“You’d know it if you saw it. It’s on the waterfront and has blue stones and a huge royal blue roof. It also has deck after deck after deck. The decks curl around like a snake down to the beachfront. I’m telling you, I’m going to own it. They have a big barbecue pit, tetherball, volleyball, and a huge swing set area. I’m going to live there and go waterskiing in the early morning, wolf- and buffalo-watching in the late morning, motorcycling the rest of the day, and snowskiing and snowmobiling in the winter.”
“Sounds like the life,” Darlene said.
His chest expanded. “I’ll have it, too.”
“Yeah, right.” Darlene said.
Jackson eyed Camille. “Have you seen the cabin he’s talking about?”
“Nope.”
“It’s a couple of cabins down from yours. You should go on a walk just to see it. It’s a masterpiece. Looks like it could be a hotel. A very nice one.”
“Then I’ll go see it,” Camille said, smiling at Jackson. She found herself wanting to ask him if he’d walk there with her, but Darlene’s frown made her change her mind.
The group spent the next half hour in silence as they searched for bears, but apparently bad luck still plagued Camille, and in turn the whole group. None of them saw even a hint of a bear. The ranger gave up with a shrug. “They must’ve moved on. They like Hayden Valley. Maybe you should try there.”
“We’ll do that,” Jackson said.
“Hayden Valley,” Camille said. “Is that by chance named after Dr. Ferdinand V. Hayden who led an expedition there with Thomas Moran and William Henry Jackson?”
“Right on,” the ranger answered.
“I love Moran’s paintings. They’re breathtaking. No wonder they stirred the hearts of lawmakers into protecting this park.”
The ranger smiled. “I loved them too. The way he utilized the light in his landscapes is incredible. His use of colors ranged from those so light they barely exist to the very bright I’m-here-notice-me colors.”
Camille laughed. “He was good.” She hooked her arm around Jackson’s and said, “Come on, what are we waiting for? Let’s go to Hayden Valley.”
“Mom, can I ride with you?” Darlene asked.
“Shhh, Darlene,” Camille whispered. “Don’t be rude.”
“That’s okay.” Austin smiled. “I’d like to spend time with my dad. It’s been a long while since we’ve seen each other.”
Camille released her hold on Jackson’s arm. Why had she grabbed him? It had seemed so natural.
Jackson patted her shoulder. “’Til Hayden then.” She nodded and returned to her car but stopped before opening the door and ran back to Jackson.
“What? Can’t stand to be away from me?” he asked with a wink.
“You have my keys.”
“Oh.” He dug in his pocket.
He was so tall, with such broad shoulders. It felt comfortable to be near him. Why comfortable? She’d never felt that with Adam. She’d experienced electricity, frustration, and excitement, but never comfort.
“Here you go.” He handed her the keys. Their hands briefly touched. Warmth rushed through her as if she’d wrapped herself in a homemade quilt. Where were the nervous butterflies that so often made her nauseated?
“Let me drive, Mom.” Darlene stood in front of the driver’s side of the car with her hand extended. Camille handed the keys over like a robot.
Once they pulled onto the road to Hayden, Camille opened her map and studied it. “Remind me that I want to see Tower Falls on the way home.”
“What is it?” Darlene asked.
“A huge volcanic mountain with two water falls spilling off it. I read in one of the early explorer’s journals about their amazement over how loud the pumping water was. It was so noisy they couldn’t hear each other shouting.”
“Umm,” Darlene said.
“Thomas Moran died with an unfinished painting of the Tower Falls on his easel. He loved both it and place called Inspiration Point. I wonder where it’s located?” Camille returned her attention to the map.
“Mom, I think you’re getting too friendly with that Jackson guy.”
Camille continued devouring the map, searching for Inspiration Point. “Don’t worry. Yesterday you encouraged me to get to know him better, and now you’re changing your mind. It’s okay. I understand. It’s hard for kids, even grown-up kids, to see their parents have a life outside of taking care of them. It’ll take some getting used to.”
“Mom, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Well . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t like him. He doesn’t seem trustworthy.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it’s not like I’m going to marry the guy. We’re just going to spend a day in the park. Then we’ll return to our separate cabins. That’s it.”
“But Mom—”
“I have to tell you, though, I find it refreshing to talk to a man other than your father. I’ve been so angry with men that it’s been really hard to open up and talk to anyone. Jackson understands, since he’s going through something similar. But as a love interest?” Her speech faded away.
“What, Mom?”
“He’s not for me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to sound snobby, but . . .” She stopped, her thoughts trailing to the feeling she’d had with Jackson. Had it been all in her imagination?
“But you’re going to sound snobby. So out with it.”
“Well, Jackson’s a friendly guy and all, but he’s too hick for me.”
“What do you mean, hick?”
“Cowboy.”
“Are you too stuffy to be involved with a cowboy?”
“It’s not that.” Camille stared out the window into the golden cast that the sun shone on the native grasses.
“What is it?”
Camille rubbed her fingers as she thought. “If I ever get involved again, it’s going to be with the perfect man. It caused too much pain and sorrow to be mixed up with the wrong type.”
