Still, it was his boys who exploded out of the truck. Par for the course, they looked like refugees from a rascal camp, hair all over the place, tripping as they galloped toward her in pants that sagged below their shoes.
They both yelled, Hey, Camille! as if they were delighted to see her, when the damn boys knew perfectly well shed been churlish and rude to both of them. She frowned as they sprinted toward her, noting that Killer opened his eyes but didnt waste any energy barking or snarling for either of them.
You gotta come with us! Sean reached her first, panting since hed run the lavender rows at a breakneck pace.
Yeah, were going to dinner and a movie. But we only get to go if you come.
Whoa, Camille said firmly, thinking that she was going to strangle her sister and not look back. Shed trusted Vi. Sure, sisters threatened each other-thats what sisters did-but damnation, shed never thought Violet would sink so low as to sic an outsider on her. Telling Daisy or mom on her would have been loathsome. But sheesh. Tattletaling to Pete was low-down mean.
Its a school night, Simon explained. Which means that we usually never get to do anything. Much less go to a movie. Much less go out to dinner and not have to do dishes. And Gramps is going to play euchre with his friends, so he doesnt need us at home.
Well, thats nice. But you dont need me to come with you.
Dad says we do. Dad says, if we can get you to go, then fine. Otherwise we have to go back home and do dishes and homework. Come on, Camille.
Yeah, come on. The future of our world rests with you. You want us to have to go home and wash dishes? I mean, is that fair?
She wasnt just going to kill her sister. She was going to feed her sister to red ants. On a hot day. After Violet had been slathered with honey.
Camille pushed at her hair. Look, guys. I feel your pain. I think dishes are a fate worse than death, too. But Im not going anywhere. You dont need me. Ive been working outside. My hands are dirty. Ive been in these jeans all day. I-
Like, so? Sean said in confusion.
To a woman she wouldnt have to explain. So I cant go out in public like this.
Thats dumb, Simon informed her. We like how you look. You look like one of us.
She wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose. She realized the boys meant a compliment. The boys often meant a compliment when they were insulting her, so there was no point in being offended. Look, Sean. Simon. I know youre trying to do something nice-
We are not! Nobodys trying to do anything nice! Were just trying to get out of chores and housework! Cripes, Camille. Its a free movie, whats the big deal?
Sean sighed, then offered the ultimate sacrifice. We wont have any farting or burping contests. In fact, well do our best not to act normal at all. Then he noticed the dog. Hey, Darbys looking really good.
Hes been answering to the name Killer for several days now.
Whatever. Look, you could think of the movie like our chance to thank you for saving Darbys life. Isnt that a good reason? And you like McDonalds, dont you? You dont do that tofu thing like your sister?
Oh, man. She could feel her resolve slip a notch. She hadnt considered the one gigantic benefit to leaving home-the chance to escape yet another healthful, herb-laden, vegetable-chocked, leafy dinner. She imagined a French fry. Heaped with salt and ketchup. Then sighed. Damn. But no. And I really mean no. See, my sister cooks. So I cant just take off when shes already gone to the trouble of making dinner-
Oh, she said it was okay. In fact, she called Dad. That was how we knew you could go. She told Dad she was gonna have a makeup party. Or a makeover party. Whatever. Like that. Something for women. And we knew you wouldnt want to have anything to do with that crud, would you, Camille?
Again, Camille wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose. She didnt give a damn about her appearance. That was the truth. The total truth. But it was starting to grate-just a wee bit-that the boys seemed so sure she didnt care if she were the ugliest female troll to ever walk under a bridge.
She opened her mouth to answer them, yet somehow at that instant met Petes eyes. From the distance across the field, it wasnt as if she could really see him, but she felt him looking at her. Felt the flush of warmth from his looking at herand the flush of memories from the last time shed ended up in his arms.
Come on, Cam, come on, come on-
All right. Their nagging was so relentless that she couldnt think, couldnt keep it together enough to hold firm. And then suddenly the boys were whooping around her, pulling her arms, and then she was boosted into the back of the truck with the pair of them. Killer promptly started a holy howling.
Pete swore, stopped the truck, got out, and lifted the dog into the back of the truck. Camille, openmouthed, watched the dog submit to being carried and then riding in the truck bed as if this were the best thing that had happened to him in a week of Sundays. Pete drove to her backyard and dropped Killer off in the fenced-in area. The dog started the holy howling thing again.
