“Come in,” Roarke instructed, holding open the door. “Miss White was just leaving.”
Arching her back, Sherry moved past Peter. As Sherry neared Lynn, the other girl whispered, “Your plan must have worked.”
“It worked, all right—even better than she dared hope,” Roarke answered for her with a look of such contempt that Sherry longed to weep.
Chapter 8
“Sherry, I’m sorry,” Lynn said for the tenth time that day. “I didn’t think Mr. Roarke could hear me.”
Sherry’s feet pedaled the stationary bike all the more vigorously. She’d hoped that taking her frustration out on the exercise bike would lessen the ache in her heart. She should have known better. “Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.”
“But Mr. Roarke hasn’t spoken to you in a week.”
“I’ll survive.” But just barely, she mused. When he was through being angry, they’d talk, but from the look of things it could be some time before he cooled down enough to reason matters through. There was less than a month left of camp as it was. For seven long, tedious days, Roarke had gone out of his way to avoid her. If she were in the same room, he found something important to distract him. At the staff meetings, he didn’t call on her unless absolutely necessary and said “Miss White” with such cool disdain that he might as well have stabbed a hot needle straight through her.
By the sheer force of her pride, Sherry had managed to hold her head high, but there wasn’t a staff member at Camp Gitche Gumee who wasn’t aware that Sherry White had fallen from grace. Fred Spencer was ecstatic and thrived on letting smug remarks drop when he suspected there was no one else around to hear. Without Roarke to support her ideas, Fred was given free rein to ridicule her suggestions. Not a single thing she’d campaigned for all week had made it past the fiery tongue of her most ardent opponent.
When Sherry proposed a sing-along at dusk, Fred argued that such nonsense would cut into the cabins’ evening lessons. Roarke neither agreed nor disagreed, and the suggestion was quickly dropped. When she’d proposed organized hikes for the study of wildflowers, there had been some enthusiasm, until Fred and a few others countered that crowding too many activities into the already heavy academic schedule could possibly overextend the counselors and the children. A couple debated the issue on Sherry’s behalf, but in the long run the idea was abandoned for lack of interest. Again, Roarke remained stoically silent.
“Maybe you’ll survive,” Lynn said, breathing heavily as she continued her sit-ups, “but I don’t know about the rest of us.”
“Roarke hasn’t been angry or unreasonable.” Sherry was quick to defend him, although he probably wouldn’t have appreciated it.
“No, it’s much worse than that,” Lynn said with a tired sigh.
“How do you mean?”
“If you’d been here last year, you’d notice the difference. It’s like he’s built a wall around himself and is closing everybody off. He used to talk to the kids a lot, spend time with them. I think he’s hiding.”
“Hiding?” Sherry prompted.
“Right.” Lynn sat upright and folded her arms around her bent knees, resting her chin there. “If you want the truth, I think Mr. Roarke has fallen for you, only he’s too proud to admit it.”
Sherry’s feet pumped harder, causing the wheel to whirl and hiss. A lump thickened in her throat. “I wish that were true.”
“Look at the way he’s making himself miserable and, consequently, everyone else. He’s responsible for the morale of this camp, and for the past week or so there’s been a thundercloud hanging over us all.”
To disagree would be to lie. Lynn was right; the happy atmosphere of the camp had cooled decidedly. As for Roarke caring, it was more than Sherry dared hope. She wanted to believe it, but she sincerely doubted that he’d allow a misunderstanding to grow to such outrageous proportions if he did.
“Have you tried talking to him?” Lynn said next. “It couldn’t hurt, you know.”
Maybe not, but Jeff Roarke wasn’t the only one with a surplus of pride. Sherry possessed a generous portion of the emotion herself.
“Well?” Lynn demanded when Sherry didn’t respond. “Have you even tried to tell him your side of it?”
The door to the exercise room opened, and both women turned their attention to the tall, muscular man who stepped inside the room.
“Roarke,” Sherry murmured. Her feet stopped pumping, but the rear wheel continued to spin.
