It's All in Your Mind (4 page)

In the center of a display of smaller, plainer, costume jewelry, I could see a plastic, one-size-fits-all ring with a fake "diamond" as big as a grape. Even though the ring bordered on gaudy, I knew I wasn't the only one wishing I could slip it on my finger. All around me were girls urging guys to try to win it for them.

Much to my disappointment, Nolan shook his head. We stood and watched as other guys, one by one, picked up the huge mallet, swung it with all their might, but failed to ring the bell. Several small pieces of costume jewelry were given away for coming close. But no one walked off with the diamond ring.

Finally, Nolan stepped up and said, "I'll do it." I let out a startled gasp when he peeled off his shirt and handed it to me. Several girls in a quickly-gathering crowd issued "oohs" and "aahs" at the sight of Nolan's powerful shoulders and well-muscled arms. He stood as if he prided himself on his athletic physique.

My eyes froze on him as he rubbed his hand together, then picked up the mallet. He looked up at the bell, sizing up his task. Then in a graceful swinging motion he crashed the mallet down, and rung the bell!

The crowd exploded in cheers. Nolan acknowledged the admiration with a broad smile. Then he took his shirt and slipped it back on to a chorus of "awwws," from the dismayed girls.

"And we have a win-n-n-n-ner!" shouted the barker. He plucked the diamond ring from the center of the display and handed it to Nolan.

The crowd continued to watch as Nolan took my right hand, slipped the ring on my third finger, and, then, with a sweeping bow, kissed my hand. The female portion of the crowd applauded. I reveled in the brief moment, but the glory was Nolan's.

Nolan put his arm around my waist and we strolled toward the food booths. I was dizzy with joy.

"Last year I went to this fair with Danielle," Nolan said. "She won a blue ribbon for one of her watercolors. Let's find the tent with the Art Show. Maybe some of her work is on display."

My stomach dropped to my knees. Why did he have to mention Danielle? "Um
, let's get something to eat." I wasn't hungry, but it was the only thing I could think of to avoid looking for Danielle's paintings.

"We can eat later."

"Well, uh, maybe I'll get something to eat while you go to the Art Show."

Nolan stopped and stared at me. "Is something bothering you?"

"No. Not really. Well, that is ... I'd really rather not go looking for your old girlfriend's paintings. It makes me ... uncomfortable."

"That doesn't make sense. You're being too sensitive. Danielle's in the past. Sometimes I talk about the past. Don't try to change me."

"I ... I'm sorry." I swallowed hard. "I ... I guess I
was
being too sensitive."

"That's right." Nolan gave me a smile that melted my anguish. "After all, I don't mind hearing about your past."

"That's true." Of course, I didn't
have
a past to speak about.

We continued on and found the tent with the art show. Up one aisle and down another we went, on the prowl for Danielle's work. A couple times I stopped to look at a painting I thought was interesting, but Nolan would pull me along, saying, "That's not one of Danielle's."

We roamed the tent until suddenly Nolan stopped. "Ah! Here's one."

I had to force myself to look at the painting, but once I did I had to admire the shore scene, soft in detail and delicate in color. I felt I should say something. "It's very nice."

"Nice? Anyone can see that it's fantastic. Look. She won a blue ribbon."

"Oh. That's um
... uh, fantastic."

Apparently Danielle had given her all on that painting, because after an exhaustive search we didn't find any more.

Nolan smacked his lips. "Let's get some food. We can't go to a town fair and not eat!" Nolan took my hand and led me toward the food booths.

With my hand in his, I felt a warm glow flow through me. "Oh, look." I pointed to soft pink curls of cotton candy nestled in paper cones. "I haven't had cotton candy in a long time. Let's get some!"

Nolan shook his head. "Too sweet and sticky."

"Oh." I saw a dumpling of a woman at one booth selling "Mrs. Lupone's Home-Made Pizzas." With tongs she plucked a small pizza crust from a deep fryer, then ladled on sauce from a bubbling pot, slipped the pizza onto paper plate and handed it to a customer. "Those pizzas look delicious."

