Good-byes were difficult enough, but knowing that it was unlikely she would ever see her young charges again produced an even tighter pain within Sherry. She’d grown to love her girls, and the end of camp was all part of this bittersweet summer.
“Miss White,” Gretchen cried, racing out of the cabin. “Miss White, guess what?”
Wendy followed quickly on Gretchen’s heels. “I want to tell her,” the other girl cried. “Gretchen, let me tell her.”
A triumphant Wendy stormed to Sherry’s side like an unexpected summer squall. “Look!” she declared breathlessly and held up the missing Ken-Richie.
“Where was he?” Sherry cried. The entire cabin had been searching for Ken-Richie for weeks.
“Guess,” Gretchen said, hands placed on her hips. She couldn’t hold her stern look long and quickly dissolved into happy giggles. “I was sleeping on him.”
Sherry’s eyes rounded with shock. “You were sleeping on him?”
“I kept telling everyone how lumpy my mattress was, but no one would listen.”
“Little wonder,” Wendy said. “You complain about everything.”
“Ever hear the story of the boy who cried wolf?” Sally asked.
“Of course I know that story. I read it when I was three years old,” Gretchen answered heatedly.
“But how’d Ken-Richie get under Gretchen’s mattress?” Sherry wanted to know.
Wendy shuffled her feet back and forth and found the thick grass of utmost interest. “Well, actually,” she mumbled, “I may have put him there for safekeeping.”
“You?” Sherry cried.
“I forgot.”
A pregnant pause followed Wendy’s words before all four burst into helpless peals of laughter. It felt so good to laugh, Sherry decided. The past few days had been a living nightmare. In all that time, she hadn’t spoken to Roarke once. He hadn’t come to her. Hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction. It was as though she were no longer a part of this camp, and he had effectively divorced her from his life.
Past experience in dealing with Roarke had taught Sherry to be patient and let his anger defuse itself before she approached him. However, time was running out; she was scheduled to leave camp the following day.
“The bus is ready,” Sally said, and her voice sagged with regret. She hugged Sherry’s middle one last time, then climbed into the van, taking a window seat. “Good-bye, Miss White,” she cried, pressing her face against the glass. “Can I write you?”
“I’ll answer every letter, I promise.”
Sherry stood in the driveway until the van was out of sight, feeling more distressed by the moment. When she turned to go back to her cabin, she found Fred Spencer standing behind her. She stopped just short of colliding with his chest.
He frowned at her in the way she found so irritating.
“One down and six to go,” she said, making polite conversation.
“Two down,” he murmured, and turned to leave.
“Fred?” She stopped him.
“Yes?”
She held out her hand in the age-old gesture of friendship. “I enjoyed working with you this summer.”
He looked astonished but quickly took her hand and shook it enthusiastically. “You certainly added zip to this year’s session.”
She smiled, unsure how to take his comment.
“I hope you don’t think my objections were anything personal,” the older male added self-consciously. “I didn’t think a lot of what you suggested would work, but you proved me wrong.” His gaze shifted, then returned to her. “I hope you come back next summer, Miss White. I mean that.”
Fred Spencer was the last person she’d ever expected to hear that from. “Thank you.”
He tipped his hand to his hat and saluted her. “Have a good year.”
“You, too.”
But without Roarke, nothing would be good.
By three that afternoon, Sherry’s cabin was empty. All her wizards were safely on their way home to their families. The log cabin that had only hours before been the focal point of laughter, tears, and constant chatter seemed hollow without the sound of the seven little girls.
Aimlessly, Sherry wandered from one bunk to another, experiencing all the symptoms of the empty-nest syndrome. With nothing left to do, she went into her room and pulled out her suitcase. Feeling dejected and depressed, she laid it open on top of her mattress and sighed. She opened her drawer, but left it dangling as she slumped onto the end of the bed and reread the book the girls had written for her as a going-away present. Tenderly, her heart throbbing with love, she flipped through each page of the fairy tale created in her honor.
The girls had titled it Sherry White and the Seven Wizards. Each girl had developed a part of the story, drawn the pictures, and created such a humorous scenario of life at Camp Gitche Gumee that even after she’d read it no less than ten times, the plot continued to make her laugh. And cry. She was going to miss her darling wizards. But no more than she would miss Roarke.
A polite knock at the front of the cabin caught Sherry by surprise. She set the book aside and stood.
“Yes.” Her heart shot to her throat and rebounded against her ribs at the sight of Jeff Roarke framed in the open doorway of the cabin.
“Miss White.”
He knew how she detested his saying her name in such a cool, distant voice, she thought. He was saying it as a reminder of how far apart they were now, telling her in two words that she’d committed the unforgivable sin and nothing could be the same between them again.
