Chapter Four
R ocky blinked against the late afternoon sun and prepared to circle the block again.
“If you would tell me what kind of parking spot you’re looking for, perhaps I can help,” Gia offered from the passenger seat.
He nodded, returned her curious smile, and hit the gas. The force knocked her back into the seat as if it were a rocket launch. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“No worries,” she said with all the genuine warmth and sweetness of a pile of honey on a fresh from the oven biscuit. “It looked more like whiplash than it was.” She looked down and wiggled. “I think this seat must be loose or something. It moved.”
Rocky gripped the wheel tighter. If he were alone, he’d be banging his head on it until the blissful haze of unconsciousness set in. His last lucid thought would be how Max was going to die a slow, painful death for not bolting that seat in properly.
For some reason, this beautiful intelligent woman had willingly let him pick her up for a date. She was here. In his clunker. Looking and talking like a real girl and not a camp counselor. There was no water jug, no ID badge, and no cheesy camp t-shirt. Instead, there were little white shorts and jewelry. Her eyes were bigger, her lips were shinier, and her hair looked even silkier. From the leaf-like dangling thingies in her ears to the Jesus-fish ring on her left index finger, she was the very picture of beauty and—and all he’d managed to do in these crucial first date moments was drive her in circles as she sat wobbling in his deathtrap of a car.
He let out an anxious bark of laughter. It sounded disturbing and inappropriate in the recent patch of silence.
She glanced his way and nervously picked at the leather bracelet on her wrist. “What?”
He coasted to a stop. “Sorry. Nothing. Here’s the thing. Disabled parking is full, and the spaces along this main drag are tight and look like a bunch of two-year-olds were out here trying to parallel park. And I don’t think they’re supposed to be parallel parked. I think those are angled spaces, but that’s beside the point.”
“So the point is...”
“The point is, I need a little room to get in and out and I prefer to park near a fixed object like a tree or something so no one can get too close and pin me in.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Her hair danced about her shoulders as she looked up and down the street and all around. “Pull up there at the entrance. I’ll get out and ask them where you’re supposed to park. They can find us a spot. Clearly this is poor planning and they need to accommodate you so you’re close enough to feel comfortable.”
“I appreciate that, but you can simmer down and refrain from going all angry badger on the guy at the gate. No need to start a riot. It’s not the distance that bothers me. I don’t care how far I have to roll. I do like to know where all the loose gravel and high curbs are, but mainly I didn’t want you to have to walk that far.”
“In that case, I don’t care either. Drive a couple streets away and park wherever. I don’t mind walking. And if you see a curb that frightens you, we’ll walk and roll to where everything ends at the edge of town so you can get around it.”
“Curbs don’t frighten me, Gia. I can get anywhere I want to go.”
“Simmer down,” she mimicked back at him. “I’m kidding. I’m the one who saw you get down and back up that hill at camp, remember? I know you can do whatever you want.”
He urged the car forward. You’re messing with me, right God? She’s not real. Is that it?
Her squeal could have burst his eardrum. “Go left! Those people are leaving.”
“How do you know?”
“Go before someone else does.”
“All right, I’m going.” He made the turn and slowed. “I feel like a stalker.”
“If you had let me out to do battle with the people at the gate, we’d be parked and inside by now.”
“Maybe, but—”
“See?” She gave him an excited thump on the shoulder. “That’s their car. They’re tired and the kids have had enough. That space is ours.”
“If I’d known looking for parking spaces kept you entertained, I could have saved the admission to this festival and taken you to the mall parking lot with a bag of chips and a two-liter bottle of soda.”
“Hey,” she shot back. “I might be a cheap and easy date, but I’m not that cheap and easy.”
She gasped and turned a painful looking shade of red.
He laughed because he couldn’t help himself.
“Don’t worry,” he said and maneuvered the car into the spot. “I already know there’s nothing easy about you.”
“Uh...” She fanned her face and then struggled with the aging seatbelt. “Can I help you get your chair out?”
