Pamela laughed, and the others quickly joined in.
For all their bickering, Sherry’s wizards were doing well—and even enjoying themselves. With so much time spent in the classroom in academic ventures, there had been little planned exercise for the girls.
“We’ll take a break in a little bit,” Sherry promised.
“It’s a good thing,” Gretchen muttered despairingly.
“Really,” Sally added.
“Don’t listen to them, Miss White,” Pamela piped in, then lowered her voice to a thin whisper. “They’re wimps.”
“Hey! Look who’s calling a wimp a wimp!”
In mute consternation, Sherry raised her arms and silenced her young charges. Before matters got out of hand, she found a fallen log and instructed them to sit.
Grumbling, the girls complied.
“Snack time,” Sherry told them, gathering her composure. She slipped the bulky backpack from her tired shoulders. “This is a special treat, developed after twenty years of serious research.”
“What is it?” Sally wanted to know, immediately interested in anything that had to do with research.
Already Gretchen was frowning with practiced disapproval.
Sherry ignored their questions and pulled a full jar of peanut butter from inside her pack. She screwed off the lid and reached for a plastic knife. “Does everyone have clean hands?”
Seven pairs of eyes scanned seven pairs of hands. This was followed by eager nods.
“Okay,” Sherry told them next, “stick out an index finger.”
Silently, they complied and shared curious glances as Sherry proceeded down the neat row of girls, spreading peanut butter on seven extended index fingers. A loud chorus of questions followed.
“Yuck. What’s it for?”
“Hey, what are we supposed to do with this?”
“Can I lick it off yet?”
Replacing the peanut butter in her knapsack, Sherry took out a large bag of semisweet chocolate chips.
“What are you going to do with that?”
“Is it true what you said about not leaving camp without chocolate chips?”
“Scout’s honor!” Dramatically, Sherry crossed her heart with her right hand, then tore open the bag of chocolate pieces, holding it open for the girls. “Okay, dip your finger inside, coat it with chips, and enjoy.”
Gretchen was the first to stick her finger in her mouth. “Hey, this isn’t bad.”
“It’s delicious, I promise,” Sherry told her wizards as she proceeded from one girl to the next.
“It didn’t really take twenty years of research for this, did it?” Sally asked, cocking her head at an angle to study her counselor.
Sherry grinned. “Well, I was about twenty when I perfected the technique.” She swirled her finger in the air, then claimed it was all in the wrist movement.
The girls giggled, and the sound of their amusement drifted through the tall redwoods that dominated the forest. Sherry found a rock and sat down in front of her wizards, bringing her knees up and crossing her ankles.
“When I was about your age,” she began, “my dad and I went for a hike much like we’re doing today. And like you, I complained and wanted to know how much farther I was going to have to walk and how long it would be before I could have something to eat and where the closest restroom was.”
The girls continued licking the chocolate and peanut butter off their fingers, but their gazes centered on Sherry.
“When we’d been gone about an hour, I was convinced my dad was never going back to the car. He kept telling me there was something he wanted me to see.”
“Can you tell us what it was?”
“Did you ever find it?”
“Yes, to both questions,” Sherry said, coming to her feet. “In fact, I want to show you girls what my father showed me.” She led them away from the water’s edge. The girls trooped after her in single file, marching farther into the woods to the lush meadow Sherry had discovered with Lynn earlier in the day.
A sprinkling of flowers tucked their heads between the thick grass, hidden from an untrained eye.
“This is a blue monkshood,” Sherry said, crouching down close to a foot-tall flower with lobed, toothed leaves and a thin stalk. Eagerly the girls gathered around the stringy plant that bloomed in blue and violet hues.
“The blue monkshood can grow as tall as seven feet,” Sherry added.
“That’s even bigger than Mr. Roarke,” Diane said in awe.
