so surreal.
The EMT nodded. “If you could get ahold of them and tell them to meet us at the hospital, that would be great.”
“We’ll follow in the car.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying. The whole situation felt so foreign. The rain lashed us from the heavier clouds gathering above us. I watched until the ambulance drove off the grass and headed down the street.
“We should go get her car,” Lincoln said.
“I can’t find her mom’s number. I’m just scrolling through, and my brain is fried. What’s her name? I tried ‘Mom.’ I tried?—”
“Try ‘Witch,’” Lincoln said.
“Excuse me?” I squeaked, shocked that Lincoln would say something so uncharacteristically mean. Maybe he’d flipped, too.
“She put her mom under ‘Witch.’” He took the phone, scrolled down to the Ws and pointed it out. Sure enough, it was there. I saw it but it still didn’t compute. How could anyone label a mom that? We passed through the fairway as the raindrops became more steady, soaking our shirts. The toes of my shoes sank into the mud and the shirt clung to my shoulders. Numbly, I followed Lincoln.
“You want to call or shall I?” I held out the phone.
“You’d better do it.” He nodded toward me.
“Okay.” I hit Witch and waited for her mom to pick up.
It struck me that this was the first time that I’d talked to McKenna’s mom, and I didn’t even know what her last name was—if it was the same as hers or what.
“Hello?” I heard finally when we got to middle of the fairway. A sheet of rain soaked me. The grass softened under my feet.
“Hi, this is McKenna’s friend, Gabby. I just wanted to let you know that she’s fine, she’s not hurt or anything.” I figured not to say she’d been taken to the ER as the first thing. Parents had a tendency to freak out and think of the worst possibilities first. “She was acting not herself, and they took her to the ER…” I didn’t know what to say. She had a nervous breakdown?
At first it was just silence on the other end. “Hello?”
“What hospital?”
I gave her the address to the hospital, and she thanked me.
I put the phone back into the bag when we hung up. Weird. This whole experience was so weird.
People had been running with papers over their heads, shielding themselves with cans of soda lifted against the rain. We ran through the rain to find her car.
Lincoln grabbed my hand as thunder clapped overhead, and wind drove rain into us as we ran through the storm to find her car. The pelting hurt my head.
The Fall Fling was now over.
Hopefully they got everyone off the Ferris wheel in time.
In my rainy, blurred vision, I saw a red photo booth. A nice dry place.
Lincoln must’ve had the same thought and headed toward it. He leaped in, pulling me inside. Rain didn’t usually last long in the desert. We could wait it out.
The rain pummeled the curtain, the sound magnified in such close quarters, but at least it was dry. Lincoln and I were crammed together, all the soaked parts of our bodies touching. We filled the small booth. For the first time since he poked my elbow earlier that evening, we both laughed.
Wind whooshed under the booth curtain as we tried shuffling around each other. My clothes clung to my body, feeling heavy and cold.
Lincoln looked down on me, a smile in his eyes.
Suddenly, a clap of thunder split the air above us shaking the booth. Instinctively, I grabbed him.
He put his arm around me holding me close.
His warmth penetrated my wet clothes. I hoped he didn’t feel my heartbeat through my shirt. We stood there, together, clutching each other, neither breaking our grasp.
Finally, he fell on the bench, his long legs filling the whole booth. So there I was, trapped between his knees. A sly smile crossed his lips, and he pulled me next to him as the wind howled around us. I laughed at the craziness and to break the tension. It felt right, sitting there with him, feeling his heat.
The wetness brought the scent of his clothes in sharp awareness as I breathed him in.
He smiled down on me, the tension thick, his nose breath tickling my hair. With each gust of wind, the rain beat upon the curtain making an odd splattering sound. With one hand, Lincoln held it closed, protecting us against the elements. With the other, he held to at his side.
In an odd rush of closeness, I laid my head on his shoulder near his neck, breathing in the wet smell of him and enjoying him holding me. I could see into his damp shirt, open to his collarbone, but his smell, the scent of laundry soap, intoxicated me. Feeling his warmth despite the wet and the rain.
“This is so crazy.” I felt way too comfortable.
He continued to hold me.
This was what I wanted. I closed my eyes against the storm. Some part of me never wanted the storm to end. That we could just stay here forever, close like this.
He wiggled around me, and I heard clanking then beeping. Through my closed lids, a flash went off. Not lightning. A flash.
My eyes flew open I turned just in time to catch the next flash. By the next flash I was hitting him.
He’d turned on the camera in the booth!
My fist flew in a fury upon his strong shoulders. He didn’t bother avoiding them. “My hair is frizzy! And I’m so wet that flash is going to reflect nothing but white all over me!”
Lincoln laughed against my barrage of hits. “I’m glad I’m getting pictures of this too, for police evidence. Friend abuse, friend abuse!” Another flash went off.
“I can’t believe the electricity is still on.”
“Lucky us!”
He stuck more quarters in, his face near mine.
