Back at the cottage, she put up with Killer and Miss Priss whining about her absence, but after petting them, she immediately headed for the house. Thankfully Violet was knee-deep in customers in the Herb Haven, so there was nothing stopping her from raiding the house. She carted two armloads of goodies back to the cottage. In the kitchen, she started a simmering French stew with a dash of lavender, baby carrots, sauterne and pearl onions. It was a little too early to make a fresh salad, but she put together a chocolate dip with fresh strawberries.
The clock seemed to be ticking so fast. She dragged the table outside, where itd be cool and shady in the early evening. She whisked on a blue-and-white tablecloth, then two settings of her mothers silverware and her grandmothers silver candlesticks. Last, she added white lilacs, setting them in jars in the kitchen and living room and on the table.
She checked on the food, glanced at the clock, then ran for the bath. Both animals seemed to think she wanted company in the bathroom. They supervised her entire bath, from the face mask to the shaving legs routine. They fled a safe distance during the pedicure and manicure, but homed back in while she was choosing clothes from her shopping expedition. Last came makeup-and there was a time shed been pretty darn good with face paints.
By then Miss Priss had leaped up on the sink to insure she didnt miss any of the exciting action, whereas Killer had dropped down to all fours and was snoring from boredom.
He may not come, she told the cat.
Miss Priss batted at the mascara, tipping it off onto the floor.
She picked it up. I dont know if hell understand the message, about the dog. She was like me. Grieving so hard that she stopped living, stopped wanting to live. Its Pete who shook me out of that, you know. Not all the people who were so kind. Pete. Who wasnt kind.
Miss Priss found the lip liner, and jumped down from the sink with her prize between her teeth-at least until Camille caught up with her. No, she said.
Unimpressed, the cat zoomed back on the sink and searched for more things of interest. Such as the blush brush.
I wasnt coping, she told the cat. Pete didnt cope for me. He didnt do anything for me. Instead, he pushed me into doing things. And by pushing me, he forced me to see that I was capable of doing things. I get all that now. But you know what I didnt realize?
Looking straight at her, the cat batted the brush on the floor.
Camille picked it up. I didnt realize that he was grieving, too. Hes hardheaded, just like me. Too stubborn to realize that getting over the hurt his ex-wife dealt him was terribly hard to do. Moving past any hurt that big is hard. But there comes a point where you have to make a choice.
The cat deserted her. Which left Camille completely alone-except for her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked almost-almost-like a Camille. Her legs were bare, shown off by the sassy red sundress. Her lips were glossed with a scarlet shine, her dark hair pulled back with two jet pins. She was slim. Way slimmer than she used to be, but her figure was starting to come back, and the dress accented what she had. Its fabric draped over her body perfectly. It made a woman feel like a woman, look like a woman, move like a woman.
The old Camille wasnt back. Shed never again be the young Camille that she used to be.
Shed grown up since then.
This Camille, though, had more depth. More potential. And more, of course, to risk losing.
Her eyes looked sultry with the hint of shadow and mascara, her lashes as soft as velvet against her cheeks. But there was fear in those eyes. Not fear of losing. Fear that shed already failed to love Pete the way he needed to be loved. And now it was too late.
Eleven
When Pete finally pulled in the drive, Sean was huddled in the passenger seat of the truck, silent as a stone. His son reminded him of himself in a sulk. He had the same moody eyes, the screw-you posture, the slouchy scowl.
Come on, Sean. I dont think Im being unreasonable. Id rather you worked on the land with me and your brother. You know how much we have to do this summer. But you can work there with the horses for a month. And if you still feel after six weeks that you want a horse, Ill do it.
Yeah, yeah.
Youre giving me all this attitude and I dont know why. Give me a break. You know how expensive that horse is going to be.
I know.
Youve loved every animal that was ever born. But neither of us is familiar with horses. A horse presents a different range of problems.
I know that, too.
So dont you think its a fair compromise? Work with the horses, be around them. Get a chance to see if you really like the animal and what itll take to keep one. Before jumping in.
Dad, for cripes sake. Sometimes I get so sick of your being reasonable. Yeah, thats all fair. Yeah, I want to work with them. But I wanted a horse right now, you know? Why cant you just let me sulk in peace for a while? Simon hurled out of the truck and slammed the door.
Pete stared after him, shaking his head. Teenagers.