“Mr. Roarke,” she returned, echoing his frigid tone.
Roarke’s mouth tightened into a thin, impatient line.
“Listen,” she said, trying again. “I understand and fully agree with you.”
“You do?” His brows came together in a puzzled frown. “Agree with me about what?”
“Not having me back next year. What I did was stupid and foolish, and I’ll never regret anything more in my life.” Her actions had cost her Roarke’s love. Because there was nothing else for her to do, Sherry would leave Camp Gitche Gumee and would wonder all her life if she’d love another man with the same intensity that she loved Jeff Roarke.
“Fred told me the two of you had come to terms.”
Sherry rubbed her palms together. Fred had smiled at her for the first time all summer. Sherry could afford to be generous with him.
“He isn’t so bad,” she murmured softly.
“Funny, that’s what he said about you.”
Sherry attempted a smile, but the effort was feeble and wobbly at best.
With his hands buried deep within his pockets, Roarke walked into the cabin and strolled around the room. The silence hung heavy between them. Abruptly, he turned to face her. “So you feel I made the right decision not to ask you to return.”
She didn’t know why he insisted on putting her through this. “I understand that I didn’t give you much of a choice.”
“What if I made another request of you?”
Sherry’s gaze held his, daring to hope, daring to believe that he would love her enough to overcome her deception. “Another request?”
“Yes.” In an uncustomary display of nervousness, Roarke riffled his fingers through his hair, mussing the well-groomed effect. “It might be better if I elaborate a little.”
“Please.” Sherry continued to hold herself stiff.
“Camp Gitche Gumee is my brainchild.”
Sherry already knew that, but she didn’t want to interrupt him.
“As a youngster, I was like many of these children. I was too intelligent to fit in comfortably with my peers and too immature to be accepted into the adult community.”
Sherry just nodded.
“The camp was born with the desire to offer a summer program for such children. I regretted having hired you the first week of camp, but I quickly changed my mind. Maybe because I’ve never experienced the kind of fun you introduced to your girls, I tended to be skeptica
l of your methods.” He paused and exhaled sharply. So many things were rummaging around in his head. He didn’t know if he was saying too much or not enough.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Sherry said.
“I’d like you to come back.”
“As a counselor?”
“No.” He watched the joy drain from her eyes and tasted her disappointment. “Actually, I was hoping that you’d consider becoming my partner.”
“Your partner?” Sherry didn’t understand.
Silently, Roarke was cursing himself with every swear word he knew. He was fumbling this badly. For all his intelligence, he should be able to tell a woman he loved her and wanted her to share his life. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck and exhaled again. None of the things he longed to tell her were coming out right. “I’m doing this all wrong.”
“Doing what? Roarke,” she said, “you want me to be your partner—then fine. I’d do anything to come back to Camp Gitche Gumee. Work in the kitchen. Be a housekeeper. Even garden. All I want in the world is here.”
“I’m asking you to be my partner for more reasons than you know. The children love you. In a few weeks’ time, you’ve managed to show everyone in the camp, including me and Fred Spencer, that learning can be fun. There wasn’t a camper here who doesn’t want you back next year.”
“As your partner, what would be my responsibilities?”
“You’d share the management of the camp with me and plan curriculum and the other activities that you’ve instigated this summer.”
Some of the hope that had been building inside her died a silent death. “I see. I’d consider it an honor to return in any capacity.”
“There is one problem, however.”
“Yes?”
“The director’s quarters is only a small cabin.”
“I understand.” Naturally, he’d want his quarters.
Roarke closed his eyes to the mounting frustration. He couldn’t have done a worse job of this had he tried. Finally, he just blurted it out. “Sherry, I’m asking you to marry me.”
Joy crowded her features. “Yes,” she cried, zooming to her feet. Her acceptance was followed by an instantaneous flood of tears.
“Now I’ve made you cry.”
“Can’t you tell when a woman is so overcome with happiness that she can’t contain herself?” She wiped the moisture from her cheeks in a furious action. “Why are you standing over there? Why aren’t you right here, kissing me and holding me?” She paused and challenged him, almost afraid of his answer. “Jeff Roarke, do you love me?”
“Dear heaven, yes.”
They met halfway across the floor. Roarke reached for her and hauled her into his arms, burying his face in the gentle slope of her neck and shoulder while he drew in several calming breaths, feeling physically and mentally exhausted. He’d never messed anything up more in his life. This woman had to love him. She must, to have allowed him to put her through that.
Being crushed against him as she was made speaking impossible. Not that Sherry minded. Her brain was so fuddled and her throat so thick with emotion that she probably wouldn’t have made sense anyway.
