“You can open those beautiful peepers,” Johnny said, ten minutes after asking Daisy to close them so she’d be surprised when they arrived at their destination. “Ta-da!” Hand over hand, he steered the car into Rocky Glen’s lot.
“Wow.” It took Daisy a second too long to smile. “Rocky Glen.”
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been back since the Teddy Ryan incident. She and Beverly had come on Class Day every June during high school, and Daisy had always had fun, but something about this moment felt different, wobbly, like she’d just stepped off a tilt-a-whirl, and her brain still thought her body was in motion. Spot, she told herself. Finding a focal point was a ballerina’s trick to keep from falling while doing pirouettes. Daisy fixed her gaze on the main entrance in the distance. Nothing really happened with Teddy. And if it had, she’d been long over it by now. A breathless heat settled itself inside the parked car.
“Something wrong?” Johnny’s voice reached across the seat and steadied Daisy.
“Nothing,” she said. “The sun. It’s blinding.”
The keys jangled against each other as Johnny turned off the engine. “I can fix that.” He turned her face toward his and kissed the tip of her nose. “Better?”
“All.” This time her smile came easily.
“Good.” Johnny hopped out of the car, ran around to the other side, and opened the door. “Because I heard they have a million-dollar roller coaster here.”
“It only cost a hundred thousand,” Daisy said, fumbling through her clutch for her sunglasses as she stepped out.
“Only,” Johnny joked as they strode across the parking lot, their stunted shadows taking the lead.
Inside the entrance, Daisy stopped. “Give me a second to get my bearings. I used to come here on the streetcar. Station’s at the north end of the park. So’s the coaster.”
“We arrived in style today. Nothing but the best for my girl.”
Daisy started to reach for Johnny’s hand. He’s a sitting duck with you on his arm. When Mickey’s grandmother had uttered that warning almost two months earlier, Daisy had dismissed it as well-meaning but out of touch. Times were changing. Johnny had said so himself. No one ever gave them a problem at Tony Harding’s. Same with the movies, though to be fair, Johnny always waited for the lights to go down before putting his arm around her. “We can’t be too careful,” he’d say. With all the strangers milling about the park, Daisy decided to defer to caution. She dropped her hand, hoping Johnny wouldn’t notice, and headed for the center path.
“That’s different,” she said, spotting a ride called Love in the Dark.
“Good different?”
“New different. That’s where they used to sell the Duck Boat tickets.”
“Duck Boat?”
“An old army truck that could drive on water.”
“Wonder where it went.”
“They sold it off last month. Someone got hurt and sued the park. They’ve had a couple of fires here too.” Daisy glanced over to where the Mammoth Fun House used to be. Where she and Beverly had finally managed to track down Teddy and his buddies that fateful summer. “A lot’s changed.”
“Change is good.”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Half my life, all I wanted was change. New me. New city. Then I followed you up to that rooftop and fell in love with Scranton all over again.”
“Just Scranton?”
“Come on.” Daisy blushed. “You know I’d already fallen in love with you by then.”
“You don’t say.”
“I was a goner the second you pulled that sheet music out of your pocket.”
“What took you so long?” He gave her a playful nudge. “I knew I loved you the day we met. There you were, so serious, asking me if I thought every Tom, Dick, and Harry should be allowed to play your piano.”
“You’re making that up.”
“I pretended to straighten my tie so I wouldn’t bust out laughing.”
“I really said that?” Daisy hid her face in her hands. “I was so out of sorts that day.”
“I knew right then and there you’d always keep me on my toes.”
Simultaneously embarrassed and amused, she said, “You can’t tell people that story.”
“But it’s the best part! Speaking of telling people things, I think it’s high time I introduce you to Mama Z.”
“You mean it?”
“I do.”
Daisy beamed as they continued along the path.
“Step right up!” a barker called out from the shooting gallery at the top of Game Row. A sign with Buffalo Bill’s likeness hung over the stand. “Ten shots a nickel. Every bull’s-eye wins a prize.”
Johnny walked over and examined the menagerie of stuffed animals straining the limits of their plywood shelves. “What’s your pleasure?” he asked Daisy.
“Don’t you have to win first?”
“Any Tom, Dick, or Harry can beat this game.”
Daisy laughed and looked up at all the kitschy prizes on display. “Okay, then. The hot-pink dog with the purple spots.”
Johnny turned to the boy working the stand. “What’ll it take to win Spotty up there?”
“Twelve outta twenty,” he said, pushing a .22 pump-action short rifle across the counter. “All crows.”
Daisy studied the game, four rows of moving targets hinged upright on conveyor belts. One-dimensional ducks, rabbits, squirrels, and crows; bottom to top, large to small, easy to near impossible. She purposely picked the foot-and-a-half-high dog, one of the shooting gallery’s more modest prizes, to give Johnny a winning chance.
