Almost Paradise

by Debbie Macomber

  Ginny had roused the girls, and there was the typical mad confusion of morning. As usual, there was fighting over the bathroom and how long Jan and Jill hogged the mirror to braid each other’s hair.

  “My mattress has got more lumps than the Cream of Wheat we had the other day,” Gretchen muttered, sitting on the side of the bed and rubbing the small of her back.

  Pamela was stroking Ralph’s head with one finger inserted between the bars of the cage; both girl and rodent appeared content.

  Sally and Wendy were already dressed, eager to start another day, while Diane slumbered, resisting all wake-up notices.

  Sherry walked over to the sleeping youngster’s bunk and pulled out the Hardy Boys novel and flashlight from beneath her pillow. Once she’d turned the ten-year-old on to Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary, and other preteen series books, there had been no stopping her. Diane’s favorite had turned out to be John D. Fitzgerald’s Great Brain books. The dry textbook material had been replaced by fiction, and a whole new world had opened up to the little girl. Now Sherry had to teach Diane about moderation. “Sleeping Beauty,” she coaxed softly, “rise and shine.”

  “Go away,” Diane said and moaned. “I’m too tired.”

  “Ken-Richie hasn’t shown up yet,” Wendy muttered disparagingly. “I wonder if Longfellow’s ever going to return him.” She might have mentioned the ghost, but her narrowed gaze surveyed the room, accusing each one who was unlucky enough to fall prey to her eagle eye.

  “Hey, don’t look at me,” Sally shouted. “I wouldn’t take your stupid Ken-Richie if someone paid me. Batrachoseps attenuatus are my thing.”

  “What?” Gretchen demanded.

  “The California slender salamander,” Wendy informed her primly. “If you were really so smart, you’d know that.”

  “I’m not into creepy-crawly things the way you are.”

  “I noticed.”

  “If my American Express card can’t buy it, I don’t want it,” Gretchen informed her primly.

  “It’s nearly breakfast time,” Sally encouraged Diane, roughly shaking the other girl’s shoulder. “And Wednesday’s French toast day.”

  “I don’t want to eat,” Diane murmured on the tail end of a yawn. “I’d rather sleep.”

  “Listen, kiddo,” Sherry said, bending low and whispering in the reluctant girl’s ear, “either you’re up and dressed in ten minutes flat or I won’t loan you the other books in the Hardy Boys series.”

  Diane’s dark brown eyes flew open. “Okay, okay, I’m awake.”

  “Here.” Sally handed her a pair of shorts and matching top and Sherry looked on approvingly. The girls were developing rich friendships this summer. Even Gretchen, with her constant complaining and her outrageous bragging, had mellowed enough to find a friend or two. She still found lots of things that needed to be brought to Sherry’s attention, like lumpy mattresses and the dangers of sleeping too close to the window. Her credit card was flashed for show when her self-worth needed a boost, but all in all, Gretchen had turned into a decent kid.

  Feeling sentimental, Sherry looked around at the group of girls she’d been assigned and felt her heart compress with affection. These seven little wizards had securely tucked themselves into the pocket of her heart. She would long remember them. The girls weren’t all she’d recall about this summer, though. Memories of Roarke would always be with her. Her stay at the camp was nearly half over, and already she dreaded leaving, knowing it was doubtful that she’d see Roarke again. The thought brought with it a brooding sense of melancholy. For all their differences, she’d come to appreciate him and his efforts at the camp.

  —

  Much to Sherry’s surprise, and probably Fred Spencer’s, too, the occupants of Cabin Four arrived in the dining hall precisely on time and without stragglers. French toast was a camp favorite, and when the girls had finished, Pamela slipped Sherry an extra piece of the battered bread and asked if she would feed it to Ralph.

  “Sure,” Sherry assured the child. “But I’ll tell him it’s from you.”

  The blue eyes brightened. “He likes you, too, Miss White.”

