She heard him. But it seemed to hit her like a flash of light, that shed somehow joined life again. They were arguing about a real-life problem. She was participating in the argument. More to the point, all the life around her was seeping into her consciousness.
Clouds were puffing across the morning sky like baby steam engines. She could smell the lazy spring wind, the turned-over dirt. The workers-Petes employees-were pitchforking mulch in a rhythmic fashion, their laughter and chatter competing with the sound of the tractor blade still pushing mulch. The whole field smelled lushly rich and earthy. And the beautiful lavenderoh, it still looked like hell; Camille wasnt even halfway through the impossible job, and it was ridiculously late in the spring to believe she could make this happen. But the lavender was trying so hard, in spite of its earlier neglect. Every lavender plant showed growth. Green spurts. Buds. Reaching for the sun.
Her gaze wandered back to Pete, and then couldnt seem to let go. This morning he was wearing khakis, work boots, a short-sleeved shirt. His hair kicked up in the breeze. She could see the creases hed gotten from past summer suns, the frown lines from other life experiences, the laugh lines bracketing his mouth.
She remembered that mouthremembered it wooing hers, teasing hers, intimately taking hers. She remembered the artwork of hair on his chest, the color more mahogany, more lustrous, than the hair on his head. She remembered his muscled shoulders and tummy, those long, long legs, those funny feet.
Did you hear me? Pete demanded.
Really and truly, he had ugly feet. Big. Huge toes.
I just suggested your sister needed a brain transplant, he said, as if to make certain shed heard that insult.
Shed heard his teasing the first time. But she remembered those big, ugly toes rubbing against her in the night, remembered folding into his arms, remembered feeling hunger and a fury of passion and how erotically and ardently hed taken her in. And suddenly fear welled in her throat so thick she could barely swallow. She blurted out, I cant help it if I still love Robert.
As if he instantly understand her segue to a completely different subject, he said, Who asked you to help it?
You didnt ask. But Im afraid of hurting you, Pete.
Ill be damned. For some reason, do you think youre talking to a boy? Because Im a grown man, and it isnt up to you whether I get hurt or not. Its up to me. And I can handle my own life.
She tried again, struggling to understand the welling fear inside her, to be honest with him. Its easy for people to tell me to move on. Id be thrilled to move on. But ever since the trialits as if this door were locked and bolted inside me. I cant imagine loving anyone else that way again. Its not that I dont want to. Its that I dont think I could survive losing anyone else, volunteering for that kind of hurt, that kind of risk. I dont think I have that kind of love inside me. Not anymore.
Pete cocked a leg forward. Did you think someone was asking you for love?
Her eyes searched his. Actually, shed thought just that. That he needed love, that he deserved it, possibly more than any man shed ever met. That hed needed something from her, no different than she needed something from him. But now, he sounded so aggravated and huffy that she wasnt sure. I justwanted us both to be clear about what was going on.
Damn good sex is what went on, Cam. The best sex I can remember. Chemistry that was over the top. If you feel differently or are trying to tell me that you regret it-
I dont regret it.
If you want something more from me
Sheesh. She could feel the bristles climbing up her spine at his tone of voice. I dont want a damn thing, you blockheaded dolt! And theres nothing wrong with just sex either! Everything doesnt have to end up in a complicated, heavy relationship, for heavens sake!
So whats the problem?
There is no problem! And dont you forget it! Before he could even try saying anything else, she whipped around and stomped off.
Since it was Campbell lavender his workers were sweating over, she knew she should pitch in and be part of the mulch project. And she would. But just then she needed to dunk her head in a bucket of water to cool off. Try to be nice to the damn man and where did it get her? He didnt want to be cared about. Well, fine.
She didnt want him to care about her, either.
She walked so fast that she got a stitch in her side-except that somehow, that stitch seemed to locate right over her heart, and ached worse than a bee sting.
Eight
The only reason Camille went up to dinner was because she knew Violet would raise hell if she didnt. Still, she went to the trouble of unearthing some blush and lipstick-not for vanity-but hoping some face paint would hide her real mood from her sister.
As she crossed the yard to the farmhouse, though, her heart felt heavier than mud. Man. She thought shed shaken the worst of the dark funks in the past couple weeks, but the dragon had come back to bite her in the butt since arguing with Pete that morning.
