Bluebells on the Hill

by Barbara McMahon

  Amanda looked at her warily. 'Does it really matter?'

  'Yes. I'm chairman of our Labor Day Festival. We have it each year on Labor Day at the fairgrounds. It's like a big end of the summer party and hospital fund raiser. Each year we have entertainment as part of the program. The couple we had lined up for this year cannot make it. We just learned of it. It's too late in the summer to get anyone, um big, you know. I thought perhaps you could sing some songs we all know. We're all friends and neighbors, nothing to get stage fright over.' Elizabeth sat back and waited expectantly.

  'I don't know,' Amanda said, reluctant to even entertain the notion. This was to be her vacation, not a busman's holiday.

  'Tickets are sold and proceeds go to our little hospital. It's a good cause, as well as being a part of the town's end of summer tradition.' Elizabeth said.

  'Maybe John-Michael will progress enough to do something,' Amanda said.

  'Oh, no, we want more than that. Besides, Mac won't go near the festival, nor let John-Michael. That's when his wife ran off, you know. No, Mac won't permit that.'

  Amanda was startled. 'She ran off during a festival?'

  'During the end of summer festival. Yes. Liza ran off with Cora's son. He’d come back that year to visit Cora. It was the year he was one of our performers. We had a small group of actors that year. He's an actor, you know.'

  Amanda was fascinated. She slowly shook her head. 'I don't know.'

  'Yes, Liza, her name was Elizabeth, same as mine, but she always wanted to be called Liza. And Doug is Cora's son. They met and his life sounded so much more exciting to her than a rancher's. So they left together. Right before the show. Left us quite in the lurch. Short notice and all.'

  Amanda was growing bewildered, trying to follow Elizabeth's monologue. Who was left in the lurch, the program, or Mac?

  'Oh, well, that's a long time ago, now. This will be our fourteenth annual event. Liza left at number two.'

  'Mac's been alone for twelve years?' Amanda said, surprised. He must have loved this Liza a great deal to have remained single, devoted to her memory, for so long. Was he still hoping she’d return, that they could start again together?

  Unlikely.

  'Well, yes. Mac doesn't like women much.' Elizabeth shook her head sadly. 'He tolerates me because I'm his aunt, but he really doesn't have any time for women. Pity, but there it is.'

  Another surprise. His aunt. Amanda was beginning to feel like Alice at the tea party.

  'I didn't realize you were Mac's aunt.'

  'Of course. His mother was my sister, you know. I think Mac tolerates me for her sake.' She sighed gently. 'He's kind to me, which is often more than I can say about his behavior toward his boy. He doesn't always treat John-Michael the way I think he should. I guess it is difficult to raise a child all by yourself.'

  'Did his wife not want custody of her son?' Amanda asked. These days it was becoming more and more common for the father to gain custody of his children when families separated, but not twelve years ago.

  'No. Being a mother wasn't what Liza wanted. I think that was the major factor in her leaving. She'd had enough. Mac thought differently, but who's to say. But I digress. It's this year's festival I must work on. Will you play and sing for us?'

  'I might be able to,' Amanda replied, still reluctant to commit herself. 'May I let you know?'

  'Yes, I suppose so. I do hope you will. It’d be such a relief to have that part taken care of. I was hoping to have your answer today, but as soon as you let me know will have to do. John-Michael says you have a good voice and Mac said you excelled in playing the guitar. I'm sure you could find songs to sing, maybe a dozen or so? It would not be too arduous and would be such a help.'

  Amanda smiled. 'We'll see.'

  'I'll be satisfied with that,' Elizabeth Burke said.

  A shadow fell in the doorway. 'Satisfied with what?' a deep voice asked.

  Amanda looked up to find green eyes glittering down on her.

  'Hello, Mac,' Elizabeth said, turning in her chair to see her nephew standing in the open doorway.

  'I didn't hear your truck,' Amanda commented. 'Did you walk down?'

  He shook his head slowly, and entered. 'No, I was going up the drive and saw Elizabeth's car. Wondered what she was doing here.'

