No River Wide Enough

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“These are cups of pure cake happiness!” Shirley grabbed one of the Frontier’s famous colorful cupcakes I’d decorated with real candied corn. “You get better every year, Chris.”

“Thanks, but they looked much better yesterday.” The sun was beaming down on our table, and I wished we could have set up under that huge oak tree instead by Sheriff Bowles and his crew. But at the fair, the shadowy spots were always reserved for the members of city council. Then the other good places would go to the fire department, police department, school board and teachers, followed by city workers and border patrol, and at the bottom of St-Clovis’s food chain, were us: the food and service industry people.

Funny how it was our food they all ate up.

“My beautiful icing is melting,” I added, watching my work ooze. “Like the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Oh, hon, it doesn’t matter. At the rate the kids are eating these cakes, they’ll be gone before there’s any real damage.”

“Speaking of kids, where’d you leave yours?”

“With June, at the arts and crafts table.”

I laughed. “Yikes. I have a feeling there’s gonna be more paint on Troy, than on the paper.”

“I know. That kid will be the death of me!” Shirley licked the cupcake again. “But he’s so cute, I wanna eat him all up.”

“Hey, Shir.” Drika was busy with a crowd of rowdy teenagers, but she made time to come on over. “How are you, hon?”

“Just fine, thanks. Lots of people turned out.” Shirley looked around at the fairgrounds. As usual, the event was being held on the Anderson’s property, which was enormous. “The whole town is here, I believe. You’re gonna make a killing.”

The fair was a good way of turning a quick profit but was a lot of work. And this year, I wasn’t feeling as upbeat and excited as I had last summer. I was going through the motions, my thoughts drifting all the time.

“Nice T-shirts, you two.” Shirley was licking the green icing off the top of her cake again. “Didn’t even know you’d had those made,” she said. She looked lovely in her checkered blouse and snug blue jeans.

“You like them?” Drika asked. They were our new T-shirts with the Frontier’s logo on it: a coffee mug with a cowboy hat. Tacky, but cute enough to make anyone smile. “John has a T-shirt printing machine in his garage. He made these for us.” She waved someone over. “Hey, Donnie! Come get a cake.”

Donnie hesitated and then walked up to our stand. He had his baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, and as usual, wore baggy jeans and a shirt three times his size. Was he self-conscious about being thin? He was tall and lanky but would grow into himself soon enough.

I picked up a cupcake and offered it to him. “Want a coffee with that?”

He wouldn’t look directly at me. “Uh, no, that’s fine.” He gave me a quick look from under the bill of his hat. He had his mother’s eyes. Like Liliana’s, they were dark and slanted. “How are you?” he sputtered.

“Pretty good.” I served a few more people and then turned my attention back to him. Drika and Shirley were chatting to each other and Donnie stood there alone. “Did you come with some friends?” I asked him, pouring milk into a paper cup. Every time I saw him these days, he was alone. “Here. To wash the sugar down.”

Donnie took the cup and tilted his head, staring at my chest. “Is that a coffee mug with a cowboy—?”

“Hey,” Shirley cut him off, looking away at the Ferris wheel. “See those guys. Those guys are definitely new.”

I followed her gaze. Four men were standing by the Ferris wheel, looking a little out of place. She was right: I didn’t recognize any of them, but then again, I didn’t know every single face in town. I looked back to answer Donnie, but he was gone, walking in long strides across the road, leaving the fairgrounds.

Once more, I glanced up at the men Shirley had pointed out, and when the taller of the four looked in my direction, our eyes met for a few thrilling seconds. He was extremely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a striking face. And he’d actually seen me. To most men here, I was invisible, rarely worth a smile or a handshake.

“Oh, those guys are here for the new water plant in Forked River Creek,” Drika explained. “They’re thinking of building a new water treatment facility I hear. Those guys most be the first team on site.”

Forked River Creek was the next town over. It was a medium size city across Hawk’s bridge.

“Interesting.” Shirley stared at the foursome of men in blue jeans and casual shirts. They looked more like ranchers than water plant workers, whatever a water plant worker was supposed to be. “That one in the blue shirt is giving me ideas. If you know what I mean.” Shirley glanced down at the cupcake in her hand and dropped it on our cluttered table.

“Shirley,” Drika teased, “the last time a man gave you ideas, you ended up pregnant, remember?”

By the blush in Shirley’s cheeks, I knew Drika had gone too far with that last joke, so I quickly changed to subject before Shirley could reply. “You know, you licked this cupcake clean.” I shook my head at her and threw the demolished cake in the bin under the table.

“I was just teasing you,” Drika said, touching Shirley’s arm. “Didn’t mean no harm.”

Shirley smiled tensely and looked away at the workers again. “Nah, you’re probably right. I should just shut myself in for the rest of my life.”

“Okay, I hope you’re being sarcastic.” I rubbed her shoulder. “You look amazing today. Go introduce yourself.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna need to do that.” Drika lifted her chin in the workers’ direction. “Looks like they’re coming over here.”

Instinctively, I stepped back, looking for an excuse to disappear. I’d lost the habit of meeting strangers, if I’d ever had it. Most people in town had come to accept me, but there were still those few who wouldn’t come to the café if they saw me at the front counter.

A few feet away from our stand, I busied myself with checking the ice in the coolers. I was crouched down, rearranging the Tupperware around the melting ice, but listening to the conversation, without looking back. Behind me, the men were introducing themselves, and when I heard a deeper voice saying his name was Hank, somehow I knew he was the man in the blue shirt. The one whose eyes I’d met.

My heart started to pound and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else but his voice. He had a twang in his speech. Definitely American. Maybe from the Midwest? Though I hadn’t even looked back once, I felt like I could feel his eyes returning to my shoulders over and over. I was frozen still, my hands going red in the cold water at the bottom of the cooler.

