Carousel Nights (11 page)

“No, that's okay,” June said. She followed the nurse back through the maze of curtained rooms.

Evie sighed. “What a lousy day.”

“Yep.”

“I heard you drove the ambulance. First time?”

“First time with a patient in the back and your sister running the siren. And I hope it's the last time. Everything okay at the Point? I left in a hurry and didn't grab my phone.”

Evie shrugged. “The motorcycles in Kiddieland are down. One of your guys is over there trying to figure out why. And a man fell on his boat in the marina and broke his leg. That's where the other ambulance was.”

“We should get back there before all you-know-what breaks loose.”

“As soon as June's ready.”

When the three of them went out to the parking lot a few minutes later, Jack's aging SUV in at least two shades of brown was in the visitor's lot. “Sorry,” Evie said. “It was handy and I was in a hurry.”

“I've put in a lot of miles in this,” Mel said. He climbed in the backseat and June sat up front with her sister.

“She looked a little better,” June said. “I guess they injected her with something that straightened out her heart rhythm. She was hooked up to all kinds of machines and they were getting her ready to move to cardiac intensive care, but she was alive and breathing.”

Mel could hear tears in June's voice.

Evie's cell phone rang. She handed it to her sister. “Will you answer that? I hate trying to talk and drive at the same time.”

June glanced at the caller ID. “It's somewhere at the Point, I just don't recognize the number.”

“Hello,” she said, “Evie Hamilton's phone.”

She listened in silence for a moment and then said, “Mel Preston is with me right now. I'll hand you off to him.”

June turned around. “It's the hotel day care.”

Mel's heart went straight to his feet. He grabbed the phone from June, noting her look of genuine concern but too worried to process it.

“Mel Preston. Is my son okay?”

“Yes. He's fine,” the woman said. Mel knew her voice. It was his third grade teacher, Mrs. Nelson, who had retired a few years ago. She was in charge of the day care now, and she had a smile on her face every day.

But she sounded tense right now.

“What's going on?” Mel asked.

“There's a woman here,” Mrs. Nelson said. “She says she's Ross's mother and wants to pick him up to go out to lunch.”

“No,” Mel thundered. “Do not release him to her.” On a normal day, he'd regulate his voice. Ask questions. Consider his ex-wife's position. This was not a normal day and his nerves were like wrinkled aluminum foil. It would be nearly impossible to smooth them.

“She produced photo identification, says her name is Sandi Dorn,” Mrs. Nelson continued, “and Ross says she's his mother.”

Of course she went back to her maiden name. She'd never hidden the fact that she considered her marriage to Mel a mistake. And having a child an inconvenience.
Why was she suddenly back trying to play mother?

“She is his mother. But she gave up custodial rights and left town two years ago. Ross and I haven't seen her since. He probably only recognizes her because he has a picture of her at home.”

“Do you want me to call security and have her removed?”

Mel sighed. Rubbed his eyes. Evie and June had heard every word he said and probably every word Mrs. Nelson said. She was getting older and tended to shout over the phone.

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Tell Sandi to cool her jets and do not let Ross out of your sight.”

Silence on the other end.

“Please,” Mel added.

“All right,” Mrs. Nelson said, “I'll have them sit down and play a board game. I wouldn't mind a round of Hungry Hippos myself.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nelson.”

“See you soon, young man.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M
EL
ENTERED
THE
side gate, offering his employee ID to a security guard who laughed and waved him through. Even though Mel wore khaki shorts, sneakers and a bright blue T-shirt advertising last year's new ride—the Sea Devil—the aged security officer recognized him immediately and handed a sucker to Ross as he opened the gate.

“You picked a good day to play,” the old guy said. “Sun's hot already and I hear it's going to hit eighty by afternoon.”

“Lucky me,” Mel said, swinging Ross's hand. “I mean us.”

“Scrambler first,” Ross said. “Then the helicopters. Maybe you can ride, too, this time.”

The security guard sent Mel a sympathetic glance. “Hope your breakfast's settled. You're in for it today.”

Mel grinned. “Wouldn't trade it.”

And that was true. His ex-wife, Sandi, had finally gone home after staying in a hotel in town for five long days. Although she had signed away her parental rights in their divorce agreement, she'd come to town hoping to make amends and see Ross. After the initial shock of her showing up unexpectedly and the panic Mel felt at her trying to take Ross from day care, his feelings cooled. Sandi was only there because she felt guilty and because she was between boyfriends. One artist had dumped her and she hadn't moved in with the next one yet.

Mel tried to shrug it off. After a few days of attempting to play mom, Sandi was obviously bored. She left town, vaguely promising Ross she'd come back and see him sometime. She made Mel no such promises and didn't ask for a change in custody rights. If he was lucky, he wouldn't see her for another two years.

“Come on, Dad,” Ross said, tugging Mel's hand.

“Take it easy on your old man,” the security guard said, winking at Ross. “Don't let him stop and fix anything today. You make sure he has some fun, okay?”

Ross nodded seriously. “I will. Daddy needs a day off.”

