A Strange Kind of Comfort by Gaylene Dutchyshen

Author:Gaylene Dutchyshen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2020-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

The next afternoon, Caroline fans herself with the pamphlet she was given at the gate. The cruel sun bears down, so unforgiving it has leached the brilliant blue right out of the sky. They are sitting on the bleachers, facing the dirt track, waiting for the races to start. Behind them, on the ball diamond, there is a splintering crack and an umpire bellows, “Foul ball!”

“I really can’t take this heat,” Caroline says. “I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

“I told you to wear a hat.” Eldon looks down at her from under the brim of his own straw hat. “You should have listened to me.”

Caroline doesn’t like to cover her hair. Today, she’s rolled it up into a sleek French knot and adorned it with a rhinestone clip shaped like a butterfly. “Well, I didn’t and now I don’t think I can sit here under this sun another minute. I’m going to the ladies’ room. Maybe if I splash my face and have a drink of cold water, I’ll feel a little better.”

“The race is about to start,” Eldon says, nodding at the six wagons pulling up to the gate.

“I won’t be long. I’ll be back before you know it.” She gets to her feet and steps around a broad-backed farmer in bibbed overalls and a cowboy hat, sitting in front of her. He smiles and lifts his hand to help her down the first wide riser.

“And come straight back. I didn’t bring you to the fair to sit in this damn bloody heat by myself,” Eldon says as he glares at the farmer until he abruptly drops her hand. “Stop at one of the booths on your way back and bring me a root beer.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a few coins and hands them to Caroline.

She palms the money, continues down the steep risers, and hurries to the newly built high school, where the exhibition hall is located, taking a shortcut through the parked cars.

The gymnasium is blissfully cool and full of people escaping the heat. They stroll past long, skirted tables, examining jams and jellies, cookies and cakes, crocheted doilies and handiwork, children’s school work and hand-stitched quilts. She’d taken her time in the exhibit hall yesterday, admiring all the entries and noting the winners in each category. One of Polly Garwood’s dresses won the red ribbon for the second year in a row. Caroline had won the first-place ribbon in the junior category for four consecutive years. In the first year she was married she had intended to enter a two-piece suit she’d made, but Eldon forebade it. No wife of his was going to put her garments on public display, he said, and it irked her, being told what she could and couldn’t do with her own suit. Even through the wire cage that covers the table, Caroline could see the sloppy workmanship on Polly’s buttonholes and knew she could have won first place if she’d been allowed to enter something.

She feels better

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