“Nice out here,” Hammond remarked.
“Hmm. I’m surprised no one else has discovered it.”
“I reserved it so we could have it all to ourselves.”
She laughed. They had laughed a lot in the last couple hours while sampling the high-caloric fares of the food vendors and walking aimlessly from booth to booth. They had admired home-canned peaches and string beans, got a lesson on the latest in workout equipment, and tried out the cushioned seats of high-tech tractors. He had won a miniature teddy bear for her at a baseball toss. She had declined to try on a wig, although the saleswoman had been very persuasive.
They had taken a ride on the Ferris wheel. When their car stopped at the summit and swayed precariously, Hammond had felt downright giddy. It was one of the most carefree moments he could remember since…
He couldn’t remember a more carefree moment.
The tethers that kept him grounded so securely—people, work, obligations—seemed to have been snipped. For a few minutes he had been floating free. He had felt free to enjoy the thrill of being suspended high above the fairgrounds. Free to enjoy a lightheartedness he rarely experienced anymore. Free to enjoy the company of a woman he had met less than two hours ago.
Spontaneously he turned to her now and asked, “Are you married?”
She laughed and ducked her head even as she shook it. “So much for subtlety.”
“Subtlety wasn’t doing it for me.”
“No, I’m not married. Are you?”
“No.” Then, “Whew! I’m glad we got that clarified.”
Raising her head, she looked across at him, smiling. “So am I.”
Then they stopped smiling and just looked at each other. The stare stretched into seconds, then moments, long, still, quiet moments on the outside, but clamorous where emotions were housed.
For Hammond it was one of those once-in-a-lifetime-if-you’re-lucky moments. The kind that even the most talented movie directors and actors can’t quite capture on film. The kind of connecting moment that poets and songwriters try to describe in their compositions, but never quite nail. Up till now, Hammond had been under the misconception that they’d done a fair job of it. Only now did he realize how miserably they had failed.
How could one, anyone, describe the instant when it all comes together? How to describe that burst of clarity when one knows that his life has only just now begun, that everything that’s happened before was rot compared to this, and that nothing will ever be the same again? The elusive answers to all the questions ceased to matter, and he realized that the only truth he really needed to know was right here, right now. This moment.
He had never felt like this in his life.
Nobody had ever felt like this.
He was still rocking on the top car of the Ferris wheel and he never wanted to come down.
Just as he said, “Will you dance with me again?” she said, “I really need to go.”
“Go?” “Dance?”
They spoke at the same time again, but Hammond overrode her. “Dance with me again. I wasn’t
in top form last time, what with the Marine Corps watching my every step.”
She turned her head and looked in the direction of the parking lot on the far side of the fairgrounds.
He didn’t want to press her. Any attempt at coercion probably would send her running. But he couldn’t let her go. Not yet. “Please?”
Her expression full of uncertainty, she looked back at him, then gave him a small smile. “All right. One dance.”
They stood up. She started for the steps, but he reached for her hand and brought her around. “What’s wrong with here?”
She pulled in a breath, released it slowly, shakily. “Nothing, I guess.”
He hadn’t touched her since their last dance, short of placing his hand lightly on the small of her back to guide her around a bottleneck in the crowd. He’d offered her his hand when they stepped into and out of the Ferris wheel car. They’d been elbow to elbow and hip to hip for the duration of the ride. But other than those few exceptions, he had curbed every temptation to touch her, not wanting to scare her off, or come across as a creep, or insult her.
Now he pulled her forward gently, but firmly, until they were standing toe to toe. Then he curved his arm around her waist and drew her close. Closer than before. Against him. She went hesitantly, but she didn’t try to angle away. She raised her arm to his shoulder. He felt the imprint of her hand at the base of his neck.