Kitabı oku: «Rocky Mountain Miracle», sayfa 3

Chapter Three

Scott struggled against a wave of exasperation. He was caught between trying to get things ready for the campers, while at the same time initiating a schedule to level the area and clear the property for potential buyers. Agreeing to open the camp had been a bad idea in the beginning, and it was getting worse by the minute.

Allie looked exhausted, tense and angry with him for challenging the decision to paint the room. On the defensive, he said, “I wished you’d asked me about it before putting in all this work.”

With a determined lift to her head, she replied firmly, “It was important to Pat that we finish the job your father started before he died. Patrick knew Sam wouldn’t want people in here with rain-stained walls even if this is the last time the room is to be used.”

Scott silently fumed. It was just like her and Patrick to bring his father into the matter. They’d made their feelings clear enough, but it was the height of folly for them to spruce up the place. “Well, what’s done is done.”

In a moment of weighted silence that followed, Trudy came in with a broom and cleaning rags, and seeing Scott, started bragging about the job they’d done.

“Are we painters, or are we painters?” she challenged, grinning. “I just may give up my job working in my dad’s restaurant, and find me a new career.”

Her light banter fell flat. Allie’s posture was stiff, and tension radiated from her jutting chin. Scott avoided eye contact with both of the women.

When neither Allie nor Scott returned Trudy’s smile, her expression changed to one of puzzlement. “What gives? Did I miss something?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Allie said. She reached out and took the broom from Trudy, and started sweeping. “As soon as we get this room cleaned up, we ought to check out one of the cabins and get settled. I don’t suppose it matters which one.”

“I think the first cabin is ready. I just checked to make sure you had bedding and firewood,” Scott said crisply. He ignored Allie, who had her back to him as she swept the floor. He recognized a cold shoulder when he got one, and directed his comments to Trudy. “I think everything’s in order for the couple of nights you’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Trudy answered. “We’ll be ready for a hot bath, won’t we, Allie?” A slight nod was all she got as Allie gave her attention to picking up some drop cloths.

“I’d invite you to put up at the house, but it’s a mess,” Scott said in an apologetic tone. “I’m trying to get everything sorted and moved out. I don’t think Dad threw away anything all the years he’d been here. He’s got so much worthless stuff packed away that I’m tempted to just bag and dump it.”

“That must be a challenge,” Trudy said sympathetically, doing her best to keep the conversation moving along compatible lines. “I’d sure hate to have the job of cleaning out my folk’s house. Every cupboard and closet is packed with stuff.”

“I’ve arranged for some book buyers, and secondhand store people to look things over. What they don’t take, I’ll have to haul away.” Scott wished he could just walk away from the whole thing. Maybe his mother was right. He should have stayed in California and handled everything long distance. Too late now, he chided himself. His hands were tied for another two weeks. He owed it to Pat and Dorie to stick around until the church camp was over.

“I love old stuff,” Trudy told him. Her large brown eyes sparkled. “Can I have a look-see before you get rid of all of it?”

Scott looked surprised. “Sure, be my guest. I have to warn you that most of the stuff is worn-out and wasn’t worth much when it was new.”

“You never can tell,” Trudy said with her usual optimism. “There might be a treasure amidst all the junk.”

“If there is, you’re welcome to it.” He gave one last look around at the newly painted room, and managed to say, “You ladies did a nice job.” Even if it was a stupid thing to do.

After he’d gone, Allie explained the situation to Trudy. “This building is going to be torn down with the rest of the camp in three weeks. Scott couldn’t believe we’d gone to all the work to paint it.” She shook her head, every bone in her body protesting the day of hard labor. “I can’t believe it, either.”

“Hey, some things aren’t suppose to last forever. You just have to enjoy them while you can, and then let them go.” Trudy tipped back her dark head and surveyed the rose-colored walls. “It’s enough that for three more weeks this is going to be the prettiest room in camp.”

Allie smiled at her. “How’d you get so smart?”

“Oh, it just comes naturally,” she answered flippantly. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

As they laughed together, Allie’s spirits rose, and by the time they’d put the activity room in order, she’d felt a new rush of energy. “Let’s move our stuff into the cabin, and see if the shower is working.”