Quit it. Im bringing her back in a couple hours, Pete promised the dog.
I hate to hear him cry. We could have brought him, Sean said.
To dinner?
He could have had a hamburger.
And then been stuck in the truck for two hours while we watched a movie?
Sean, having lost that argument, charged into another one. Hed pinned down the horse he wanted. It was a Morgan. Morgans could work or race or do whatever they wanted. Morgans were beautiful. And perfect for the family.
Camille listened to Seans nagging and Petes quiet, persistent answers, which saved her having to make any conversation. But she was as aware of Pete as if they were alone. His eyes kept meeting hers in the rearview mirror.
Camille listened to Seans nagging and Petes quiet, persistent answers, which saved her having to make any conversation. But she was as aware of Pete as if they were alone. His eyes kept meeting hers in the rearview mirror.
He seemed to be communicating something with his eyes, but she didnt know what. Why had he wanted her to come with him and the boys? And sure, Violet must have called him-otherwise how would he have come up with this harebrained scheme to get her off the farm? But why would he want a woman as goofy and misplaced as she was these days around his two sons?
Naturally, she figured sex was part of the equation. After that last set of kisses, shed have to be in a coma not to recognize the hormones running amok between them. But it was one thing for her to have a lust attack-she was already bonkers, for heavens sake. Pete had no motivation in the universe to sleep with a woman whod turned mean as a rattlesnake and was neurotic besides.
The problem was so confusing that she gave up and sat back. In spite of herself, she almost started to relax. She even started to feelsillyhow stubbornly shed hermited herself on the farm. No, she didnt want to be about people. She didnt need or want people in her life. Ever again.
But the drive into town was as familiar as her own heartbeat. Shed forgotten how the narrow road twisted around hills, curved into valleys. They passed Firefly Hollow-where every teenager in the county made out. And after that came old man Swishers pond-there were lots of ponds in the area, but Swishers had a big old cotton tree with a limb just perfect for swinging into the water.
Pete muttered a swearword when he got jammed up behind a ponytailed farmer on a tractor-making Camille smile. The farmer was slogging along around fifteen miles an hour and showed no inclination to either budge or get off the road-but then this was Vermont. All the hippies whod paused here in the 60s never left. Likewise, all the homesteaders whod come here three hundred years ago-like her family, like Petes-were just as cussedly independent as their ancestors.
They passed red barns and fences, a hillside that had gotten away from a farmer and was already being taken over by red clover and buttercups. Patches of elms and big old sugar maples shaded parts of the road, and then the landscape suddenly burst into sunshine. Off to the left was the tip of a silvery lake; to the right, a red covered bridge, and then there was one last turn into White Hills.
Her heart unexpectedly lightened. It was going to be fine, she thought. She felt Petes gaze in the rearview mirror-still talking with Sean about Morgan horses-but checking on her. Or checking in with her.
You okay? he mouthed.
As if it was his business. I think you should get Sean a horse, she said. His son immediately whooped triumphantly, thrilled to have a new ally, and Pete gave her a look that clearly condemned her as a traitor-but it distracted him again.
She didnt want him looking at her. Didnt want to feel that coil of warmth curl up in her belly when he smiled at her, looked at her, tried to connect with her.
The town rushed up to grab her attention then, besides. White Hills was named because of the streaks of marble and limestone that looked stark white against the emerald-green countryside. Century-old trees shaded the town. Everything looked exactly as she remembered-the tall, skinny brick houses with green shutters, the white fences smothered in ivy, the cobblestone streets. At the highest point in town was a white frame church with a sharp white steeple-how corny could you get? Yet Camille had always loved that darn church, loved that stereotypical white steeple, loved the cobblestone streets.
Comforting memories of childhood wrapped her in a feeling of safety. Unlike everywhere else, White Hills had never wanted to grow. Apparently theyd been grudgingly forced to add a McDonalds and a Wal-Mart, but the Wal-Mart was banished from sight, and the fast-food places were allowed on Main Street only if their architecture disguised their nefarious purpose.
Okay, weve only got twenty minutes before the movie, so were just going to do a fast carry-out, all right with everyone? And no ones getting anything thats good for them, so dont even try begging me for vegetables and salads. Pete pulled in, and minutes later doled out the goodies.