It Happened at the Fair (29 page)

At the entrance platform, the cars passed them once, whooshing by in a blur. The boys inside held their arms high in the air, screaming like a bunch of girls. The smile on her face grew even bigger.

Again the cars passed. Della shifted from foot to foot. Finally the ride halted in front of them. As soon as their sled vacated, she scrambled inside. He slipped in the seat behind her. Each section held three seats, but they were the only two in their car.

Twisting around, she lifted her shoulders, her grin wide. “Scared?”

“Hardly.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You going to hold on?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.” His eyes widened. “Are you?”

“Of course not.”

He scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous, Della. You need to hold the handles. Do you understand me?”

“Don’t worry, Cullen. I won’t tell anyone if you hold on.”

“That’s not it. You need to hold on. You’re scared of heights, for crying out loud.”

“I’m not. I told you, I just wasn’t prepared before.”

The sledge jerked and she faced forward, her laugh tumbling back to him. Starting slowly, the sled gradually increased its speed, ruffling the plum feathers in her hat.

As it approached an incline, the sledge slowed considerably, and wouldn’t have made it to the top except a cable gripped it and hauled it to the peak of the hill.

Della clapped her hands.

“Hold on,” he barked.

She grabbed the handles. But as soon as the cable released the sled, one of her hands went to her hat, the other shot into the air. They dove down with great speed, then whipped around a curve.

She jerked to the left, her body hanging halfway out the side. Her squeal propelled him forward. Reaching around her seat, he grabbed her belt and skirt, dragging her back in. She swatted his hand, but he didn’t let go until they righted themselves, only to repeat the process on the other side when they rounded the next curve. The tails of her bow slapped his face and caught in his mouth.

How could someone who was afraid of an elevator have no compunction about a toboggan ride?

Three times they sailed through the loop. Three times she refused to hold on. By the time they reached the end, he was furious.

The minute they climbed out of the car, he spun her around. “What the deuce were you thinking up there? Are you out of your mind?”

Her lips fell open. “It was all in fun, Cullen. I’ve been tobogganing since I was a child. My brothers and I never held on.”

“I have never in my entire life seen a lady behave with such abandon. You scared the living daylights out of me. What if you’d fallen?”

“I wasn’t going to fall.”

“Because I made sure you wouldn’t.”

Her face began to harden. “All you did is risk tearing my gown, not to mention squeezing me so hard I’ll probably be black-and-blue.”

An attendant stepped forward. “Time to move on, folks,” he said, gently.

She jerked her arm out of Cullen’s grasp. “It most certainly is.”

Storming off the platform, she stomped down the steps, her skirts whipping side to side in time with her hips.

He told his pulse to slow, but it wouldn’t. He told himself to calm down, but he couldn’t. He told himself she wasn’t his problem, but it made no difference.

Taking large strides, he began to follow her. The last thing he needed was to lose her, leaving her alone and defenseless in a crowd this size.

She made a beeline for the Vienna Café at the west end of the Ferris wheel. A place she knew good and well he couldn’t afford. The ornamental structure served hot meals on the first floor, while the upper floor devoted itself to cold meals and beer tables.

He hadn’t told her of his financial woes, and she never asked. But she knew he didn’t have enough funds to pay for her lessons, nor did he ever buy himself hot chocolate or concessions, and he didn’t go to any of the paying exhibits. She must have drawn her own conclusions from there.

She paused long enough to read a sign outside the entrance, then made her way up the outdoor staircase leading to the café’s second story. She neither waited for him nor looked over her shoulder to see where he was.

Weaving through the crowd, he watched as she disappeared behind the café door.

Unreasonable woman. What did she expect? That he’d let her plunge to her death while he sat there and did nothing? Anger sluiced through him once again. Wanda was looking more attractive by the minute. She’d never have done such a fool thing.

VIENNA CAFÉ

“She made a beeline for the Vienna Café at the west end of the Ferris wheel. A place she knew good and well he couldn’t afford.”

CHAPTER

30

Della followed a pretty young woman in a blue Austrian dirndl and white pinafore. The girl’s sash wrapped around her back and tied at the front on her left side, indicating she was unmarried. Ornate screens decorated the room while an orchestra’s concerto filtered up from downstairs.

The waitress led her to a corner table far away from a boisterous group of beer-drinking men.

“Thank you.” Smoothing her skirt beneath her, she scooted up the chair.

“Vould you like someting to drink, Fraulein?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Ya. I vill be back.”

Removing her gloves, Della tucked them inside her chatelaine bag. She probably shouldn’t have run off, but sometimes he made her so angry.

So she had left, searching out a place where she could catch her breath and sort out her thoughts. But the more she sorted, the more guilty she felt.

You scared the living daylights out of me.

She hadn’t meant to do that. They probably didn’t get much snow in Charlotte, if any. She wondered if he’d ever even been on a toboggan.

Her remorse increased. Perhaps she should go look for him. She glanced toward the kitchen where the waitress had disappeared, then to the front entrance.

He stood just inside the door, scanning the patrons. His gaze snagged on hers. Relief, guilt, and a tiny thrill shot through her in quick succession. She drank in the fine cut of his suit, his towering height, and his marvelous chest, which had sheltered her on more than one occasion.

