by Lin Stepp
Ellen tossed a pillow at him.
“They both know I like this show, and they always give me a hard time about it,” Ellen complained to Vivian.
Ellen smiled and stood up. “Let’s have dessert before you guys have to go. Vivian and I will go out to the kitchen and make some coffee to go with the pie. I’ll get a sympathetic ear from Vivian there about the new problems on The Foster Girls.”
An hour later, Scott and Vivian started their walk back on the darkened road from the Greene’s house. This time Scott did have a flashlight, although the full moon above made enough light for them to see well enough to get home.
“I’ve lived in the city for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a place with no street lights or building lights,” Vivian said.
Scott pointed to their right. “Through the trees there are the lights from Aunt Mary’s. And just beyond, are the lights from Nancy’s place. This isn’t total wilderness here, Vivian. But there are places you can camp up in the Smokies that truly are. I thought you’d been a Campfire Girl?”
“Well, I’m not that much of a Campfire girl.” Vivian laughed that deep throaty laugh of hers. “This kind of quiet and peacefulness right here is more than enough for me. I don’t think I’d care to sleep out in the mountains anymore.”
Scott sent a teasing look her way. “I can’t believe you knew the script writer from the credits of The Foster Girls.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t know that the series was based on books.” Vivian punched his arm, smiling at him. “That series has been running for over two years now, and articles about it have been in all the popular magazines.”
Scott shrugged. “Well, I guess a California woman like you would know all of that. How did this series get started? Have you read anything about that?”
Vivian looked thoughtful. “Some books about four foster girls got rather popular and then the idea was picked up for a midyear TV series to replace a show that had flopped. The network had been getting some pressure about not having enough family shows, and they were looking around for something wholesome. I think there had just been a lot of press about the Foster Girl book series and it caught one of the network director’s attention. I suppose the rest is history. People have liked the show just like people liked the books.”
“Do you think anything serious will happen with Veronica and her cousin?” Scott asked teasingly.
“Who can say?” Vivian shrugged. “As Quint said, they’re not first cousins. And as you said, it’s just a TV show. Anything could happen.”
They were back at the door of the farmhouse now, and Vivian turned to offer a hand to Scott before she went inside.
“Thanks for walking me over with you tonight,” she said. “I had a nice time.”
“We all had a good time.” He held on to her hand longer than he should have, rubbing his thumb over the top of it. “Usually Thursday night is our weekly time together if all our schedules work out. I’m sure you’ll get an invitation again. We could use a fourth for some of the card games we like to play together.”
“That would be fun.” Vivian offered him one of her soft little smiles.
“Do you want a kiss goodnight, friend Vivian?” Scott moved up on the porch beside her, feeling the currents start to stir as he got closer to her. “It might be the friendly way to end the evening.”
“No, I think we’ll do with a friendly handshake.” She stepped back a few paces. “We get along better with a little distance between us.”
With that she let herself into the front door, giving him a little wave with her fingertips before she shut it.
As he walked back home, Scott couldn’t decide whether to congratulate himself because his plans to put his relationship with Vivian on a new level had gone so well or to curse himself for thinking up the idea at all. On his Gramma’s porch in the moonlight, being just friends with Vivian had suddenly not been what Scott wanted at all. He doubted now that he would sleep well with all the titillating thoughts roaming around in his mind.
Chapter 16
A few weeks passed, and Vivian settled into a good routine at the farmhouse in the Wear’s Valley. She was getting a lot of work done, editing for Betsy and meeting her own writing deadlines. It was nice, in a way, to have the day hours free. Always before, she had to do her writing around the hectic full-time schedule of a college professor. Sometimes that meant staying up until one or two in the morning to get any writing done at all.
If she missed anything now, it was that feeling of knowing she influenced and changed lives through her teaching. That was the one aspect of her former academic life that had been the most meaningful to her. However, Vivian knew she impacted lives through her writings now. That knowledge helped. And no one gave her any flack here about her work. She liked that. She had hated the condescension of her colleagues at Armitage over her little novels. Here, she could write, enjoy her writing, and stay unknown.
Vivian had touched base with Betsy and Tad this morning, and she knew she was ahead of schedule with her work. The spring day was sunny and beckoning, and Vivian looked outside with wistfulness. Feeling restless, she wished she could get out and do something. She pulled out some tourist brochures to look through while she had a second cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Maybe she’d go exploring somewhere.
Her thoughts wandered then, as they often did, to Scott. They had spent a lot of time together in the last weeks. He’d made good on adopting her as a new friend, and had taken her on a lot of sightseeing trips around the area. They went to Dollywood with the Greenes, to the Aquarium in Gatlinburg, and to Tuckaleechee Caverns in Townsend. However, the tension still sparked between them. Or at least it did for her. She had hoped it would diminish with time, but it hadn’t. Even last night, when they’d gone to the Greene’s for their Thursday night get-together, Vivian felt the pull of Scott at every moment.
As if in response to her thoughts, Scott walked in through the kitchen door. He often stopped by in the mornings now before his workday. Vivian had given up asking him why he never knocked.
“Got any coffee left?” he asked her.
She gestured to the coffeemaker in the kitchen, and he helped himself.