At the sound of Jeff Roarke’s name, Sherry’s heart went still. She wished now that she’d taken time to talk to him and learn what he’d found so troubling. His eyes had seemed to avoid hers, and he’d been so distant. The minute they returned to camp, Sherry decided, she was going directly to his office. If she wasn’t part of the problem, then she wanted to be part of the solution.
“Miss White?”
“Yes?” Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Sherry smiled lamely.
“What’s this?” Wendy pointed to a dwarf shrub with white blossoms and scalelike leaves that was close by.
“These are known as cassiopes.” Sherry pronounced the name slowly and had the girls repeat it after her. “This is a hearty little flower. Some grow as far north as the Arctic.”
“How’d you learn so much about wildflowers?” Gretchen asked, her eyes wide and curious.
“Books, I bet,” Diane shouted.
“Thank you, Miss White,” Gretchen came back sarcastically.
“I did study books, but I learned far more by combining reading with taking hikes just like the one we’re on today.”
“Are there any other flowers here?”
“Look around you,” Sherry answered, sweeping her arm in a wide arc. “They’re everywhere.”
“I wish Ralph were here,” Pamela said with a loud sigh. “He likes the woods.”
“What’s this?” Sally asked, crouched down beside a yellow blossom.
“The western wallflower.”
Gretchen giggled and called out, “Sally found a wallflower.”
“It’s better than being one,” came the other girl’s fiery retort.
“Girls, please!” Again, Sherry found herself serving as referee to her young charges.
“I don’t want camp to end,” Wendy said suddenly, slumping to the ground. She shrugged out of her backpack and took out her Barbie and Ken dolls, holding them close. “But I want to go home, too.”
“I feel the same way,” Sherry admitted.
“You do?” Seven faces turned to study her.
“You bet. I love each one of you, and it’s going to be hard to tell you all good-bye, but Camp Gitche Gumee isn’t my home, and I miss my friends and my family.” As much as she’d yearned to escape Phyliss, Sherry knew what she was saying was in fact true. She did miss her father and her individualistic stepmother. And although California was beautiful, it wasn’t Seattle.
“Are you planning to return next year, Miss White?” Pamela asked timidly.
Sherry nodded. “But only if you and Ralph will be here.”
“I come back every summer,” Gretchen said. “Next year I’m going to have my mother request you as my counselor.”
Sherry tucked her arm around the little girl’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “What about the lumpy mattress?”
“I said I was going to request you as my counselor, but I definitely don’t want the same bed.”
Sherry laughed at that, and so did the others.
The afternoon sped past, and by the time they returned to camp, Pamela had gotten stung by a bee, Jan and Jill had suffered twin blisters on their right feet, and Sally had happened upon two varieties of skipper moths. With a little help from her friends, she’d captured both and brought them back to camp to examine under her microscope.
The tired group of girls marched into camp as heroes as the other kids came running toward them, full of questions.
“Where did you guys go?”
“W
ill our counselor take us on a search for wildflowers, too?”
“How come you guys get to do all the fun stuff?”
“Miss White.”
Jeff Roarke’s voice reached Sherry, and with a wide, triumphant grin she turned to face him. The smile quickly faded at the cool reception in his gaze, and his dark, brooding look cut through her like a hot needle.
“You wanted to see me?” Sherry asked.
“That’s correct.” He motioned with his hand toward his office. “Lynn has agreed to take care of your girls until you return.”
Lynn’s smile was decidedly weak when Sherry’s gaze sought out her friend’s. Sherry paused, heaved in a deep breath, and wiped the grime off the back of her neck with her hand. Her face felt hot and flushed. So much for her triumphant entry into Camp Gitche Gumee.
“Would you mind if I washed up first?” she asked.
Roarke hesitated.
“All right. A drink of water should do me.”
They paused beside the water fountain, and Sherry took a long, slow drink, killing time. She straightened and wiped the clear water from her mouth. Again, Roarke’s gaze didn’t meet hers.
