It Happened at the Fair (38 page)

He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Wanda would stick by him. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was just a farmer. Fancy clothes and a make-believe city had not only failed him, but also played a big part in losing the farm.

He looked at Wanda sitting with her elbow on her knees, her face in her hand, her eyes closed, her straw hat crooked. The sight warmed his heart. He truly did love her. But could he live the rest of his life with her? Farm on her father’s land, if nothing else? Could he go a lifetime without Della?

The answer was no. No to all of the above. No to the farming. No to Wanda. No to a life without Della.

He might not have much of a future, but he had God. A God who, according to Scriptures, had a plan. A really good plan. And though Cullen hadn’t spent much time lately praying, maybe it was time to do so now. Heaven knew, God sure had a better view of things than he did.

Turning back to the soot and debris, he stripped off his shirt and undershirt, regardless of Wanda’s presence. The firefighters eyed him curiously but said nothing. They had no way of knowing she had come upon him plowing the fields countless times, or that he couldn’t afford to ruin his clothes. But it didn’t matter. At this point, he just wanted to recover those sprinkler heads before the sun fully set. They should have worked. Not just one of them, all of them.

He absently noted the bronze on his skin had almost completely faded. It was a good thing he didn’t need to prove himself a farmer now, for though the suspender lines were there, they were barely discernible.

They found the first sprinkler head pretty quickly. It had opened and worked exactly as it should have. The other two, however, were nowhere to be seen.

After a while, the boys had to leave. They shook his hand. Squeezed his shoulder. Clapped his back. If he needed anything, anything at all, all he had to do was ask.

Keeping his emotions in check, Cullen thanked them again, then continued to work.

The sun dipped farther toward the horizon. Finally, he found one. Wiping soggy soot from the spigot, he turned it over and frowned, then angled himself so the greatest amount of fading light shone on the piece.

It wasn’t his sprinkler head. But that didn’t make a bit of sense. Surely someone hadn’t replaced his with a manual device. Yet what other explanation was there?

Dropping his hand by his side, he looked into the distance, reviewing in his mind the last time he’d physically touched the sprinkler heads. It had been two days ago, when he lined up the ceiling boards with holes that his spigots popped through.

Anyone could have come out here at any time, jimmied them off, replaced the heads, then nailed the boards back up. As secluded as the spot was, they could have easily done what they needed to without ever being detected.

Would Bulenberg go to such lengths? Was the man really that scared? That desperate? Cullen couldn’t fathom it being anyone else.

“Are ya finally done?” Wanda asked. “I’m near starved to death over here.”

He glanced at her. “Almost. Give me another few minutes.”

Setting the faulty head down, he pushed aside his disbelief and mounting anger, concentrating instead on finding the third. The light was barely hanging on when he found it. Though it was too dark to see the details, he could tell by the weight and feel of it that this one wasn’t his either.

CHAPTER

43

Cullen sat Wanda down in his booth with his boxed supper. After noting Bulenberg was nowhere to be seen, he walked over to the Crowne Pen Company exhibit.

Miss Carpenter recognized him immediately and smiled. “Hello, Mr. McNamara. Would you like to watch how a piece of alloy and gold is turned into a fountain pen? Or perhaps purchase a pen as a souvenir?”

“Not today. I’m afraid my request is of a more personal nature.”

“Oh?” Her eyes and hair were the color of a newly born fawn, her skin so smooth and fresh it looked as if she’d stepped out of a painting. It didn’t take much to realize why John had been drawn to her.

“A young lady from my hometown arrived in Chicago without a place to stay or enough money to secure a room,” he said. “I wondered if there was any way she could share quarters with you tonight?”

Miss Carpenter glanced at his booth. “Is that her?”

“Yes. Miss Wanda Sappington. I know this is an imposition, I just didn’t know who else to—”

“You tell her we’ll be glad to welcome her in, though she might have to make do with the floor. Will that be all right?”

“That would be wonderful.” A great load lifted. “Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure. Just have her back here by nine-thirty. That’s when the girls and I finish up.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure. And thank you again.”

As he returned to his booth, Wanda set the empty supper box by her feet. “That was good. I hadn’t had nothin’ to eat since I left.”

Sighing, he held out his hand. “Well, come on. Let’s find us somewhere to talk.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “I don’t wanna talk. I wanna find a preacher.”

“You know as well as I do that we aren’t getting married.”

“Tonight, ya mean. We ain’t gettin’ married tonight.”

Ever. But he held his tongue. “Come on.”

They walked across the Court of Honor and toward the Fisheries Building, the only exhibit he felt wouldn’t completely overwhelm her.

“Them machines is noisy in that place ya work.”

“That was with half of them turned off. You should hear it during the day. It’s been a nightmare.”

The temperature cooled. Notes from Sousa’s concert in the bandstand floated on the breeze, bringing bits and pieces of “After the Ball.”

She peeked up at him. “Ya finished bein’ mad?”

“I don’t have the luxury of being mad. There’s too much to do.”

“Ya gonna tell me about her?”

“I’m going to show you some sea creatures.”

The detail on the Fisheries Building was lost in the night’s shadows, but the central part of the building had plenty of artificial lights. Those impressed Wanda almost as much as the aquariums with fish, eels, crabs, and sea anemones.

FISHERIES BUILDING

“Look at them bubbles,” she said, pointing.

A stream of fresh air pumping into the water produced millions of silver bubbles that flew to the surface and exploded. Schools of colorful fish swam among the shoals as if they had but one mind for the entire number.