He came over to the table with his coffee and settled easily into a chair. “I need to go check the trail up to Slippery Rock Falls today, walk on to the Cascades, and police some of the side trails the campers use in that area. Want to come with me? It’s a great day to get out, and some early wildflowers are already starting to bloom. I’ll give you a science lesson, professor. Also, if we need to clear some brush off the trail, maybe I’ll let you help me.”
Vivian grinned at him. “Asking me for free labor might not be the best inducement to get me to go.”
“Just being honest.” His eyes flashed mischievously. “Besides, there are a lot of benefits to this deal. The girls over at the kitchen said they would pack us a free lunch to carry. They’re all over at the camp today starting to cook for the church retreat group that’s coming in for the weekend. You’ll get to see a stupendous falls while enjoying my congenial company as a bonus.”
Vivian looked across the table at him and shook her head. “One thing I can say for you, Scott Jamison, is that you have no personal problems with self esteem issues. Has everything in your life always come easy for you?”
“You make that sound like a vice instead of a virtue, Vivian, to feel good about yourself and to be happy with your life. Maybe the real issue here is that you’re just plain jealous.”
His response nettled her and she snapped back with a sarcastic reply. “That’s exactly it, Scott. Everyday I wake up and wish I was you.”
“Smart ass,” Scott countered. “Go put your hiking boots on, and let’s get started. I can see you were looking at tourist brochures, so, obviously, you were planning to take some time off from your writing today anyway. By the way, how’s the new book coming?”
She got up to put her dishes in the kitchen sink. “I�
��ve almost finished it. My editor is thrilled with me for being ahead of schedule this time.”
“Does that mean you’re ready to tell me the name of this upcoming book and your rich and famous identity?” he asked teasingly.
“No.” Her reply was firm. “I like just being Vivian Delaney, a regular person again.” Vivian looked over to see Scott’s hazel eyes studying her thoughtfully.
He frowned at her. “You still don’t think I’ll act the same with you if I know all about who you are. I wish I knew why you had all these trust issues, Vivian. People are really much more honorable and reliable than you give them credit for being.”
“Only in your world.”
“You have too many secrets.” He scowled. “That’s what causes you to be tense and not fully relaxed with people. I’ve always told you that being open and honest is the best way to live your life.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that lecture from you a few times before.” Vivian forced her voice to stay casual. “But you don’t have any secrets you want to hide, Scott. So it’s easy for you to say that. I bet you’ve known very little pain in your life. Pain and betrayal make people more cautious, Scott. Less apt to trust readily.”
He studied her for a minute, trying to read her thoughts.
She raised her chin. “Stop trying to figure me out and let’s go.”
A faint smile played over Scott’s lips. “I like trying to figure you out, Vivian Delaney. You’re my current mystery challenge.”
About twenty minutes later, Vivian had dressed for hiking, thrown some necessities into a waist pack, and walked over to the camp dining hall with Scott to pick up their lunch. Edith Harper, one of the main cooks at Buckeye, was in the kitchen baking desserts that made Vivian’s mouth water. The McFee girls, Loreen and Betty Jo, helped their mother Doris with jellos and salads that could be made ahead to lessen the work for the weekend.
Scott had to go back to Mary Nell Rayburn’s office - Buckeye’s other head cook and kitchen manager - to look at some food orders for a few minutes, so Vivian hung out in the kitchen watching the women cook.
Mary Nell Rayburn was a tall, almost skinny, no-nonsense looking woman, in interesting contrast to the rounded, middle-aged, and rosy-cheeked figure of Edith Harper. Doris McFee, a fading blonde with a neat perm, had that sturdy, healthy look of a woman who spent a lot of time outside on the farm, and her two daughters were beginning to look remarkably like her in appearance. The McFee women worked part-time at Buckeye around their schedules at home and the activities of their farm.
“What’s that great smell?” Vivian asked Edith, sniffing the air with pleasure.
“Spice cake,” Edith replied.
“And we made brownies earlier,” Loreen put in. “Mary Nell wanted us over here last night to help some in the kitchen, too, but we couldn’t miss The Foster Girls on TV.”
The usual Foster Girls discussion ensued then. Loreen was soon lamenting over the character Veronica’s ongoing concerns with her love life.
“No matter how much Veronica is trying to stay away from that handsome Cliff, she’s obviously head over heels in love with him, even if he is her own cousin.” Loreen shook her head. “ I don’t know what in the world she’s going to do about it.”
Betty Jo looked up from chopping celery. “If they get married, their kids will be inbred. Those Farnsworth kids over near Townsend are inbred from marrying in with their cousins, and they don’t have a lick of sense.”
Loreen turned to Vivian to include her in the conversation.
“Who’s your favorite character in the Fosters?” she asked Vivian.
Vivian shrugged. “Maybe Isabel, she’s so feisty.” She leaned over to run her finger around the empty icing bowl to get a sample.
Loreen nodded. “Isabel’s so cute. But I like Veronica best. She’s the nice one and the oldest, too, and I just hate it that she finally has found herself a man and that he’s the wrong one.”
