Yours Always by Rhonda Dennis Read Free Book Online

ignore her when I can.”
    “You don’t have to apologize for her.  It’s fine.”
    “Eh, still…”  He lets his sentence dangle as he bites into his funnel cake.  “You looked like you were in deep thought.  What’s running through your mind?”
    “Oh, not much.  Just remembering my last visit to a carnival is all.”
    “From when you were six?”
    “Yeah.  My dad brought me.”
    “Did you have fun?”
    I give a slight smile.  “I did.”
    “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to him?”
    “He died,” I icily reply.
    “Yeah, I know that, but…  never mind.  Do you know that you have powdered sugar here?” He pantomimes rubbing his entire chest, and I look down with horror.  Sure enough, I’m completely dusted.  A white cloud poofs around me as I brush the sugary mess from the front of my shirt.
    “Well, that’s embarrassing,” I mumble under my breath.
    “It’s cute,” Fletcher counters.  I give him an eye roll.
    “Any on my face?” I ask.
    “Just a little,” he answers, gently brushing my nose, both cheeks, and my chin with his fingertips.
    “Oh, my gosh!  Really!  Evidently, I eat like a pig.”
    Fletcher laughs.  “Stop being so negative.  Do you want to go on a ride?  Play some games?  What’s your pleasure?”
    I give it a little thought before answering.  Rides sound fun, but all the ones I’m seeing intimidate me.  “Games.”  Without another word, we venture towards the Ping-Pong ball toss.  I’m relieved to see little trinkets nestled away safely in water-tight baggies instead of the bloated, semi-alive goldfish that are generally regarded as the grand prize in this activity.
    “Awww, no fish?” Fletcher asks.
    “Too many parents complained, so no fish,” a gravelly voiced septuagenarian with a vapor cigarette tucked behind her ear rasps in explanation.  “Got plenty of other crap for you to win, though.”
    A young female with not a hair out of place softly chastises the cantankerous woman with a very simple, “Mrs. Velma, remember our talk?”
    “Oh, yeah.  We have plenty of other garbage for you to win.”
    The young woman rushes over.  “Mrs. Velma, I think it’s time for your break.”  As soon as Mrs. Velma shuffles out of ear shot, she leans over the railing of the carnival booth and apologizes to us, “She’s been the school’s bookkeeper since the sixties, and she refuses to retire.  I’m Lollie Evans, history teacher.  That’s Lollie, as in Lollipop.”  She coyly extends her hand in Fletcher’s direction, but her eyes are burning with lust. 
    People like her annoy the hell out of me because they’re so predictable and fake.  I figure she’ll be using the old “whoops, I dropped something” tactic soon, and I’m not disappointed.  A basket full of Ping-Pong balls conveniently tumbles over, each ball making a distinctive plink as it hits off the edges of the glass bowls.  I laugh because Fletcher, completely unaware of the show she’s setting up to give him, asks me if I’d like to try the dunking booth.  I nod, letting out a brief snort when I glance back to see Lollipop’s derriere provocatively shifting in the air as she retrieves the balls.  She snaps upright and is disappointed to find that her show was pretty much in vain because her only audience is a hormonally challenged group of teenage boys.  The look on her face as she scans the crowd while shooing the boys away makes the entire event worthwhile.  Yeah, karma’s going to get me good for enjoying it so much.
    We’re standing in line at the dunking booth when Fletcher looks my way. “Tell me more about yourself, Savannah.  What deep, dark secrets do you harbor?”
    “None.  You pretty much know all there is to know about me.  What about you?”
    “Same here.  Pretty boring for the most part.”  We fall silent again.  I’ve inched two places forward in the line when Fletcher speaks.  “Look, I’m just going to say it.  It’s