Cullen pointed to a stingray hiding in the sand at the bottom, its two protruding eyes giving it away. After examining every tank in the central circular room, he checked his watch, then guided her outside to a bench facing the lake.

“Some o’ them gave me the willie-wobbles.” She shivered. “I hope I don’t have nightmares.”

Angling himself so he could see her, he took a deep breath. “You got my letter, then.”

She looked down at her lap. “I got it.”

“I’m sorry you had to hear it from Hodge.”

“I’m not. He was very sweet about it. Didn’t make one ugly comment about ya that time.” Lifting her chin, she turned to him. “But I’d a-rather heard it from you. Why’d ya have to write it down like that when ya knew I wouldn’t be able to read it?”

Breakers splashed against the bulkhead as if punctuating her words. There was some comfort in knowing a person as well as he knew her. And just as always, she didn’t fool around, just cut right to the quick.

“I wrestled about that,” he confessed. “I didn’t like it any better than you, but I needed to tell you. And I needed to do it sooner rather than later. Even if it meant Hodge had to read it to you.”

“Yer either not bein’ honest with me or not bein’ honest with yerself. Maybe both. ’Cause two more months wouldn’t have made a lick of difference, and ya know it.”

He almost smiled, for not only did she go straight to the point, she was usually spot-on. Better than he knew himself sometimes. “You’re right. I guess I’m not being completely honest with either one of us.”

“That’s why I’m here. That’s why I told Thomas to tell our folks that yer letter said ya couldn’t wait no more. That ya had to marry me right away. And that inside the letter was a train ticket to Chicagy.”

He slid his eyes shut. “Oh, Wanda. I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” She threw her hands up in an exasperated gesture. “Write ya back and say, ‘Okay. If that’s the way ya feel. We’ll just break off our engagement. Just like that.’ ” She snapped her fingers, then leaned in toward him. “Well, that ain’t gonna happen. I figured it was some city gal trying to turn yer head, and I’m here to stake my claim. I had ya first, and I’ll sure as shootin’ have ya last. I ain’t givin’ ya up. Not without a fight, anyway.”

Even if the splash of light from the lamppost hadn’t revealed her expression, he’d have been able to easily imagine it. He’d seen it many times before.

Taking one of her hands into his, he covered it with his other one. “I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m so sorry, but I’m in love with her.”

She snatched her hand back, her voice quivering. “Now yer talkin’ crazy. Ya hadn’t known her long enough. You’ve only been gone, what, four months? That ain’t nothin’ compared to us. We been together fifteen years.”

He dragged a hand down his face. “We’ve known each other for fifteen years, we’ve been engaged for only . . . what?”

“Ya got back from Boston six years ago. That’s when all the weddin’ talk started up.”

“And we didn’t set a date until this April.”

“That’s got nothin’ to do with nothin’.”

“Now who’s not being honest?”

She jumped to her feet, pacing in front of him. “I don’t believe it. How can . . .” She stopped. “How can ya love her when ya love me? ’Cause I know ya do. You’ll never convince me ya don’t.”

Taking her hand, he gently tugged her back to the bench. “Come here.”

She plopped down beside him. Close beside him.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, scrambling for a way to explain it to her. “You know in the Bible where God tells one of the churches He’d rather they be cold or hot than lukewarm? But since they were lukewarm, He was going to spew them out of His mouth?”

She gave him a baffled look. “I reckon. I think the reverend sermonized about it once or twice.”

He nodded, then picked at his thumbnails. “I never understood that verse. I mean, you’d think He would rather have someone lukewarm than cold, right?”

“I reckon.” Caution entered her voice.

“Well, I figured out what was so detestable about being lukewarm. It was when I realized you deserved a man who was passionate for you. One who was completely sold out for you and only you.” Lifting his head, he searched her eyes. “But a man who is lukewarm is not worthy of you.”

She shook her head, over and over. “No, Cullen. Ya ain’t lukewarm. And even if ya was, I’d never spew ya out. Never.” Her chin quivered. “Please don’t ask me to.”

He swallowed. “I love you, Wanda. But I’m not in love with you.”

She covered her mouth, her eyes filling.

His throat worked. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No. No. You cain’t mean that. I shouldn’t have made ya set a date. I’m sorry. We can change it. Lots of fellers get cold feet. I was just—”

“It has nothing to do with setting a date. And I don’t have cold feet. I’ve been questioning this for a while now.”

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she began to rock. “How long?”

“Since arriving at the fair. Maybe before.”

Her chin quivered. “ ’Cause of her? Is she the one what made ya question it?”

“Partly.”

The tears that had been hovering slipped free. “And yer not . . . lukewarm fer her?”

His throat clogged. He shook his head.

She doubled over, covering her face. “No, no. You cain’t mean it. I came all the way from home. I cain’t go back. I’ll be ruined fer sure.”

“You’re going to have to go back. You knew what my letter said before you ever left.”

“I didn’t know what it said. Not fer sure, anyway. I mean, Thomas, he started gettin’ feelings fer me. Sometimes I wondered if he was readin’ the letters the way ya really wrote ’em. Cause they didn’t sound like ya. They sounded . . . funny. And when he read me that last one, well, I started screechin’ like a plucked jaybird. Said all manner of awful things to him.” She sucked in a breath. “Then I told him I was comin’ after ya. And when I came back I was gonna have me a ring on my finger and a new name to go along with it. I told him that. Right to his face. So, don’t ya see? Ya cain’t send me back. We got to get married.”