“I like Marybeth,” Betty Jo interrupted. “She has all the boys running after her. And she’s just so beautiful with that long blond hair.”
“She’s a little spendthrift, too,” put in the girls’ mother, slapping a pie crust down on the counter. “She’s gotten those girls all into a fine pickle or two with her overspending. Let that be a lesson to both of you. It’s important to live within your means. Now, myself, I like that little Rachel, nice and sweet, careful with her money and good with children. I like her even if she is foreign and a little dark in her coloring.”
Betty Jo gave her mother an irritated look. “Rachel’s Jamaican, Mama, not foreign. Jamaica is just down in the Caribbean below America. Besides, Veronica’s British and Isabel’s Irish in background. Only Marybeth is really just all American. That’s what makes the show so fun; all the girls have different cultural backgrounds and look different.”
“So what do you think, Vivian; do you think Veronica will actually get married to her own cousin?” Loreen asked, changing the subject again.
Vivian smiled. “Well, looking back and remembering what that first kiss between Cliff and her was like, I’d be thinking yes. It was really a sizzler.”
“Oh, I about died when that happened,” Loreen said wistfully. “That night was one of my favorite episodes. But what about them being cousins, Vivian?”
“Well, maybe they’ll find out they’re more distant cousins than they think,” Vivian suggested. “Maybe they’ll find there is an adoption link in their bloodlines and that they’re not so directly related as they thought.”
Betty Jo grinned widely. “Oh my gosh, wouldn’t that be great! You ought to send that idea into the show writers.”
“It wouldn’t matter if she did,” Loreen said practically. “I read in Star magazine that the scripts are written up way in advance based on those books the author has written. I remember back when the show first started, you could go to the library and get the next book so you could cheat and find out what was going to happen next. But the directors of the show and the book publisher got into cahoots and now they’re holding the books ‘til after the show episodes air. The next book that’s coming out is called Kissing Cousins. What’s going to happen next is probably right there in that book if we could just get our hands on it.”
“Oh, well, I guess we’ll just have to hang in suspense for a few more weeks to see.” Betty Jo dumped the chopped celery into a big bowl and sighed.
“Isn’t part of the fun of watching The Foster Girls not knowing?” Vivian asked with a smile. “Anticipating and wondering what might occur?”
Loreen considered this. “Most of the time, yes. But sometimes it just seems real hard to wait.”
Vivian laughed.
“Listen, you girls need to get busy cutting up the rest of that celery for these salads and stop daydreaming about the Foster Girl series,” their mother admonished. “That’s just a TV series, you know. This getting ready for a crowd of hungry men tonight is real life.”
“Oh, Mama,” Betty Jo complained. “You gotta have some fun in life, too.”
Loreen looked up and sighed wistfully. “Well, I can tell you it would be a thrill for me to me to meet the person that writes all the Foster Girl books. I can’t believe she can think up all those things to write down.”
“Well, maybe you’ll meet her some day,” Scott said from the doorway.
Vivian turned to find him lounging comfortably in the door frame.
“How long have you been standing there listening in?” Vivian asked, flushing slightly.
“Not long.” He was watching her in that way he did sometimes that always made Vivian nervous. “Ready to go?”
“I have been for a while.” She sent him a matter-of-fact look. “And I’ve packed the sandwiches Edith and Doris made into our packs.”
“We put in some of those brownies, too.” Loreen giggled, tweening and flirting a little around Scott. “We know you like them a lot.”
Scott gave her an impish smile. “Chocolate is one of life�
�s great pleasures.”
“What I can’t figure is why you can eat so much of it and still stay so thin,” Betty Jo complained. She looked down at her plump figure. “Me, I just look at chocolate and gain three pounds. It’s not fair.”
“There’s just more of you to love,” Scott teased, getting a smile out of her.
“Go on off and clean up those trails and quit flattering these girls here,” Doris said. “They’ve got work to do.”
Scott laughed and then whisked Vivian out the back door before another conversation could get started to delay them.
“Putting on the charm again,” Vivian observed as they started off through the back of the camp, jumping the rocks to cross Laurel Prong as a shortcut.
He shrugged. “Why not, if it makes a woman feel good.” He gave Vivian a hand as they clambered up the bank on the other side of the stream.
“By the way.” He looked down at her thoughtfully. “How come you had so much to say about that kiss episode on The Foster Girls? Seems to me I remember you leaving the den that night when that scene came on so you could go out to the kitchen for a cola.”
Vivian gained her footing and then started down the path ahead. “Scott, they show reruns all the time of the choice scenes in those sitcoms to get people to watch the next episodes. It’s hard to miss them.”
“That’s probably true,” Scott conceded. “But it seems to me you’re the one that said you hardly ever watch television either.”
She reached over to pick up a pinecone on the ground. “I don’t much. But I watch some. And they repeat a lot on those shows. It’s called a teaser to suck the viewer in, two acts or so to entertain, and a tag, or catchy closing scene, to make people want to tune in next week to see what will happen next.”
Scott adjusted his waistpack. “You learn all that teaching literature classes?”
“No, I learned all that living in California where most television series and movies are made and where everybody talks about the process all the time.”
“Good answer,” he acknowledged.
