Liz Marvin - Betty Crawford 03 - Too Long at the Fair (4 page)

Now she dreaded the prospect.  Sighing she turned away.  Looking over her shoulder at the empty bleachers she gave an involuntary sigh of relief.  At least there would be no one watching the pie eating contest from behind.  For an instant she thought she saw some movement underneath the bleachers but dismissed it.  If she had seen anyone it was most likely a couple teens and they would not be there to watch the pie eating contest. 

Turning again to face the small audience; Betty studied them.   Almost everyone in the crowd seemed to know someone and be cheering them on.  Most of the young crowd was cheering on the teen apparently named Mickey.  A few small children and their mother along with half dozen or so men in suits were cheering for Danbey Johnson, a banker who apparently lost some sort of office bet.  Marlee May, his wife, stood like an ice queen in the middle of the suits smiling like she didn’t mean a bit off it.

Walt and Geezie were the two farmers on either side of Betty and they each had their contingent.  They were the only two serious competitors and behind their jovial demeanor Betty could tell they were stone cold serious about winning.

Only Betty had no one cheering for her.  As the only woman in the competition she was introduced first.  As a little girl she had also dreamed of entering the pie eating contest and now, here she was, fulfilling that dream only she knew she should not be here.

“And we are pleased and fortunate to have one of this year’s cooking competitions here to compete in the Lofton country fair pie eating competition and this year’s only female contestant the one and only Betty Crawford!”

The applause was polite.  Betty half stood smiled and waved and sat down quickly.  She studied the crowd as each of the contestants was introduced and noticed a few people, young men or perhaps teen-age boys who kept to the back of the crowd and didn’t seem to cheer for anyone.

Then an apple pie was plunked down in front of her and not just any apple pie.  This was one of her aunt’s special apple fritter pies.  The bottom pie crust was pretty standard stuff albeit baked to perfection; crisp, golden brown and flaky.  The top crust was a yeast dough version of her apple fritters.  In between was the apple filling.  The filling was simply ambrosia.  She hadn’t had a bite in more than … well, forever.  At least it seemed like forever.

“How many of these can we have?”  She found herself asking without thinking and the crowd roared in laughter.  Even Marlee May laughed.

“As many as you like for the next five minutes.  Just keep your hands behind your back at all times and don’t start until I say so.  On your marks…”

Betty hunched over her pie. A glance to the left and the right showed Walt and Geezie in similar ready positions.  Like highly trained athletes they waited.

“… Get set… GO!”

Betty tasted the rich buttery doughy soft apple fritter topping.  The rich crystal sugar bits crackled on her teeth. The juicy cinnamon apple dissolved on her tongue.  It was better than she remembered, better than she could have imagined.  She took another bite, and another.  Suddenly she was ravenous and eating faster and faster.

The near empty pie plate disappeared from in front of her.  Her first reaction was anger; she hadn’t finished the crust!  But another pie replaced it.  A whole brand new beautiful pie!  Beautiful and delicious and all hers!  Without hesitation she dove in face first.

Somewhere people were laughing and cheering “Betty!  Betty!”  She didn’t listen, didn’t care.  She was eating her aunt’s pie.  She was eating her favorite comfort food with abandon.  She laughed when she finished and started on her third pie.

By the time the forth pie disappeared she was the crowd favorite.  She spared enough time for a glance at Geezie.  He was sitting upright with a glazed look in his eyes, licking his lips and swallowing.  There were four pie tins in front of him and only three in front of Walt who was eating slowly.  Betty didn’t bother checking the other two competitors and dove into her fifth pie. It was nearly gone when the buzzer sounded and the cheering started.

Reluctantly Betty sat up.  Someone thrust a napkin into her hands and she wiped her face and was surprised to find she would need another napkin.  She had just finished cleaning up when someone was raising her right hand over her head!

“The winner by a whole pie is Lofton’s own Roberta Crawford!”

The other four competitors shook her hands.  Walt clapped her on the shoulder “For a slip of a girl you eat good.”

“Just be glad you ain’t buying her dinner!” Yelled someone in the crowd and everyone laughed “Unless it’s an all you can eat buffet!”  Someone answered “She’d close them down!”  The audience roared.

Betty could feel her cheeks burning red.  She stood up, smiled and nodded and waved.  She was suddenly a celebrity.  People were shaking her hand and congratulating her.  People wanted their picture taken with her – she even autographed a Lofton Fair napkin.  She felt exhilarated and ashamed at the same time.  How many calories, how many carbohydrates, how much raw sugar had she just consumed?  There was some disease, some reaction to diabetics eating too much sugar – keto something or other.  It was serious. Would her kidneys fail? Would she go blind?  Would she die?  She pushed her fears down into her now churning stomach.

The headache came as the crowd thinned out.  She excused herself and headed for the cooking contest tent.  She would walk fast, burn off calories, maybe that would help.

But she never made it.  First someone tried to snatch her purse and then she threw up and fainted.