“What’s your type?”
“Smart. Very, very smart. A thinker. Someone who reflects, who’s into philosophy, theater, and history. Someone who could get lost in a museum and spend hours reflecting on the past.”
“That sounds like you,” Darlene said.
“Exactly. I want a perfect match.”
“Boooorrrring!” Her daughter yawned long and exaggerated while tapping her hand over her open mouth.
“Okay, little Miss Know-It-All, what’s your perfect guy?”
“Cute—definitely has to have the looks. Muscular, smart, rich, fun.”
“Get more specific.”
“Fine. He has to know what he wants and have the guts to get it, letting no one stand in his way. He must love life and not be one of those drones who complains about everything. And he has to be unpredictable. I want surprises at every turn.”
“Sounds scary.”
“Well, yours is definitely boring.”
“Not boring,” Camille said. “Comfortable. Nice. I’m too old to long for adventure. I just want someone to sit with me, reflecting on life, while sipping tea in front of the setting sun.”
“That definitely wouldn’t fit Jackson.”
“My point exactly.”
Chapter Seven
As they drove in the car, Camille had become immersed in the sedges waving in the breeze and in a few large gray stones dotting the land when she noticed Austin’s truck pulled over onto the side of the road. Austin’s face peered through his back window, pointing to a herd of grazing elk.
“Look at them,” Camille said as Darlene weaved the car onto the gravel that lined the road. The huge animals stretched across the meadow, nibbling on the grasses. Their dark heads, necks, and legs stood out as their creamy rumps blended into the surroundings. Antlers lurched out in massive grandeur, daring anyone to mess with them or their chosen gal.
“There’s sure a lot of them.”
“They travel in herds for protection. Before the Europeans arrived, the naturalists estimated there were ten million elk in North America. Now the scientists think there’s only a million,” Camille said.
“Whew! That’s terrible. I can’t believe what we’ve done—”
Camille interrupted before Darlene could lament any more about animal injustices. “There was a wildlife site on the Internet that said twenty-five percent of the elk are right here in Yellowstone. So we evil humans have done some good in protecting the wildlife.”
“Glad to hear it,” Darlene said, rolling her eyes. “But it’s not enough.”
Camille brushed a long strand of Darlene’s hair off her face. “Didn’t mean to steal your thunder. You can rant and rave to Austin and Jackson. They haven’t heard your do-good speeches yet.”
“Mom, you were the one lecturing.” Darlene’s thick eyebrows raised. “And since when did you start calling him Jackson instead of Mr. Armstrong?”
“This morning.”
“Getting kind of personal, aren’t ya? You hardly ever call anyone by their first name.”
“He asked me to, baby. Don’t get so worried. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Darlene moved her head away from Camille and watched the elk.
“Yeah,” Camille said, gently grabbing her daughter’s chin and pulling it around to face her. “Nothing is happening between us.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’re going to get your heart broken again, and I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Camille sighed. “I’m not going to get my heart broken. I already told you he’s not my type. Besides, if I did make such a mistake, I’m strong enough to survive quite nicely.”
“Are you?” Darlene asked. “I see what this divorce thing did to you. Don’t think because I’m not married I don’t have eyes. I saw how it tore you up. You used to walk with confidence. Nothing got in your way. Now you run and hide because of a holiday. Do me a favor and please forget Jackson.”
“I don’t get it,” Camille said. “You bugged me endlessly to be interested in Jackson yesterday. Now in less than twenty-four hours, you’re practically begging me to stay away. What happened?”
Her daughter sat with her shoulder slumped forward, as if taking on the weight of the universe. “Mom, he’s bad news. That’s all I can say.”
A honk forced their attention to Austin’s truck. They were moving on.
“Oh, wait,” Camille said. “I need to get a picture of this for my book.”
They got out of the car and hiked through the brown weeds. Darlene held up one finger at the truck as Camille fumbled with her camera. Camille opted for getting a close-up of an elk eating, and also a picture of the whole herd. The elk she chose had massive antlers that spread across the back. “That rack is a work of art,” she mumbled.
“They look heavy,” Darlene said.
“Up to forty pounds.” Camille changed her lens to snap the group picture.
“I like their white rumps.”
“Darlene!” Camille struggled not to laugh. “I guess they do stand out.”
“It’s kind of hard to miss a white tail end when the rest of you is brown,” Darlene said.
“The Shawnees thought so too. They named the elk ‘wapiti.’ It means ‘white rump.’”
Darlene laughed. “That’s great.”
“Actually,” Camille waved to the men in the truck, signaling them to wait a bit longer, “the early colonists gave the names to the animals. Wapiti was their word for European moose.”
“Those colonists sure did whatever they wanted,” Darlene commented. “It’s too bad we didn’t see an elk fight or anything.”
“It is,” Camille agreed. “It’s the rutting season. Did you know some of the more studly bulls have up to sixty cows in their harem?”
“Disgusting.”
* * *
Jackson was watching the women hurry through the weeds when his son launched into him. “You should remember not to flirt with other women when you’re still hoping to get back with Mom,” Austin spat.
