A Fair to Remember
a montana born fair novella
Barbara Ankrum
A Fair to Remember
Copyright © 2014 Barbara Ankrum
Kindle Edition
The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
ISBN: 978-1-940296-73-9
To David, for holding my hand and helping to plot our many years together. You’re my happily ever after.
Beth Kendrick, plotting sister extraordinaire – for understanding about getting back on the horse and for all the laughter.
Sarah Sullivan, sister, reader, friend. Despite your toughest year ever, you still had my back. I’ve got yours, too.
To the wonderful Jane Porter and everyone at Tule Publishing for taking a chance on me. I am eternally grateful and proud to be part of this amazing gathering of talents.
Dear Reader,
I’ve always been a sucker for old movies. Particularly romances from the ‘50’s with cornball endings. Case in point? The three hanky ‘An Affair To Remember’ with Cary Grant and Debra Kerr. But who didn’t swoon over Cary Grant, the smooth-talking, sigh-worthy hero who couldn’t forget the woman he’d fallen for?
So when Tule approached me (thank you, Jane!) to write one of the Fair stories, the first thing that popped into my mind was that movie. What would happen, if I told that story in a backwards way, where two old friends reunite because of a long ago promise and
then
have their affair? But something stands in the way of their happily ever after. And bonus: there’s a county fair involved? I’m in!
Jake and Olivia’s story is about best friends with a history of laughter, angst and unrequited love. Olivia is a divorced, ex-Olympic equestrian hopeful with broken dreams behind her when she slinks back home to Marietta after twelve years away. She’s determined to keep her distance from men. Jake, who’s been piloting Army rescue helicopters in the Middle East for years, is ready to chase his own dreams, which all begin with Olivia. Set against the backdrop of small town, Marietta, Montana, where everyone knows your business, fun and trouble ensue.
So welcome to their world. I adored writing this book and fell head over heels (in a ‘50’s movie kind of way) in love with Jake and Olivia. I hope you will, too.
Barbara Ankrum
O
n the night
of her thirtieth birthday, at the Big Marietta Fair, Olivia Canaday took a pull on her long neck beer, leaned on the porcelain sink in the restroom—where she was hiding from what had, officially, turned into the worst blind date in history—and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
What, in the name of all that is holy, are you doing here? Haven’t the last seven years taught you
anything?
She sighed and took another swig.
A rhetorical question, of course. She’d learned plenty in the last seven years, she thought, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, not the least of which being that her cowardice was legend and the dating pool teemed with slimy bottom feeders and narcissists.
Not that she was bitter.
She mentally added a new entry under the heading,
Note to Self
, which read:
Never allow wicked stepsisters to trick you into another blind, pity date again. Ever.
Kate and Eve—
the traitors
—and their respective dates had conveniently lost Olivia in the fair crowds after Peter Moreno, the former high school classmate they’d set her up with, lost track of his ‘shut-the hell-up’ button. He’d been talking non-stop about himself, and his booming law practice, for the last two hours. He’d even brought along the photograph taken of him outside the Marietta Courthouse that had appeared in the latest edition of The Copper Mountain Courier, which, he’d pointed out, was taken from his ‘more photogenic’ left side. He had generously reenacted the pose for her with a cheesy wink.
She shuddered, remembering it.
Outside the restroom door, the sounds of the midway, couples laughing and genuine happiness, rushed on by her like a river. The scent of corn dogs, barbeque, and cotton candy reminded her of all the other, long ago nights she’d spent at this fair, being part of something. Tonight, she’d caught glimpses of friends she hadn’t seen since high school, now married up, with children, and moving on with their lives, while hers seemed stuck on hold.
She rubbed her temples, trying to remember some Confucius wisdom she’d heard about moving forward, but it eluded her. Something about studying the past to define the future. But, at the moment, her possibilities felt as small and confined as the mistakes she’d left behind.
But whose fault was that?
Yours
, a small voice retorted.
If left to her own devices tonight, she’d be tucked into her favorite reading chair, in her childhood bedroom, with a tub of Chunky Monkey and a good romance novel. All to take her mind off the fact she was thirty, divorced, and, yes, living in her childhood bedroom. But, her sisters hadn’t allowed it. They’d dragged her to the fair for a ‘date’ so she wouldn’t spend her birthday alone. But, hands down, she would take
alone
over the rejoining ‘party of one’, who’d never even
asked
her if she wanted a
churro
.
She scooped her hair away from her face, then leaned closer to inspect a new crinkle near her eye. Under the flickering florescent lights, she looked older, and a little tipsy, which made sense since she had just exceeded her two beer limit with a third one.