6. Chapter 5

Clarise wandered up and down rows of beautifully prepared and presented foods.  Elegant silver plate pedestal cake stands topped with precision frosted towers of confectionery delights.  Perfect rectangular sheet cakes with names like “Cardamom Butter Walnut Cake with Mango Kiwi Frosting” to the mouthwatering simple fare “Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Frosting”.

The corn breads were just as diverse.  Broccoli corn bread surprised her.  The country cured ham and cheese cornbread and craklin’ cornbread were to be expected.  Her favorites were banana corn bread, cranberry date corn bread and best of all grandma’s plain old cornbread (one word the way God meant it to be spelled).

She looked around again for Betty, wishing her friend was here to share all the jokes she wanted to make about the entries.  Sighing she headed for the pies.

Marlee May Johnson was standing behind her pie smiling and greeting everyone who came near.  Clarise started at the other end of the table – and stopped.

A simple country style golden brown latticework crust pie was presented in the tin pie plate it had been baked in.  It sat on a threadbare red and white checkered napkin and in front was an antique picture of a stern old woman.  Large dark purple berries glistened in a delicate glaze.

Seated far back from the table was a plump plain young girl in a gray striped slip on dress over a worn white blouse.  Her black hair hung in a heavy braid down her back.  She looked down at her black go-to-church shoes worn without socks. 

“Is this your pie?”

The girl looked up, wary and nodded.

Clarise smiled.  “It’s beautiful and it smells delicious.”

“Thank you ma’am.”

“My name’s Clarise.  Clarise Birdsong.”  She pointed to the small framed photograph. “Is that your grandmother?  You look like her.”

“That’s my great great grandma Addie.  It’s her recipe.  She won -”

And the girl stopped and looked at her shoes again.  Clarise made her way around the table, pulled up a chair and sat down beside her.  “Did she win the Lofton Fair blue ribbon for that pie recipe?”

The girl nodded.  “You must be very proud and I bet she’d be honored you’re carrying on the family tradition.”

The young girl looked at Clarise.  An open, honest face that carried too much sorrow for such a young age.  “I’m not near as good a cook as she and she wasn’t competing against fancy ladies like - “

Clarise reached out and rested her index finger under the young woman’s chin and lifted her face, forced the young girl to look her in the eye.  “The judges don’t go for surface glitz and glamor and they certainly won’t be swayed by social status or intimidation.  You made an honest pie and if it tastes as good as it looks and smells you’ll do fine.”

The girl smiled and her face lit up. “Do you mean it?”

It was Clarise’s turn to nod.  “My name is Adeline but everyone calls me Addie.”  She held out her hand and Clarise was glad to shake it.

“After your grandmother.  Well, Addie, it is a pleasure to meet you.  Is this your first fair?  Have you had a chance to explore?” 

“Oh no I don’t have – I don’t have the time.”

She lied terribly.  No practice at all, thought Clarise.  She stepped around the table and took Addie by the arm and led her toward the exit. “Well I seem to have lost my friend who is one of the judges in the cooking competition and if you’d come help me look for her I’ll buy you some cotton candy.”

The girls eyes grew wide “Or kettle popcorn?”  Clarise laughed “Oh I know just the place.  Come on.”

The two women, arm in arm headed for the exit but Thelma was gossiping with Marlee May and when they spied Clarise leaving they cut her off.

“You had better head for the nurse’s tent.  Betty has made a complete spectacle of herself as usual.” Thelma was in rare form, even for her.

Clarise stiffened.  Betty in trouble? Hurt? Sick?  Thelma said no more and Clarise was more than ready to wait her out.  It was Addie’s turn to jump to the rescue.  “Thank you, we were just going to look for her.”

And she pulled Clarise with her towards the exit.  “Wait!” yelled Marlee May but Clarise and Addie did not wait and continued out into the fair.

~

Betty awoke on a cot in a clean white tent.  A heavy set black woman in a crisp white nurse’s uniform was standing at a counter filling out some paperwork but she stopped when she saw Betty trying to sit up.  She sat down beside Betty, supporting her with one arm and holding a glass of water for her to sip.

“You gave us quite a scare Miss Crawford.”

“My purse-”

The nurse laughed. A hearty belly laugh. “It’s right here. I had to pry it loose even with you out cold. I hear you won the pie eating contest.”

Betty nodded, ashamed. “I shouldn’t have”

Again she laughed “Well if that’s the most embarrassing thing in the world you’ve done I’d say you’re ahead of me and everybody else in Lofton.  Now take another sip.”

Betty took a drink and felt a little better.  “You don’t understand.  I – I have diabetes.”

The nurse frowned. “Type one or type two?”

“Type two. I don’t need insulin.”

“What was your last A one C test?”

Betty had to think.  The test was a month or so ago.  The doctor said it was all right and she hadn’t paid much attention after that but he had told her – think!  She had to think!  “I think it was six or maybe five point something.”

The nurse went to the counter and returned with Betty’s purse.  “You have a blood glucose monitor in here?”  Betty nodded.  The nurse took it out, turned it on then opened the plastic case containing the small plastic test strips and inserted one.  Finally she daubed Betty’s finger with an alcohol swab and pricked it.  She was a real pro; Betty barely felt it.  The nurse collected the small droplet of blood and they both waited what seemed like minutes but was in reality only a few seconds.

