by Webb, Peggy
Unconsciously, she tilted her chin upward. It was a gesture her mother called her look-out-world-here-I-come attitude.
Suddenly, the bus lurched and a loud grinding noise ripped through the air. The bus was shaking like a wounded bear in the throes of death. Mary Ann clutched her armrests and tried to keep from being knocked out of her seat.
Harriet popped up from her front seat and lurched into the aisle. Holding up her skinny arms for attention, she screeched, “There’s no need to panic. Everything is under control.” Her nostrils were flared wide with terror. Apparently, if there was anything Harriet feared more than disaster, it was unexpected disaster.
While Harriet was still speaking, the yellow bus gave a mighty groan and died in the middle of the road. Its final shudder cast her to the floor, thin arms and legs flailing.
Bill Benson was the first person down the aisle to help the fallen leader. He handed a shaken Harriet back into her seat, then went out the door with the bus driver to peer under the hood of the ailing bus.
Mary Ann pressed her nose to the window, but she couldn’t see a thing except the back of the bus driver’s left leg.
Conversation on the bus ceased as the birdwatchers all waited for a report on the condition of their vehicle. After a small eternity a grim-faced driver boarded the bus with Bill Benson right behind him.
“Looks like the transmission,” he told Harriet.
“Now, don’t panic, everybody,” she said, and then wailed. “Oh, dear! What’s a transmission?”
Mary Ann chuckled. Harriet, with her comic-serious world view, should keep thoughts of Harvey at bay for at least a week.
“It seems that we have two choices,” Bill told the crowd. “One of us can hike back to the restaurant and call for help, or we can take part of our gear and walk on to the campsite.”
Hike into the campsite with her gear! Was he out of his mind? It was all she could do to get her gear from the motel to the bus two hundred yards away.
“Just how far is the campsite?” she asked.
“It’s about five miles,” Bill said. “Easy walking distance.”
“Easy! Maybe for a mountain goat. I’m for sitting tight until another nice, comfortable bus comes along.” Mary Ann settled back into her seat, confident that her sensible opinion would squash all that foolish talk about walking five miles with camping gear.
A man spoke from the back of the bus. “If we’re only five miles from camp, I say we take our tents and bedrolls and go on in. The bus can bring the rest of our gear later.”
“Yeah,” another male voice chimed in. “We’ll be sitting on this bus till dark if we wait for other transportation. And if we wait for the transmission to be fixed, it’ll be even longer.”
“Let’s put it to a vote,” Sally said. “All those in favor of walking, raise your hands.”
Mary Ann looked around in dismay as every hand went up... except hers, of course.
“All those opposed, raise your hands,” Sally said.
Boldly, Mary Ann stuck her hand high in the air.
“Looks like you’re outvoted, Mary Ann,” Sally said, her eyes twinkling. “Come on. It’ll be fun once we get started.”
“About as much fun as going to the dentist, I expect,” Mary Ann grumbled. “Well, lead on, Macduff.”
The puzzled glances from her bus mates told Mary Ann she was likely the only one on the trip with a familiarity and a fondness for Shakespeare.
Bill was holding his hand up for attention. “I don’t think we should try to carry anything except our tents. Even those are likely to get heavy before we get there, especially for the newcomers.” He looked pointedly at Mary Ann. “But some of us men can help the ladies.”
She accepted his look as a challenge and tilted her chin upward. Where did all his gallantry suddenly come from? She’d show him. She was perfectly capable of carrying her raggedy old tent all by herself. She certainly didn’t need a bad-tempered outdoorsman helping her.
Everybody piled out of the bus and waited while the driver shuffled through the luggage compartment for their various tents. Mary Ann looked uncertainly at her own olive drab one. Everyone else had small backpacking tents. Hers had belonged to her father and looked as if it were purchased from an army surplus store that carried World War II vintage. The poles were heavy metal instead of modern, lightweight fiberglass.
