“No regrets?”
I hesitated slightly and his forehead creased with concern.
“Aimee?”
“I don’t have regrets, but I am a little nervous. It’s a big step for me.”
“I get that.”
He swallowed several times, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
“Don’t leave me again.”
This time his voice was halfway between an order and a plea.
“I won’t. I love you.”
He pressed his forehead against mine, and I ran my fingers over the rough scruff on his cheeks.
We lay there peacefully, the sounds of the carnies’ campsite, a background to our quiet breaths.
“I really need to get up and take a shower,” I said.
Kes’s automatic reaction was to tighten his arm around my waist. “I could go again,” he offered.
I laughed and kissed him lightly on the lips. “You can always go again, but I’m hungry, and I feel kind of gross and icky right now.”
Kes gave me his trademark smirk and let me roll free. He sat up and straightened his clothes. I envied him being ready in two seconds flat.
“Yeah, okay. Zach says he wants to come over and have dinner with us.”
“Great! Are we going out?”
Kes scratched his neck. “I was going to order in. Ollo doesn’t like leaving the fairground much.”
“Oh, okay,” I said quietly. “That’s fine.”
I realized that for the whole summer I’d traveled with Kes and the guys, I’d never once seen Ollo leave the carnival. It made me feel a little sad. Carnie people accepted him, but the world outside our small kingdom could be cruel.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Kes said quietly.
Then he kissed me slowly, lovingly, before opening the door—and almost tripped over my suitcases. I was slightly horrified to see that they’d been put right outside . . . which meant that the guys had been there while Kes and I were . . .
Oh, God. It was one of the things about living in the RV that I’d never really gotten used to.
Kes put the suitcases on the bed and left me to get ready. I looked around our tiny bedroom, wondering where on earth I was going to put everything. For now, I opened the smaller of the two suitcases and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt, then ferreted around for my toiletries bag and toothbrush.
I took a quick shower and was just putting on some makeup when I heard Zach’s voice outside.
“Where’s my girl?”
Tucker laughed. “You’ve got some more competition, Kestrel.”
I didn’t hear the answer, but there was a loud thud as something solid crashed against the side of the RV. I wasn’t surprised when I looked out of the door to see Kes holding Tucker in a headlock. I stepped around their struggling bodies, laughing as Ollo launched himself at the pair of them, and sent them tumbling to the ground.
Zef was watching them patiently, a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Hey baby girl!” Zach said, sweeping me into a hug. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course I did!”
He picked me up and swung me around, beaming with happiness.
I’d been hugged by so many muscular men since I arrived, that I was in danger of breaking a rib.
“It’s good to be back,” I said, once he put me down. “Not that I’ve ever been to LA before, but you know what I mean.”
“I do. Home is where your people are,” Zach said simply.
I smiled, because I knew he was right.
“Speaking of your people, where’s Luke?”
Zach sighed as he sprawled out in a deckchair.
“He left to go see his family for Thanksgiving. He isn’t out yet.”
“Oh, I see,” I said quietly.
Although even if Luke had been prepared to acknowledge a boyfriend to his family, Zach probably wouldn’t have been able to go because it was Kes’s big end-of-the-year show.
Zach gave me a quick smile.
“Hey, no sad faces! We’re celebrating tonight!”
“Do you think they know that?” I asked, nodding at the mêlée, a dusty mass of arms and legs.
I wasn’t entirely sure who was fighting who, or who was winning. Tucker and Kes were evenly matched, so the deciding factor was Ollo . . . except he hadn’t decided whose side he was on.
Zach and I watched them for another minute, while Zef went to get more beer. I also noticed that he was reading a message on his cell phone; I hoped it was from Mirelle.
Eventually, a winner emerged. Sort of. Tucker was face first in the dirt, and Kes was sprawled on top of him. But Ollo was kneeling on Kes’s back with his arm around his throat.
“Uncle!” Tucker bellowed. “Get off me, man!”
“I’m trying to!” Kes grunted.
Ollo gave him a final push and walked away, wiping his hands on his pants.
“Having fun?” Zach asked, cocking one eyebrow.
“Gotta let ’em know who’s boss,” Ollo grinned.
Kes rolled off of Tucker, then pulled him to his feet, both of them covered in dirt.
Tucker wiped his face with his t-shirt. “Who ordered dinner?” he asked.
“Pizza’s on the way,” Kes said, “but I gotta go pick it up from the gate.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said, ignoring the comments and kissing noises from the guys.
Kes grinned and held my hand. I’d never get tired of that. “Meet you at the barbecue pit,” he said, as we strolled away.
“We can’t have a bonfire outside the RV?”
Kes shook his head. “Nah, not right outside—too many rules and regulations here. That’s why I like going on the road. There are still places where you can live free, you know?”
I smiled to myself. My man was born free, lived free and, God willing, he’d die free. A long, long time from now.
The pizza delivery boy was waiting at the gate when we got there. He handed over half-a-dozen boxes and a paper bag. Kes paid for the pizza, grinned and passed the paper bag to me. I peered inside: Graham crackers, Hershey bars and marshmallows.