“Chris,” Drika called out, “do we have any more milk in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, without looking over. “And cream.” Now I’d have to meet these men. Couldn’t crawl into the cooler.

“Good. Could you help me with fixing these gentlemen a coffee?”

I swallowed dryly and then realized I was being ridiculous. These guys were the strangers here, not me. I was a St-Clovis man now. I didn’t need to feel so vulnerable. Boldly, I grabbed the milk and cream and rose, but my fingers felt like they were frozen and I hoped I wouldn’t have to shake anyone’s hand. The moment I looked up, my eyes met the guy I thought was Hank again, and the blood started pounding through my veins, hot and fast. “Hi,” I said, stepping up to the table. His energy was so strong, I could feel it like a touch on my chest.

“Hey, how’s it going,” one of the other guys greeted me instead. He was a tough looking blond man with mean dark eyes. Before I could say anything, he gazed off at the Ferris wheel, clearly not interested in shaking my hand or knowing my name.

The man in the blue shirt, whom I was certain was Hank, quickly grabbed his coffee. “Thanks,” he said, addressing Drika and staring down at the black coffee in his Styrofoam cup. He had a five o’clock shadow on his face, but I could see he was blushing under the dark stubble. “You guys are out on Main street, I suppose?” he asked, his voice as smooth as cool cream.

“That’s right,” Drika said. “I’m Drika. Local environmentalist and ball breaker. What’s your name, handsome?”

“Hank.” A shy smile formed on his lips. He shook Drika’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” Hank’s western blue shirt was stretched tight across the expanse of his chest. His hair was golden brown and swept to the side, but there was a rebellious wave that kept falling over his forehead. When he glanced up, I saw that his eyes were steely blue. “Frontier Café,” he said, reading Drika’s T-shirt. “Okay…uh, what time do you open?” He spoke to Drika, never looking my way.

But I thought he wanted to look at me. I could feel my pull on him. Was this really happening? Here, at the county fair? Had to make eye contact with him again. Then I’d know.

“We open around six,” Drika said. “This is Christensen. My partner at the café and good friend.”

I was certain that if I touched his hand now, I’d get a shock. “Hi,” I said weakly, shaking Hank’s big hand. “Just call me Chris. Christensen is way too—”

“Oh, you,” Drika shushed me. “It’s a beautiful and lyrical name.”

“You all from the water plant in Forked River Creek?” Across the table from where I stood, Shirley was staring at Hank with keen eyes.

He shot her a quick glance. “That’s right, Ma’am.”

Oh, I could tell the Ma’am part hadn’t scored any points with Shirley. She picked up another cupcake, and then looking straight at me, tore a bite into it.

I tried not to laugh.

“You’re all welcome to stop by anytime and we’ll fix you up, all right?” Drika was such a great people person. I was glad for it because I was tongue-tied and useless, trying to figure out what to do with my hands.

I decided to wipe down the table. I noticed that the other men were leaving Hank out of their conversation. Was he new to the team? Didn’t seem like they were close. The other guys were joking and laughing, but Hank was serious. He stared down at the cupcakes and raised a brow. “These are nice.” Finally, he looked up at me, straight into my eyes. His gaze, like his smile, was gentle, yet intense. “You made these?”

I couldn’t remember the last time a man had taken notice of me this way.

Hank frowned. “They’re nice,” he said again.

I wanted to thank him. I really did.

At last, I found my voice. “I just kind of went crazy with the candied corn.”

“How much for one?”

“Oh, they’re—they’re free for you. I mean, for everyone. For today.”

Hank picked up a cake. “Thanks.” He stared at it for a moment and then slowly, his eyes met mine again. “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you around, right? We’re gonna be in Forked River Creek for about a month.”

Did he mean something by that besides the obvious?

Drika poured milk into the other guys’ cups and gave Hank a kind smile. “I’ll probably see you at the public council meeting next week,” she said. “I’m with Eco-Clovis. We’re an environmental group. We have some concerns about water treatment and the effects of the plant on Salmon River.”

“Yeah, I know you guys. And I’m prepared to answer any of your questions.”

“You all from around these parts?” Shirley asked.

“Well, I’m from Forked River Creek,” one of the guys said. “We’re with the municipality, but we’re showing Hank around. He’s an out-of-towner.” He shot the blond guy a quick look I couldn’t understand. “Hank’s the engineer. Big boss man come down here to make sure we do this thing right.”

Hank scratched his head. “Uh, well,” he said before Drika or Shirley could ask anything else. “Good luck today and everything.” Without another word, he walked away, his bulky thighs moving under faded Levi jeans.

In an alternate world, I would have followed him through the field. But I could only stand there and watch him leave.

Soon thereafter, the other guys left, too. When we were alone again, Shirley laughed. “That guy Mark is kind of cute, huh? I think he wanted my number.”

I was trying to act normal, but my heart was still pounding. “What would you say if he asked?”

She shrugged. “I’d tell him I was married.”

“Chris, you all right?” Drika was staring at me with a conspirator’s smile. She was onto me, big time.

“Sure, yeah,” I muttered. The way Hank had looked at me…Had I imagined it? Needing some time to calm down, I turned away and wiped my hands on my jeans. Then I felt someone watching me and instinctively looked to my right, where the water plant guys were standing by a corn-on-the-cob table talking and laughing.

But Hank, who still had my cupcake in his hand, was looking directly at me. His cool blue eyes burned my face like dry ice, and for a moment, I couldn’t move or take a breath. I knew that look. My whole body remembered what that look meant. Desire. Excitement. And most of all, possibility.