“All crows?” She eyed the boy. “That hardly seems fair.”
Johnny fished out a coin and tossed it on the counter. “How ’bout ten outta ten?”
The boy snickered as he scooped up the money. “You can kiss that nickel goodbye.”
Ping! The first shot slammed into the closest crow, knocking it flat.
“Beginner’s luck!” the barker shouted, while at the same time waving people over to watch the action.
With a brisk clack-clack, Johnny ejected the spent ammunition and chambered another round. Ping! Clack-clack. Ping! Clack-clack. Johnny worked the fore-end under the barrel like the slide on a trombone.
By the eighth shot, a crowd had formed. “Holy cow!” the boy yelled out from behind the counter. “Two to go.”
Ping! Johnny winked at Daisy, chambered his last round, aimed up at the crows, and fired. Ping!
The onlookers cheered. The boy grabbed a hook and pulled the stuffed dog off the shelf in a puff of dust. “That was some shooting.” He took the rifle and gave the prize to Johnny. “You earned him.”
Johnny lifted an imaginary cowboy hat off his head, gave a nod to Buffalo Bill, and handed the dog to Daisy.
“She’s with him?” a woman screeched, the words scaping across her tongue like Brillo pads.
Daisy turned toward the voice and found a thickset thirty-something with beads of sweat rolling down her scarlet cheeks.
“Best to move along,” the barker whispered in Daisy’s ear before returning to his duties. “Step right up!” he shouted to passersby. “Ten shots a nickel. Every bull’s-eye wins a prize.”
Johnny and Daisy quietly slipped away from the crowd. With more than a foot between them, they wandered farther into the park. All around, delighted screams rose and fell with the rhythms of the rides, but no amount of merriment could drown out the voices inside Daisy’s head. She’s with him? Best to move along. Daisy had followed the barker’s advice, but now she couldn’t help wondering if, in doing so, she’d let Johnny down.
“I should have given her a piece of my mind,” Daisy finally said.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Same reason you decided not to hold my hand.”
“You knew?” Daisy’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I let Mickey’s grandmother get in my ear.”
“No sorrys.” Johnny handed her his hanky. “I’m saying you were right both times. We can’t be too careful.”
“I wish people would mind their own business.”
“People are always going to have opinions about us. That’s how the world works.”
“Then we’ll just have to change the world.” Daisy fanned her brow with her purse.
“That’s a pretty tall order. How ’bout we get a couple of birch beers first.” He pointed to a refreshment stand a few yards away.
They walked to the back of a long line, and Daisy asked, “So how’d you do it?”
“What?”
“Win Spotty here.” She held up the stuffed dog. “I always thought those games were rigged.”
“They are.” Johnny put a finger to his lips. “When the fix is in, most people think if they try harder, shoot straighter, they’ll beat the odds. Doesn’t work that way.”
“How does it work?”
“You have to play their game, not yours. Figure out how they’re cheating, and adapt.”
“So how’d they cheat?”
The pair took a few steps forward.
“Loose barrels,” Johnny explained.
“How could you tell?”
“Experience. The Steel Pier has every game known to man. I ditched enough school in my day to learn all the tricks.”
“Good old Atlantic City.”
“And not a coal mine in sight,” Johnny said.
“Next!” a girl called out from inside the refreshment stand.
“Two.” Johnny put a quarter on the counter and grabbed a couple of freshly opened bottles. “Let’s find a seat.” He led them toward a handful of benches in front of the carousel where parents could sit and see their children as they passed. Daisy sat down and slid over to the middle of a bench. Johnny handed her a soda but stayed standing.
In front of them, an attendant invited the next pack of riders up onto the platform. Boys and girls raced toward the outside horses to get a chance at the brass ring. A pair of tired-looking mothers with babies in arms settled into the golden chariot at the back of the herd. As the carousel whirred to life, a steam-powered organ began cranking a quick-tempoed waltz.
Daisy took a drink of her birch beer, then pressed the ice-cold glass against her forehead. “So what did you mean when you said ‘not a coal mine in sight’?”
“Just that.” Johnny put his foot up on the bench. “Mickey told me the craziest story this morning about a kid who got killed when a mine caved in.”
“The girl with the orange or the boy playing marbles?”
“The girl, but I think you’re missing the point.”
“What’s that?”
“Why would anyone want to live on top of coal mines?”
“I thought you loved Scranton,” Daisy pouted.
“I love you, and you’re in Scranton.”
“So you’re saying you’d rather be someplace else?”
“Not without you.” Johnny dropped down next to her on the bench.
Daisy’s eyes narrowed. “You never did tell me why Kenny was going to New York today.”
“He heard about a club that’s looking for a trumpeter.”
“And might they also be looking for a piano player?”