“Oh wow! My favorites! You are officially perfect—for at least a half-hour.”
“That long, huh?” Kes asked. “I think that’s a record.”
“Probably,” I laughed. “But really—thank you.”
“You can thank me later,” he said suggestively.
I raised an eyebrow. “You must have a short memory Mr. Donohue-Hawkins, because I distinctly remember ‘thanking’ you 20 minutes ago.”
Kes shook his head. “That was for picking you up from the airport.”
“Hmm, I didn’t know we were keeping score.”
Kes smirked. “I haven’t seen you for two weeks—got some catching up to do.”
When we got to the barbecue pit, there was a large group already assembled.
Kes introduced me, and it was like last summer all over again—people eyeing me and wondering what had happened to Sorcha. It was an uncomfortable feeling; I hated being compared to Kes’s ex. Even though she was a heinous bitch, she was a beautiful heinous bitch.
I’m sure Kes felt my discomfort, because he didn’t move from my side, even when some of the guys tried to entice him away to play poker. I would have been fine with Zach to talk to, but I was grateful.
Ollo sat down next to me and stole one of my S’mores.
“Hey!” I yelled, grabbing his arm and wrestling him for my lovingly prepared treat.
Ollo gave me a mournful look.
“Your girl’s worse than a hot snake,” he sniffed.
“A what?”
Kes laughed. “Carnie slang for ‘dangerous.’ You live on the edge, Ollo. Never try to get between Aimee and her chocolate.”
Ollo grumbled to himself then made his own S’mores and gave me a wink.
“Now Aimee’s one of us full-time,” Ollo said, his voice rising and falling like squeaky bellows, “you should teach her the proper lingo.”
&nbs
p; “Not if you’re going to call me a hot snake!” I pretended to complain.
Ollo just grinned at me.
“Marshall over there, he runs what we call an Apple Joint. That’s a game where you throw darts at a target. It used to have a sticker of an apple on the target, and that’s where the name comes from. In the olden days, the prize used to be a pack of cigarettes.” Ollo sighed. “But you can’t do that anymore.”
Kes grinned at him. “There’s a lot of shit you can’t do anymore.”
Ollo nodded.
“Can’t do medicine shows, can’t do freak shows, unless it’s a Human Ostrich. You don’t even get the Popeyes nowadays.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” I muttered.
Ollo had gotten into his stride.
“If you were different, it was the only way our people could get a job in those days. You think anyone other than carnie folk would have given work to Grace McDaniels? She was a mule-faced woman,” Ollo said to me. “Nice lady. Traveled with her when I was a kid. Kestrel’s great grandfather used to have her with his show. Tumors made her the way she was, but she had a good life with us.”
I was silent, considering his point.
“But you learn a lot in the carnival—how to read people, know how they’ll react. That’s why you can’t scam a scamp.” He grinned at me. “The carnival is educational. Bet you didn’t know that a marshmallow-like sweet in Polish is Pańska Skórka—it means Mistress’s Skin.’ They called it that because it was pink and soft like a woman.” He chuckled to himself. “Learned that from a Polack who came here after the Second World War.”
“Very educational,” I agreed solemnly.
“Human Ostriches have made a comeback,” Ollo went on. “You know, an act where they can swallow anything—and I mean anything. But the more popular acts are the ones who can regurgitate, too.”
I winced, but I noticed that I wasn’t the only one.
“And, um, what could the Popeyes do?” I asked, somewhat reluctantly.
Ollo grinned at me.
“They could pop their eyes out, then put ’em right back in.”
Kes whispered in my ear. “Bet you’re sorry you asked.”
“What makes you think that?” I groaned, hoping I wouldn’t throw up.
Ollo shrugged. “But it’s all changed now. There’s rules and regulations, different laws in every state—they probably tell you how to wipe your ass. The old days have gone. It was the end of era when Dono died.”
Several people nodded, and I looked across at Kes, but his eyes were far away, lost in memories.
Ollo nudged me. “You were a shillaber for Sid’s Drown the Clown act, weren’t you, Aimee?”
“Depends,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “What’s a shillaber?”
“When you pretend to play a game to get the rubes to join in. You were pretty good!”
And he high-fived me.
He went on to explain Jam Joints (a concession stand selling cheap trinkets), panorama shows and kootch shows, which were pretty much what you’d expect.
I grew sleepy listening to his stories, and I leaned against Kes, wondering if one day I’d be telling our children tales of the carnival.
I felt connected to these people, even though most of them I’d never met before. I felt connected to a side-branch of history, to a group of people who were adventurers and pioneers in their own way. I was Aimee Andersen, small town girl whose heart ruled her head—and I was glad of it.
My first morning in California and Kes woke me early to make love. I would have said that he was making up for lost time, but it was just his favorite way to start every day.
The fairground wouldn’t open to the public for a few hours, but everyone was busy. The guys had bike maintenance to do, and Kes wanted to supervise some adjustments to the ramps that had been installed at the racetrack.
My plan was to hit up the nearest supermarket with everything I’d need to make a real Thanksgiving feast.