“No, thanks. Hop out and stand back, though, so you don’t get hit in the head. I’m still working out the best exit strategy. I got lazy with that passenger seat gone.”
She glanced around while still fighting with the latch. “That’s what’s different. I knew this seat wasn’t in here that day at camp. What’s that about?”
“Long stupid story. Do you need help with that?”
“I’ve about got it.”
“It’s probably rusty or something.”
It came loose. Which was good. Until she gasped again and snapped her hand back and shook it in the air.
“It pinched me.”
He laughed again because, well, yes, he was just that big of a moron. “I’m sorry, Gia. I really am.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Nerves. There’s no excuse. We’ll get some ice.”
“I don’t need ice. It surprised me, that’s all. Can we go inside now?”
Sure. Why not? It would be the last time he ever saw her, so he should try and make the best of it.
Gia paused at the gate as he headed toward the booth to buy tickets. She stood gazing at the banner that hung across the entrance. “Welcome to the 23 rd Annual Blueberry Catfish Festival,” she read aloud and then glanced at Rocky. Her face almost disappeared in the glow of the setting sun. “What kind of weird little town combines a blueberry and a catfish festival? It makes no sense.”
“I looked it up.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket. “The blueberry people had their festival for years when the catfish people decided they wanted one too. The Chamber of Commerce and city government refused to spend money on security, insurance, and all that on two festivals when there was no guarantee people would come and spend money here twice in one summer. Hence, the Blueberry Catfish Festival was born.”
“Hence?”
“Yes, hence. Do you want catfish for dinner?”
“Do you?”
“It’s kinda what they do here, but if you don’t want a plate we can try and find something else later.”
“No, I’m hungry. Is there blueberry pie for dessert? And don’t say it’s kinda what they do here.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” He tossed a wad of cash on the counter. “Give me however many tickets we need for food, drinks, games, rides, whatever.” He shoved the tickets into the pocket on his chair and fished around for his sunglasses. Gia stood nearby looking confused. Extremely cute, but confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But I heard you say rides. You want to ride rides?” She fell in step with him and noticeably bypassed the turnstile in order to stay with him as he passed through the accessible gate.
“Don’t you?”
“Absolutely not.”
He snaked through the crowd and stopped in the shade near a booth where he intended to exchange tickets for bottled water. “Don’t say that on my account, Gia. This chair doesn’t stop me from much.”
“I know that, Rocky.”
“I’m not trying to be weird here, but I don’t want you to think you need to do anything extra for me or not do something because of me.”
She sat on a wooden bench. “Now I’ve offended you.”
His high hopes began to fade. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? “Of course not. Never mind.”
She pulled her hair to one side and fanned the back of her neck with a festival brochure. “No, tell me what you’re trying to say.”
“First of all, don’t ever listen to me. I’m an idiot. I was only thinking of that conversation we had at camp. You’re always in that counselor-protector-nurturer mode which comes naturally to you. Don’t feel like you have to be that way because I use this chair. I can take care of myself. I want you to have a good time here.”
“I appreciate that, and I will. Despite my zeal to help you that first day, I know you’re a big boy. Let’s agree that I’ll respect your boundaries and you’ll accept my help when I decide you need it. Right?”
“Right. No, wait.”
She laughed. “No, you agreed. Can we get water now? And food? I’m literally counting the minutes until the sun goes down and the temperature drops off a bit.”
Lord, help him, he was crazy about this girl. “Sure. Let’s eat. I hear the food tent has AC.”
Rocky sped forward. He avoided people who stepped in front of him, and popped over loose cords that were strewn across his path. Beads of perspiration formed at his neckline and soaked the collar of his white polo shirt. He, too, was counting down until sunset. Body odor and pit stains were no way to impress a girl. He was used to the humidity, but excessive heat in a poorly ventilated chair made for quick dehydration and sweat soaked pants—even more unimpressive to the ladies.
Gia touched the handle of his chair. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes, Gia, I’ll be happy to win you that huge purple teddy bear, but I need to do some carb loading first.”
“OK, good. I need that. But that’s not my question.”