“I-It’s about the references, isn’t it?” she asked, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling. “I know I shouldn’t have falsified them—I knew it was wrong—but I wanted this job so badly and—”
It didn’t seem possible that Roarke’s harsh features could tighten any more without hardening into granite. Yet, they did, right before her eyes.
“Roarke,” she whispered.
“So you lied on the application, too.”
Sherry’s mind refused to cooperate. “Too? What do you mean ‘too’? That’s the only time I ever have, and I didn’t consider it a real lie—I misled you is all.”
His look seared her. “I suppose you ‘misled’ me in more than one area.”
“Roarke, no…never.” Sherry could see two months of a promising relationship evaporating into thin, stale air, and she was helpless to change it. She opened her mouth to defend herself and saw how useless it would be.
“Are you finished?” Roarke asked.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Sherry nodded.
“This way. There are people waiting to see you.”
“People?”
At precisely that moment, the door to Roarke’s office opened and Phyliss came down the first step. With a wild, excited cry, she threw her arms in the air and cried, “Sherry, baby, I’ve found you at last.”
Before Sherry had time to blink, she found herself clenched in her stepmother’s arms in a grip that would have crushed anyone else. “Oh darling, let me look at you.” Gripping Sherry’s shoulders, the older woman stepped back and sighed. “I’ve had every detective agency from here to San Francisco looking for you.” She paused and laughed, the sound high and shrill. “I’ve got so much to tell you. Do you like my new hairstyle?” She paused and patted the side of her head. “Purple highlights—it drives your father wild.”
Despite everything, Sherry laughed and hugged her. Loony, magnificent Phyliss. She’d never change.
“Your father is waiting to talk to you, darling. Do you have any idea what a wild-goose chase you’ve led us on? Never mind that now…We’ve had a marvelous time searching for you. This is something you may want to consider doing every summer. Your father and I have had a second honeymoon traveling all over the country trying to find you.” She paused and laughed. “Sherry, sweetheart,” she whispered, “before we leave, you and I must have a girl-to-girl talk about the camp director, Mr. Roarke. Why, he’s handsome enough to stir up the blood of any woman. Now, don’t try to tell me you haven’t noticed. I know better.”
Flustered, Sherry looked up to find Roarke watching them both, obviously displeased.
Chapter 12
“Roarke, please try to understand,” Sherry pleaded.
A triumphant Phyliss and Virgil White had left Camp Gitche Gumee only minutes before. Her stepmother had evidently decided to look upon Sherry’s disappearance as a fun game and had spent weeks tracking her down. It was as if Phyliss had won this comical version of hide-and-seek and could now return home giddy with jubilation for having outsmarted her stepdaughter.
As if that wasn’t enough, Phyliss stayed long enough to inspect the camp kitchen and insist that Sherry tint her dark hair purple the minute she returned to Seattle—it was absolutely the in thing. She also enumerated in embarrassing detail Sherry’s “many fine qualities” in front of Roarke, then paused demurely to flutter her lashes and announce that she’d die for a stepson-in-law as handsome as he was.
Sherry was convinced the entire camp sighed with relief the minute Phyliss and her father headed toward the exit in their powder-pink Cadillac. As they drove through the campgrounds, Phyliss leaned over her husband and blasted the horn in sharp toots, waving and generously blowing kisses as they went.
During the uncomfortable two hours that her parents were visiting, Sherry noted that Roarke didn’t so much as utter a word to her. He carried on a polite conversation with her father, but Sherry had been too busy keeping Phyliss out of mischief to worry about what her father was telling Roarke.
Now that her parents were on their way back to Seattle, Sherry was free to speak to the somber camp director. She followed him to his office, holding her tongue until he was seated behind the large desk that dominated his room.
“Now that you’ve met Phyliss you can understand why I needed to get away. I love her…in fact, I think she’s wonderful, but all that mothering was giving me claustrophobia.”