“What are you doing?” I gulped around the question.
“Capturing the moment.”
“Like you want to remember my frizzy hair…”
His lips stopped mine with hot firm kisses.
I melted and kissed him back.
He withdrew, studying me. His eyes brightened. Then he kissed me again, slow this time and tender, taking me all in.
And I kissed him back, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing into him, stroking his hair in the back of his head. I wasn’t aware of the flashes or the rain or anything, just my need to kiss him. My skin yearned to be touched, my heart raced. My cheeks burned.
Lincoln pulled away, bumping his head on the back of the booth. “I’m so sorry. I know you and Gable…”
“Gable!” I hadn’t thought of him! Not once since I left him at the basketball hoops. I hope he got out of the rain. He had my phone, and I had no idea where he was. We weren’t technically or officially dating. But still, guilt rushed over me. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry. You and McKenna…”
At the mention of McKenna his face clouded over. “No,” he said, rubbing his temple with his free hand.
My gut twisted like I’d eaten too many funnel cakes. The whole scene with McKenna flooded my mind. She was headed to the hospital and here we were. I was making out with another girl’s boyfriend. Suddenly, I found myself again. It was like being splashed with cold water on a mild day.
“We need to get you to the hospital. She needs you, Lincoln. This is a time when having your boyfriend near would be a big support.”
“No,” he said again when he saw my horrified look. “It’s my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
Lincoln avoided my gaze, looking instead out the soggy curtain to the sky. It was still raining, but the worst was over.
“You’re right. We should go. She needs supportive friends right now.”
I hopped off the bench, jumping through the curtain in one wet leap into the soggy ground, hearing the slosh under my feet, but not really caring. Lincoln parted the curtains, and seeing he was behind me, I was ready to go up the street. I turned again briefly to see if he was following me, only to catch a quick glance of him stuffing something into his pockets.
“Come on!” he said when he reached me, taking my hand. “We need to make up for lost time. The rain delayed us.”
He pulled me through the vendors with colorful tarps covering their booths, toward the cars on the street.
Well, the Fall Fling was ruined. I glanced around. The crowds were gone, headed toward the businesses on the surrounding streets, perhaps to return, but probably not.
Lincoln ran down a side street, looking for McKenna’s car then returned, his soaked his shirt glued to his broad shoulders. We ran together to the next one.
My toes squished inside my shoes. My clothes clung to me heavily. I started to itch. Hair stuck to my neck and face.
Finally we found her car, parked slightly on the sidewalk on a road with no curb. Lincoln beeped the car, and we both got in.
The air was on full blast, and we quickly turned it off until the moisture from our clothes fogged the windows.
I was dying to know what Lincoln was thinking about the kiss, about McKenna…about anything. But he focused forward, getting the rearview mirrors ready to drive.
I flipped down the vanity mirror on the visor to take an assessment of my appearance. Frizzy, curly, blotchy. I put it back up, so I didn’t have to look at it any more.
I didn’t know if I should say something to him to get an explanation, so I just sat in silence, figuring when he was ready, he would talk.
The freeway was crammed with people, the rain slowing them down, perhaps there was a wreck or a fender bender.
I stared out the window, impatient with the slog. My mind went on in a blur. To the kiss.
His face was drawn, a scowl on his brow. But I couldn’t tell if it was from the traffic or from thinking about McKenna. There was only one way to find out.
“I hope McKenna’s okay.”
He glanced at the clock in her car. A car cut us off, and he honked the horn. The sound startled me. It echoed in my ears since there was no other sound. No talking, just the hum of the engine. Lincoln’s face was still clouded. He shook his head at the driver who passed through our lane to the next one.
“Me too,” he finally said. So he was thinking about her, not the traffic. “I feel like it’s all my fault.” It was like a river of emotion finally made its way out over the dam.
“Your fault?” Curious, I wanted to hear but not prod him into talking. I turned toward him in the car. We were barely going ten miles an hour on the freeway.
But he didn’t say more. I wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it.
We finally got to the ER and parked her car and rushed inside.
A nurse greeted us, and we told her who we were and why we were there.
He told us to stay in the waiting room wait until they had her in a room upstairs.
I sat next to a rotund lady in her sixties, I’d guess, with long hair, graying, pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore pants and a turtleneck despite the warmer weather. She wrung her hands.
“Crazy storm today,” I said to her, since Lincoln was being unusually untalkative.
She glanced out the shaded windows at the receding sunshine. “I guess so. I missed it. Been here for the last three hours.”
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“My granddaughter is in a coma in there.”
I should have known better than to ask that question in the ER. Where were my manners? Nobody was here for a good reason. What would the Book say? Not to ask about people’s problems. But somehow being in the ER linked us all together. We were all here for something, some horrible reason. Probably the most compassionate act was not to talk about it.
“Oh,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Diabetes. Went to the fair this morning, and you know the junk they eat there. Blood sugar was unreal.”
“I’m so sorry.”
