“We can coordinate with Ranger Walker and her team over at the living museum. We have a lot of visitor overlap between the two sites, so it’s important to work on these initiatives together.”
As our talk winds down, she peeks around the partitions to see if Jay and Griffin are at their computers.
“Both of them are out in the field this afternoon,” I remind her.
“Oh, right. Good.”
“Something else you need to chat about?”
She glances over my shoulder at my sparse desk. Like my cabin, I don’t have a lot of personal touches. “I know I’m your boss, but I wanted to check in with you about how you’re doing outside of work. I hope I’m not crossing the line, but I’ve noticed you haven’t been around as much. Everything okay?”
I’m not ready to discuss Odin yet. Our relationship has morphed from adversarial to … I’m not sure. Gaia knows I had dinner with him, and I feel that’s all the information I’m willing to share.
“I’m good. Great. Fantastic.” I emphasize this with two thumbs up.
She observes me for a moment or two. “Happy to hear it. If you ever need a friend, I’m around.”
“Thank you.”
“Being a ranger can be lonely. Especially as a woman, it can be easy to feel isolated. I’ve been there.”
I realize I haven’t given much thought to Gaia’s social life. It’s rare for her to open up to me about personal stuff.
“We should grab dinner soon. I owe you on that raincheck. Burgers and pie at Daisy’s next week?”
Her eyes crinkle in the corners with her smile. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll drive.”
We both laugh.
“Fine, but I’m buying.”
“Deal.”
I’m lucky to have her as my boss and would be foolish to refuse her friendship.
Thankfully, my package from Kacey arrives Saturday morning.
As soon as my shift is over, I’m out the door and headed for home. I don’t have a lot of time to get ready, and I’m praying she sent me something good.
Not knowing what to expect from a centennial birthday party is giving me anxiety.
Tearing open the package, I see two tissue wrapped bundles. I asked for her help, so I should trust her instincts.
I try on the first item: a short black dress.
Hell no.
The plunging V goes so low my boobs and my bra are exposed. I think maybe I have it on backward, but swapping it front to back isn’t an improvement. The short skirt barely falls to mid-thigh.
Nothing about this outfit feels like me.
What was she thinking?
The second choice is a fluffy, pale pink cardigan over a deep plum maxi dress and a coordinating pink silk scrunchie to hold back my hair.
With the cardigan, I look like a kindergarten teacher. This is a job interview outfit.
Removing the sweater, I tug the scrunchie out and toss it on the dresser. Better. I feel more like myself. I’d be even happier in leggings instead of the dress.
Honestly, I’d rather wear my uniform pants or jeans.
Taking a second look at myself in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I decide the long dress is actually okay. The tiered skirt could work for dancing, and the square neckline reveals some skin but stays out of areola-revealing territory. I actually like the color.
Bonus: the skirt is long enough and full enough, I can wear boots underneath.
We have a winner.
I shower, shave all the important bits, and lather enough lotion into my skin to make it shiny and glowing. Next is my hair. I watched a YouTube video on a half-up, half-down style that I think I can handle. Better than a pink scrunchie.
Makeup I keep to a minimum because that’s all I know how to do in spite of watching tutorials online.
“Good enough,” I tell my reflection. “As long as I don’t fall down, we’ll call this night a success.”
Ready or not, Odin will be here to pick me up any minute.
With a calming breath, I grab my dressy coat from the closet. The deep pockets can hold my keys, wallet and a lipstick.
Here we go.
Chapter Thirty
Daphne
“You’re especially beautiful tonight.” Odin kisses my cheek then sneaks a soft peck on my lips.
I feel my cheeks warm. “And you’re as handsome as ever.”
He’s in a dark green and black plaid shirt and dark jeans, simple clothes he somehow makes sexier by wearing them. His hair is less wild than usual, but with the way he’s running his hands through it, I doubt it will remain tamed.