She was falling in love with him, she admitted.

It wasn’t a hard thing to do. From the moment he’d rescued her on opening day, she’d been infatuated. But the game was up when he told her of his inventions and his mother’s tragedy, comforted her in the elevator, and cried in her arms during the fire. It had just taken a while for her to acknowledge it.

She knew he had feelings for her as well, though he’d not yet reconciled himself to them. But that was all right. She would wait. He had the rest of the fair to figure it out.

He stopped in front of her table.

“Hello.” His voice was deep, soft.

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

He nodded. “May I sit down?”

“Of course.” She patted the spot to her left. “Sit here and we’ll work on your lessons.”

“That’s my bad side.” He reached for the chair across from her.

She patted the spot again. “That’s why you need to sit there. I want you to practice hearing people who are on your right.”

He hesitated, eyeing the proximity of the two chairs.

She tried not to smile. Why did he fight it so hard?

“What’s so funny?” He took the place she indicated, his voice gruff.

What is my favorite drink? she mouthed.

“Hot chocolate. And don’t change the subject.”

“Very good. I’ve already ordered mine. I didn’t know you were coming. How did you find me?”

“You were never out of my sight.” He twisted around, looking for the waitress.

But she was already heading in their direction with Della’s steaming cocoa in hand. Her daring décolletage was accentuated by the cinched-up dirndl beneath her breasts. Della tried not to notice Cullen noticing, but notice he did.

Della studied him as he ordered a glass of water, trying to imagine what he’d look like when he was old and gray. She’d bet Father Time would only enhance his attractiveness.

Finally, the waitress left. Soft strains from the orchestra downstairs filtered over to their corner.

She blew on her cocoa, making an indentation in the dollop of whipped cream floating on top. “It’s not heights I’m afraid of.”

Leaning his chair back on two legs, he regarded her. “But you are afraid of . . . ?”

“Closed-in spaces. That’s why I was so distraught on opening day.” He was the first person she’d ever told. But since he’d told her about his hearing, she figured it was only fair.

Crossing his arms, he took his time responding. “Have you felt that way since birth?”

“No, I was four, maybe five. I went into my grandfather’s wheat field. I wanted to see if I could hear the wheat grow.”

A hint of a smile touched his lips.

“Anyway, I was small for my age back then, and the stalks were much taller than I was. I became thoroughly lost among them. I’m not really sure how long I wandered scared, confused, and crying out for Grandpapa. I do remember Grandmamma was making dumplings for supper that night because they were my favorite. I was devastated that I’d never be able to eat them or see my grandparents or family again. I truly thought I was going to die in that field.”

“What ended up happening?” His voice was low, soft.

She ran a finger along the rim of her cup. “I eventually cried myself to sleep.”

“But you found your way out.”

Shaking her head, she hooked a finger in the handle, then took a sip. “Grandpapa’s clear booming voice woke me. When I answered, he told me to stay still and to sing “Jesus Loves Me” as loud as I could. I wasn’t even through the first chorus before he found me, scooped me up, and carried me home.”

A group of men across the room clinked their glasses together and sang a drinking song in German, drowning out the orchestra downstairs.

“You must have been beside yourself in the crowd on opening day,” he said.

“It wasn’t nearly so dense when I arrived. By the time I realized how thick it was going to get, there was no escaping it.” She took a deep breath. “I was singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ to myself when you suddenly appeared in front of me.”

“Had you gotten through the first chorus?”

She lifted her gaze, her throat thickening. “No.”

His jaw worked. His chair legs came down with a quiet thud.

“Thank you for that,” she said. “For rescuing me.”

He slowly uncrossed his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re welcome.”

She smoothed the napkin in her lap. “Did you have grandparents growing up?”

They spent the next several hours talking, laughing, and learning. He spoke not only of his grandfather but also of his growing up on a farm. Told her he’d sat on a nest of hen’s eggs to see if he could get them to hatch. That he’d eaten a concoction of mashed-up worms like the birds so that he too could fly. That he’d driven his dad crazy taking anything and everything apart, only to put it back together again, not always correctly.

“I remember being sorry I hadn’t been around for poor old Humpty Dumpty. I felt sure I’d have been able to fix him up.”

The table had been cleared, the orchestra had retired, and the sun had long since set.

Placing her elbows on the table, she rested her chin in her clasped hands. “Your father must be so proud of you.”

“His dreams for me are a bit lofty, I’m afraid.”

Reaching over, she squeezed his arm. “I wouldn’t be so sure. I think he might have the right of it. Your invention is remarkable. It’s only a matter of time before others recognize the brilliance of it, of you.”

His muscle twitched beneath her palm. Waiters in traditional Austrian costume began to stack chairs upside down on the empty tables, while their female counterparts swept the floor.

She squeezed him once more, then brought her hand to her lap. The Forestry Building has pillars made of what?

Narrowing his eyes, he zeroed in on her lips. “Which building again?”

The For-es-try.

“Tree trunks.”

She smiled. Where do we board?

“The Harvell House.”