“Shoot.”
“Where do you stand on the so-called politically correct terms to describe your disability? And don’t make fun of me because I asked you where you stand on something.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.” He slowed his pace and tried to speak loud enough to cover the din of the crowd. “What specific terms are you asking about?”
“Well, when working with children we try hard to not say anything that would hurt their self-esteem or make them feel less capable. We don’t say that’s an autistic child , for example. We say that child has autism . And we wouldn’t say a kid is paraplegic and confined to a wheelchair , we would say that person has paraplegia and is a wheelchair user .”
He came to a stop in the catfish line. The smell of bubbling oil and hushpuppies in the fryer made his stomach growl. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t care. I understand you have to be careful with children, but it seems to me the only people who are concerned about what’s politically correct are people who don’t have disabilities. It may not be socially appropriate these days to say I’m wheelchair bound or confined to this chair, but I pretty much am. I wouldn’t get many places without it.”
She shrugged and moved forward. “I get that.”
He surrendered a bunch of tickets to the overheated, crimson-faced teenager at the door of the tent. “The only word I really hate is handicapped. It’s like a slap in the face. And challenged doesn’t make sense to me. It’s like sugarcoating handicapped. Bottom line is, it’s up to the individual and it doesn’t matter to me.”
She handed him a plastic tray. “Thanks for telling me.”
He handed her a bundle of plastic utensils. “You’re welcome.”
“What about—”
“No more questions, woman. You’re wearing me out. I never talk this much. Are you always this intense?”
“Well—”
“Don’t answer that, but hey, would you please grab that jar of tartar sauce and find a table?”
She slipped her paper plate full of fried food off the counter. “Anything else?”
“Ketchup.”
“There’s ketchup on the table.”
“Then grab that bottle of cocktail sauce and a bunch of those salt packets.”
She put a cup of iced tea on her tray. “And you seem like such a health conscious guy.”
“I am. We’ll come back for dessert.”
He scooted to the table she claimed and unloaded his dinner.
There was a quick fuzzy-like moment when they both bowed their heads and gave thanks, and then a corny chuckling moment when they both realized what they’d done. All the flirty goofiness somehow boosted his confidence.
He leaned back a little and rested his hand on the back of her chair. “Maybe later I can get you on the Ferris wheel.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“I don’t do travelling carnival rides. It’s not safe, and I don’t need to be dangling in the air when I’m stuffed full of fried catfish and blueberry pie.”
He moved closer, now with so much oozing charm he thought he might hurt himself if he didn’t unleash it on her. “Not even with me and a promise I won’t let you fall out?”
She took a sip of tea and looked straight into his eyes with a chocolate-chip-colored gaze. “Not even if Chris Hemsworth and Jason Momoa offered me a seat between them.”
GIA RAN HER FINGER across the plastic nose of the plush four-inch baby yellow bear. “I think he’s cute.”
“He’s too small. You should have let me keep trying for the giant one.”
She pulled a fresh bottle of water out of the pouch on Rocky’s chair and sat on the brick wall that circled a massive oak in the center of the grounds. Nightfall had shaved a few degrees off the stagnant heat, and a rare breeze caught the multicolored paper lanterns above them. They crinkled and swayed, their shadows passing through the flashing neon lights of the carnival rides and reflecting in Rocky’s big brown eyes. “First of all, I’m not going to let you spend any more money trying to win something we can buy on the way home at a gas station. Second, you had your fun showing off. I’ve got more novelty toys here than a gift shop in a truck stop. And what do I need with a gargantuan flyswatter and a fat two-foot number two pencil?”
“Hey, that thing really works.”
“Do you see any two-foot composition books around here to go with it?”
“Nope. I thought you could donate all that to the prop box at camp.”
“I will.” She pressed her nose to the bear. “All except this little guy. I’m keeping him.”
“I can still get the big one.”
“You are not getting the big one.” She dug in her stash for the t-shirts he’d won earlier and tossed him one. “I think we should put these on.”
“No.”