“Stop fidgeting.” His hand rests on mine and creates a cease-fire in the thumb war I’ve been waging against myself.
The gesture reminds me of my mother, who always did the same thing during church. Apparently, stillness is closer to the Lord than wiggling, even when you’re five.
I slip my fingers beneath my thighs like I did when I was little. “Sorry.”
“There’s no reason to be nervous. Half the people at this thing will be too busy avoiding the other half. The rest of them will be judging and whispering about everyone else. Then there are the ones who will be God-blessing everyone’s hearts out of pure spite because their own are cold and black.” His lips curl with amusement.
His words don’t soothe my nerves. “Sounds awful.”
“Nah. The food’s always good, there will be cake, and the dancing will be fun.”
“So says you.” I sound grim and not at all like someone going to a party.
“I do. An added bonus is some of the cousins still make moonshine, and there will be a jar or two passed around out of view of Nannie Ida.”
“She doesn’t approve of drinking?”
“Not at all. Her daddy served time during Prohibition and she’s been a teetotaler her entire life.”
“You’re family’s so … colorful.” I’m not sure what to say, but that seems closest to a compliment.
“We can play a game of guessing what different folks served time for if you get bored. Some of the answers are hilarious, even for Hills.”
“Will your cousins Willa and Gracie be here?”
He dismisses my question with a shrug. “Nah, they avoid all things having to do with this side of the family.”
“And Ida gives them a pass?”
“She does on account of my uncle abandoning the family. Kind of a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
We bounce along a dirt road for a mile or two until it ends in a wide field, vehicles of all makes creating messy rows in the make-shift parking area. A couple of boys, probably no older than ten, direct traffic, which explains the haphazard angles and lack of organization.
Across the open space sits an enormous barn, its exterior weathered and gray with age. I scan the area for a farmhouse or cabin but find none. Trees crowd together at the edges of the field, rising up the slope of the mountains surrounding us.
“Who lives here?” I ask, unbuckling my seatbelt when Odin shuts off the truck’s engine.
“No one. House burned down a couple of decades ago and there wasn’t any point in rebuilding.”
“Why not?”
“Did you see the road we drove in on? Imagine it when it rains or snows—impassable. This property is the most isolated and the farthest from town, and most folks don’t want to live in a place without cell service, internet, or electricity.”
He climbs down from the cab and closes the door.
The hills have already blocked the late afternoon sun, casting the valley floor in a soft light absent of long shadows. Tall grasses, uncrushed by vehicles, gently sway in a breeze. From the soft rush, I know somewhere close by is running water, maybe even a waterfall. Seems like a pretty perfect spot for a hermit.
Following him around to the hood of the truck, I continue my train of thought. “I’m surprised you don’t want to live out here.”
He sweeps his gaze from me to the mountains and back
. “It is beautiful, but I enjoy having electricity and being able to stream my entertainment.”
“Softened by modern conveniences.” I tsk. Not sure if it’s the location or the butterflies in my belly having taken over my decision-making skills, but I feel happy, almost giddy as I tuck my arm around his elbow.
He stiffens for a second before his warm palm comes to rest on the back of my hand. Pleased he didn’t pull away, I sneak a glance up at his face.
He’s staring down at me, a new softness to his expression. “Thanks for coming with me.”
I sneak a quick kiss. “I’m happy to be here with you.”
Inside the barn, the band is playing and I feel like I’ve stepped into a Jane Austen novel, except instead of fancy empire-waist ballgowns and tails, most folks are wearing casual attire. Odin was right about the dark wash jeans starched within an inch of rigor mortis, and most women wear dresses of various degrees of fanciness. I’m neither over nor underdressed, falling somewhere in the middle between That’s a nice house coat and Are you going clubbing after this?
The interior is a wide-open post-and-beam structure without stalls or other walls dividing the large space. A small hay loft spans the width of one end, and the four person band I heard from outside is set up in the shadows beneath. Comprising of a mandolin player, a fiddler, a guitarist, and a banjo player, the group forms a half-circle, and off to one side stands a man with a microphone.