When I told Kes my plans, he grinned, tossed me the keys to his car and told me to have fun.
I was nervous about driving such an expensive car, and I’d never really mastered a manual transmission. Relieved was not the word when Zach offered to take me in his truck.
“It’s good to have you back, Aimee.”
“It’s good to be here,” I said honestly.
He looked at me quickly. “I wasn’t sure you would come back. When Kes said he was going to follow you, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to persuade you.”
“Nor was I.” I hesitated. “Thank you for what you said to Kes, telling him he should know what he was asking me to give up. That really helped.”
“I’m glad. He was miserable without you. A complete pain in the ass, too . . . but you decided to come back despite everything?”
“Yes, I missed him. And when he came to New Hampshire, we really talked, you know? No more secrets. But it wasn’t just that. While he was there, he did this show for the kids at my school, like I told you. I could see how happy that made him. He didn’t care that it was this little elementary school with a few hundred kids—he just wanted to perform. And I compared that to how aimless he’d been for the previous few weeks. He tried to live my way, but he didn’t fit.”
I shrugged.
“It’s as simple as that: he couldn’t find a place in my world. And I don’t think it would have mattered how long he’d been there—he wouldn’t have been happy. He wouldn’t have been himself.”
“But what about you, Aimee?”
“I’ll find a place in his world. I’m not sure how yet, but I know I can do it.”
Zach smiled. “He’s a lucky man.”
“You bet your ass he is!” I laughed. “And I’ll remind him of that every day!”
“Glad to hear it,” Zach grinned at me. “Damn, it’s good to have you back!”
“It’s good to be home.”
Zach took me to a local supermarket, and I bought up vast quantities of holiday food, not entirely sure how I’d cook them in the RV’s tiny kitchen. But my carnie boys were an ingenious bunch, so I knew they’d help.
I staggered in the door with the groceries, determined to make our Thanksgiving meal special.
It was hard to find space to put everything, but I managed. I was excited about spending my first holiday with Kes—I wanted everything to be perfect.
We spent the evening sitting around the barbecue pit again, enjoying friendships old and new. But it wasn’t long before Kes ran his hands up and down my arms, his dark gaze inviting me to follow him back to the RV.
We left the party behind and celebrated being together in a more private way.
Afterwards, we lay curled around each other as he idly stroked my hip.
“There’s someplace I’d like to show you tomorrow,” he said quietly.
“Sounds interesting,” I yawned, snuggling in closer. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I was going to start some of the food prep for Thanksgiving,” I commented. “I want to make a real feast for us.”
“There’ll be time for that on Thursday,” he said. I rolled over to face him and saw that his expression was serious. “This is important.”
I couldn’t say no to him—I never could.
The next morning, we were up early, and after his short shower, I was surprised to see Kes wearing a clean pair of jeans and a button-down black shirt. I’d never seen him so dressed up before.
“Am I okay with what I’m wearing?” I asked.
His smile was hungry as his eyes drifted up and down my body.
“You always look beautiful.”
Aw, how sweet was that? But still completely useless when it came to knowing what to wear.
He took my hand and we walked out to his car.
I was completely taken aback when he drove us to a private airfield a couple of miles away and spoke to the pilot of a small plane.
He was still refusing to tell me wher
e we were going, and fifteen minutes later we were soaring over the Pacific. We followed the coast for an hour-and-a-half before the plane bumped to a halt at another small airfield in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields and trees and a scattering of houses.
“Where are we?”
Kes looked ill at ease, which wasn’t like him at all.
“Arcata Bay,” he said quietly.
“Oh! Where you used to live during your winter break?”
He nodded, but didn’t speak.
“It looked really pretty while we were flying over it.”
“It’s . . . peaceful,” he said, his voice edged with uncertainty.
I followed him through the tiny airport, and he spoke to a man who gave him keys for a rental car.
I sat in the passenger seat and clipped my seatbelt into place.
Kes was gripping the wheel so tightly, his knuckles had gone white.
“Kes?”
He didn’t look at me as he spoke. “Will you come with me to see my mom?”
I was stunned, but there was only one answer I could give.
“Of course I will. Did you think I’d say no?”
He didn’t reply to that. His body was still rigid.
“It’s not . . . she’s not . . .”
Then his lips clamped shut.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “It’ll be what it’ll be. Thank you for asking me to come with you.”
He nodded jerkily, then put the car in drive.
We headed south, the Pacific on our right, as we passed through the small community of McKinleyville.
As we drove by a gas station convenience store, I broke the silence.
“Kes, would your mom like some flowers maybe? Or candy? I should take her something the first time I meet her.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he pulled over.
“She likes yellow,” he said, his voice almost grudging. “It’s her favorite color.”
There wasn’t a lot of choice, but I found two bunches of yellow roses that weren’t too wilted.
When I returned to the car, Kes pulled me toward him, his hands cupping my cheeks and kissing me hard.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice gruff.
We didn’t speak the rest of the way.
After a few more minutes, he pulled into a long, tree-lined driveway, past a sign announcing that we were at Safe Haven: long-term care facility.