Last Chance Summer: A Short Story Read online

  Amanda needed to distract her charges and get them away from the radio. Grant Trumbull was just upsetting everyone. She balled up their napkins. “Come on, you two, let’s go have some fun.”

  “Good idea,” Granny said. “Let’s go to the Kissing and Cooking booth.” And with that pronouncement, the old woman stood up and headed toward Exhibit Hall B like she actually knew where she was going.

  Amanda jumped up to follow, dragging Ethan with her. The little boy whined about the Ferris wheel all the way across the midway.

  As much as Amanda wanted to avoid going on the ride, she emphathized with her son. Visiting the Cooking and Kissing Booth was about as appealing as a root canal. But it would be even worse if she tried to talk Granny out of this. Once her grandmother got a notion in her addled brain she would follow through on it like a pit bull with a bone. And heaven help anyone who got in her way.

  Amanda hadn’t always hated the Cooking and Kissing booth. Once, when she’d been a freshman in college and newly engaged to Tom, she had volunteered to be one of the kissers. Of course Tom bought all her kisses, and then he took her off to the fun house to collect them.

  The memory was bittersweet. She’d been so in love with Tom. And he’d looked so handsome in his dress uniform the day they married.

  But life never turned out the way anyone planned. That long ago summer day seemed dreamlike. That younger Amanda had had no idea that she’d end up a widow and single mom. Or that she would have to care for the woman who had raised her since she was ten years old.

  No. If she had had any say in the matter, she would have avoided the Cooking and Kissing booth with the same determination that she was avoiding the Ferris wheel. But Granny was a bigger handful than Ethan. Amanda could still pick Ethan up and carry him on her hip. But in a year, even that would be impossible.

  * * *

  The Ladies Auxiliary had yet to start selling kisses. The big kiss auction wouldn’t start until later in the afternoon. In the meantime, the ladies were selling homemade cookies, cakes, and jams. Hettie Ellis, the minister’s wife, was presiding over the booth like a Queen Bee.

  Savannah and Miriam Randall were helping out. Mostly Miz Miriam was sitting down on a folding chair looking serene behind her up-turned, 1950s-style trifocals. Like Granny, Miz Miriam was dressed in pink and green, right down to her own pair of watermelon-themed sneakers. Savannah, Miriam’s niece, and the person who had probably baked most of today’s goodies, was handling sales. Unlike her aunt, Savannah was wearing blue jeans and a white halter top.

  “Well, hey, Miz Luanne,” Savannah said as Granny approached the booth. “Don’t you look nice. Did you knit that scarf?”

  Granny fingered the edge of her watermelon boa. “I did. 'Course it was before my eyesight got so bad. I don’t think I could do the beading anymore.”

  “Well, it’s real pretty.”

  “Maybe I can try and crochet you one for next year, Savannah. Your outfit is kind of pale.” Granny glanced in Amanda’s direction. “Maybe I could crochet a colorful scarf for you too, honey.”

  “That would be real nice, Granny.” This was the third time Granny had promised to crochet her a scarf—within the last hour.

  Savannah smiled down at Ethan, who had decided to go into his shy boy routine. He was hanging on Amanda’s leg and hiding his face.

  “Hey, Ethan, you want a peanut butter cookie?”

  Ethan might be shy at times, but never when being offered something sweet. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, peeking at Savannah with one eye.

  “Well, isn’t he just the perfect little gentleman,” Hettie remarked.

  Savannah handed Ethan a cookie, and the boy let go of Amanda’s leg and set about the task of upping his sugar quotient a little more. It was going to be truly ugly later when the sugar high wore off.

  “All right y’all, I’m ready to do some kissing.” Granny’s pronouncement was met with a moment of stunned silence.

  “What are y’all staring at?” she said as she gazed serenely back at her church friends. “I’m not worried about Russell, if that’s what y’all are thinking. He may not be broadcasting right at the moment, but he’s busy at the broadcast booth I’m sure. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

  And with that, Granny sallied forth and took her place behind the “kissing” counter, where kisses were sold for a couple of dollars apiece.

  Usually the person standing there was young and lovely. Granny, not so much. Although she did have a real twinkle in her eye.