With a shrug she picked up her tent and sleeping bag and started following the crowd. Harriet was leading the group and Bill Benson had stationed himself in the back as the vanguard. Mary Ann hurried to mingle with the crowd so she would be virtually invisible.
The first two miles were fine. Mary Ann managed her gear by shifting the load from one hip to the other, and the crisp mountain air was invigorating. Although she was not a hiker, she kept herself in reasonably good shape by exercising every morning.
Suddenly, some basic survival instinct made her look down. An evil, horrible, huge, vicious snake slithered not two feet from her. And from the looks of him, he intended to have Mary Ann for breakfast.
Her loud scream brought the entire hiking party to a halt.
Bill Benson was the first to her side.
“For Pete’s sake, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?’
“It’s a snake!” she screeched.
Bill turned to look at the fearsome creature and burst into laughter.
“The poor little thing.” He turned to the rest of the group and yelled, “It’s okay. It’s only a little garter snake.”
Relieved that Mary Ann’s screech was a false alarm, the rest of the hiking party plunged full speed ahead toward their campsite, leaving her behind with Bill.
“What do you mean, only a little garter snake!” On second glance, maybe he wasn’t so huge. “Snakes bite. Look at him. You can just tell he’s up to no good.”
“Garter snakes are perfectly harmless. I’ll bet you scared him more than he scared you.” Bill was still chuckling. “Besides, he’s only six inches long.”
“I don’t care how long he is. A snake is a snake.” Arguing with Bill had made her forget her fright. She picked up her tent and sleeping bag, which she had dropped, and started after the others with long, angry strides. She could feel Bill back there somewhere, watching her.
“Hey, hold up a minute, Goldilocks. I’ll walk with you.”
“I don’t need your company, and Goldilocks is not my name.”
He caught up with her and matched his stride to hers. “I know. I just wanted to take your mind off that monstrous snake.”
She peered at him sideways. A girl could get used to his quirky sense of humor. As she studied him, she saw an open honesty about his face that was appealing. With him so close, she noticed his eyes for the first time. Behind his glasses they were dark brown, and his eyelashes were incredibly long. In fact, they were downright sexy.
Suddenly she realized she was analyzing Bill Benson with interest and was thoroughly annoyed with herself. She was on this trip to banish Harvey, not to replace him. Besides, Bill Benson was married. Thank goodness!
“How much farther? My feet are killing me, and so is this tent. It must weigh a ton.”
“About two miles. Let’s sit down on that rock and rest.” Bill took her camping gear and set it on the ground near a smooth flat rock.
“What if a deadly snake’s hiding back there?”
He grinned at her. “If a deadly snake so much as looks at you, I’ll crush him into a thousand pieces. Now, sit down and rest your feet.”
She scanned the ground carefully for snakes then eased herself onto the rock. “This morning you told me it was every man for himself. Why are you suddenly being Mr. Nice Guy?”
If he kept this up, she might even get to like Bill Benson.
“Because I’m starving, and the quickest way to eat is to get you to camp. We’ll get there sooner if you arrive under your own steam and I don’t have to carry you.”
Mary Ann’s friendly feelings all evaporated.
&
nbsp; “I can take care of myself. You needn’t bother with me. Just go ahead if you’re that hungry. I’ll catch up as soon as I get my breath back.”
“What!” he said in mock horror. “And leave you with all these deadly snakes? Not to mention a bear or two.”
“You’re insufferable.” She jumped up and started walking away.
Bill stood up and fell into step beside her. “I know,” he agreed amiably. “Obnoxious too.”
Mary Ann was too agitated to notice that he was carrying her camping gear.
Chapter 2
Mary Ann’s tent wasn’t cooperating. Every time she got it propped up on one side, it collapsed on the other. Resigned to a long, thankless task, she started over.
Maybe that T-shaped pole should snap into the long piece instead of the short piece. Or maybe it didn’t snap into any of them. In exasperation she looked at the pile of breakdown poles. She should have paid more attention when her mother described how to put this devilish tent up. She should have stayed home, that’s what she should have done. Her feet felt like two pieces of lead from the five-mile hike, and at least fifty kinds of insects had used her arms for lunch.