He was dressed in faded gray sweatpants and a T-shirt, a towel draped around his neck. Just inside the door, he paused, looked around, and frowned.
“Here’s your chance,” Lynn whispered, struggling to her feet. “Go for it, girl.” She gave Sherry the thumbs-up sign and casually sauntered from the room, whistling a cheery tune as she went.
Sherry groaned inwardly; Lynn couldn’t have been any more obvious had she openly announced that she was leaving to give the two time to sort out their myriad differences. Sherry nearly shouted for her to come back. Talking to Roarke in his present frame of mind would do no good.
While starting to pedal again, Sherry cast an anxious look in Roarke’s direction. He ignored her almost as completely as she strove to ignore him. Lifting the towel from his neck, he tossed it over the abdominal board of the weight gym and turned his back to her. The T-shirt followed the towel, and he proceeded to go about bench-pressing a series of weights.
Without meaning to watch him, Sherry unwillingly found her gaze wandering over to him until it was all she could do to keep from staring outright. The muscles across his wide shoulders rippled with each movement, displaying the lean, hard build.
The inside of Sherry’s mouth went dry; just watching him was enough to intoxicate her senses. His biceps bulged with each push.
The bike wheel continued to spin, but Sherry had long since given up pedaling. She freed her feet from the stirrups and climbed off. Her legs felt shaky, but whether it was from the hard exercise or from being alone with Roarke, Sherry couldn’t tell.
“Hello,” she said, in a voice that sounded strange even to her own ears. Nonchalantly, she removed the helmet with the tiny side mirror from her head. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’d wear a helmet when I’m pedaling a stationary bike,” she said, hoping to make light conversation.
Sweat broke out across Roarke’s brow, but it wasn’t from the exertion of lifting the weights. It demanded all his concentration to keep his eyes off Sherry. Ignoring her was the only thing that seemed to work. “What you wear is none of my concern,” he returned blandly.
“I—I don’t feel like I’m really exercising unless I wear the helmet,” she said next, looking for a smile to crack his tight concentration. She rubbed her hand dry against her shorts. The helmet hadn’t been her only idea. She’d strapped a horn and side mirror onto the handlebars of the bike and had later added the sheepskin cover to pad the seat.
Roarke didn’t comment.
He looked and sounded so infuriatingly disinterested that Sherry had to clear the tears from her throat before she went on.
“Roarke,” she pleaded, “I hate this. I know you have good reason to believe I plotted…what happened in your office.” She hesitated long enough for him to consider her words. “I’ll be honest with you—that had been exactly my intention in the beginning. But once I got there I realized I couldn’t do it.”
“For someone who found herself incapable of such a devious action, you succeeded extremely well.” He paused and studied her impassively.
“I w-want things to be different. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to settle anything here at camp, so I’m proposing that we meet in town to talk. I’ll be in Ellen’s Café tomorrow at six…it’s my day off. I hope you’ll meet me there.”
Roarke wanted things settled, too, but not at the expense of his pride and self-respect.
“Answer me, Roarke. At least have the common courtesy to speak to me.” His manner was so distant, so unconcerned, that S
herry discovered she had to look away from him or lose her composure entirely.
“There’s nothing to say,” he returned stiffly.
The prolonged silence in the room was as irritating as fingernails on a blackboard. Sherry couldn’t stand it any more than she could tolerate his indifference.
“If that’s the way you wish to leave matters, then so be it. I tried; I honestly tried,” she said, with such dejection that her voice was hardly audible.
Pointedly, Roarke looked in another direction.
With the dignity of visiting royalty, Sherry tucked her helmet under her arm, lifted her chin an extra notch, and left the room. Jeff Roarke was a fool!
—
“Miss White, Miss White!” Diane ran across the campus to her side and stopped abruptly, cocking her head as she studied her counselor. “You’re crying.”
Sherry nodded and wiped the moisture from her face with the back of her hand.
“Are you hurt?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Diane was much too perceptive to fool. “Someone hurt my feelings, but I’ll be all right in a minute.”