More wringing hands. “Her parents are in there. But me, they make me wait outside.”
I struggled to make questions that were sensitive and appropriate. “Are you very close with your granddaughter?”
I knew they were. There was no mistaking the love in those eyes. She nodded, tears welling. Her tongue moved around her teeth, the words stuck in her throat. “I watch”— her voice broke—“excuse me—I watch her after school. Doris works, you know.”
I could only assume Doris was the mom. Something very strange happened to me. Was it this lady’s humility, her love, her fear for her granddaughter? Something inside me wanted to comfort her. I reached out to her hand and squeezed it. Her tear-filled eyes turned to me, moisture finally spilling over the lid. A tight and painful smile passed over her lips as she put her other hand on top of mine.
“Everything will be okay,” I said, because I heard people say it all time to me when my mom passed. I didn’t know if it was true, but I felt it to be true. Whatever happened, it would be okay. With both hands, she squeezed mine, removing one briefly to wipe an errant tear.
She nodded but didn’t let go. I didn’t know if I said the right thing. All I know is that she needed someone, and I just happened to be there. And I was happy to be there. Except I was waiting for McKenna.
A nurse in purple scrubs came and called the lady back. I said goodbye.
“Who was that?” Lincoln asked.
“Some lady. Her granddaughter is in a coma. Diabetes.”
“Wow. Wait. You didn’t know her? You just met her now?”
I shrugged. I didn’t care whether he was impressed or not. I didn’t do it for show.
“While you were talking to her, I overheard some people come in. I guess the wreck on the freeway was a motorcycle. The driver skidded when someone braked right in front of him and slammed into the back of a semi. Then a car slammed into him. He’s got broken legs and punctured lungs and…” Lincoln choked a bit. “Some swelling in his brain. A bunch of his family came in. They don’t think he’s going to make it.”
“I will never be angry at traffic again.”
Lincoln just shook his head.
There was nothing better than going to the ER on a bad day. I came in feeling sorry for myself, but as I sat there and heard other people’s problems, I came away so happy for the ones I had. The hours ticked by. My eyelids drooped. Lincoln pushed my head onto his shoulder. It was hard to doze with the bright lights, worry flowing through me.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Lincoln asked. I slid my body underneath the arms of the row of chairs, resting my head on his thigh. It wasn’t too comfy with metal ridges of the chairs digging into me, but it was better than sitting. I was slightly drier but shivering in the AC.
I closed my eyes against the florescent lights and tried to relax. Lincoln’s fingers soothed my hair. I might have drifted off.
Lincoln nudged me awake. I was a little sore and moved out of my prone position, my eyes fuzzy with sleep. A nurse or a doctor stood at the automatic door.
“McKenna has been admitted upstairs. We were short staffed.”
I rubbed my eyes. “We heard about the wreck.”
“Whenever we have a code blue come in, everything else takes back burner.”
“We understand.” Lincoln nodded.
“Did the motorcyclist make it?” I asked.
The nurse shook her head. “Listen, it’s really sweet of you to wait here and everything, but it’s against the hospital policy to allow you to see her. You are welcome to contact her later to see how she’s doing.”
“Thank you,” I said. But when Lincoln and I exited the automatic doors, I kicked the trash can outside. The sky began to lighten, contrasting with the purple mountains. “Man, we waited here all night, and we weren’t able to see her.”
“It’s okay. We’ll tell her later we were here. I’m sure she will appreciate it.” Lincoln rubbed my neck. “Despite all that’s happened, we have to take charge and be accountable for the money earned today. As the treasurer and president, we have to tally the totals from the Fall Fling.” He paused at McKenna’s car, looking as weary as I felt. “Thursday?”
“Oh, Thursday I have something.” Marie was going to show me how to do her liveblog chat a little better. “Wednesday?” I didn’t want him thinking I was brushing him off.
“Wednesday isn’t good for me.” He still had a low-hanging brow.
“What, you have a hot date with McKenna?” I tried to tease, though it came out weird. “I mean if she’s out of the hospital and everything.”
“No. In fact—” He cut himself off. “Never mind.”
I wanted to ask him about the kiss. We were still friends, right? Sometimes things get awkward when lines get crossed. I didn’t ever want to lose Lincoln as a friend.
“How about Saturday?” He opened the car door for me.
“I have to haul all my laundry to the laundromat. My laundry day is important and unless you want to see me naked Monday morning, it’s a priority.” Gosh, what did I just say? I needed sleep. I added quickly, “Not that you aren’t more important than laundry. It’s just the only day I can since I work on Sundays.”
A huge grin spread on his face. “Bring your laundry to my house. I have a machine. We can order pizza and go through the receipts and stuff.”
“I have, like, six batches of laundry.”
“You’ll have to leave, like, seven dollars in change.” He poked me.
“I will.”
“I was totally just kidding.” His smile beguiled me.
“You said it. Now you get a fistful of quarters.”
“Saturday, then?”
“Saturday.”