  Savannah leaned forward. “What should we do?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Let her have her fantasy for a few minutes. Otherwise she’ll have a tantrum.”

  Savannah’s dark eyes expressed her sympathy until Roy Burdett strolled by and stopped to give Granny a big grin.

  “Hey, Miz Luanne, are you selling kisses?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, then, I’m buying.”

  He slapped two dollars down on the counter and puckered up. Granny laid a big one on his lips. And then she giggled like a young girl.

  Smiles broke out in every corner. Roy Burdett could be a decent man when he was sober. And he’d just made Granny’s day.

  “You might as well have a seat, Amanda,” Miriam Randall said. “Looks like you’re going to be here for a little while.” Miriam gestured toward a second folding chair beside her.

  Amanda sat down, and Ethan climbed into her lap, happily munching on a second peanut butter cookie.

  “So I heard your interview on the radio,” Amanda said.

  Miriam’s eyes lit up behind her trifocals. “Well, I reckon a lot of folks heard my interview. So, are you going to go down to the Lost and Found?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Oh.”

  A vague but decidedly queasy sensation crawled through Amanda’s midsection. “You think I should?”

  Miriam, matchmaker extraordinaire, shrugged like she wasn’t sure, or didn’t know. The queasy sensation passed. Miriam didn’t have relationship advice for her. There was no soul mate in her future. No boyfriend.

  She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

  “We should go there,” Ethan said through a mouth filled with peanut butter cookie.

  Miriam gave the boy an impish smile, but she said nothing.

  “Let me make myself clear. We are not going to the Lost and Found.”

  Even if she was burning with curiosity about Grant Trumbull, Miriam’s reaction said it all. Trumbull couldn’t be as young and handsome as his voice sounded. Having lived with a broadcaster most of her life, Amanda knew that voices and faces usually didn’t match.

  And besides, the last thing she needed or wanted was a boyfriend. Or a relationship. Relationships hurt. And she didn’t want to be hurt again. Losing Tom had broken her heart. Losing Granddaddy had been tough. Losing Granny day by day took all her strength.

  She wrapped her arms around Ethan and gave him a big hug. If only she could keep her little boy from growing up too. But that was impossible.

  “Mama, let go. Can we ride the Ferris wheel now?”

  “Maybe in a little bit,” she lied.

  * * *

  After fifteen minutes of pretty slow action, Granny was still not interested in leaving the Cooking and Kissing booth. And Ethan, having consumed copious quantities of sugar, was starting to bounce like a super ball.

  “Y’all go on,” Savannah said. “We’ll keep an eye on Luanne.” She smiled down at Ethan. “Are you going to the pet show? Todd is down there with his dog.”

  Ethan’s eyes lit up. “Doggies?”

  “It starts at ten o’clock,” Savannah said, checking her watch. “You still have time to get a ticket.”

  Ethan looked up at Amanda. “Can we go, Mama?”

  Well, at least he was off his one note about the Ferris wheel, but the minute Ethan saw a bunch of kids with dogs, he was going to start whining about wanting a pet.


  She’d been putting that off, too. She just didn’t want the responsibility. Maybe later she would take Ethan to the midway, where she could take her chances throwing ping-pong balls at small fishbowls bearing goldfish. She could probably manage a goldfish.

  Still, all in all the pet show sounded less dangerous than the Ferris wheel. She stood up and took Ethan’s hand. “I’ll be back in an hour to pick up Granny,” she said.

  “It’s all right; we’ll be here all day, honey. Take your time.” Miriam gave her a wave.

  The festival organizers were so thoughtful. They piped in WLST’s live fair broadcast at the ticket box for the main pavilion, where the pet show was scheduled to start in mere minutes.

  Amanda stood in the ticket line, humming along to “Can I Have This Dance?” The song came to a close, and Grant Trumbull’s voice rained down on them.

  “That last one was a dedication from Lord Woolham to his lovely wife, Lady Rocky. And now I’m honored to be joined in the booth by Bubba Lockheart, who, based on the work he’s done to my jalopy, is the best mechanic in the county. He’s also the winner of the Demolition Derby for the last five years. Bubba, I have just one question: are you going to do it again?”