It seemed as if every direction she turned, she was doing something wrong. Darn it, she was still living like a kid on a campout. She still couldnt seem to imagine a regular job, and couldnt dredge any interest in ever going back to the marketing work shed once loved. Shed gotten herself involved with a man whod been hurt by a woman before, and so had his boys. And if she didnt get her head on straighter, she risked hurting them, too. And she wanted and needed to help her sister do something-the problems with the lavender field being an obvious way Vi needed help-only Camille couldnt cope with that alone, either.
Uh-oh, Violet said the minute she walked in the door. Whats wrong?
Nothing! Im totally fine. Lets talk about you.
But Violet had always been her most annoying sister. Once Vi got it in her head there was a problem, the fussing never let up. No matter what she said, Violet tuned into a pep-up channel. Youre not useless. Dont be ridiculous. Everybody goes through hard things. You have to give yourself time to let yourself heal. Would you go through a surgical operation and expect to be back at work the next day?
Violet, you dont have to be so nice to me. Its driving me crazy to be such a burden.
Youre not a burden. What you need is strength. And I made just the foods to help you!
Violet laid out a feast. Lentil-rice patties. Some kind of fish with a spinach sauce. Lavender-buttered turnips and a lemon-lavender loaf. Peachy sweet potatoes.
Camille exchanged glances with Killer, who took one good sniff and then flopped on the floor with his eyes closed.
And I made you a tonic for those headaches you get, Violet said brightly.
Thanks so much.
The sweet potatoes are especially important. They have a natural estrogen. And the spinach and lentils-you have to build up some iron, some strength-so I want you to have double servings.
She glanced desperately at Killer again, but he shot her a look as if to say: Dont look at me. Shes your family, not mine.
By the time dinner was over, Camille was hungry enough to chew rope. Not only was the menu inedible, but Violet followed up with a whole bubbly program of ideas-like wanting to give her a massage and relaxation exercises and force her into a warm bath with lavender bath salts. The instant dishes were done, Camille fled with the dog.
She was almost desperate enough to drive into town for some doughnuts and Oreos and other serious staples, but once she got back to the cottage, she changed her mind. Still strewn through the living room were all the packing boxes and cases that she still hadnt tackled. They seemed glaring symbols of how long shed wallowed in being miserable. She simply had to get on the other side of this tragedy. Kick it up. Move on.
So she opened the first boxand immediately found a box of CDs. Roberts CDs. Like the songs hed played the first time hed made love to herand the music he always picked when they were dressing up for a night on the townand the music hed played the day theyd painted the kitchen. Her hands jumped back as if burned. She tried to realistically remind herself that shed never even liked Roberts music-any more than hed liked hers. But that wasnt the problem. The problem was the singe of memories.
She pushed that box aside and determined, cracked open a giant-sized crate. This one held kitchen supplies-only not the usual array of practical pots and pans-but wedding gifts. Sterling silver cake plates and fondue pots and butter warmers and waffle makers-still as new as the day shed opened them and warmly promised the gift givers that shed cherish and use their gift every day of their married lives.
Okay. So that was another throat-tightening box, but stubbornly she reached for a different one. This carton should have been memory-safe, because it held nothing but clothes-winter sweaters, hers, nothing that belonged to Robert. Except that the first item on top was the green sweater hed bought for her last birthday. She remembered opening it, remembered saying, Oh, I love it, you darling! but she also remembered having the traitorous thought that Robert couldnt possibly really know her, because shed never be able to wear that vomit-green color in a thousand years.
Camille slammed down that box, too, making Killer jump. Were going to throw all these things out tomorrow, she told the dog. And when Killer didnt look particularly believing, she said, Come on! Im not being a coward. Its not like that. For heavens sake, its almost eight oclock and weve been running all day. Its ridiculous to start anything this huge this late at night. But when Killer still looked skeptical, she said a four-letter word and knuckled under.
She couldnt just throw out boxes without looking at the contents, because there were serious belongings in some of them-things shed need once she got around to putting her life back together. So she sorted, then put box after box in the trunk of her car, then carted two entire trunk loads to the dump. That was all she could possibly handle, though. When she drove back home after the second trek, the sky was midnight-black; the wind had a scissor-sharp chill to it, and she was so whipped that her head was pounding.