  “And I think he’s a great mascot for our cabin,” she admitted in a whisper.

  Once the mess hall had emptied, Sherry poured herself a steaming cup of coffee and paused to savor the first sip. She had just raised the cup to her lips when Lynn entered the room, paused to look around, and, seeing Sherry, hurried across the floor.

  “How’d it go?”

  Lynn bit her lower lip and dejectedly shook her head. “Not good, but then I didn’t expect it would with Mr. Roarke in such a lousy mood.”

  “He didn’t fire you, did he?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But…” Sherry was so outraged she could barely speak. She hadn’t believed he’d do something so unfair. True, the two had broken camp rules, but so had she, so had everyone. It wasn’t as though Lynn and Peter were overtly carrying on a torrid romance. No one was aware that they cared for each other. If Roarke hadn’t found their notes, he wouldn’t even have known they were interested in each other.

  “I have to pack my bags,” Lynn said calmly, but her voice cracked, relaying her unhappiness. “But before I go, I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed working with you.” Tears briefly glistened in the other girl’s eyes.

  Flustered and angry, Sherry ran her fingers through her hair and sadly shook her head. “I don’t believe this.”

  “He was upset, partly because of what happened this morning, I think, and other problems. There’s a lot more to being camp director than meets the eye.”

  Sherry wasn’t convinced she would have been so gracious with Roarke had their circumstances been reversed.

  “Listen,” Sherry said and braced her hands against her friend’s shoulders. “Let me talk to him. I might be able to help.”

  “It won’t do any good,” Lynn argued. “I’ve never known Mr. Roarke to change his mind.”

  While chewing on her lower lip, a plan of action began to form in Sherry’s befuddled mind. Sure, she could storm into Roarke’s office and demand an explanation, but they’d just end up in another shouting match. As the camp director, he would no doubt remind her that whom he chose to fire or hire was none of her concern. The risk was too great, since he could just as easily dismiss her. Following the events of the past few days, she would be cooking her own goose to openly challenge him.

  Her plan was better. Much better.

  “Don’t pack yet,” Sherry said slowly, thoughtfully.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. Go to your quarters and wait for me there.”

  “Sherry”—Lynn’s brow creased with a troubled frown—“what do you have in mind? You don’t look right. Listen, Mr. Roarke isn’t having a good day—I don’t think this would be the time to talk to him.” Lynn paused, set her teeth to chewing at the corner of her mouth, and sighed. “At least tell me what you have in mind.”

  Sherry shook her head, not wanting to answer in case her scheme flopped. “Don’t worry. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” Lynn agreed reluctantly.

  Sherry headed directly to Roarke’s office, knocking politely.

  “Yes.”

  Sherry let herself inside. “Hello.”

  —

  He hesitated, then raised his pen from the paper. This morning was quickly going from bad to worse. He’d been angry when he’d talked to Lynn and Peter. Angry and unreasonable. He’d dismissed them both unfairly and had since changed his mind. Already, he’d sent a message to the two to return to his office. He never used to doubt his decisions. Everything had been cut-and-dried. Black or white. Simple, uncomplicated. And then Sherry had tumbled into his peaceful existence with all the agility of a circus clown, and nothing had been the same since. He wanted to blame her for his dark mood. She occupied his mind night and day. Fiona was insipid tea compared to Sherry’s sparkling champagne.

  Sherry
tempted him to the limit of his control. A simple smile left him weak with the longing to hold her. The energy it required for him to keep his hands off her was driving him crazy and weakening him. The situation between them was impossible, and his anger with Lynn and Peter had been magnified by his own level of frustration. And here she was again.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Miss White?”

  Her steady gaze held his. “I came to apologize.”

  “What have you done this time?”

  His attitude stung her ego, but Sherry swallowed down her indignation and continued calmly. “Nothing new, let me assure you.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Her hand touched the chair. “Would you mind if I sat down?”

  Pointedly, he glanced at his watch. “If you insist.”