“It’d better be. I’ve got enough rose-colored spots on me to pass for a case of measles.”

“Dorie’s invited us over to their house for supper.” Allie told her. “Their house is on the hillside across from the river. It’s about a half-mile walk up a dirt road as I remember.” Then she added with a smile, “Dorie said something about stuffed pork chops.”

“Stuffed pork chops?” Trudy patted her rather ample hips. “I really shouldn’t, but I’ve worked up an appetite with all this painting and cleaning.” She eyed Allie’s slim figure and sighed. “I bet you could eat twice as much as me, and never put on a pound.”

“I wasn’t raised around good cooking the way you were,” Allie said kindly. Trudy’s folks owned a successful family restaurant, and since she was around food all the time, it was no wonder she had trouble keeping her weight down. “Come on, let’s finish up here, and have a little time to put our feet up before dinner.”

When they checked the first cabin, they saw that Scott had been true to his word. Fresh bedding was in a neat pile at the foot of two of the beds, clean towels in the bathroom and an automatic coffeepot ready to be plugged in. An electric wall heater had been turned on low, but what surprised them both was wood laid for a fire in the fireplace, just waiting for the touch of a match.

“I love a log fire,” said Trudy as she plopped down on a rug, and lit the log kindling. When it was glowing, she stretched out full length in front of the fire, and closed her eyes. “I may have to change my mind about that guy.” She opened one eye and peered at Allie. “Maybe you should give him a little slack.”

“He’s got all the slack he needs,” Allie answered crisply as she got ready to take a shower.

“Hmm, sounds like there still may be a spark or two left between the two of you.”

Allie answered evenly, “Don’t try to play Cupid, Trudy. I don’t even know this changed Scott Davidson, and we have absolutely nothing in common anymore. After the church camp, we probably will never see each other again.” She gave a wry smile. “Of course, I may wring his neck long before then.”

“Uh-huh,” Trudy murmured. “You remember the old saying, don’t you? Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Something between you two is still burning, I’m thinking.”

“Well, think again,” Allie said curtly and went into the bathroom to take her shower. She was still fuming about the way Scott had lashed out at her. He was so blinded by his own selfish agenda that he couldn’t even appreciate Patrick’s feelings about the half-finished job Scott’s dad had left. Allie usually was able to keep a firm rein on her temper, but she was ready to hold a mirror up to Scott Davidson, and let him take a look at the self-centered person he’d become.

When they were ready to go to dinner at the O’Tooles’, Allie expected to drive the short distance, but Trudy said she’d better work off the pork chops before and after she ate them.

A lavender twilight was just settling in the canyon as heady pine-scented breezes still warm from the day’s sun sent pale green aspen leaves quivering over their heads. As they walked across a narrow bridge spanning the river, rushing waters rose and fell over polished stones, creating a melody of gurgling sounds. Glimmers of silver shone like liquid ribbons in flowing waters darkening to purple in the approaching night.

They had just started up a narrow road cut into the side of the hill, when they heard an engine coming up behind them. Moving quickly to one side, they looked over their shoulders just as Sam’s old pickup truck slowed down and stopped beside them.

“Want a lift?” Scott leaned over and opened the passenger door.

Before Allie could refuse, Trudy readily accepted, “Sure, thanks. The road’s steeper than I had expected. I didn’t know we were going to hike halfway up a mountain.” Laughing, she waved Allie into the seat first. “After you.”

A stubborn set to Trudy’s full lips warned Allie not to make a scene about who was going to sit in the middle next to Scott. Allie sent her a veiled look, thinking, “I’ll get even with you later,” as she climbed into the truck beside Scott.

The truck was an old one, and Trudy’s ample hips took up more than a third of the high, narrow seat. Allie did her best to keep from crowding Scott, but there was little she could do about the close quarters. As she sat beside him, she tried to ignore the effect of his body warmth, and the faint scent of spicy aftershave lotion that teased her nostrils. His hair was still moist from a recent shower, and she remembered how the dark strands had waved around his face when they’d gone swimming in a river pool. His profile was the same and yet different because his attractive masculine features were marred by unhappy lines in his forehead and around his mouth. He drove without looking at her, and she was uncomfortable in this forced intimacy.