“He’s the caller for the dances.” Odin leans close and answers my unanswered question. “Think of him as Simon in Simon Says.”
“Right. Okay.” I straighten my spine and roll my shoulders down my back.
“Relax. Your face looks like you’re walking through a haunted house and something scary is going to happen at any second.”
I force myself to grin. “Better?”
“Worse, actually.” He squeezes my hand in the crook of his elbow. “Let’s find the grub before these miscreants eat all the best stuff.”
“Shouldn’t we find Nannie Ida and wish her a happy birthday first?”
“We could.” He eyes the long line snaking toward the buffet tables laden with food, most of which appears to be homemade.
“Are you nervous to see her?” I pause, allowing my brain to come up with a worse alternative. “Or are you worried about introducing me?”
“Neither.” He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the room so I can only see him. “Remember how I said I’m the black sheep?”
I confirm I do with a dip of my chin.
“Consider this a room full of rockin’ chairs and I’m a cat with a long tail.” He gazes over my head. “I’ve avoided most of these gatherings over the past three years. A lot of these folks will be expecting to be entertained either by gossip or scandal.”
“Ignore them. We’ll wish Ida a happy birthday, elbow our way to the food, and then find a corner to hide in until the dancing begins.”
“I like the way you think.” He ducks his head to kiss me, in front of his family and the band, who, in reality, may also be family.
I’m convinced everyone here is related by blood or by marriage except me. I’m the outlier, the one thing that is different than the others. I can feel it in their stares and hear it in their whispers. I don’t belong here. They all know it. I know it.
Odin’s warm fingers slide between mine as he weaves his way through the gathering. Most people say hello as we pass. Like petulant toddlers, a few turn their heads, deliberately pretending they can’t see us. Bless their hearts. I want to yell at them and ask what’s wrong with them for not seeing the good in Odin. They must be broken on the inside.
A couple in their fifties walks straight toward us, happy smiles on both their faces. The woman has blond hair and familiar warm, caramel eyes. The man is an older version of Odin, right down to the happy grin he’s wearing.
He slaps Odin on the shoulder and says, “I guess I owe your momma fifty bucks.”
Meanwhile, the woman I’m going out on a limb and guessing is his mom, gazes at me with friendly curiosity. “Oh stop, Ray. I won’t make you pay up. I’m always happy to see my son.”
“I told you I was comin’ and I kept my word.” Odin gives my fingers a squeeze, “I’d like you to meet my folks, Ray and Shannon Hill. This is Daphne Baum. Originally from Idaho, she’s a ranger over at Cades Cove. Been in the area for about six months. Doesn’t have kin around here.”
The three of us gawk at him, me most of all.
“Thanks for sharing my bio, Odin.” I extend my hand to his mother. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Oh, you too, darlin’.” She gives me a warmer grin. “You don’t know how wonderful it is to meet you.”
Her enthusiasm is a little overwhelming. I shake his dad’s hand too.
“Have you said hello to Ida yet?” his mom asks. “Better do it now before the locusts descend on the food.”
Odin flashes me a smug look as if to say See? I told you.
“We have to find your grandmother. She’s around here somewhere. I promised I’d fix her a plate.” Ray’s already on the move and Shannon follows behind him, giving us a wave before the crowd swallows them.
We join a shorter line than the one at the buffet. “What’s this for?”
“It’s the receiving line to say hello.”
I peer around him, surprised to see people formally queued up to greet the birthday girl.
“This doesn’t seem very fun for Ida, sitting here while people parade by her, saying the same thing over and over again.” I whisper my thoughts near Odin’s shoulder so the others don’t overhear.
He laughs. “She’s a hundred—sitting and pretending to listen are two of her favorite pastimes.”