  Sherry did, claiming the chair. “Things haven’t gone very smoothly between us lately, have they?” she began in an even, controlled voice. “I decided that perhaps it would be best if we cleared the air.”

  “If it’s about Longfellow—”

  “No,” she interrupted, then sadly shook her head. “It’s more than that.”

  For several moments, he was silent, giving Sherry time to compose her thoughts. She’d come on Lynn and Peter’s behalf, yearning to turn circumstances so he would rehire the two teenagers. That had been her original intention, but now that she was in his office, she couldn’t go through with it. What she felt for this man was real, and their minor differences were quickly forming a chasm between them that might never be spanned unless she took the first leap. She turned her palms up and noted that his hard-sculpted features had relaxed. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

  “Miss White—”

  “Sherry,” she cried in frustration. “My name is Sherry and you know it.” Abruptly, she made a move to stand, her hands braced on the chair arms. “And this is exactly what I’m talking about. I don’t call you Mr. Roarke, yet you insist on addressing me formally, as if I were…I don’t know, some stiff, starched counselor so unbending that I refuse anyone the privilege of using my name.”

  Roarke’s gaze widened with her outburst. “You came to apologize?” He made the statement a question, confused by her irrational behavior. Sherry was too gutsy to be ambivalent. Whatever it was she had to say was real enough to sincerely trouble her.

  “That was my original thought,” she said, standing now and facing him. “But I’m not sure anymore. All I know is that I want things to be different between us.”

  “Different?”

  “Yes,” she cried. “Every day, it seems, there’s something that I’ve done to displease you. You can’t even look at me anymore without frowning. I don’t want to be a thorn in your side or a constant source of irritation.”

  “Sherry—”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, interrupting him with a soft smile. “I feel a thousand times better just having you say my name.”

  The frown worrying Roarke’s brow relaxed, and a slow, sensuous smile transformed his face. “Although I may not have said it, I’ve always thought of you as Sherry.”

  “But you called me Miss White.”

  “The others…”

  Briefly, she dropped her eyes, remembering Fred Spencer’s dislike of her. “I know.”

  “I haven’t been angry with you; it’s just that circumstances have been working against us.”

  “I realize I haven’t exactly made things easier.”

  Sherry didn’t know the half of it, Roarke thought. At least once a day he’d been placed in the uncomfortable position of having to defend her from the jealousy and resentment of some others. But she was by far the most popular counselor in camp, and neither he nor anyone else was in any position to argue with her success.

  “I know, too,” she continued, “that you’ve turned your head on more than one occasion while I’ve bent the rules and disrupted this camp.”

  “Bent the rules,” he repeated with a soft laugh. “You’ve out and out pulverized them.”

  Sherry sighed with relief; she felt a hundred times better to be here with him, talking as they once had in the moonlight. How fragile that truce had been. Now, if possible, she wanted to strengthen that.

  “It’s important to me, Roarke—no matter what happens at camp—that we always remain friends.”

  Looking at her now, with the sunlight streaming through her chestnut hair, her dark eyes imploring his, searing their way through the thickest of resolves, it wasn’t in Roarke to refuse her anything.

  “You can be angry with me,” she said. “Heaven knows I’ve given you plenty of reasons, but I have to feel deep down that as long as we share a foundation of mutual respect it won’t matter. You could call me Miss White until the year 2020 and it wouldn’t bother me, because inside I’d know.”

  Roarke was convinced she had no idea how lovely she was. Beautiful. Intelligent. Witty. Fun. He felt like a boy trapped inside on a rainy day. She was laughter and sunshine, and he’d never wanted a woman as badly as he did her at this moment.

  He stood and moved to her side. Her gaze narrowed with doubt when he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Just friends?” he asked softly, wanting so much more. After the first week he’d thought to send her straight back to Seattle, because in a matter of only a few days, she’d managed to disturb his orderly life and that of the entire camp. He hadn’t. Her candor and wit had thrown him off balance. But staring at her now, he realized her eyes disturbed him far more. She had beautiful, soulful eyes that could search his face as though she were doing a study of his very heart.