“Got that right.”

Mel and Ross passed a cotton candy stand and the bumper cars. Ross slowed down and considered each of them.

“Later,” Mel said. “We've got all day, remember?”

They lined up for the Scrambler, the morning sun slanting in their eyes as they watched the summer employee in her ponytail and blue uniform load and unload all twenty cars twice. When it was finally their turn, they squeezed into a red car and Mel dutifully slid the pin into the door latch and fastened their seat belt.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. But you should let me sit on the outside. It's fun getting smashed.”

“Next time.”

The ride started, its simple hilarity irresistible as they careened toward the outside perimeter, then back and forward again. Ross laughed crazily as he slid around, crushing his dad and struggling for a handhold. Mel tried to find a focal point so he wouldn't lose his breakfast. Coasters he could handle; spinning rides were his kryptonite.

This was summer—and life—for Mel and anyone else in this business. Waiting, waiting, a brief flash of finite excitement and ecstasy, then a gradual slowing down and getting off the ride until the next time.

It always went too fast, but Mel wouldn't exchange it for any other life. He never managed to tune out the midway music, the hot-dog smell, the crush of people and screams from the coasters. It didn't get old. Because every day new people were sharing it with people they loved and having fun. Making a summer memory. He was lucky this was his life and, he thought, holding the door open for Ross, he got to have those fun summer memories, too. With Ross.

“Again?” Ross asked.

Mel considered it, regretting the big breakfast they'd put down this morning. “How about something different? Maybe come back to this later.”

“Helicopters.”

“You're a beast,” Mel said.

Ross laughed and roared like a lion, catching the attention of a girl rolling a popcorn wagon on the midway. The college-aged girl smiled and tossed her hair at Mel, not recognizing him as the head of maintenance. She was cute and only about six or seven years younger than he was, but he didn't dabble with summer employees. As a rule. He'd made that mistake once.

“She seems nice,” Ross said. “We could get some popcorn and make her happy.”

“A little too early for that. I believe I have to catch a flight first.”

“Let's try to get a red helicopter. We had a red car on the Scrambler. We could do all red stuff today.”

Mel ran through the list of Kiddieland rides. There were red motorcycles on the track, red bumper cars, red race cars, red horses on the carousel and red Skyway cars stretched on cables over the midway. He might have to pull in a favor with the ride operator, but it could be managed. He wondered if they'd have to try all the blue or yellow ones next time. It could be worse. If he had a daughter, they'd be doing all the pink things, and they were harder to come by in amusement park rides.

The trademark beeping, flashing and honking of the kiddie rides was probably responsible for the numbers of painkillers First Aid doled out to beleaguered parents. Coupled with crowds, strollers and kids, it could be chaos. It was early, though, and Mel and Ross were the only ones lined up for the helicopters.

“Cool,” Ross said. “We could each get our own.”

Mel looked doubtfully at the ride, wondering where his long legs would go and if he could get away with watching from the ground. Having personally supervised the winter maintenance and spring installation of those choppers, he had no fears about Ross's safety. Especially with the new safety belts.

“Think I'm too tall?” Mel asked.

Ross glanced at his dad as they clunked through the silver turnstile. “You're not afraid to fly, are you?”

“No way. I think I'll race you. See who can fly faster and higher.”

Ross frowned, looking at the ride and back to his dad. “They're on a pole,” he said. “You're not really flying them, but it's fun to pretend.”

“You can still pull the lever back and fly higher than the other ones,” Mel said.

“Really?” Ross's face brightened.

“Trust me,” Mel said, leaning down and making a mock-serious face. He lowered his voice. “I work here.”

Ross giggled, happily following the ride operator to a red helicopter and making sure his dad got in the only other red one on the opposite side of the circular track. Mel settled in, secured the lap belt and prepared to hold the lever back to fly high. If he folded one leg under him and propped the other knee against the door frame, he could manage. But he was glad it was a short flight because it was going to be a long—but fun—day.

Two hours later, after exhausting Kiddieland, the cable cars, a minicoaster near the hotel entrance and two round-trip excursions on the train, Mel was ready for an air-conditioned lunch. A cold beer would also be nice, but Ross was soda-pop company. It was fun seeing the park from the angle of a day visitor. But he had to pretend he wasn't in charge of every yard of concrete, inch of wire, gallon of paint and piece of wood here.

He tried not to notice some flaky, dingy paint over the sign for the water ride. He tried not to look down, searching for raised or cracked concrete and trip hazards. He looked away, but made a mental note, when he found a loose rail in the queue lines for the mini motor speedway.

He was here to have fun, but it was hard to hang up his maintenance hat. Starlight Point was as important to him as if he owned it. Maybe it owned a piece of him.

Settling for a round metal table under a shady umbrella instead of one of the climate-controlled restaurants, Mel and Ross dug into hot dogs and fries as they watched the army of visitors with strollers, wagons and beginning sunburns go by. Ross showed no signs of slowing down and there were plenty of rides left. Long days at the Point were nothing new, but for some reason Mel's feet were already killing him.