Roarke tucked his index finger beneath her chin and raised her mouth to meet his. His hungry kiss rocked her to the core of her being. Countless times, his mouth feasted on hers, as though it was impossible to get enough of her. Not touching her all these weeks had been next to impossible, and now knowing that she felt for him the same things he did for her made the ache of longing all the more intense.
Freely, Sherry’s hands roved his back, reveling in the muscular feel of his skin beneath her fingers. All the while, Roarke’s mouth made moist forays over her lips, dipping again and again to sample her sweet kiss.
“Oh love,” he whispered, lackadaisically sliding his mouth back and forth over her lips. “I can’t believe this is happening.” He ground his hips against her softness and sharply sucked in his breath. “Nothing can get more real than this.”
“Nothing,” she agreed, and trapped his head between her two hands in an effort to study him. “Why?”
“Why do I love you?”
Her smile went soft. “No, how can you love me after what I did?”
“I met Phyliss, remember?”
“But…”
“But it took me a few days to remember that you’d tried to tell me about the references.”
“I did?”
Resisting her was impossible, and he kissed the tip of her pert nose. “Yes. The night at the lake. Remember? I knew then, or strongly suspected, but I didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to face the truth because that would have demanded some response. Yet even when I was forced to look at the truth, I couldn’t send you away. Doing that would have been like sentencing my own heart to solitary confinement for life.”
“Oh Roarke.” She leaned against him, linking her hands at the base of his spine. “I do love you.”
“I know.”
Abruptly, her head came up. “What about school?”
“What about it?”
“I’ve only got one year left.”
“I wouldn’t dream of having you drop out,” he rushed to assure her. “You can transfer your credits and finish here in California.”
Sherry pressed her head against his heart and sighed expressively. “I can and I will.” Being separated from him would be intolerable. Roarke met the intensity of her gaze with all the deep desire of his own. He wanted Sherry to share his life. She was marvelous with the youngsters, and having her work with him at Camp Gitche Gumee would be an advantage to the camp and the children. But with all of his plans, he hadn’t paused to think that one day he would have a child of his own. The love he felt for Sherry swelled within him until he felt weak with it. And strong, so strong that he seemed invincible.
“Someday we’ll be sending our own wizards to this camp,” Sherry told him.
Roarke’s hold on her tightened.
“The girls told me you were my prince,” she said, her gaze falling on the book her wizards had created.
“We’re going to be so happy, Sherry, my love.”
“Forever and ever,” she agreed, just as the book said.
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DEBBIE MACOMBER, the author of Any Dream Will Do, If Not for You, Sweet Tomorrows, A Girl’s Guide to Moving On, Last One Home, Silver Linings, Love Letters, Mr. Miracle, Blossom Street Brides, and Rose Harbor in Bloom, is a leading voice in women’s fiction. Thirteen of her novels have reached #1 on the New York Times bestseller lists, and five of her beloved Christmas novels have been hit movies on the Hallmark Channel, including Mrs. Miracle and Mr. Miracle. Hallmark Channel also produced the original series Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove, based on Macomber’s Cedar Cove books. She has more than 200 million copies of her books in print worldwide.
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PROLOGUE
“I need the money.”
My brother’s eyes showed a desperation I had never seen in him before.
“Shay,” he pleaded, “you don’t understand. If I don’t have it by tomorrow night, they will kill me.”
“They?” I repeated. “Who are they?” But I knew.
Caden had been waiting for me outside my tiny apartment that I shared with three roommates, pacing in front of my door when I got off work at the bank. I hadn’t seen him in weeks, which was never a good sign. In some ways, I was grateful he’d stayed out of my life. This was my chance, the first real one I’d had, and my brother was trouble. “Tell me what happened,” I said as I unlocked my apartment. He followed me inside and rammed his fingers through his hair with enough strength to uproot several strands.
“It’s complicated…”
It always was with Caden. I’d been looking out for him nearly his entire life, but for once I had to think about myself. My gut was churning as I set the teakettle on the stove, afraid of what he was going to tell me. Caden had met a lot of his bad connections through me and one boyfriend in particular. I’d fallen in deeper with Shooter than I’d ever intended, but through a community program I’d managed to break away from that lifestyle. With the help of one of the counselors, I’d landed a job, a good one at a bank. For the first time in my life, I had a chance at making something of myself. I had a shot at getting away from the gangs and the drugs and the lifestyle that would eventually lead to either prison or death. I had a small taste of what the future could be if I stayed away from people determined to hold me down. I’d made mistakes. Big ones, but I was working hard to put that behind me.
I should have known it wouldn’t work. Not for someone like me. Caden was here to remind me I’d been living a pipe dream.
“Who’s threatening to kill you?” I asked again, already anticipating the answer. It was Shooter or one of his gang members.
Almost Paradise Page 16