  'Well, after you and John-Michael told me how well Mandy sings and plays the guitar, it occurred to me she might be able to help out for the festival. Since the Renaldis can't come, I was asking Mandy to sing as the main entertainment,' Elizabeth explained.

  Amanda watched Mac as Elizabeth explained. Oddly, she felt a little piqued that he didn't draw a connection between her name and the fact that she sang. So much for her fame preceding her.

  Mac glanced derisively at Amanda. 'Could you put on a show for the whole town?' he asked. 'Plan it out and carry it through?' His look raked her, layabout hippie ne'er-do-well echoing in the air.

  The last three words brought a determined lift to Amanda's chin. 'Of course I could.' She paused a moment. Don't let him provoke you, she cautioned herself. More calmly, she continued, 'I have done a performance or two before. I play with a few others, actually. Cousins, you see. We have a small band and ... and play for people.' She finished lamely. It was true. She played with her back-up band sometimes, usually just for fun now, rarely any more at a performance. But when they’d started, she had played lead guitar.

  'A band?' Elizabeth's face lit up. 'Wonderful! Could they come and play too? Oh, Mac, that would be grand entertainment, don't you think?'

  'I think that's your concern, Elizabeth. I don't hold much with the festival,' he replied

  'It wasn't the festival's fault Liza ran off,' she snapped back. 'Doug Rosefeld was in and out all the time to see Cora. Liza was taken with his charm and carefree attitude towards life. You were always so serious. It was just unlucky they went off together at the festival.'

  Mac's lips tightened, but he made no reply.

  'How's John-Michael?' Amanda tactfully changed the subject.

  'Wasting his time fooling with that guitar,' he said, turning his displeasure back on her.

  'He might become good at it,' Amanda offered, not intimidated by his attitude.

  'So what? So he can drop out of life and play all day like some damned hippie?'

  'Doug was not a hippie,' Elizabeth said. 'He was an actor. He lives a rather Bohemian existence, granted. But, please, Mac, not a hippie.'

  Amanda widened her eyes. Was that the basis of Mac's animosity towards her? Her lifestyle, or what he knew of it, reminded him of the man his wife had run off with? Interesting insight.

  'John-Michael might become a musician. That's a respectable field,” she said. Just because a person lived a different lifestyle did not make them a hippie.

  'Maybe, but it's not much of a moneymaking field, or one that offers stability or job growth. I don't know anyone that makes a decent living at it, do you?'

  'Yes, I do,' Mandy replied instantly. 'I know several people who make a very good living from it.' Me for one, she wanted to say.

  Mac looked skeptical. 'I just hope it is a passing fad and John-Michael will lose interest before long.'

  'It probably won't hurt him,' Elizabeth said, rising gracefully from the old chair. 'I must be going. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mandy. I do hope you’ll sing in our festival and persuade your friends in the band to join us. Let me know.'

  'I will let you know soon, Mrs. Burke.' Amanda rose to escort her guest to the door. Mac remained standing solidly where he was.

  'Bye, Aunt Elizabeth,' he said as she passed.

  'Goodbye, dear boy. Give my regards to John-Michael.'

  Amanda waved her off from the deck, before reluctantly returning to the cabin. Mac had remained where she’d left him.

  'Did you want something?' she asked rather ungraciously, as he made no move to depart.

  He looked rather pointedly at her shorts, displaying her long shapely legs, just beginning to show a tan. H
e started to say something, then paused, meeting the defiant stare in Amanda's eyes.

  'I just wanted to make my views clear as regards John-Michael and his guitar. I don't mind if he learns. It’ll give him something to do. I will object, however, if it starts interfering with his work.'

  'Work? I thought he was in school.'

  'For the summer he's helping me. He'll be back in school in the fall.'

  'What do you do, Mac? I know you own half the mountain and want it all, but what is your occupation? What is John-Michael doing to help?'

  'I'm a rancher. I raise horses. He's helping out.'

  'Horses? What for?' It was a long way from Kentucky and race horses.

  'Rodeo horses, stock ponies, mounted police units.' He shrugged it off.

