Fragile(24)
Author: M. Leighton

When they arrived at the carnival, which was situated in a large parking lot across the street from the sand and the ocean, Hardy put the car in park and cut the engine. Miracle immediately reached for the door handle.

“No!” he barked, reaching across Miracle as if to stop her. She turned her wide, stunned eyes toward him, her lips rounded in an O of surprise. She said nothing, simply sat there frozen, watching him. “Wait.”

Hardy exited the car and hurried around to the passenger side, yanking the handle to open the door. With a flourish, he bent at the waist and reached inside for Miracle’s hand. It was cool and small in his, but her grip was strong when she wound her fingers around his.

Miracle slid out, but still didn’t speak. She was smiling broadly, however, when she straightened to her full, diminutive height beside Hardy.

He grinned down at her. Hardy got the feeling she wanted to laugh. And so did he. He didn’t know why he wanted her to know he could be a gentleman. But he did.

He loosened his hold on her fingers, enough so that if she wanted to free hers, she could do so easily. But he didn’t let her go. Not completely. And he wouldn’t. Not unless she wanted him to.

As they walked toward the entrance, Hardy noticed Miracle looking around, her expression slightly awe-stricken. When he realized what her face was saying, he stopped abruptly, pulling Miracle up by his light grip on her hand. She turned to look at him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a carnival.”

She grinned up at him. “Okay, I won’t tell you I’ve never been to a carnival.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I’m very serious. I refuse under threat of death to tell you that I’ve never been to a carnival,” she teased.

“Smart ass,” Hardy quipped. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

“So you’ve never ridden rides that are dangerous at best, eaten food that should come with a vomit bag and a warning, or paid far too much for a cheap stuffed animal?”

She giggled, a sound that ran down Hardy’s spine like dancing fingers.

“No, I’ve never done any of those things. But you make them sound so appealing, how could I resist now?”

“You can’t. It’s that simple.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Miracle asked, tugging Hardy forward. “Show me the carnival!”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Miracle’s enthusiasm was contagious. Hardy found himself looking at everything through her eyes and it was amazing. Lights were never brighter, colors were never more vibrant, sounds were never more stimulating, and smells were never more mouth-watering. In many ways, Hardy felt like he’d never been to a carnival either, not really. And he couldn’t have been happier to experience it for the first time with Miracle.

After he bought them tickets, they strolled around the carnival once just taking it all in. On their second go-round, Hardy saw Miracle looking at a giant polar bear stuffed animal that was hanging along the side of a gaming tent. It happened to be the grand prize of a fastball-throwing game.

“Care to try your luck with a fastball?” the youngish guy asked as they strolled past.

Hardy glanced at Miracle and her eyes had widened with excitement. He pulled her to a stop in front of the vest-clad attendant.

“Yeah. Give me six balls,” Hardy said, pulling two dollar bills out of his wallet. The attendant stacked six baseballs on the counter in front of Hardy. “How much for the polar bear?”

“Fast ball over 90 miles per hour wins you the bear.”

Although football was his sport of choice, Hardy had played baseball since he was in third grade, so he knew his way around the little red-stitched leather orb. Hardy took one in his hand and rolled it around in his fingers.

He’d only pitched for a brief stent, normally being placed at short stop, but Hardy put all his focus into remembering the mechanics of it. It was suddenly very important to him that he win Miracle that bear. Taking a deep breath, he drew back his arm and let the ball fly from his fingertips.

The yellow numbers of the radar readout claimed that the pitch had only been 78 miles per hour, not nearly fast enough for the polar bear. Hardy gritted his teeth and worked his shoulder in three big circles before picking up another ball.

He threw. 78.

Reaching for the third ball, Hardy inhaled deeply before he sent it zipping toward the back of the tent. He was gratified when the numbers blinked 83.

“Getting closer,” the attendant said.

Miracle squealed and clapped her hands. Hardy couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes twinkled happily and she bounced up and down excitedly. It was easy to see that she would be thrilled regardless, but that just made him want to win her the bear all the more.

Hardy worked his way through the next two balls, getting steadily closer to the coveted 90 MPH mark. When he hefted the last ball up into the air and caught it against his palm, he pictured the baseball sailing through the air, a white blur in the neon-lit night. He pictured Miracle jumping up and down then throwing her arms ecstatically around his neck. He pictured the disgruntled attendant unhooking the big polar bear and handing it to Miracle. His heart beat with satisfaction and determination.

With a quick grunt, Hardy pulled back his arm and hurled the ball forward. When it left his fingers, he knew he’d thrown his fastest ball. His stomach churned with gratification and his lips curved with pleasure as he turned to watch Miracle. He didn’t need to watch the radar readout to know he’d won the bear; he felt it in his gut.

As if in slow motion, Miracle’s mouth dropped open, her eyes rounded and she turned toward him. All the bells and music, all the carnies and kids, all the rides and ruckus stilled as he watched her. Hardy was aware of nothing but the red glow of neon on her smooth cheek, the white flash of her teeth in her pale face, the blink of the lights in her eyes and the warm spread of happiness as it made its way through his chest.

When Miracle threw herself against him and wound her arms around his neck, just as he’d pictured her doing, Hardy closed his eyes and hugged her to him. He realized that he’d throw a million baseballs a thousand times a day if it would keep her in his arms.

After a few seconds, she wiggled free to take the giant bear from the attendant. Her face shone with the simple pleasure of the moment, of the bear and the carnival. Hardy didn’t think he’d ever seen someone enjoy the seemingly mundane so much. Deep down, he knew he never would again.