Window lights were visible through the trees as he turned off the road and drove a short distance to a wide clearing in front of the house. Almost immediately the front door flew open, and Patrick’s rangy frame filled the doorway.

Scott was aware of Allie’s obvious relief as she got out of the car. When he’d offered a lift, he’d hoped that some of the earlier friction over the room painting might be set aside, but he’d felt her body stiffness as she tried to keep as much distance between them as the cab would allow. Undoubtedly the next two weeks would only increase the chasm that had already widened between them. Once the campers arrived, he planned to keep his distance from her and the others.

Accepting this dinner invitation had been spur of the moment. Even as he asked himself why on earth he’d let himself in for a whole evening with Allie, he knew the answer. He didn’t want to be alone in the house with memories of his dad and Jimmy. The sooner he was finished with Rainbow Camp the better, he decided as he took a deep breath, put a smile on his face and followed Allie and Trudy into the house.

Dorie had dinner ready, and she shooed them into the kitchen with a flutter of her apron. They sat at a round table, and bowed their heads as Pat said his favorite grace. “Father, God, be our guest, and may this food to us be blessed.”

The meal was beautifully simple and delicious: golden-brown stuffed pork chops, accompanied by fresh garden peas and a spinach salad. Rhubarb pie with wild strawberries was served with rich, amber coffee.

“It does my heart good to see you haven’t lost your appetite,” Dorie told Scott in a tone that suggested that there were other things about him that had been lost since she’d seen him last.

The O’Tooles were as hospitable as ever, but as the evening progressed, Scott realized that they were in the same place they’d been years ago when they first started working summers for his father. Contented with few luxuries, they still depended upon things they could grow, chickens and pigs they could raise and a goat they could milk. Patrick’s handyman work brought in what little income they had during the winter months, and he wondered how they would replace the modest income that the two of them earned helping his father with the camp. If they weren’t so shortsighted, they’d recognize that he was doing them a favor by selling off his dad’s land. Any new development in the area would raise the value of everyone’s property, and if the O’Tooles sold out at a huge profit, they could live more comfortably somewhere else.

Scott hadn’t intended to put his thoughts into words, but there was a lull in the table conversation that invited a change in topic. The women had been talking about church affairs, and the new minister that both Trudy and Allie liked.

“Have you and Dorie thought about selling this place?” Scott asked Patrick as they were sipping their coffee and eating Dorie’s delicious pie.

Both Patrick and Dorie lowered their forks almost as one, and looked at him as if he’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language. “Are you thinking of buying it?” Patrick asked dryly.

“No, of course not.” Scott forced a laugh. He knew then that he should have kept his thoughts to himself.

“Land’s sake, why would we be wanting to sell our home?” Dorie asked.

“Because you could get the kind of price that would put money in the bank.”

“Money for what?” Dorie asked, frowning. “To buy another house? To live somewhere else not half as nice?”

Allie brushed her lips with a napkin to hide the smile on her face. Scott had stepped into the mud hole with both feet. Obviously, money was the wrong criteria to measure the O’Tooles’ wealth of happiness. Didn’t he realize that Pat and Dorie were living a life of peace, joy and contentment that a huge bank account could never replace? What saddened Allie was remembering that as a youth Scott had never talked about making big money as a goal in life, but the man sitting across the table from her had sadly settled on financial prosperity as the measure of his life. What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

To ease the tension, Allie said, “What do you say we get the kitchen cleared, and then persuade Patrick to get out his guitar? Trudy and I have been harmonizing on some good old country tunes. We thought we’d do a couple for ‘Skit Night’ if Patrick would help us practice.”

“I reckon I could strum a tune or two for a couple of pretty lasses,” Patrick conceded as a smile creased his craggy face.

Scott suddenly felt out of place, and wished he’d stayed at the house. He had nothing in common with these people anymore. He couldn’t see that they had matured at all.

As soon as he could, he got to his feet and he said, “Thanks for the wonderful dinner, Dorie. I’m sorry but I’d better run along. I’ve got some business calls coming in later.”