Nolan wrinkled his nose. "No, they don't. They look greasy."

"Oh. Well. Yes. I guess they kind of do."

"Ah. Here's some real food."

"Hamburgers and French fries?"

"Of course!  Don't tell me you don't like burgers and fries? Everyone likes burger and fries."

"Oh, no. I mean, yes. I mean, I like burgers and fries. It's just that I could get them any
—"

"Come on," Nolan said. "A big juicy, sloppy, drippy hamburger, and hot crispy fries. There's nothing better." He pulled me over to the booth. "Two extra-large burgers with the works, two large fries, and two colas."

When our food was ready, we sat at a picnic table in the shade. Nolan made a big production of setting up everything, including the huge wad of napkins he'd taken. I sized up my hamburger, wondering how I was going to get my mouth around it.

Nolan had no problem eating. He chomped a huge chunk out of his hamburger. Ketchup and mustard and juice dripped all over his paper plate. "Mmm, mmm. That's what I call a burger!" He pointed at my food. "Come on! Eat up. Live life to the fullest. That's my philosophy!"

Live life to the fullest. Yes! Nolan did live life to the fullest. It was so exciting to have a guy like him interested in me.

What was holding me back from living life to the fullest? The fear of getting ketchup on myself? I picked up my hamburger with both hands and took a huge bite. It was delicious. Even as juice and who-knew-what-else dribbled down my chin, I continued to dig in. Halfway through my burger, I grabbed several napkins, wiped off my face, and started in on the French fries. The
y were perfectly done—piping hot, crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside. They were so good, I couldn't stop eating them.

Suddenly Nolan grabbed my bag of fries and pulled them to his side of the table. "That's enough. You need to finish eating your burger." Nolan let out a burst of rich, warm laughter as he reached across the table and patted my hand. "Can't let a perfectly good burger go to waste."

I picked up my hamburger and started in on it again. I was getting kind of full, and if I'd eaten any more French fries I probably wouldn't have been able to finish it. As Nolan said, I shouldn't let a perfectly good hamburger go to waste.

I was stuffed by the time I finished my burger, but I still yearned for one more French fry. Nolan, however, was popping the last one into his mouth. Well, he was bigger than I was. It made sense that he would need to eat more.

"That was great," said Nolan. "Let's get some strawberry ice cream for dessert."

"Oh! I couldn't." I held my stomach. "I'm too full."

"Come on." Nolan walked around the picnic table and pulled me to my feet. "There's a booth where they make homemade ice cream. It's great. You have to try it!"

"You have some," I said. "I couldn't eat another bite."

"Wait until you see it." Nolan draped his arm over my shoulder and led me toward the ice-cream booth. "You won't be able to resist."

I savored the sensation of Nolan's arm around me. I wanted to memorize the smell of the trampled grass and the feel of the sun on my face so I'd never forget this day.

We stopped at the ice cream booth. Nolan nodded in the direction of a cone topped with bright pink ice cream studded with bits of strawberry. "What did I tell you?"

"It does look good," I said, ignoring my bulging stomach.

"Two double scoop cones of strawberry," Nolan said.

"None for me," I said. "I'm ready to pop."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Nolan. "You can't be full. You didn't even finish your French fries."

"Well, yes, but
—"

"No buts. Here you go." Nolan handed me the ice
cream cone as if he were presenting me with an Oscar. "You'll love it."

"Um. Well. Thanks."

"We can eat while we head over to the horse and tractor pulling arenas."

"Okay." I licked at the cold, smooth ice cream. The rich strawberry flavor slid easily down my throat. Maybe if I ate slowly enough, I could finish it.

"Isn't it great?" Nolan was already down to chomping into the cone.

"It is delicious." I took a deep breath to make room for another lick.

"It's better than delicious. It's the best strawberry ice cream ever."