  'Mackenzie Horse Ranch, MHR! I've seen your brands on rodeo horses.' A smile of recognition lit her face. 'You have quite a reputation in the rodeo circuit; good stock, fair treatment.'

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at her closely. 'How do you know so much about it?'

  'I'm a Colorado girl. Been to many a rodeo there, and here in California, too.' She cocked her head.

  'You've been around for quite a while, or was it your Dad's first?'

  'Dad's first; and I hope to leave it to my son. If he doesn't get lost in foolish dreams of being a singing star.'

  'And that's why you're here. To make sure he doesn't,' she guessed. There were worse ways to make a living.

  'Yes. I've said I don't mind his learning, just don't fill his head with dreams and empty visions of impossible things.' He glanced around contemptuously.

  Amanda felt her temper rise. How dare he sneer at her home. Were material things the only measure of a person's worth? This place suited her. When she got around to it, she’d fix it up and make it a lovely home. One he'd not be able to fault. In the meantime, if she could stand it as it was, who was he to judge?

  She wasn’t responsible for his son. How could she help what his son thought, what he envisioned. Mac Mackenzie had some nerve coming here, giving her orders on things he didn't even know about. She'd fill John-Michael's head with dreams if she wanted to.

  Instantly she felt ashamed. The man was only asking her co-operation in dealing with his son, in the way he thought best for the boy. He was probably desperate to enlist her co-operation. Her temper cooled.

  ‘I think you’ve made your point. I'll keep it in mind,' she said.

  'Then there is no need to stay longer.' He nodded and moved towards the door.

  'Mac.'

  He turned, raised an eyebrow.

  'Could I bum a lift into town in a day or so?' She hated to ask, but she wanted to see if Dave had sent the banjo and pick it up when it came in. She could walk again, but it was a long way and carrying a banjo that distance would be awkward. If he were going into town anyway, perhaps he wouldn't mind giving her a ride.

  'I'll be going on Thursday, late morning.'

  She tilted her head. 'Thank you, I'll be ready when you are.'

  'See you then.' He left.

  Amanda stood still, listening to his steps on the wooden deck, then the stairs, then the gravel. The door to the truck slammed shut and he drove away.

  She moved to sink down on her cushions, still bemused by the events of the afternoon. Was Elizabeth Burke serious about having her sing at the festival on Labor Day? They were certainly casual about things in Timber. No audition, no firm contract, no percentages.

  Amanda shook her head. This was not a professional show. It was a gathering of neighbors. Would they really want her there? Yet, why not? She was a neighbor, now. If it was for the community hospital, she'd be glad to donate her time. She'd talk to Dave and get his feedback. Maybe they'd do it. It would be a nice gesture for her new town. And maybe...

  Maybe nothing. She’d discuss with Dave and forget Mac. Hadn’t his aunt said he didn’t attend. She guessed she wouldn’t either if a life changing event had happened at the same festival.

  Which it would again this year if she and her entire band showed up. Wouldn’t that surprise the neighbors?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next day Amanda spent in typical vacation fashion, lazing around, sunbathing, reading one of her new books, and panning for gold. Her skin was getting a nice tan, the color even and golden. Her hair was turning lighter, too, with almost white streaks through it from the sun. She was looking and feeling much more relaxed, a regular schedule of sleeping and eating erasing the strains of traveling and performing.

  Amanda was also writing. She finished the first song, the one she had started on her walk by the stream. A few refining touches were needed yet, but she'd wait until she was with the full band to try that and get feedback from the others in the group. It would be easier with all of the instruments available to duplicate more closely the sound she could hear in her mind. The lyrics and melody were good, and would probably stand without much change.

  She had begun another song, a couple more ideas buzzed around in her head. Pleased she was again finding composing possible, she wrote phrases and music in bits and pieces. Soon she'd put it together, see how they went together.

  It was a joy to write. Many of her biggest hits had been her own songs. She knew best how to write for herself. Trying the different melodies, searching for just the right word or phrase was challenging, something put aside in the relentless schedule of recordings and concert tours of recent years. She was pleased at the way the songs had come to her, how she could put them on paper so fast. As she relaxed, more would come, she knew it.