“Sure and you’re always welcome at our table, Scott,” Dorie said with a sincere smile. “I’m hoping we’ll be seeing more of you while you’re here. You’ll probably be helping out with the young ’uns, won’t you?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered quickly. “I really had planned to have everything wound up by now and get back to my brokerage business. Because of the delay, I’ve had to put a computer in one of the bedrooms so I can work from here. I don’t expect to have any free time.”

“’Tis a shame you can’t take a little vacation for yourself,” Dorie said sadly. “Especially since this is the last time that there’ll be a Rainbow Camp.”

“The property will be put to good use,” Scott assured her. “There’s no doubt that I’ll get my price out of it.”

“So you’ve made up your mind to sell out, have ya?” Patrick pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Yes, I have,” Scott said firmly, looking the older man straight in the eyes.

“The Lord has made good use of that place for a good many years, and Sam was a good partner doing His work.”

“There’s a buyer all lined up to sign the papers,” Scott said flatly. “It’s a done deal.”

“Maybe not,” Patrick said. “Ever hear the saying, ‘Man proposes, and God disposes’?”

Scott gave a short laugh. He wasn’t going to argue. He’d made his plans, and he’d learned the hard way not to trust anything or anyone, but himself.

“Oh, you can’t leave now, Scott,” Trudy protested. “That hike back to the camp will finish me off for sure. If you hadn’t come along, I’d probably still be huffing and puffing to get here.”

“If Scott wants to leave, I’ll run you ladies back to camp,” Patrick volunteered, giving Scott a dismissing wave of his hand. “Go on, son, tend to your business.”

Allie surprised herself by jumping to Scott’s defense. “Time has a way of running over us sometimes. Maybe it’s a good idea if we all call it a night. Tomorrow is going to be another busy day.”

Dorie nodded. “I got a hundred things to do in the kitchen, but we’ll be ready for the children when they get here,” she said with the air of a coach urging her team to victory.

After a few minutes of conversation about what preparations still had to be made, Allie and Trudy said good-night. They gave Dorie a hug as they prepared to leave and Scott thanked her for the wonderful meal.

“We’ll take a rain check on the guitar playing,” Allie reassured Patrick, knowing in her heart that there wasn’t going to be any time for such idle happenings.

When Patrick saw the pickup parked out in front, he demanded, “Why are you driving Sam’s old Ford when you got that fancy rental car?”

“I was thinking about leaving it with you. I thought you might know someone who could make use of it. I hate to junk it.”

“Junk it!” He looked aghast. “You’re out of your blithering mind. Why there’s plenty of miles left in the old baby. Your dad and I spent many hours keeping it running. You’ll not be junking it, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Good,” said Scott, silently smiling as he turned away.

Chapter Four

The church bus was ready and waiting to load at nine o’clock Monday morning. Allie and Trudy had come back to town for the weekend, and had pulled together all the loose ends for the group’s stay at Rainbow Camp. Lily Twesbury and a middle-aged couple, Bob and Marie Tomlin, had all the supplies packed and ready to load on the bus.

As the youngsters began to arrive, Allie checked them off the list. “Stack your luggage over there so Barry can load it in the compartment.”

“These kids are taking enough stuff for a month,” Barry Nelson, the bus driver, complained. He shook his head as he surveyed the mountain stack of suitcases. A retired postman, he was the volunteer that drove the church bus whenever he was needed. He was a jovial fellow, claiming that after thirty years of “hoofing” it, he was always ready to take a ride. He wouldn’t put up with any horseplay on the bus, and even the most rambunctious kids settled down when he was in charge. He did double duty as bus driver and chaperon on youth outings.

Allie had checked off all but two names on her list of youngsters when she realized that Randy hadn’t showed up. Oh, no, she groaned inwardly. Was the belligerent boy going to be a no-show after all the work and effort she’d put into persuading him to come?

“What’s the matter?” Trudy asked, seeing a flicker of exasperation on Allie’s face.