“Why not? They’re hilarious.” She held up hers. “It’s a huge floppin’ catfish with enormous blueberry eyes. Where else can we see this?”
“Thankfully nowhere.”
“Put it on,” she urged.
“It’s too small.”
“No it’s not. Large is the only size they had and you are not that big. C’mon. I’m going to find that ladies room and put on mine.”
He met her gaze and arched a brow. His lopsided grin grew into a smile. He was too cute when he was about to give in.
“All right. I have to go wash up anyway. I’ll meet you back here in ten or fifteen. I can’t remember where I saw the accessible bathroom.”
“Want me to go with? I have that map here somewhere.”
“No, but if you don’t have that t-shirt on when I get back, I’m not letting you stay for the fireworks.”
“A deal’s a deal.” She grabbed her plastic bag full of loot.
The busy, stuffy bathroom reminded her of camp. People dashed in and out, slamming doors and dropping wads of paper towels on the sticky floor.
She quickly peeled off her yellow top and slipped on the tee. It hung well past her waist, and the giant sleeves made her look like she was about to take flight. Still, it was funny.
Something else surprised her about the look she saw in the mirror. She was grinning. Like from ear to ear. She never did that. Of course, she smiled at camp and that did make her happy, but this grin was about having a good time. And really, when was the last time she had a genuine good time with a guy?
She splashed water on her cheeks, smoothed her wild, sweaty hair, and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.
Then she waited for Rocky by the wall as ten to fifteen turned into more like twenty-five to thirty.
She texted him a question mark.
He didn’t respond, but within seconds he rounded the corner toward the massive oak. He had a passenger.
He came to a stop in front of her. The big purple bear sat in his lap. “Here,” he said and pushed it into her arms.
“I thought we agreed we would stick with the baby yellow bear and that we didn’t need to waste any more money on the big purple bear.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t agree to anything. Nice shirt, by the way.”
She’d almost forgotten about that in her efforts to prop her new friend on the wall beside her. When she took a good look at his, it surprised her. The shirt was too small for him. Muscles bulged everywhere and stretched the once happy blueberry-eyed catfish into a sad misshapen blob. She struggled to read the words.
“All right, you win, you need to take that off. It looks like you shrunk a load of laundry.”
“Not now. You started this.” He motioned toward his chest and flexed his biceps for show. “I’m a former college football player. I told you I had a lot going on up here and that a large wouldn’t fit right.”
She stood and pointed at her own new mini dress. “Well, I apparently don’t have enough going on up here... Uh... Never mind. What am I supposed to do with this bear?”
“We can use him as a cushion when we sit out in the field and watch the fireworks,” he said and rolled off.
“Isn’t it too bright to see anything with all the carnival lights?”
“They dim everything at nine-thirty.”
“Nice. I hope my insect repellent hasn’t worn off. I don’t need to be a meal for mosquitos. I get enough of that at camp.”
“Gotcha covered. I have some in one of these pockets.”
“What don’t you carry around with you?”
“Blueberry pie. Wish I had more.”
Rocky paused at the edge of the sidewalk and let the crowd shuffle past.
Gia shifted the bear onto her other hip. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m looking for the path of least resistance.”
Gia stepped onto grass. “We haven’t had rain. This ground is hard as a rock. If you fall in a hole, I’ll put the bear in the chair and go on without you.”
“Thanks.”
She trudged forward to find a good spot. She could hear him right behind her as he worked hard and steady to keep the chair moving across the field. It had to be considerably more difficult than rolling on concrete. Yet, she felt an offer of help would bother him. Not offering to help would bother her.
“I’ll give you an extra push if you’ll let the bear ride in your lap,” she proposed.
“I got it,” he said. “There’s a place up ahead that doesn’t look too crowded.”
“I see it. There’s not much light, but I’ll check for fire ant mounds.”
“Good idea.”
“If I’d remembered about the fireworks, I would have brought something to sit on.” She dropped her things.
“Sit on my shirt.” He tossed it her way.
She tossed it back. “I’m not sitting on your white shirt. I’ll be fine.”