I gaze up at Odin to check on his reaction to me meeting his parents. From his rambling and his mom’s response, I’m guessing he doesn’t introduce many new people to his family.
“Your mom and dad seem nice.” I offer a general compliment to test the waters.
“They’re good people.” His fingers find mine again and he entwines them together. “Mom will be calling tomorrow to get the full scoop on you.”
“Really? I thought you gave her a pretty thorough rundown.” I squeeze his hand.
“I, uh … I guess I did.” He chuckles softly. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to introducing people to my parents. I mean, women.” He rambles and then stops as he blows out a frustrated breath. “You know what I mean. I wanted you to meet them, and I’m glad you did.”
“I do. I’m glad too.” I rest my other hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”
I look up and see we’ve reached the front of the line.
“Odin? That you? I’m so happy you’re here.” The tiny woman wears an elaborately decorated paper tiara tucked behind thin, white braids wrapped around her head like a headband. She grins up at him, the lines on her face like a map of city streets. She holds up both of her thin hands for him to grasp before turning her attention to me. “Is this beautiful woman the girlfriend you’ve been telling me about?”
Girlfriend.
The sound in the room goes all tinny as I try the word on for size. Surprisingly, it fits comfortably. Meeting the parents. Being called girlfriend. This is a big night and I’m okay.
“Nannie Ida, this is Daphne Baum—Ranger Baum.”
Since Odin still holds both of her hands in one of his, I give a small wave, unsure if I should also curtsey.
“Because my favorite great-grandson is sweet on you, I’ll forgive you for working at the park. What do you do there, dear?”
She doesn’t miss a thing. I share about the talks I give and the visitor center. She listens, or pretends to, while seated on an antique chair that strongly resembles at throne.
“Come back and find me after you get some food. I requested stack cakes with apple butter, twenty cakes with five layers each. Have you ever had stack cake before, Daphne?”
“I don’t think I have.”
She releases Od
in’s hands and pats my forearm. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Nothing like them. Nothing compares.”
With one promise to come back and another one to dance, we wander away from the crowd gathered around the birthday girl.
“I feel like I’ve just had an audience with the queen.”
“In many ways, you have.” His hand on my elbow guides me to our next destination.
“She loves you. You probably are her favorite.”
“And you’re basing this declaration on what exactly?” He strokes his beard, which I now notice he’s trimmed recently.
“Human observation.”
“All right, then.”
“I have no evidence to the contrary,” I declare.
“I’m the black sheep, remember,” he says, keeping his voice low lets someone overhear him and realize who he is.
“Which means you’re different, and different means special.”
He scoffs and scowls.
In the corner opposite the band is another group of tables, these lined with pies and cakes of all kinds. Little kids play in the area, running circles in a game of tag. Smartypants keeping close to the desserts—they know it’s the best spot in the place. The adults aren’t paying attention because they’re kids being kids, and as I watch, two littler ones swipe cupcakes from the far side of the table, away from the eyes of authority.
I poke Odin’s side and point at the horde. “Which one of them is the black sheep for their generation?”
“What are you talking about? They’re little kids.”
“You said every generation has one. If it’s by birth order or whatever made up bullshit you were told, we can ask them to line up for easier identification. We’ll bribe them with sweets.”
“You’re crazy.” Briefly closing his eyes, he reopens them to give me a stern look. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m sampling the population. One black sheep per generation, and I’m guessing said sheep must also be male. We can cut all the girls from the sample, even though from what I’ve been told, they can be as wild and rebellious as the boys. That leaves us with …” I pause to count. “Eleven possibilities. My money is on the really little one with a cupcake in his left hand and his right index finger in his ear. Trouble written all over him even though he’s no higher than the corn in July.” My Southern accent returns at the end of my speech. Glancing around, I hope no one else heard it and feels insulted. It truly is terrible.
Stranger Ranger: An Opposites Attract Romance (Park Ranger Book 2) Page 20