Their table wasn't far from the entrance to the Midway Theater. The one o'clock show must have just ended, Mel realized, when a throng of people coursed out the front doors and headed for the food stands flanking the midway. One glance at their faces and it was obvious. They liked the show. A lot.

“There's the lady who plays the piano, Miss June,” Ross said, mouth full of fries and pointing toward a small group in front of the theater.

Mel followed his son's gesture and watched June and an usher marking down notes on clipboards while talking with people who had apparently just come from the show.

“Exit surveys,” Mel said aloud.

“What's that?”

“They ask people if they liked the show and write down what they say.”

“Like if the music is good? And the dancers?” Ross asked.

Mel nodded. “And costumes, lights, stuff like that.”

“I'd tell them to put in better seats,” Ross said.

Mel smeared ketchup on his hot dog and took a bite. He watched June, her navy blue skirt swirling around her knees as she moved among guests. Her long light brown hair fell over her shoulders. He imagined her sweeping it into a ponytail, letting the heat escape her neck. It was hot, even under the giant umbrella shading their table.

He took a long drink of ice-cold cola and tried to think about something practical. Like maintenance.

“What's wrong with the seats?” he asked his son.

“They creak. With a bunch of people sitting in them, they probably creak so loud you can't even hear the show,” Ross pronounced.

“I'll have to ask Miss June about that. Anything else?”

“If you don't weigh enough, they fold you up like a taco,” Ross said, dumping his fries out on his paper hot-dog plate. “Kids hate that.”

“Good suggestions,” Mel said, pouring a neat puddle of ketchup on his son's plate before Ross could try the industrial-sized ketchup dispenser on the table and end up wearing it. Being a single dad, he'd learned a lot about laundry, but ketchup stains were out of his range of talent.

“I'll tell her,” Ross said, waving enthusiastically until the movement caught June's eye.

She handed her clipboard to the neatly dressed usher and headed toward their table.

* * *

F
RESH
,
LIVELY
,
FUN
.
The three words she repeated to her dancers and crew every day. That's what people were looking for in a day at the Point and a live show. The word
escape
always played in her mind, too. People wanted a day away. They didn't want to think about their dog's shedding, their aunt's bad habit of dropping in, their kid's nightly struggle with math homework. She didn't try to convey the idea to her summer crew, though. Mostly young, carefree and doing exactly what they wanted—working in a quality live show—they weren't likely to be inspired by an audience member's need to escape life for a day.

They were having fun on stage, and their energy spread through the audience like juicy gossip. The exit surveys glowed with praise, the sun was shining and a cute little boy was waving at her like he knew her.

The bright sun, especially after the darkness of the theater, was blinding. She squinted to see the boy and the man with him, deep in shadow under the umbrella. It didn't take long to identify the set of his shoulders, tousled hair and obvious height as the man stood.

Although she and Mel had not officially crossed paths in the long week since Christina's nearly fatal heart condition, June knew Mel was thinking of her. Each day, the sound technicians went to work on the parade truck, but the work was already done when they got there. It was wired, lit and loud. Ready for its inaugural run today. She knew she had Mel to thank, even if he hadn't appeared enthusiastic, and this was her opportunity.

She handed off her clipboard and started walking, hardly thinking about her sore feet. Seeing Mel in a T-shirt and shorts having lunch with his son jolted her. No uniform, no tool belt, no professional armor. Not that his armor had much effect on her anyway. Their positions at Starlight Point brought them together over and over, but she wondered what would happen if they were just a man and a woman. No complicated past. No complicated future where he was married to Starlight Point and she was devoted to her dream of Broadway.

“Sorry to drag you over here,” Mel said as she approached the table.

“That was some serious waving,” June said to Ross. “I was afraid it was a distress signal of some kind, like you were out of mustard or fries.” She smiled. “Or both.”

“Actually, Ross had some important feedback for you,” Mel said. “Why don't I buy you some lunch and he can tell you all about it.”

June checked the time on her cell phone. “I have an hour before the parade lines up. Wish I had the whole day off like you two, but I sure wouldn't turn down lunch. Especially if it comes with important advice.”

“Want me to grab you a menu?” Mel asked, shooting her a smile as he used a napkin to wipe off a seat for her. While the picnic tables started off every day spotless, countless diners tended to leave their mark.

“Thanks,” June said. “I've sat in sticky stuff before, but this is a new skirt.”

“It's nice,” Mel said. “Dog and fries?”

“Why not? I'll walk it off in the parade.”

“Be right back.”

June studied Ross while his father strode over to the food window. Even with ketchup smeared around his lips, the kid was cute. More than cute. No doubt he would have his father's good looks when he grew up.

Looking at Ross with his adorable smile and sunny attitude, June wondered how anyone—especially his mother—could resist him. Someday, he'd be stealing hearts as he worked a summer job at the Point. If he was like his dad, he'd be around here for a long time. Something tugged at June's heart and she wondered for a moment what it would be like to watch Ross grow up.