The meter beeped and the readout displayed one hundred ninety six.  The nurse let out a breath and stood up, returning with two eight ounce glasses of water.  “Drink these up. Fast as you can but don’t go making yourself sick again.  I’ll brew up some tea.”

Betty finished the second glass just as the nurse arrived with a cup of tea.  “This is huckleberry tea.  Some folks call it bilberry but not around here.  It’ll lower your blood sugar.  Chamomile tea works too but not in the same way.  Huckleberry alters proteins that trigger insulin production while chamomile slows the production of a sugar called sorbitol which most type two diabetics don’t metabolize very well.”

Betty wasn’t sure about folk medications but the nurse was giving her scientific explanations so maybe they weren’t really folk remedies after all.  Even if it was, what was the word?  Homeopathic.  Betty figured beggars can’t be choosers and she was here so she took a sip. It tasted good.  “So my kidneys aren’t going to fail I’m not going to go blind and die?”

The nurse laughed again.  “No, honey, you don’t have diabetic ketoacidosis and those aren’t the symptoms even if you did.  Don’t fret, one binge of sugar won’t kill you.  As they say in the medical books temporary hyperglycemia is often benign and asymptomatic and blood glucose levels can rise well above normal for significant periods without producing any permanent effects or symptoms - but you still have to be careful.  Binge eating is no laughing matter.  Over time you really could hurt yourself.”

Betty nodded, miserable again. The nurse laid her hand on her shoulder.  “Look at me.  I am no spring chicken and nobody will mistake me for a New York runway model.  I don’t have diabetes yet and I’m doing everything I can to keep from getting it but just about everyone in my family eventually comes down with it so I know what I’m talking about.  You on Metformin? 

Betty nodded again.  “Five hundred milligrams a day”

The nurse shrugged it off.  “That’s a child’s dose.  Tonight when you get home, you have a glass – one glass of red wine and maybe salad with low carbohydrate dressing and a few shrimp for dinner.  And don’t go skipping any meals! Get back to several small meals instead of one big one and start today.”

“Can you be my doctor?  I like your prescriptions a lot more than his!”

Again the woman laughed heartily.  “I’m just glad you’re okay and you’re taking care of yourself.  You’re young.  Keep exercising and stay away from pie eating contests and you’ll be fine.

Betty slipped back into misery.  “I’m one of this year’s cooking judges.”

“And they made you enter the pie eating contest?  Must have been Thelma Johnson.”

Betty nodded and looked at her caretaker wonderingly.

“Oh it’s no surprise.  I’ve known her all my life.  She’s a selfish old biddy who is just intent on going through life doing more harm than good.”

“What’s your name?”

“Gladys. Nurse Gladys McRorie.”

Betty finished her tea, stood up and faced Gladys. “Well Gladys McRorie thank you for saving my foolish life and for being so darn nice about it.”

The two women laughed and hugged and exchanged kisses on the cheek which was just how Clarise and Addie found them.

~

The four women were seated in the first aid tent laughing.  Addie was eating kettle corn and finally relaxed.  Clarise was just finishing her story about her run in with the Civil War re-enactors and both Betty and Gladys were trying to catch their breath from laughing so hard.

Then it was Betty’s turn to regale the crowd with the story of her pie eating contest victory.

Both the story and the laughter were interrupted by the arrival of the Lofton chief of police.  Bill was ashen until he saw Betty sitting up, laughing and all right with friends.  The relief on his face, the look in his eyes made Betty turn to jelly.  She leapt up and hugged him.

“I’m sorry Bill.”

He hugged her back, then looked her over. “I hear you won a pie eating contest fought off a mugger and passed out or were knocked unconscious.  Witnesses aren’t sure.”

“Well now neither are we” Clarise broke in “And you darn well spoiled the story and I bet her version is funnier too.”

Bill looked at Clarise coldly.  “It isn’t funny.  None of this is.  There’s a bad gang of people out there and they’re getting away with everything short of murder.  You should know.”

It was Betty’s turn to turn on Clarise. “Why should you know?”

Clarise found something interesting to look at that wasn’t Betty.  “Maybe because somebody picked my back pocket.”

“Which you conveniently left out of your story.”

Clarise humphed. “As if you’d let a little detail spoil a good story.”

Betty had no answer for that. She turned to Bill, leaned into him, looked up at him.  “You’ll stop them Bill, I know you will.”

Bill sighed and sat down, pulling Betty onto his knee.  Betty did not mind one bit.

“Either that or I’ll make it just hot enough for them to take their ill-gotten gains and disappear.  I can’t let that happen or they’ll be back again next year and if that happens it’ll be the beginning of the end for the Lofton country fair.”

“It has to be a team or a gang of some sort.  I’d bet they’re pros too, from out of town.”  Betty added, “That should narrow it down a little.”

“There are twenty times more tourists than locals. Maybe more and before you blame the carnival company they’re all bonded and insured.  But you’re right about them being pros.”

Gladys nodded her agreement.  Addie looked around, frightened.  Clarise wrapped her arms around herself and hugged and Betty hugged Bill.