  —

  Sherry’s palms were flattened against Roarke’s hard chest; her head tilted back to question the look in his eyes. Surely she was reading more than was there—yet what she saw caused her heartbeat to soar. “Roarke?” she questioned softly, uncertain.

  “I want to be more than friends,” he answered her, lowering his mouth to hers. “Much more than friends.”

  Her lips parted under his, warm and moist, eager and curious. For weeks she’d hungered to feel Roarke’s arms around her and to experience the taste of his kiss. Now that she was cradled securely in his embrace, the sensation of supreme rightness burned through her. It was as though she’d waited all her life for exactly this moment, for exactly this man.

  His arms tightened around her slender frame as he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving hungrily over hers, insistently shaping her lips with his own. Roarke’s spirit soared and his heart sang. She’d challenged him, argued with him, angered him. And he loved her, truly loved her. For the first time in his life, he was head over heels in love. He’d thought himself exempt from the emotion, but meeting Sherry had convinced him otherwise.

  “Sherry,” he said with a groan. As his hands pushed her hair away, he spread eager kisses over her face.

  Sherry’s world was spinning, and she slid her hands up his chest to circle his neck, clinging to the very thing that caused her world to careen out of control. She was lost in a haze of longing.

  Roarke sighed as she fit her body snugly to his. His mouth crushed hers, sliding insistently back and forth, seducing her with his moist lips until hers parted.

  Sherry thought she’d die with wanting Roarke. He tore his lips from hers and held her as though he planned never to let her go. His arms crushed her, but she experienced no pain. Physical limitation prevented her from being any closer, and still she wasn’t content, seeking more. His arms were wrapped around her waist, locked at the small of her back. She rotated her hips once, seeking a way to satisfy this incredible longing.

  “Sherry, love,” he said with a groan, “don’t.”

  “Roarke, oh Roarke, is this real?”

  “More real than anything I’ve ever known,” he answered after a long moment.

  She moved once more and he moaned, drew in a deep, audible breath, and held it so long that she wondered if he planned ever to breathe again.

  Raising her ha
nds, she lovingly stroked his handsome face. “I feel like I could cry.” She pressed her forehead to his chest. “I’m probably not making the least bit of sense.”

  Gently, he kissed the crown of her head. “I’ve wanted to hold you forever.”

  “Roarke,” she said solemnly, raising her eyes to meet his. Her heart was shining through her gaze. “You can’t fire Lynn and Peter. Please reconsider.”

  —

  The words were like a knife ripping into his serenity. Roarke released Sherry and stepped back with such abruptness that she staggered a step. “Is that what this is all about?”

  Her eyes mirrored her bewilderment. “No, of course not,” she murmured, but she couldn’t meet the accusing doubt in his eyes. “Originally I came because Lynn told me you’d dismissed both her and Peter, but…”

  “So you thought that if you could get me to kiss you, I’d change my mind.”

  That was so close to the truth that Sherry yearned to find a hole, curl up in it, and magically disappear. The words to explain how everything had changed once she’d arrived at his office died on her lips. It would do no good to deny the truth; Roarke read her far too easily for her to try to convince him otherwise.

  She didn’t need to say a word for him to read the truth revealed in her eyes. “I see,” he said, his voice heavy with resentment.

  Sherry flinched. She had to try to explain or completely lose him. “Roarke, please listen. I may have thought that at first, but…”

  The loud knock against the door stopped her.

  His face had become as hard as stone and just as implacable. “If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

  “No,” she cried. “At least give me a chance to explain.”

  “There’s nothing more to say.” He walked across the room and opened the door.

  Lynn and Peter stood on the other side. Instantly Lynn’s gaze flew to Sherry, wide and questioning.