“Who?” Diane demanded, straightening her shoulders. From the little girl’s stance, it looked as though she was prepared to single-handedly take on anyone who had hurt her friend and counselor.
“It doesn’t matter who. It’s over now, and I’ll be fine in a minute.” Several afternoons a week, Sherry sat on the lawn and the children from the camp gathered at her feet. As a natural-born storyteller, she filled the time with make-believe tales from the classics and history. The children loved it, and Sherry enjoyed spending time with them. “Now, what was it you needed?”
Shyly, Diane looked away.
Sherry laughed. “No, let me guess. I bet you’re after another book. Am I right?”
The youngster nodded. “Can I borrow the last book in the Great Brain series?”
“One great brain to another,” Sherry said, forcing the joke.
“Right. Can I?”
Sherry looped her arm around the child’s small shoulders. “Sure. This story is really a good one. Tom contacts the Pope…well, never mind, you’ll read about it yourself.”
They’d gone about halfway across the thick carpet of grass when a piercing scream rent the air. Startled, Sherry turned around and discovered Sally running toward her, blood streaming down her forehead and into her eyes, nearly blinding her.
“Miss White, Miss White,” she cried in terror. “I fell! I fell!”
Sherry’s stomach curdled at the sight of oozing blood. “Diane,” she instructed quickly, “run to the cabin and get me a towel. Hurry, sweetheart.”
With her arms flying, Diane took off like a jet from a crowded runway.
“I saw it happen,” Gretchen cried, following close on Sally’s heels and looking sickly pale. “Sally slipped and hit her head on the side of a desk.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Sherry reassured the injured youngster. She placed her hand on the side of Sally’s head and found the gash. Pressing on it gently in an effort to stop the steady flow of blood, she guided the girl toward the infirmary.
“Gretchen, run ahead and let Nurse Butler know we’re coming.”
“It hurts so bad,” Sally wailed.
“I’m sure it does, but you’re being exceptionally brave.”
Breathless, Diane returned with the towel. Sherry took it and replaced her hand with the absorbent material.
The buzzer rang in the background, indicating that the next class was about to start.
Gretchen and Diane exchanged glances. “I don’t want to leave my friend,” Gretchen murmured, her voice cracking.
Both Gretchen and Diane were frightened, and sending them away would only increase their dismay and play on their imaginations, Sherry reasoned.
“You can stay until we’re all sure Sally’s going to be fine. Now go do what I said.”
Gretchen took off at a full run toward the nurse’s office, with Diane in hot pursuit. By the time Sherry reached the infirmary, Kelly Butler, the wife of the younger boys’ counselor, had been alerted and was waiting.
“Miss White, I’m scared,” Sally said, and sniffled loudly.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Sherry assured her mini-scientist, standing close to her side.
“Will you stay with me?”
“Of course.” Sally was her responsibility, and Sherry wouldn’t leave the child when she needed her most—no matter how much blood there was.
“This way.” Kelly Butler motioned toward the small examination room.
While maintaining the pressure to the gash, Sherry helped Sally climb onto the table. Gretchen and Diane stood in the doorway, looking on.
“You two will have to stay outside until I’m finished,” the nurse informed the girls.
Both girls sent pleading glances in Sherry’s direction. “Do as she says,” Sherry told them. “I’ll be out to tell you how Sally is in a few minutes.”
Halfway through the examination, Sherry started to feel light-headed. Her knees went rubbery, and she reached for a chair and sat down.
“Are you all right?” Kelly asked her.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Well, it isn’t as bad as it looks,” the nurse said. She paused to smile at the youngster. “We aren’t going to need to take you into Arrow Flats for stitches, but I’ll have to cut away your bangs to put on a bandage.”
“Can I look at it in a mirror?” The shock and pain had lessened enough for Sally’s natural curiosity to take over. “If I don’t become a biochemist, then I might decide to be a doctor,” Sally explained haughtily.
Sherry’s nauseated feeling continued, and, forcing a smile, she stood. “I’ll go tell Diane and Gretchen that Sally’s going to recover before they start planning her funeral.”