  “I aim to.”

  Dead air ensued, and Amanda found herself smiling. Bubba was not exactly the most articulate man, and she remembered a couple of interviews Granddaddy had attempted over the years. Obviously Grant Trumbull expected Bubba to wax poetic about his feats in the mud on derby day, but Bubba was shy and quiet and monosyllabic.

  “So tell me about your car this year?” Grant asked.

  “It's a 1982 Ford Crown Victoria.”

  Grant hesitated only a very short moment this time. “Ah, 1982. That was a very good year.”

  “I was born in 1982.”

  Amanda had been born in 1982 as well.

  “Exactly my point, Bubba. So, there you have it, folks. Bubba Lockheart is the man to beat at tonight’s Demolition Derby.”

  “Uh, can I say something?”

  “Sure, Bubba.” Whoa, wait a minute, Bubba wanted to say something in public? How had Trumbull gotten him to do that? Granddaddy used to say that Bubba was a tough nut to crack.

  “I heard what Miz Miriam told you this morning,” Bubba said. “Shoot, the whole county heard it. And you’d be a fool if you didn’t go to the Lost and Found. Miz Miriam has matched up just about everyone in Last Chance.”

  “Did she match you up?”

  “Sort of. And hey, babe, I know you’re listening. I love you, Rachel, and the little punkin’. Rachel's going to have a baby.”

  Trumbull chuckled. His laugh sounded like a distant rumble of thunder. “Well, congratulations. And it’s nice to be in a place where so many men are in love with their wives. And now, speaking of love, here’s one of my most favorite love songs, ‘Bless the Broken Road’, by Rascal Flatts.”

  Damn. Grant Trumbull’s voice was more than merely deep and mellow; there was something about the way he handled the interviews. She hated to admit it, but he was better than Granddaddy. And he had some of the same qualities as her late grandfather. He was interested in people. He was kind. He never ridiculed.

  And he played a lot of love songs. “Bless the Broken Road” was one of Amanda’s most favorite, too.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey, Mandy, up here.”

  Amanda looked up as she entered the main pavilion to find Charlene Polk waving at her.

  “Hey, it’s Aunt Charlene.” Ethan took off up the bleacher steps like he’d been shot from a rocket. Amanda followed at a more sedate pace, lugging her back pack.

  Charlene had been Amanda’s best friend from the first day of the fifth grade, two months after Amanda’s parents had been killed in a commercial airline accident. It was a new school for Amanda, a new town, living with her grandparents. But Charlene helped her over the transition. They had bonded almost immediately.

  Ethan launched himself at Charlene’s lap, where he gave her a big hug and a sloppy kiss.

  “Mmmm, you smell like peanut butter,” Charlene said.

  “ ’Cuz I had two of Miz Savannah’s cookies. And Granny was kissing people for money. And after we see the doggies, we’re gonna ride the Ferris wheel, and then we’re going to the Lost and Found.”

  “Really?” Charlene rolled her eyes in Amanda’s direction. “You’re going to ride a Ferris wheel? And you’re going to the Lost and Found? I don’t know which one surprises me more.”

  Amanda let go of an enormous sigh. “It’s a really long story. And little pitchers have big ears.”

  “Mama, my ears aren’t that big.” Ethan wiggled out of Charlene’s lap and stood up on the bleacher seat. “Mama, I can see doggies.”

  “You’ll see a lot of them.” Charlene said.

  “What are you doing here?” Amanda asked her friend.

  “I’m the vet on call,” Charlene said.

  “I want a doggie.”

  “How about a goldfish instead?” Amanda suggested.

  “I don’t want any more goldfish. I’m not hungry.”

  “No, not like the crackers, honey. I mean like a real fish in water.”

  “A fish? Really?”

  Thank the Lord. Ethan was too little to realize how boring goldfish were.

  “Can I bring my fish to the pet show?”

  Charlene laughed at this. She would. Charlene had been suggesting that Amanda get a cat for some time. She’d even been pushing strays at Amanda. But Amanda had been firm. Cats might be easier than dogs but they still required a commitment she wasn’t ready to give.