Gia patted the ground beside her. “Can you climb down from that thing and sit here?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
If she’d have blinked she would have missed the transfer. One second he’d locked his brakes and the next he was beside her on the grass. In one fluid movement he’d leaned forward, stuck his arm out, planted his fist on the ground, and gracefully slipped out of the chair.
“That was fast,” she said.
“Years of practice.” He straightened his legs and used the bear as a pillow as he stretched out to watch the sky. “Much better. And don’t be too impressed with the dismount. Gravity helps. Getting back in is the hard part.”
She leaned back against her share of the stuffed animal. “I was going to wait until I could hear your whole presentation to learn about your injury, but now I’m curious. What happened to you anyway? Was it football?”
“That would be a good, tragic tale laced with glamour and its own highlight reel, but no, it wasn’t football.”
“Car accident?”
He swiped a lock of dark hair away from his forehead and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Are you going to let me tell my own story?”
“Yes, and I wish you’d get on with it before the show starts.”
“All right. Here comes the short version.”
“Why the short version?”
“Because it’s your turn to talk. I don’t know anything about you.”
Gia looked away. Where was she going to start if she ever had to truly tell him about herself? She was a terror as a child, a total mess as a teen, and a repeated failure as a college student. Some days it was hard to remember she’d really pulled herself together. She cleared her throat and turned toward him. “We’ll get to my mistake-filled existence later. Please tell me more. How’d you end up in that chair, what do you do with computers, and what do you do for fun?”
With a curious tilt of his head, he pinned her with a soft but intense gaze. She had to look away again. His heavy sigh seemed to mark his temporary retreat from his own questions.
“I was at a party I shouldn’t have been at, and on a balcony I shouldn’t have been on because it was too crowded and collapsed. The fall broke my spine. Or should I say my spine broke my fall? I have a computer consulting business and mostly work from home. If not for viruses and lost files, I’d be out of work. I do lots of things for fun, but I really enjoy music ministry, so I play the bass guitar in my church’s worship band.”
A zillion questions crossed her mind. Rocky kept staring at her as if waiting for her to tick them off. As soon as she opened her mouth, he raised his hand.
“Don’t even think about it. I’m not telling you anything else. It’s your turn to pass on some information. What are you going to do for work when camp ends? What do you do for fun? Do you , by chance, play bass in a worship band?”
She shifted on the ground to avoid pieces of dried grass that were poking and tickling her calves. These were not hard questions. Rocky was easy to talk to. Why was she reluctant?
She smiled. “No bass guitar. I do like to sing, but it’s best if no one hears me. I would love to go to grad school full time in the fall, but it doesn’t seem to be working out that way. As for fun, well...”
A sudden, earthshaking boom and a spray of shimmering color stopped her words. Saved by pyrotechnics .
Rocky laced his fingers behind his head. “You’re not off the hook.”
“Shhh. Can’t talk now. Fireworks.”
The crackling blast of accompanying music blared through the poor-quality speakers. Saved by John Philip Sousa and pulsing rock and roll from the seventies.
They looked at each other and laughed as they tried to sing along and anticipate what great American classic would come up next. Gia relaxed in their easy companionship, but she’d probably never tell him this was the most real fun she’d had in years.
Back on the sidewalk, as the dispersing crowd ambled past them, Gia paused to remove her sandals. “Oh man, that feels better.”
“You OK?”
“Yeah, fine. I get tired of wearing those bulky cross trainers at camp, I thought I’d wear these. Big mistake. I have old blisters that have new blisters of their own.”
“You can’t walk all the way to the car barefoot. There’s trash everywhere.”
“I’ll risk it. I can’t put those things back on.”
Rocky patted his lap. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”
Gia stepped back. “Uh... No.”
“Don’t look so disgusted. I’m not trying to be a perv or anything.”
“Oh, please, it’s not that. It’s just... That’s your personal space. And what about the weight? We’ve got every pocket on that chair stuffed full. By the way, I’m adding my sandals. Then there’s this bear. There’s not room in that thing for all three of us.”