There was an undercurrent of anger and hurt in Austin’s voice, but Jackson couldn’t help flaring up at such an accusation. “Who says I flirted? Your mom isn’t filling you with hogwash, is she?”
“She doesn’t have to when I have my own eyes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’ve seen how you carry on with that Britain lady. It’s gross.”
Jackson pondered a minute. Had he flirted with Camille? He didn’t think so. He sighed, long and heavy. But what if he had? He was divorced, after all. Poor Austin was glaring at him as if Jackson had been the one to walk out on the marriage. This was the typical I-want-my-parents-to-stay-together syndrome. The boy was still trying to build his fairytale. Jackson had thought his son was too old to go through that stage, but apparently not.
“I know it must be hard to see your parents separated,” Jackson said, “but we have to go on. We have to live. We can’t moan about what we lost the rest of our lives.”
“You could get Mom back if you wanted.”
“Think so?” Jackson said, breath gusting from him. Did Austin know something? Had Maggie realized her mistake and told Austin about it?
“Of course. I bet a counselor would have you guys fixed in no time. A month, tops.”
Nope, Maggie hadn’t confided anything to their child. It was simply Austin’s adolescent dream that his family would be whole again. He eyed his son. He couldn’t blame Austin for feeling that way because he, too, wished they were a whole family, but that wasn’t reality. “It’s not that simple, Austin.”
“Yes it is. You belong with Mom.”
“I’m sorry, kid. I really am. I’d like to be with your mother, but she won’t have me, and you can’t force people to do what they don’t want to do.”
“She talks about you a lot.”
“All bad, I’m sure.”
“She said you were the most handsome guy she ever laid eyes on when you first met.”
“Too bad I got old,” Jackson said.
“Dad, stop it.”
“I can’t talk about this anymore.”
“Why?”
“Just can’t.”
* * *
The car halted next to the pale blue Yellowstone River, flowing northward in its rocky bed. Sagebrush and close-cropped grass mixed with a few towering pines, and gray mountains rested in the background. A few Canadian geese, pelicans, and ducks lingered in the water, preparing for migration to a warmer climate. Dull and rich greens contrasted with orange and mush brown. Again Camille remained speechless. She sat in the heart of Yellowstone. No wonder this area inspired Ferdinand Hayden to preserve its richness and form a national park.
Jackson tapped on the window, and Camille fumbled to open the door. “We need to hurry if we’re going to see any bears.” The intensity of his brown eyes bathed her with a thermal effect like the hot springs, but she showed no response as a courtesy to her daughter’s over-active concern. Soon the group jogged down a dirt path, with Jackson in the lead. Wind pushed against them, bringing a chill. They stopped at a grassy clearing to set up.
“Why are we facing the river instead of the trees?” Darlene asked.
“Bears like to fish after feasting on pine nuts,” Austin whispered.
“They’ll go back to sleep at about ten or eleven.” Jackson scanned the landscape with his spotting scope. “Ah, there’s one.” A huge brown bear lumbered forward on all fours, swatting at the river. Jackson and Austin hustled, preparing the equipment while the girls observed the magnificent beast. Muscles rippled through its back as the bear swung his enormous paw at an unseen fish.
“My editor’s going to love this.” Jackson changed locations and angles several times before the bear splashed through the water. Then Jackson unhooked the camera from the tripod and moved cl
oser. “This’ll be awesome.” The bear plowed into the river, not hearing the distant clicks. Cloud cover broke, and rays of warmth flowed onto the group.
“It’s cold for a swim,” Darlene said.
“It’s about fifty-five degrees. Not too bad,” Austin said. “I could live here forever.”
“Why don’t you?” Darlene asked.
“Told ya. Need to be a lawyer.”
“Law’s boring.”
“I’ll be perfectly happy as a lawyer, and I’ll own the perfect cabin to stay in for half the perfect week, every week. It’ll be perfectly great.”
“I doubt you’d get many clients from around here,” Camille said.
“A private jet fixes that.”
Darlene shook her head, and when Austin walked over to his father, she said, “He won’t be happy.”
“Why the sudden interest?” Camille asked.
Startled, Darlene said, “I care about people.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s true.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What? I don’t like him,” Darlene said. “I mean, I like him like I do everyone else, but I don’t have a special interest in him.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t!”
“Sorry, darling, I have eyes. Even a blind person could see how you light up when he’s around.”
“I don’t—”
“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Camille almost couldn’t believe she was saying that. It was as if the change in her opinion of Jackson somehow extended to his son as well.
“It’s not true. I’m not interested in anyone who cares more about money and big houses than love and commitment. Besides, he’s weird.” She swiped at some hair that had blown across her eyes.
“How’s that?”
“He’s hard to get along with.”
“Well, you two do have a lot in common.”
“Like what?” Darlene picked a weed to twist in her hand.
“You both seem uneasy when Jackson and I are together.”
“True, both of you are on the rebound. It’s dangerous.”
“What makes you think either one of us is interested?”
“Hah! Even a blind person could sense the sparks between you.”
Camille laughed, brushing the comment aside, but it didn’t go away easily. Could there be some truth there?
The Superstitious Romance Page 9