“Thanks for staying with me, Miss White,” Sally said, gripping the hand mirror.
“No problem, kiddo.”
“You’re going to make a great mom someday.”
The way she was feeling caused Sherry to sincerely doubt that. The sight of blood had always bothered her, but never more than now. Taking deep breaths to dispel the sickly sensation, she stood and let herself out of the examination room.
Her two charges were missing. Sherry blinked, but Jeff Roarke, who sat in their place, didn’t vanish. The light-headed feeling persisted, and she wasn’t sure if he was real or a figment of her stressed-out senses.
“How is she?” he asked, coming to his feet.
“Fine.” At the moment, Sally was doing better than Sherry. “Head wounds apparently bleed a lot, but it doesn’t look like she’s going to need stitches.”
Roarke nodded somberly. “That’s good.”
“Where are Diane and Gretchen?”
“I sent them back to class,” he told her. “I heard how you took control of the situation.”
Sherry bristled. “I suppose you’d prefer to believe that I’d panic when confronted with a bleeding child.”
“Of course not,” he flared.
Trying desperately to control the attack of dizziness, Sherry reached out and gripped the edge of a table.
“You’ve got blood on your sweatshirt,” Roarke said.
Sherry glanced down and gasped softly as the walls started spinning. She wanted to comment, but before she could the room unexpectedly went black.
—
Roarke watched in astonishment as Sherry crumpled to the floor. At first he thought she was playing another of her silly games. It would be just like her to pull a crazy stunt like that. Then he noted that her coloring was sickly, almost ashen, and immediately he grew alarmed. This wasn’t any trick, she’d actually fainted! He fell to his knees at her side and tossed a desperate look over his shoulder, thinking he should call the nurse. But Kelly was already busy with one patient.
He reached for Sherry’s hand and lightly slapped her wrist. He’d seen someone do this in a movie once, but how it was supposed to help, he d
idn’t know. His own heart was hammering out of control. Seeing her helpless this way had the most unusual effect on him. All week he’d been furious with her, so outraged at her underhandedness that he’d barely been able to look at her and not feel the fire of his anger rekindled. He wasn’t particularly proud of his behavior, and he’d chosen to blame Sherry for his ill temper and ugly moods all week. He’d wanted to forget she was around and completely cast her from his mind once the summer was over.
Seeing her now, he felt as helpless as a wind-tossed leaf, caught in a swirling updraft of emotion. He was falling in love with this woman, and pretending otherwise simply wasn’t going to work. She was a schemer, a manipulator…and a joy. She was fresh and alive and unspoiled. The whole camp had been brought to life with her smile. Even though this was her first year as a counselor, she took to it as naturally as someone who had been coming back for several summers. Her mind was active, her wit sharp, and she possessed a genuine love for the children. They sensed it and gravitated toward her like bees to a blossoming flower.
She moaned, or he thought she did; the sound was barely audible. Roarke’s brows drew together in a heavy frown, and he gently smoothed the hair from her face. He’d never seen anyone faint before, and he wasn’t sure what to do. He elevated her head slightly and noted evidence of fresh tears. Dealing with Sally’s injury hadn’t been the source of these. From everything Gretchen and Diane had told him, Sherry had handled the situation without revealing her own alarm. No, he had been the one who’d made her cry by treating her callously in the exercise room.
Roarke’s eyes closed as hot daggers of remorse stabbed through him. The urge to kiss her and make up for all the pain he had caused her was more than he could resist. Without giving thought to his actions, he secured his arms beneath her shoulders and raised her. Then, tenderly, with only the slightest pressure, he bent to fit his lips over hers.
Chapter 9
Sherry didn’t know what was happening, but the most incredible sensation of warmth and love surrounded her. Unless she was dreaming, Roarke was kissing her. If this was some fantasy, then she never wanted to wake up. It was as though the entire week had never happened and she was once again in Roarke’s arms, reveling in the gentleness of his kiss. The potent feelings were far too wonderful to ignore, and she parted her lips, wanting this moment to last forever. She sighed with regret when the warmth left her.
Almost Paradise Page 11