“It’s Randy. We’re already fifteen minutes late leaving. I think he would have been here if he was going.” She handed the list to Trudy. “Mary Ellen is the only other one who isn’t here. Someone said she hurt her leg playing soccer on Saturday, so I doubt she’ll be able to come. I’m going to run in and call Randy’s foster parents and see what the story is.”

When Allie asked if Randy had changed his mind about going to camp, Mrs. Sloan, his foster mother, was astounded. “Why Randy was up at the crack of dawn getting ready. Never have seen a kid so excited. Jim dropped him by the church an hour early. Are you sure he’s not there?”

“He could be inside. Let me take a look around and call you back,” Allie told her, thinking that maybe all the excitement had made the boy sick and he was in the restroom.

She stopped at the office first, but Harriet hadn’t seen him. The church was built in an L-shape, with the sanctuary being the short leg of the building.

“Randy!” she called as she went through the church, and checked the restrooms. Allie’s heart sank with disappointment. Maybe the boy had chickened-out and taken off before the bus got there. He could be blocks from the church by now.

She was about to give up when she poked her head into the last classroom, and there was Randy. He stood near one of the opened cupboards carrying a backpack that was so heavy it rounded his slender shoulders. When he saw her, he stiffened like a cornered animal ready to flee.

“Oh, there you are,” Allie greeted him pleasantly, ignoring the guilty look on his face. Caught in the act, she thought. She knew there was nothing of great value in the Sunday school closets. What had he put in the backpack? Whatever it was, he must have really wanted it. She decided not to confront him with evidence of his obvious looting. First things, first. Getting the tough little boy on the bus and up to camp was the first order of business. “Come on, Randy, the bus is about ready to leave.”

As she hurried him out of the church, he kept darting anxious looks at her, but she just chatted about the ride ahead. When she suggested that he let Barry put his backpack with the rest of the luggage, he stubbornly refused.

Trudy raised a questioning eyebrow as Allie turned around to Harriet who had come to see them off. “Will you call Mrs. Sloan and tell her that Randy’s on the bus?”

“Sure thing. You guys have a wonderful time.” She gave both Allie and Trudy a hug. “I’ll say a prayer for you every day.”

“Better say two,” Allie said wryly as she saw Randy’s belligerent face pressed against the window.

They finally got everyone settled in the bus, after much last-minute shifting around in seats. Excitement was almost thick enough to cut as the children laughed and chatted during the two-hour drive.

Allie sat in an aisle seat by Cathy so the quiet, shy little girl could look out the window. Her deep blue eyes were wide with wonder as the bus rolled along past grass-covered meadows, sunflower-lined roads and horse pastures where sleek mares stood by foals only a couple of months old.

Cathy’s parents had been very nervous when they brought her to the bus. Obviously, this was the first time they’d entrusted their daughter’s care to anyone outside the family.

“Cathy has special needs, you know,” her mother had warned Allie as she handed her a list of things to watch for. “If she doesn’t have her hearing aids turned on, she doesn’t hear anything that’s going on, and even with her hearing aids, she misses a lot. Cathy knows how to change the batteries, but sometimes she forgets.”

“I’ll be sure and check on them every morning,” Allie had assured her. Allie impulsively gave Mrs. Crawford a hug and said softly, “Cathy’s going to be fine. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

Allie felt a sudden wash of happiness as she looked down at the beaming eight-year-old who was taking in everything with a kind of wondrous awe. What joy to see the excitement on her face as her narrow world expanded beyond anything she had experienced before.

The O’Tooles were ready and waiting to greet the bus when it rumbled across the bridge and stopped in front of the main building.

Scott was nowhere to be seen, and Allie couldn’t tell from the closed look about the house whether he was there or not. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. He’d already warned them that he was going to be too busy to get involved in any of the camping activities. But that knowledge still didn’t prevent her from hoping he’d show up anyway.

Scott was only vaguely aware of the invasion of the youthful campers during the day. He was ensconced in an upstairs bedroom, working on business matters, using his computer and the telephone. When daylight had faded, and the room was dark except for the radius of light from his desk lamp, he realized it was time to quit.