And that’s the last complete thought she had before the man quite literally swept her off her feet.
She landed in his lap with the bear on top of her.
She screamed.
“Don’t scream. Someone might think I’m up to something.”
“Sorry. It was a reflex scream.”
“Once in a while, Gia, you’re going to have to stop asking questions and listen to me. Sometimes I know what I’m doing.” He wrestled with the bear. “Scoot this way a little. You can put your arm around the back of the chair. Keep your legs over here. Almost like sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall. Or not.”
She’d have to agree with him there. Santa never smelled good like something manly-woodsy-spicy.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” he instructed. “I can’t see much. Let me know about any big holes, and don’t let me mow someone down. Hold on to the bear.”
She started to laugh and screamed again as they took off.
“Don’t scream. Especially in my ear.”
“Sorry.”
Wind caressed her bare toes and caught in her hair as he peeled away from the crowd and picked up speed while coasting down a side street.
“Slow down,” she said through more laughter. “There’s a stop sign coming.”
“Are you implying I should stop and look both ways?”
“No, I’m implying you should not crash us into the stop sign.”
“Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I can stop.”
“What?”
“Kidding. But hold on. We’re gonna roll through that crosswalk.”
“No! There could be a car coming.”
“That street’s closed so all the traffic will exit down the main drag.”
“Are you sure?”
Her question was lost in the bubble of excitement that rose in her chest and took her breath. She dropped her arm around his neck and held on tighter.
They reached the edge of the intersection. He didn’t slow down, but hit the ramp perfectly, and they rolled into the street.
The bear bounced out.
“Man overboard,” Gia cried.
“Hang on,” he said and made some sort of rapid circling move which enabled her to reach out and grab it as they came around again.
“Stop,” she said as they popped up on the other side. “I need to catch my breath.”
“I’m doing all the work.”
“I know, but I’m laughing too hard to breathe.”
He came to a stop amidst the bright light of a camera flash. Funny, Gia felt as if they’d been alone.
“How ya doin’?” a young man asked as he approached. “Can I take your picture?”
Rocky slipped a protective arm around her waist. “I believe you just did,” he said coolly, as if annoyed by the intrusion.
“Oh no. I’ve been shooting the big exit.” He handed them a card. “I work for the festival. I’m photographing for the paper, next year’s brochure and website, you know, human interest stuff. You two look like you’re having a good time. You got the bear, the festival t-shirts. You’re exactly what I need.”
The last thing Gia wanted was an unflattering picture of herself splattered in some podunk community newspaper. “I don’t think so, Rocky.”
“C’mon,” the guy insisted. “I’m legit. I’ll let you get ready for the shot, and I’ll send you one.” He passed them a small notepad and pencil. “Please provide your names and an email address.”
Rocky grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Let’s do it. We need to commemorate the night I won the bear and then saved it from certain death in the intersection.”
“Sure. Whatever.” She scribbled her information and passed it to Rocky. “You better be photogenic. I don’t want to show up in the blueberry-catfish news and you have your eyes closed.”
“Back atcha. Say cheese.”
Gia refocused after the series of flashes and caught Rocky’s gaze as the photographer turned his attention to someone else. “Now we wait.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“I mean the newspaper.” She shifted in his lap. “Who knows what that weird little stalker might print?”
“Makes no difference what he prints. No one’s going to be looking at me.”
There he went again, spearing her with the same powerful look that previously made her feel like she had to turn away.
This time she couldn’t.
His voice was soft in the small space between them in the chair. “Gia, you must know how beautiful you are. And if you don’t, I’m sorry, because that means whether you’ve dated one guy or a hundred guys, they didn’t do right by you. The smart ones would have made sure you knew.”
She’d been told. Never like that. Never that she believed. Never for the right reasons.
She wanted to say thank you, but raw emotion kept the words balled up inside.
It seemed easier to simply kiss him.
When she did, the intensity she’d danced around all day was present in full force.
She felt it all the way to the ends of her bare, blistered toes.