Both boys had been pistols for a week now-and their grandfather had been just as huffy. Pete pocketed the truck key and strode toward the house, knowing full well the reason for their testiness. The family had assumed hed blown it with Camille. All three of them had actually believed he and Cam were going to tie the knot.
Hed told them it was never going to happen. Hed told them from the start; hed told them last week; hed told them this week. His dad had adored Camille from the day she was born, and the boys were crazy about her-so theyd only heard what they wanted to hear.
Pete could hardly confess the personal details, but he knew the truth. A man couldnt hold a woman through family or land or money or any other peripherals. There had to be something inside him that made her want to stay. Made her want to love. Made her want to commit. And Pete had already discovered the hard way, when Debbie left, that hed never had that mysterious something.
Hey, Dad! Simon suddenly barged out the back door, leaping down the two porch steps, his eyes bright with excitement. Sean, whod walked into the house with an old mans despair, bounded out right after his brother with the same exuberance.
Whats going on? Pete asked suspiciously.
We got something to show you. Hurry up, hurry up-its in the kitchen.
He followed, expecting anything-God knows the boys had put him through anything in the form of surprises before. Still, he could hardly be prepared for the heap taking up a vast amount of space on his kitchen floor.
The dog looked something like a loose puddle of caramel-colored wrinkles-tons of wrinkles. Pete hunkered down, pulled up an eyelid, and then the other. The eyes looked healthy, and the dog blinked, proving it wasnt dead. Beyond a hopeless moan, though, she appeared comatose.
Who would do this to us? Pete asked.
Simon chose to answer the questions he wanted to answer. Her name is Hortense. And shes depressed, because she belonged to a cop and now he died, and so shes grieving. Grieving bad. She needs love, Dad. She needs us. She needs you.
Pete was unimpressed with those answers. Who would do this to us? he repeated.
In fact, she said that Hortense especially needs you, because youre so great at helping somebody get over grief. And she oughta know. Simon added, I got her to eat some ice cream when I spooned it into her mouth. But then she went back to moaning on the floor again. Can we keep her, Dad? Can we?
Pete lifted the dogs head, looked into its sappy eyes, and shook his head again. Aw, come on, guys. Do you two have any idea how stubborn a hound is?
She saidthat was the point. That you knew how to deal with extra stubborn critters.
But this is a bloodhound. You cant tell a bloodhound anything.
Camille-she said you knew about that, too. She said that was why she thought of you, because you were really great with females who wouldnt listen. Shes paying us back, isnt she, Dad? Sean stood up, hooked his thumbs in the back jeans pockets, exactly the way Pete always did.
Yeah. And payback in a woman is ugly, son.
Simon stepped forward, doing the thumbs thing now, too. Well, I think we should keep her.
Who? Camille or the dog?
The boys exchanged glances. They werent going to touch that one with an electric prod, but he saw that hopeful glint in both their eyes. Damn dog is going to eat us out of house and home. And hounds smell unbelievable when theyre wet.
So? So do we. This logic was irrefutable to Sean.
I gotta tell you two more little things, Dad. Although I guess they could wait-
Hold it. When a fourteen-year-old didnt want to tell something, it meant it needed to be told. Yesterday if not sooner. Spill it, Pete instructed.
Camilleshe said, like, that you could bring the dog back. Simon hustled to get more in. Like you could bring it around seven. For dinner. But I told her youd be okay with the dog. Not to worry about it. I mean, you know she cant take in another animal. Not this fast. Not when we already pawned off Darby and the cat on her already.
So I dont have to go over there at seven unless Im taking the dog back? Messages relayed from teenagers always needed clarifying.
Actually, I think she wanted you to come over for dinner to talk. At seven. Dog or no dog. Thats how it came across. But
But what?
But then theres the other thing, Simon blurted out. Someone really messed with her.
Pete whipped his head around, no longer playing. What do you mean, messed with her?
Youre not even going to recognize her. Thats what I mean. Thats why I was thinking about not telling you about dinner. Because, like, if you go over there, dont start out telling her she looks horrible. I mean youll just make her feel bad. Whoever did that to herwell, its pretty scary. But I dont want Camille to feel bad, you know? I mean, whats the point. Like you always say, judge the person by what they do, not how they look-
For Gods sake, son, youre starting to scare me.
Simon threw up his hands in a classic male gesture. Youre scared. I took one look and hardly recognized her. So just watch it. Its done now. She cant help it, so be nice about it.