She brushed a finger across her unglossed lips and blinked at her reflection. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been seriously kissed by someone she really
wanted
to kiss her. Even though she’d sworn off men and marriage, and anything to do with relationships, a fluttering curl of
want
settled down low in her belly at the thought of such intimacy, reminding her some little part of the person she used to be still had a pulse.
Sadly, only one memorable, toe-curling smooch came to mind when she allowed herself to think of such things and her ex-husband of five years had nothing to do with it. No, the one she had in mind was the kiss that always came to her in the middle of a sleepless night, or as she watched the dark water of a river slide across a deep, trout-filled pool or, honestly, whenever she thought of kissing at all.
She had no trouble admitting Jake Lassen was the one that got away. But in truth, she’d intentionally let him off the line and released him. He’d been her best friend in high school, but even that was understating the teenage angst of their relationship, a strange mix of confidences, friendship, and unrequited longing.
Timing had always been their issue. Either she’d secretly wanted him when he was dating someone else or it had been the other way around. But through it all, they’d been friends. Friends, like no other friend she’d ever had.
THE KISS had only happened only once, the night of their graduation after-party, in the wee hours of the morning down by the river.
She and Jake had walked downstream, where he wanted to show her a secret fishing spot, and it had happened. A mutual collision of hunger, so unexpected and thorough, that just thinking of it now sent a hot wave of longing through her. That day, they’d lost control for a minute, tumbling on the beach in a tangle of lust, unrequited love and confusion.
In a way, their kiss had unalterably changed things between them. She blamed herself for not letting it go any farther, because she hadn’t wanted to risk their friendship that way. It had become too important to her to lose because Jake had been her rock. Her compass. So, she’d taken the blame, as well—rightly or not—for his sudden decision to join the U.S. Army a few weeks later, because for the next month, she’d pretended the kiss hadn’t happened. But whatever the real story, she’d squandered her chance to make things right with him.
She’d never seen him again after that summer.
Her life went in one direction, his in another. Oh, they’d stayed in touch for a few years, with him in the Middle East and her on the east coast, but then they’d lost touch.
And the
pinky swear
promise they’d made to meet up again on her thirtieth birthday at the Big Marietta Fair, to be each other’s fallback person, was just—silly. Jake had joined the army and, as far as she knew, hadn’t been back to Marietta since he’d buried his parents two years ago after that terrible accident. She’d been gone nearly twelve years. He was probably still somewhere in Afghanistan, being brave and she…?
She was hiding in a bathroom.
Oh, why the hell was she thinking about kissing and Jake now anyway? All she wanted to do was escape this evening, go home, and soak in a long, hot bath. With bubbles.
Olivia took another desperate gulp of beer as she scoped out the windows at the back of the rest room.
Wait
.
She could actually climb out one of those windows and escape without Peter seeing her. It wouldn’t be hard, except for the dress, but who’d be looking? Then she’d find her sisters and make them drive her home.
A pair of teenagers pushed into the restroom, giggling about some boy who was not only flirting with the blonde one, he was already, apparently, going steady with another girl.
The shorter one, a dark-haired girl—who reminded Olivia of herself at that age—was swooning at the thought of such attention.
“If Jarrod Stephenson likes you,” Mini-Her told the taller one, “senior year is going to rock for you. You know Jarrod can do no wrong.”
Except maybe cheat on his current squeeze. But hey…
As the blonde one expounded on her good fortune, Olivia washed her hands, contemplating whether asking the girls for a boost up to the window would be too much.
Mini-Her scrunched her nose at her reflection, clearly not pleased with what she saw. She pulled her hair back away from her face, then let it fall across her cheek like a curtain.
“If Jarrod Stephenson liked me,” she sighed, as if auditioning for the part of a Disney princess, “I’d do
anything
for him.”
Olivia rolled her eyes and, for reasons that had everything to do with the third beer, said,
“You say that now, but in ten years you’ll realize
that
girl”—she gestured at Mini-Her’s reflection in the mirror—“is perfect, exactly as she is. Don’t try to make her into something she’s not for any boy. She’ll just wind up losing herself and her dreams and everything she could have been, and I guarantee you, he’s not worth it.” She punctuated her questionable piece of wisdom with an unladylike beer burp. “’Scuse me.”
For a moment, the two girls stared at her in horrified silence. Before she’d spoken, Olivia had apparently been absolutely invisible to them. A thirty-year old, invisible—
“
Wow
, lady. Ever heard of privacy? C’mon, Amanda. Just ignore her.” The blonde grabbed Amanda’s arm and steered her toward the door in a pubescent huff.