Weary and stiff from his sitting position, he went downstairs to scramble a couple of eggs and make toast for dinner. He was sitting at the kitchen table, listlessly eating his meal when the haunting beating of tom-tom drums reached his ears. He didn’t need to look out the window to know what was happening.

For a moment it seemed that time had played a trick on him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the leaping fire in the center of the camp where his dad had made an open stone fireplace. The spot was a favorite one for evening songs, stories and prayers. His heart tightened remembering how much Jimmy had liked to join in the evening sing-alongs, and the telling of ghost stories. Every night the two of them had lingered outside, looking up at the stars, reluctant to go to bed and making plans to sleep outside before the summer was over. They loved to pitch a tent near the river, and listen to its mesmerizing roar as the water tripped and fell over rocks in its rush down this side of the Continental Divide. They’d shared boyish secrets and dreams of adventures they would have when they reached manhood.

Scott put his head in his hands, wishing he were anywhere in the world but in this place of torment. He’d never considered himself a coward, but if running away from the past was a weakness, he was ready to give in to it. Why on earth had he allowed himself to be talked into delaying everything for two more weeks? His mother thought he was out of his mind, and he was beginning to believe it himself.

He allowed anger to cover up his loneliness as he strode around the house, sorting out things to be thrown away and making piles of pictures and books that the second-hand man might be interested in buying. Every closet and drawer assaulted him with memories; faint remembered scents teased his nostrils; everything in the house was a trigger to bring back feelings he wanted buried and forgotten.

For about an hour he heard the incessant drumbeats and waves of childish voices raised in Indian chants, and then the night took on an enveloping silence.

Good. He glanced at his watch. Eight-thirty. They’d be bedding the kids down for the night, and all would be quiet until six the next morning. He waited another fifteen minutes before wandering out on the porch. Ignoring the old swing, he leaned up against one of the porch posts and drew in a deep breath as he looked up at an evening sky that was like a velvet drape dotted with star spangles. He’d forgotten how pure and clean the air was at this altitude, away from the city’s spoils. Beginning to feel relaxed, he sat down on the front steps where he had a good view of the center of the camp.

He instantly stiffened. “What?”

The campfire was still burning! Surely they hadn’t forgotten to douse it thoroughly with water, but he couldn’t see any dark figures anywhere near the radius of light.

All was quiet.

Muttering to himself, Scott picked up a bucket from the corner of the porch, hurried down the steps to the house and strode toward the blazing bonfire. Making sure that all of the fires were out had been one of the responsibilities that his father had given him every summer. Sam had lectured them all about unattended campfires.

When he reached the fire, he saw that a ring of rocks contained the blazing wood, but the wind was coming up and sparks were beginning to fly upward. There was always danger that some could be blown away from the open area and into the nearby trees and underbrush.

He strode angrily past the campfire, and headed toward the creek to fill his bucket. A winding path led through a wooded area before opening up to a grassy bank along the mountain stream’s edge.

As Scott came out of the drift of trees, he stopped, startled to see a figure dipping water from the swift-flowing stream into a bucket. Moonlight touched Allie’s blond hair like golden tinsel and as she stood up, Scott pulled back into the shadows.

That halcyon summer they’d spent as much time together as they could. Sharing all their camp chores was one of the ways they could be together, and dousing the campfire had been one of them. Nightly they had walked down to the stream together to get water. Even now, he remembered the soft feel of her hand in his, and the way she’d looked up at him as they walked together to and from the stream. They hadn’t talked much. A soft laugh, a tender look and an amused smile were enough to convey an intimacy beyond words. That kind of closeness had been new to him that summer, and he’d never felt it with anyone else. Maybe some communion with another being belonged to the young and innocent.

As he watched her turn away from the river, and come up the path toward him, his courage failed. How could he meet her like this when all his senses were bombarding him with warring sensations? He quickly pulled back into a drift of thick pines, and blended into their shadows. The roar of the tumbling water had muffled his footsteps, and so she walked past him without knowing that he was only inches away.

He waited until she had put out the fire and had gone on the way to her cabin before he emerged from the trees. He strode back to the house and slammed the door shut behind him, as if he’d somehow escaped some nefarious entrapment from the past.