I nodded my agreement. Up ahead I saw a barrel for trash. I had licked my way down to the cone. I decided I could take a couple bites of the cone, then throw it away. I was definitely too full to eat something solid.

Bite one. Chew, swallow. Bite two. Chew, swallow. Draw parallel to barrel. Toss in rest of cone.

"What are you doing?" Nolan asked.

"I'm too full to eat the cone."

"Then you should have had a cup of ice cream."

"I ...I guess I didn't think of that."

"Well, that was dumb!"

I stared at Nolan in numb silence.

"Hey, I was only kidding." Nolan drew me close and kissed my forehead. "Can't you take a joke?"

With his arms around me, and his peacock-blue eyes sweeping over my face, I realized that I must have taken Nolan's comment the wrong way. I forced a small laugh. "Of course I can take a joke."

"Good. I like a girl with a sense
of humor. Now, let's go to the horse pull. I think it's about to start."

Hand-in-hand with Nolan, I felt sunny in
side and out as we went to the horse pull, the oxen pull, the garden-tractor pull, and the antique-tractor pull. Then Nolan suggested we head for the entertainment tent.

I nodded happily, resting my head against his shoulder as we walked.

When we stepped into the entertainment tent, I blinked to adjust my eyes to the dim light. Nolan led us along the rows of folding chairs right up to the front, where we took seats right in the middle. On the stage stood a girl with waves of long dark hair curving around her shoulders. A sign off to her left indicated that she was "Gwendaline." She wore a simple calico dress and accompanied herself on the guitar as she sang "Shenandoah" in a soft, silky voice.

When she finished, the audience applauded with delight. Nolan startled me when he shouted, "Bravo!"

Gwendaline put her hand above her eyes and squinted in our direction. "Nolan! Well, I'll be!" She stepped down from the stage, grabbed Nolan's hand, and said, "You
must
sing a song with me."

At first Nolan protested. Gwendaline insisted. Nolan followed her back up onto the stage. They had a brief discussion, then Gwendaline announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, many of you probably already recognize Nolan Schlar. He's graciously agreed to sing the next song with me."

A buzz of approval cut through the crowd.

Gwendaline strummed the guitar as they leaned their heads together to share the microphone and sang "Greensleeves."

I sat proudly. Nolan cast his eyes on me as they sang.

When they finished, there was a hush. Then clamorous applause rang as Nolan and Gwendaline clasped hands and nodded their heads ever so slightly to acknowledge the crowd. The lights on the stage dimmed, and I realized the performance was over.

When the rest of the crowd started to leave, I stood and met Nolan and Gwendaline as they stepped down from the stage. I started to gush, "Oh, that was so—"

"Vija, I'd like you to meet Gwendaline. Gwendaline, Vija."

"Hello—"

"Nolan and I go way back," Gwendaline said. "Seems we run into each other all the time when we're performing."

"That's right," said Nolan. He brushed his lips against Gwendaline's. "See you around."

Gwendaline
pressed her hand to Nolan's cheek. "Take care." And then she left.

For a moment, I merely stood there, telling myself to ignore the prickles of jealously running up my spine. After all, the kiss, the hand on the cheek, were nothing but
... but show-biz stuff.

Nolan pressed his hand on the small of my back and led me out of the tent. In the sunshine I looked up at him, and his
startlingly blue eyes met mine. I felt a light pass between us. I could hardly believe I was spending a glorious summer afternoon with this incredible, talented soul. I decided to forget Gwendaline. "Let's go to the flower exhibit next," I said eagerly.

"Next?" Nolan's eyebrows slanted into a frown.

"Or, um, maybe photography or quilts instead?"

"I don't want to go to any exhibits," Nolan exclaimed. "I have to go. Now. I've got a gig in
Hartford tonight."

"Oh." I felt all queasy somewhere between my heart and my stomach. "I didn't mean we
had
to go to any exhibits. I just thought—"