Taking a likely looking pole, she began the slow, arduous task of reassembling her tent. After what seemed like hours she had the whole thing up in a rather lopsided way.
With a triumphant smile she crawled inside to snap on the tent flap. At least she was familiar with snaps. She couldn’t spend eight years running a dress shop and not know snaps.
“Yippee! I did it,” she shouted gleefully, and stood up to survey her handiwork.
When five feet nine inches of Mary Ann stood up inside three feet of wobbly tent, the result was disaster. Anchors pulled out of their shallow ground moorings, and loosely fitted poles gave way. As if in slow motion, the olive drab tent heaved upward and then billowed down around her.
She collapsed to the ground, tangled in an untidy heap of canvas and metal poles. Only her feet and legs were visible from under the fallen tent.
“Rats!” she exploded as she sat up and tried to fight her way clear. She flailed and thrashed and only succeeded in further entangling herself.
Suddenly, her ankles were grabbed by strong hands and she was dragged out into the light of day. Still flat on her back, she looked up into the amused face of Bill Benson.
“Need any help?” He was kneeling over her, still gripping her ankles.
She was already mad, and seeing Bill made her madder. Why did he always have to be the one to rescue her? She had managed by herself for over a year, and she could certainly do so now. She didn’t intend to admit to him, of all people, that she couldn’t perform a simple chore like putting up a tent.
“Of course not,” she told him stoutly. “I can take care—”
“—of yourself,” he finished for her. “I know. You already said that once today.” He still kept a firm grip on her ankles, a grip that Mary Ann found faintly disturbing. “If looks aren’t deceiving, I’d say you could use a little help.”
“Go help somebody else. I’m perfectly capable of handling this. Besides, I thought you wanted to see as little of me as possible on this retreat.”
“I do, but you keep needing to be rescued.”
“This is one maiden in distress who doesn’t want to be rescued, thank you.” She pushed herself up on her elbows and wiggled away from his grasp. “You can unhand my legs now.”
Quickly, he stepped away from her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was embarrassed.
“If you decide you need me, my tent is just beyond that pine stand. Just give a yell.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Mary Ann snapped at his retreating back.
She sweated over her tent for another hour and was finally confident that it was stable. Sitting on a carpet of pine needles, she looked around with satisfaction. Under the overhanging branches of the spruce, fir, and pine trees, her campsite was quiet and peaceful. Each of the eleven people on the retreat had been assigned a separate campsite near the lodge. While the campers were not far away from each other, the thick stands of trees separating them afforded a cathedral-like privacy.
The only thing wrong with her campsite was that Bill Benson’s was close by. She wondered where in the world his wife was and why she wasn’t along so he could expend his efforts on rescuing her.
She had no intention of wasting her week wondering about Bill Benson’s wife. She had more important things to do, like eating and finding that phone to call home. As she made her way to the lodge she realized she was ravenous.
The other ten campers were already assembled when Mary Ann arrived. She sat down on the sofa by Sally as Harriet called the campers to order.
“Before we go into the dining room,” Harriet said, “I want to say a few words of orientation, especially for our newest birdwatcher, Mary Ann Gilcrest.”
Mary Ann smiled in response to all the friendly faces that turned her way.
“Meals are served in the dining hall at seven, twelve, and six. When we are out on the trails, picnic lunches will be packed for us. The... uh...” Suddenly, Harriet’s face turned scarlet. “The facilities are located behind the lodge, the men’s on one side and the ladies’ on the other.” She pronounced the word facilities delicately, as if it were something naughty and forbidden.
“Although our campsites are private, they are all within calling distance of one another. If any one of you should send up a distress call, help will be forthcoming.”
Mary Ann flushed as she remembered her cascading her tent and the feel of Bill’s hands on her legs. She hadn’t even sent up a distress call, but help had come anyway. She’d make certain Bill Benson heard no signals from her.
