think it's all right to let them run on their own?” Diane asked.
"I'm sure it's fine. This is a far cry from Disneyland.” Jim smiled and watched as Molly bought a pair of tickets to the Ferris Wheel. “Look, there's Jarvis. Next to that corn dog stand. Let's go say hello."
They met in the street right in front of the lemonade kiosk that claimed it made its drinks from fresh squeezed lemons, but Jim saw a few dozen cases of Country Time tucked behind the counter and wondered just how true the fresh-squeezed claim really was.
"Glad you came.” Jarvis stuck the last of the corn dog in his mouth, tossed the stick in the gutter, and wiped a smear of mustard from his face with a used-up napkin. Jim introduced Diane and Jarvis shook her hand. “It's nice to meet you."
Suddenly, Diane found herself wondering what Jarvis would be like in bed. Lately, she'd been thinking about that sort of thing almost every time she passed someone on the street. Why in the world would she have such thoughts? Especially now when she was trying so hard to make things right with her husband. She swallowed hard and forced a smile.
"It's nice to meet you, too,” Diane rasped.
She looked at her husband. His face was pinched with concern. Had she said what she thought out loud? Had he read her mind?
"Are you okay, Diane?” Jim asked. “You look flushed."
"No, I'm fine,” she lied. “I guess I must be too warm."
"I know just the thing,” Jarvis suggested. “Let me buy you guys a beer. That should cool all of us off and give me a chance to introduce you to a few friends of mine."
"That sounds like a good thing to me,” Jim agreed.
Jarvis led Diane and Jim across the cordoned off street to a picnic table near the beer garden. Jarvis began the introductions with Cal Jones, who sat on the right side of the table.
"Cal owns the gas station just down the street. Next to him is Pastor Timothy. He claims he comes to these functions just to keep an eye on things, and if you ask him what's in the glass, he'll tell you it's anything but beer."
"It's ginger-ale,” Pastor Timothy chimed. “Nothing stronger for me."
"Uh-huh,” Jarvis replied, good-naturedly, “and I'm only three feet tall."
The men chuckled at the playful banter.
"And that somber-looking gentleman is Sheriff Ebert. Jim, you met him at the bar the other day."
Jim nodded.
"Everyone, this is Diane and Jim Anderson. They bought the old Miller place."
Jim smiled and pulled his wife close. “Pleased to meet you.” He had no idea the part these men would play in his life.
* * * *
All the beer made them adventurous, so Diane suggested they check out the rest of the fair. Jarvis excused himself, explaining he'd been away from the bar too long, and Pastor Timothy said he had to be getting back to the church. Jim and Diane walked with Jarvis to the Stumble Inn, where they parted company.
"They seemed nice,” Jim said afterward.
"I dunno,” Diane replied, “I felt kinda uncomfortable around them."
"Nonsense. You know how people are the first time you meet. It always seems a bit weird."
"Yeah, but the way they stared at me..."
"They weren't staring, Diane. Besides, if they were, who could really blame them. You are the best attraction at this carnival."
"Oh, you!” Diane smiled and gave Jim a playful slap on the shoulder.
Jim pulled his wife close and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Look. A fortune-teller.” Diane pointed to the canvas tent just past the dunk tank. “Let's go get our future told."
As they trekked across the midway, they waved to Molly and Travis, who were patiently waiting in line for an ice-cream cone. They gave five dollars to the old man in the booth next to the black tent and waited to be called.
They waited less than a minute.
The inside was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Bathed in red light, the strong scent of cinnamon hung in the air. A pentagram was painted in the center of the plywood floor; a table, draped in red cloth,
"I'm sure it's fine. This is a far cry from Disneyland.” Jim smiled and watched as Molly bought a pair of tickets to the Ferris Wheel. “Look, there's Jarvis. Next to that corn dog stand. Let's go say hello."
They met in the street right in front of the lemonade kiosk that claimed it made its drinks from fresh squeezed lemons, but Jim saw a few dozen cases of Country Time tucked behind the counter and wondered just how true the fresh-squeezed claim really was.
"Glad you came.” Jarvis stuck the last of the corn dog in his mouth, tossed the stick in the gutter, and wiped a smear of mustard from his face with a used-up napkin. Jim introduced Diane and Jarvis shook her hand. “It's nice to meet you."
Suddenly, Diane found herself wondering what Jarvis would be like in bed. Lately, she'd been thinking about that sort of thing almost every time she passed someone on the street. Why in the world would she have such thoughts? Especially now when she was trying so hard to make things right with her husband. She swallowed hard and forced a smile.
"It's nice to meet you, too,” Diane rasped.
She looked at her husband. His face was pinched with concern. Had she said what she thought out loud? Had he read her mind?
"Are you okay, Diane?” Jim asked. “You look flushed."
"No, I'm fine,” she lied. “I guess I must be too warm."
"I know just the thing,” Jarvis suggested. “Let me buy you guys a beer. That should cool all of us off and give me a chance to introduce you to a few friends of mine."
"That sounds like a good thing to me,” Jim agreed.
Jarvis led Diane and Jim across the cordoned off street to a picnic table near the beer garden. Jarvis began the introductions with Cal Jones, who sat on the right side of the table.
"Cal owns the gas station just down the street. Next to him is Pastor Timothy. He claims he comes to these functions just to keep an eye on things, and if you ask him what's in the glass, he'll tell you it's anything but beer."
"It's ginger-ale,” Pastor Timothy chimed. “Nothing stronger for me."
"Uh-huh,” Jarvis replied, good-naturedly, “and I'm only three feet tall."
The men chuckled at the playful banter.
"And that somber-looking gentleman is Sheriff Ebert. Jim, you met him at the bar the other day."
Jim nodded.
"Everyone, this is Diane and Jim Anderson. They bought the old Miller place."
Jim smiled and pulled his wife close. “Pleased to meet you.” He had no idea the part these men would play in his life.
* * * *
All the beer made them adventurous, so Diane suggested they check out the rest of the fair. Jarvis excused himself, explaining he'd been away from the bar too long, and Pastor Timothy said he had to be getting back to the church. Jim and Diane walked with Jarvis to the Stumble Inn, where they parted company.
"They seemed nice,” Jim said afterward.
"I dunno,” Diane replied, “I felt kinda uncomfortable around them."
"Nonsense. You know how people are the first time you meet. It always seems a bit weird."
"Yeah, but the way they stared at me..."
"They weren't staring, Diane. Besides, if they were, who could really blame them. You are the best attraction at this carnival."
"Oh, you!” Diane smiled and gave Jim a playful slap on the shoulder.
Jim pulled his wife close and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Look. A fortune-teller.” Diane pointed to the canvas tent just past the dunk tank. “Let's go get our future told."
As they trekked across the midway, they waved to Molly and Travis, who were patiently waiting in line for an ice-cream cone. They gave five dollars to the old man in the booth next to the black tent and waited to be called.
They waited less than a minute.
The inside was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Bathed in red light, the strong scent of cinnamon hung in the air. A pentagram was painted in the center of the plywood floor; a table, draped in red cloth,
Similar Books