  While not seriously planning to strike it rich, Amanda continued to pan for gold each day. It was a soothing, restful occupation, one that permitted time for thinking or dreaming. She'd take her pan and a small glass vial and spend hours washing endless buckets of sand from the water. There were already several bits and flakes in the vial. She thought they might be gold, but would have to have it checked by someone more knowledgeable than she was. Time enough for that at the end of the summer. For now, she was content to think it was gold; and to continue her search.

  The water ran cold but, if she often went during the hottest part of the day, it was refreshing to splash on herself as she toiled in the sun, sloshing, twirling, and swirling the sand and gravel from the creek bed in her black pan. Peering closely as the heavy sediment settled to the bottom. Were there more gold flakes this time? No matter, maybe in the next pan.

  On Thursday morning Amanda was ready to go to town before ten. Not knowing precisely when Mac meant to go, she was ready and waiting on her deck so as not to keep him waiting. No need to aggravate the man. He was already quick with disapproval. She wished she hadn't had to ask for his assistance, but it beat walking. Surely he wouldn't feel she was imposing if he were going down to town anyway? If he did, she knew he would have no hesitation in telling her unequivocally.

  The drone of the truck became audible, gradually growing in volume, until the truck drove into view. Turning into her track, Mac stopped near the deck.

  Amanda hurried down and climbed in.

  'Hi.' She smiled.

  He nodded. 'Morning.' They were off.

  The post office did not have any packages for Mandy Smith in general delivery, nor any other mail. She was disappointed as she turned and slowly walked back out. Had Dave not yet sent it? Had the mail been delayed? Or had he sent it to the wrong town? Surely he had heard her correctly on the phone.

  Still having quite a bit of time before Mac was returning, Amanda walked through the town to the only phone she was sure of. She smiled at passers by, murmuring greetings to those that spoke to her. Feeling more and more a part of Timber, she was pleased no one appeared stand-offish. In time, she would learn names and faces and really belong.

  Reaching the phone booth, she dialed the familiar number. It rang and rang; no one answered. Impatiently, Amanda tapped her finger against the receiver, but still the phone rang on. Hanging up in frustration, she started back towards the truck. What a wast
ed trip all around.

  'Get all you wanted?' Mac was waiting, standing by the front of the truck, his hat tipped forward on his forehead.

  'No. None of it, in fact. I was expecting a package; nothing yet. Are you ready to go?'

  'Just about. I want to pick up a few things at the grocery store. Won't be long.'

  'I'll go with you. I could use a few things.'

  She fell into step as he walked. She had to walk fast to keep up with his longer stride. Once she almost stopped to let him go on ahead and follow at her own pace. But the distance was short, the market already in sight.

  Her few things filled two bags. When Mac lifted them into the truck, he commented on them.

  'Only a few things, eh? What's your heavy shopping like?'

  She smiled up at him. 'I think I plan to assuage my disappointment in lots of food. Would you and John-Michael like to join me tonight for spaghetti, then hot fudge sundaes for dessert? I got ice cream since I knew I had a ride back.'

  He hesitated a moment, studying her. Then he nodded. 'I think it could be arranged. Sounds good.'

  Amanda carefully kept the conversation along neutral lines as Mac drove back. They had a pleasant discussion on the various ways to cook and eat spaghetti. It was safe and would, she was sure, ensure they would not be feuding at dinner.

  Mac carried one of the bags and followed Amanda into her cabin. Upon entering, Amanda, out of habit and unthinking, took off her hat, tossing it on to the dining-table as she passed. Discarding her glasses, she put them on the kitchen counter. She smiled her thanks at Mac as he put the bag on the counter.

  'Good God, no wonder you wear those glasses! With those eyes, you must knock men for six!' he said involuntarily, staring down at her.

  Delight and surprise flooded Amanda. She was pleased that he noticed the first time she had her glasses off. She was surprised he hadn't made more comments about her wearing glasses. Then, as she saw his suddenly wooden face, the clenched jaw, she realized he had not meant to say it. With a sudden rush of understanding, protection almost, Amanda realized Mac wished he were anywhere in the world but where he was. Such a compliment was totally foreign to him.