  The show began, and Ethan settled down into his seat, utterly engrossed as groups of children came out onto the earthen floor to show off their pets. It was amazing how many of those kids had taught their dogs how to do tricks. Todd White’s dog was the star of the show.

  Charlene leaned a little closer and whispered, “You should go to the Lost and Found.”

  “I should go? What about you? You’re single too.”

  “Well, if you must know, I was giving it serious thought.”

  “You were? Really?”

  “Yeah. If Grant Trumbull looks like he sounds, he’s bound to be kind of hunky, don’t you think?”

  “No. He’s probably sixty and balding, which is why he’s trolling for dates on the radio.”

  “Well, there’s only one way to find out. I mean, there aren”t all that many guys moving into Last Chance, you know. A single girl needs to check out the new ones when they arrive. And it seems to me Miriam Randall has given all of us single girls some cover. Why would she do that if Grant Trumbull was old and paunchy?”

  As usual, Charlene had constructed an air-tight argument. But it didn’t change anything. “I’m not going to the Lost and Found.”

  “Ethan thinks you are. Where did he get that idea?”

  Amanda leaned in even closer and dropped her voice. “He thinks that, if we go to the Lost and Found, we’ll find Granddaddy.”

  “Oh.” Charlene gave her one of those poor baby looks.

  “So you see, I can’t go to the Lost and Found. Either I’m going to encourage Ethan’s fantasies or I’m going to disappoint him terribly. It’s hard enough with Granny, these days. I don’t need Ethan chasing after rainbows.”

  “Why not? Rainbows can be fun to chase, you know.”

  Amanda let go of a big sigh. “Please, Charlene, be serious. My life is so complicated right now. Even if Ethan didn’t have these mistaken ideas about things, I still wouldn’t go to the Lost and Found just to flirt with Grant Trumbull.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Honey, you’re afraid of living.”

  “I am not.”

  Charlene shrugged. “I don’t mean to be ugly, but you don’t want a cat or a dog, you won’t ride the Ferris wheel, and you won’t go to the Lost and Found. You keep telling everyone your life is too complicated. But the truth
is, you’re afraid to take any risks. And I guess I understand, sort of. I’m sure it was hard losing Tom, but if you don’t jump into your life, you’ll wake up one day and realize it’s passed you by.”

  “I’m living. Believe me. You should try dealing with the complications in my life.”

  “Well, I guess I deserve that. But I’ve decided that I’m going to the Lost and Found at noon today. And I’m praying that Grant Trumbull looks as good as he sounds.”

  * * *

  Ethan had a mind like a steel trap. It hung on to ideas in a stubborn way. So when the dog show ended and Todd White had won best in show with his aptly named mutt Champion, Ethan announced that it was time to go get his goldfish.

  “You think I can teach my goldfish tricks?” he asked as he bounced along beside Amanda.

  “I don't know,” she said, inwardly cringing. She should be honest with Ethan. He would be disappointed when he discovered that fish were boring. But then life was sometimes full of disappointments.

  “You know,” she said, “if we get a fish, we probably won’t be able to ride the Ferris wheel.” It was a desperate gamble.

  “Oh. But couldn’t we ask Miz Savannah to watch the fish like she’s watching Granny?”

  Busted. When had Ethan become so smart?

  “All right.” She took Ethan’s hand and headed toward the midway, which was alive with people, lights, and noise.

  She quickly found the booth with the live goldfish, plunked down a dollar, and tried her luck. The object of the game was to land a ping-pong ball into a small fish bowl containing a single, living goldfish. A couple of dozen bowls had been set up on a stepped platform.

  “Win me the orange and black one,” Ethan said, hopping as he spoke. Lord have mercy, the boy never stopped unless he was sleeping, and even then he was a tosser and a turner.

  “I’ll try,” she said. It looked pretty easy. All she had to do was throw a little ping-pong ball. How hard was that?

  Except she sucked at this game. The ping-pong balls were about as bouncy as Ethan on a sugar high. If she threw the ball too hard, it bounced off the backstop. If she threw it too softly, it bounced off the lip of the bowl.