State Fair (39 page)

“Paupers’ field,” I said softly.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“We can’t let that happen. I want to pay for his funeral and for a decent burial. And a proper headstone. He deserves that.” I waited for Gabe to protest.

“I agree. I’ll talk to the sheriff’s department about it tomorrow.”

I looked up at him. “Want to go to the fair tonight? It’s the last time you’ll get a chance to taste raspberry wine ice cream.”

“Wine ice cream. Sounds wonderful.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Not to me. But there is something I want to see. The deep-fried-food contest. I hear that one of the entries is a deep-fried jelly doughnut.”

“Isn’t that redundant?”

“Seriously, they take a jelly doughnut, dip it in a batter and deep fry it. It’s supposed to be doubly delicious.”

“Only you could possibly think that.”

So that’s what we did. We went to the fair, ate some raspberry wine ice cream (wasn’t as bad as it sounds), laughed at the fried-food contest (deep-fried bacon won) and congratulated Levi on the fair’s successful run.

“Now that it’s over, Katsy has talked me into that Alaska cruise,” he said, sitting with us in the wine gardens. The sound of a blues band playing in the arena floated through the warm air and surrounded the misty gardens with a melancholy vibe. “Maggie and Jazz are coming too.”

“Good for them,” I said. “You all need a family vacation.”

After dark, Gabe and I walked through the midway holding hands talking about what the rest of the year might bring. The air had cooled and the bright, colorful lights of the carnival rides flashed and pulsated. When we reached the Ferris wheel, Gabe turned to me.

“How about a ride, Mrs. Ortiz?”

“Only if you pay.”

He bought our tickets at the booth and gave them to the carnie, slipping him some bills.

“I saw that little maneuver, Chief,” I said, stepping into the ride’s rocking seat. “Why are you bribing the operator?”

He smiled and pulled the lock bar across our laps. When the Ferris wheel started, we circled a few times, exclaiming like the other riders, at the incredible nighttime view of the fair and the city of Paso Robles. After a few rotations, the Ferris wheel stopped with our car at the very top.

“Very smooth,” I said, tucking my arm into his. “And how much did this cost you?”

“I’m trying to be romantic.”

I smiled at him, thinking how lucky I was to have this man. The thought flashed through my head—the last time I’d been on a Ferris wheel was with Jack.

But I wasn’t sad. That was another time, another life. It had been a good ride with him. And it was a good ride now.

“Here.” He reached into his pocket and handed me a small box.

“What is this?” For a moment my mind thrashed around frantically. Had I forgotten an important date?

“Relax, you didn’t forget an anniversary. I just bought you a gift. No reason.”

Relieved, I opened the box. It was a ring. A pear-shaped diamond set in a plain gold band. I slipped it on my finger next to my gold wedding band. “It’s gorgeous, Friday.”

“I know you’re not the jewelry type. And it won’t hurt my feelings if you only wear it occasionally. But I never bought you an engagement ring and . . .” He leaned over and kissed me hard, causing our seat to rock.

“Whoa,” I said, gripping his arm. “No more sudden moves until we touch planet earth.”

“I love you,
querida
,” he said.

“I love you back, Sergeant Friday.”

The operator gave us another minute before starting the Ferris wheel moving again. As we slowly descended, we watched the carnival lights flicker, neon firecrackers against the purple-black sky. Around us people screamed and laughed and cried and kissed, making memories that would last for the rest of their lives. We stepped off the Ferris wheel, taking a moment for our legs to get used to solid ground again and started walking toward the rest of our lives.

An excellent source for the history of black cloth dolls is “No Longer Hidden—A Catalogue of the Exhibit of Black Cloth Dolls 1870- 1930,” by Roben Campbell. For more information about black cloth dolls, please check out the website
www.blackclothdolls.com
.