Unexpected Wedding (7 page)

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 a moron. “I’m so 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 23rd 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 said and 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. So 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 A/C.”

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 so 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 sugar-coating 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 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 so 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-like 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 Channing Tatum and Ryan Gosling 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 multi-colored 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 you? 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 said and 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.”