Roarke’s smile was involuntary. “I must admit she’s quite an individual.”
Without invitation, Sherry pulled a chair close to Roarke’s desk and sat down. She crossed her legs and leaned forward. “I—I’m sorry about the references on the application.”
“You lied.” His voice was a monotone, offering her little hope.
“I—I prefer to think of it as misleading you, and then only because it was necessary.”
“Did you or did you not falsify your references?”
“Well, I did have the good references, I just equivocated a little on the addresses…”
“Then you were dishonest. A lie is a lie, so don’t try to pretty it up with excuses.”
Sherry swallowed uncomfortably. “Then I lied. But you wouldn’t have known,” she added quickly, before losing her nerve. “I mean, just now, today, when I mentioned it, you looked shocked. You didn’t know until I told you.”
“I knew.” That wasn’t completely true, Roarke thought. He’d suspected when the post office returned the first reference and then two of the others; but rather than investigate, Roarke had chosen to ignore the obvious for fear he’d be forced to fire her. Almost from the first week, he’d been so strongly attracted to her that he’d gone against all his instincts. Now he felt like a fool.
Sherry’s hands trembled as she draped a thick strand of hair around her ear. She boldly met his gaze. “There are only a few days of camp left. Are…Are you going to fire me?”
Roarke mulled over the question. He should. If any of the other counselors were to discover her deception, he would be made to look like a love-crazed fool.
“No,” he answered finally.
In grateful relief, Sherry momentarily closed her eyes.
“You understand, of course, that you won’t be invited back as a counselor next summer.”
His words burned through her like a hot poker. In one flat statement, he was saying so much more. In effect, he was cutting her out of his life, severing her from his emotions and his heart. The tight knot that formed in her throat made it difficult to speak. “I understand,” she said in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper. “I understand perfectly.”
Sherry made her way to her cabin trapped in a haze of emotional pain. Lynn’s words at the beginning of the camp session about Roarke’s placing high regard on honesty returned to taunt her. The night they’d sat by the lake un
der the stars and kissed brought with it such a flood of memories that Sherry brushed the moisture from her cheek and sucked in huge breaths to keep from weeping.
“Miss White,” Gretchen shouted when Sherry entered the cabin. “I liked your stepmother.”
“Me, too,” Jan added.
“Me, three,” Jill said, and the twins giggled.
Sherry’s smile was decidedly flat, although she did make the effort.
“She’s so much fun!” Wendy held up her index finger to display a five-carat smoky topaz ring.
Costume jewelry, of course, Sherry mused. Phyliss didn’t believe in real jewels, except her wedding ring.
“Phyliss told me I could have the ring,” Wendy continued, “because anyone who appreciated Barbie and Ken the way I did deserved something special.”
“She gave me a silk scarf,” Diane said with a sigh. “She suggested I read Stephen King.”
“Is her hair really purple?”
“She’s funny.”
Sherry sat at the foot of the closest bunk. “She’s wonderful and fun and I love her.”
“Do you think she’ll visit next year?”
“I…I can’t say.” Another fib, Sherry realized. Phyliss wouldn’t be coming to Camp Gitche Gumee because Sherry wouldn’t be back.
“She sure is neat.”
“Yes,” Sherry said, and for the first time since she’d spoken to Roarke, the smile reached her eyes. “Phyliss is some kind of special.”
—
“Miss White, Miss White, give me a hug,” Sally cried, her suitcase in her hand. Sally was the first girl from Sherry’s cabin to leave the camp. Camp Gitche Gumee had been dismissed at breakfast that morning. The bus to transport the youngsters to the airport was parked outside the dining room, waiting for the first group.
“Oh Sally,” Sherry said, wrapping her arms around the little girl and squeezing her tight. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I had a whole lot of fun,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “More than at any other camp ever.”
Tenderly, Sherry brushed the hair from Sally’s forehead. “I did, too, sweetheart.”
Almost Paradise Page 15