Harriet was finishing her talk. “In the morning, after breakfast, we will assemble here before we go out on the trails.” Her face lit up in a smile. “And now, soup’s on.”
Sally led Mary Ann into the dining hall then attacked her mound of mashed potatoes. “I’d kill for a figure like yours. Bet you have to fight off men with a stick.”
“Not really.” Mary Ann lowered her gaze to her plate and concentrated hard on her food. If only Sally knew. Men didn’t flock to her; they disappeared on her. They made promises they didn’t keep and then they died. Like Harvey. A fleeting look of pain crossed her face.
Seeing her expression, Sally reached out and touched Mary Ann’s arm. “Did I say something wrong? Me and my big mouth!”
“No,” Mary Ann hastened to reassure her. “I was just thinking of my husband. That’s all.” She tried a bright smile that didn’t quite touch her aqua eyes.
“You’re married?”
“Widowed.” Mary Ann busied herself with buttering a roll and tried to compose the tumult of her mind. Harvey had pledged to love her “until death do us part” and then had vanished into a male world of fast cars and quick thrills. When had he stopped loving her? Was it before the cars or after?
“I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t know.” Sally’s voice was contrite. To soothe herself, she vigorously shoveled food into her mouth. “Well,” she said brightly, changing the subject, “there are lots of attractive, unattached men on this retreat. Who knows? I might even snare one for myself.”
Mary Ann’s smile showed her relief. “I take it you’re not married.”
“Nope. Just hunting. Been hunting all my life.” Her jolly laughter boomed through the dining hall, causing the other diners to look in their direction. “Now, there’s a man I could go for.”
Mary Ann looked in the direction of Sally’s nod, straight into the eyes of Bill Benson. He seemed to be studying her. Quickly, she turned her head.
“But he’s wearing a ring. I thought he was married.”
“Pshaw! He just wears that to ward off the women. He’s divorced.”
A small prickle of anxiety filled Mary Ann. She’d felt safe thinking he was married. Then she didn’t have to worry about an involvement. Knowing he was free solidified her determination to avoid hi
m.
Running away, that’s what her mother called it. At least her mother was back home in Sunday Cove and couldn’t comment on this situation. “You’ve got to get involved again, Mary Ann,” she could hear her mother say. “Goodness gracious! Harvey’s the one dead, not you. Get out and live!”
Life wasn’t as uncomplicated as Judy seemed to think. Mary Ann knew the risks of loving and losing. She understood that bringing someone into her life also involved her children. She wasn’t about to make a mistake that would ruin their lives.
Sally was chattering on and on about Bill Benson.
“He’s been coming on these bird-watching retreats for the last six years. He started shortly before his divorce from Gloria. He’s a CPA from Mountain City and probably knows more about birds than anybody here, except Harriet.”
Mary Ann learned more about Bill Benson than she cared to know—what a brilliant CPA he was, how the governor of Tennessee had called him in as a consultant on tax matters, how his wife had run off with a salesman, causing a scandal that rocked his hometown, and how women chased after him mercilessly.
Mary Ann found that Sally loved to talk—and talk and talk.
When Sally paused for breath, Mary Ann finally got in a word. “I don’t see a phone anywhere. I wanted to call Mom and the boys.”
“Oh, my dear, didn’t you read the brochure? There are no phones here. Roughing it and all that, you know.”
Had her mother known? Mary Ann mentally kicked herself for ever leaving Sunday Cove. She was actually feeling close to tears.
Sally reached over and patted her hand. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’ll bet your mom and those little guys are having the time of their lives.”
“The last time she was in charge of them, they painted the dog green.”
“It could have been worse.”
“I don’t even want to think about that.”
She finished her meal, resigned that the call home would have to wait. Or might not even happen at all. She’d get through this retreat the best way she could, and when she got to Sunday Cove, she wouldn’t leave again for a very long time.