“He may have said something about it.” Johnny stared straight ahead. The carousel and the music slowed to a stop, and the attendant signaled the next group of riders forward.
“I call the pinto!” a boy hollered from the middle of the pack.
Johnny poked Daisy’s arm and gestured toward the ride. “My money’s on the steed.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“He’s the lead horse,” Johnny said. “Bigger than the others. More ornate. Look at the curls carved into his mane. The jewels on his saddle. The silver on his bridle. Of course, we’re only seeing the romance side, the half of the horse that faces out. Lots of flash to catch your eye.”
“So what’s on the other side?”
“Nothing fancy, just a horse.”
“You sure learned a lot by skipping school.”
The organ and the carousel started up again.
“He’s also known as the wishing horse. Take a ride,” he said, mimicking a barker’s cadence. “Make a wish.”
“I wish you’d be straight with me about Kenny and New York City,” Daisy said as she gathered her purse and the stuffed dog.
“There’s nothing to tell.” Johnny grabbed Daisy’s empty bottle, and they began walking back to the refreshment stand.
“But what if …”
“No sense wasting our time on what-ifs.” Johnny returned the empties to a soda crate and collected his deposit. “Not when there’s a perfectly good roller coaster out there in need of our attention.”
Daisy tried to smile.
“Stop worrying. You’re stuck with me.”
“In Scranton?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Neither one took the other’s hand as they made their way up the path. Daisy wanted to believe Johnny could truly be happy in Scranton because she couldn’t imagine leaving a second time. Am I kidding myself? As if in response, the high-pitched song of the cicadas intensified in the unrelenting heat.
Close to the lake, concession stands offered up caramel apples and cotton candy. The sweet scent of sugar, burnt and spun, clung to the heavy air. “Hungry?” Johnny asked, breaking the silence.
“No. It’s too hot.”
Johnny veered off in the direction of a nine-foot display case made of oak and glass. The sign on top read, Grandmother’s Predictions. Inside sat a mechanical woman wearing a lacy white blouse and purple shawl. A shock of white hair framed her heavily painted face.
Insert a coin, receive a card below, the instructions read. An arrow pointed down to a slot with the words, Your answer here.
“Let’s see what the future holds,” Johnny joked as he pulled some change out of his pocket.
Daisy grabbed her own penny out of her purse and dropped it into the machine. “Will Johnny stay with me in Scranton?”
With the click of a motor, the automaton’s head bobbed up and down as her gloved hand wobbled over a spread of tarot cards. A moment later, a rectangle of paper poked through the slot, and the woman sat motionless again.
Daisy grinned when she saw the message. “The odds are with you,” she read. “Insert another coin and I will tell you more.”
“That’s how they get you.” Johnny fed his own penny into the machine. The head bobbed, the hand wobbled, and the prediction appeared.
“Wait,” Daisy said. “You didn’t ask her a question.”
“Don’t have to.” Johnny picked up the paper. “She’ll tell me what I need to know.” He glanced at the card and read aloud, “Sometimes the calm comes after the storm.”
“Great.” Daisy glanced at the cloudless sky. “The one summer without a drop of rain.”
“I wouldn’t worry.” Johnny laughed and the pair began walking again. “The odds are always in your favor.”
“Let’s hope so.” Ahead of them, the coaster loomed over the lake. Daisy took a few steps back and examined the latticed frame. Here and there, replacement trusses had been added at odd angles. “It’s a little worse for wear.”
“Water takes a toll,” Johnny said, “especially on wood.”
“Still want to go on?”
Johnny stepped up to the line in front of the ticket booth. “We may as well while we have the chance. I’m not sure she’ll be running too many more summers.”
“What stinks?” a voice rasped.
Someone behind them started sniffing loudly.
That vile woman from the shooting gallery. Daisy turned around, intending to have her say.
Still facing forward, Johnny touched her shoulder. Don’t, he mouthed.
“Honey,” the woman said to a bearded man Daisy hadn’t noticed at first, “get a load of this.”
The man spit loudly: “In all my days, I ain’t never seen nothing so dirty.”
Johnny’s hands curled into fists.
“And that piece of filth with him. Probably pushing out babies black as night,” the man said. “Nothing but a cheap whore.”
Johnny whirled around so fast, he kicked up a cloud of dust and gravel. He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and snarled, “Say it again.”
Although he had an inch or two on Johnny, the man’s bearing withered. “Just having a little fun,” he said, raising his arms. “Didn’t mean no harm.” The woman cowered behind him.
Daisy shifted so Johnny could see her expression. “He’s. Not. Worth. It.” She spoke each word gently, evenly, as if tossing pebbles at a window.
Johnny relaxed his grip and took a tentative step back.
Daisy clutched his hand. “Let’s go home,” she said, and pulled him out of the line. Under the glare of an unyielding sun, the pair walked back to the car in silence.