Lori Wick Short Stories, Vol. 3

by Lori Wick

  “What do you do for a living?” she asked when the waitress had left their table. During the meal they’d talked about their children and various other topics, but by unspoken agreement had never let the conversation range to subjects more personal.

  “I’m a mathematics professor at the university.”

  Hilary was silent for a few seconds. “Math was my worst subject,” she finally admitted, certain now that they had nothing in common.

  “Some of my students could say the same thing.” Adam replied dryly.

  Hilary laughed and then answered when Adam returned the question. He noticed that she moved her hands from the tabletop to her lap before she replied.

  “I clean houses.”

  “Oh,” Adam looked genuinely interested. “How often?”

  “I don’t work the weekends, but I have seven houses that I clean every week.”

  “Seven?” he exclaimed softly. “You actually clean more than one a day?”

  “On Tuesdays and Thursdays I do. They’re smaller than my other houses; in fact, one is an apartment.”

  Adam nodded, and both were relieved when the coffee arrived. The rest of the meal was strained, and neither one knew exactly why.

  Hilary rescued them both by admitting that she had to be up early in the morning and should get home. Adam was more than happy to comply, and the drive to her house was made in almost complete silence.

  The strain did not lift, not even when he walked her to the door and said goodbye. Hilary found herself hoping that she could make herself scarce when he came a few weeks later to take Chad camping.

  Adam lay in his sleeping bag and listened to the sound of the boys as they slept. After the way they’d hiked in on foot, made camp, and helped with supper, it wasn’t any wonder that they were dead to the world. Talk around the campfire had been brief, but not brief enough.

  The conversation on summer vacation plans had started out innocently but had taken an unexpected turn when one of the fathers suggested that everyone tell his family vacation plans. Chad had been the seventh to share, saying honestly that his family didn’t go on vacation.

  Adam had waited then for some of the other boys to admit the same thing, but whether they all really did have plans or had simply made them up, it didn’t matter. Out of 15 boys, Chad Farrell was the only team member whose family had nothing special planned for that summer. Adam had questioned him when they had a moment alone.

  “No vacation, huh, Chad?”

  “No,” he said softly. “Mom can’t get the days together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” he explained, his voice matter-of-fact. “She tries to work it out so she has days off in the same week, but they always need her. But,” Chad’s face brightened as he added, “she does have two weekdays right together in June—Thursday and Friday—so we’ll have a four-day weekend.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Go?” Chad looked momentarily confused. “Oh,” his face suddenly cleared. “We can’t afford to go anywhere, but we might see a movie on that Friday.”

  “What about your grandparents, Chad? Do you ever visit them?”

  “No. Mom’s parents are dead, and Grandpa and Grandma Farrell haven’t been around much since Dad died.”

  Adam had reached and touched Chad’s head in a tender gesture. The boy had grinned at him in sincere affection before heading off to find the other boys. Adam had stared after him in amazement. He’d never known such an unspoiled child.

  Now, some hours later, Adam lay thinking of all he’d seen and heard about the Farrell family. Even as he was drifting off to sleep, his mind was forming a plan.

  Hilary looked across her living room at Adam Maxwell and tried not to think about how good he looked in white tennis shorts and a dark green shirt. He’d been in her thoughts way too often since their date, and she knew that was going to have to stop. Hilary pulled her mind back to the present.

  “Brad and I go every summer, and this time we want you to join us.”

  “I’m sure Chad would love it, but I’d have to talk with Lisa.”

  “Talk with me about what?” Lisa questioned as she came into the room, a half-eaten apple in her hand. Watching her, Adam knew a great rush of satisfaction. He’d prayed that the kids would be around when he arrived, because he knew he’d never persuade Hilary otherwise.

  “Mr. Maxwell wants—”

  “Adam,” he corrected, and Hilary started again.

  “Adam wants you and Chad to go on a camping trip with him—”

  “No, Hilary,” Adam broke in once more. “I want all three of you to go camping with Brad and me.”

  Hilary stared at him in total disbelief.

  “We don’t have a tent,” she finally mumbled.

  “I have everything you’ll need—tents, sleeping bags, provisions—everything.”

  “Everything for what?” Chad asked as he joined the group, and Hilary nearly groaned. Instead, she listened in silence as Adam explained, then watched with something akin to horror as the excitement on her children’s faces grew. She had dreamed of taking the kids on a trip, but camping? It had never crossed her mind.

  She was a little amazed to hear herself agreeing and sat in stunned silence as Chad nearly danced around the room. Her eyes swung to Lisa to find her daughter’s eyes sparkling with glee before she briefly met Adam’s look. His tender smile made her face warm. It was several moments before she remembered her manners and finally offered coffee to her guest.

  “You’re sure you don’t mind their joining us?” Adam asked Brad for the third time. Brad only grinned at his father and continued to load the van.

  Adam wished he shared Brad’s optimism. He’d thought long and hard about this trip and really felt he’d done the right thing, but doubts surfaced the moment he’d left the Farrells.

  Maybe this trip would act as a purge. Hilary had constantly been in his thoughts for weeks now, and he told himself that if he could only get to know her, and she him, then maybe he could get her out of his system.

  With this rather gloomy thought in mind, they were underway. It took just minutes for the van to pull up in front of the Farrell house, and 20 minutes later, both families were headed for the mountains.

  Hilary sat by the campfire and watched Lisa, flashlight in hand, walk toward the women’s bathhouse. Brad had gone with Chad to the men’s room, and Hilary wondered if she should have accompanied her daughter.

  “She’ll be fine.” Adam read her look. “I picked this campground because it has such a family atmosphere and it’s beautiful.”

  Hilary let her head fall back and take in the blanket of stars above. It was beautiful. No wonder Chad had been so excited.

  “This is where you came with the boys, isn’t it?” Hilary looked at him and watched him smile.

  “Not exactly. We came to this area, but I don’t think you would have cared for that trip. We hiked for several hours before we made camp, and since we were so far in, there were no bathing facilities of any kind.”

  Hilary’s eyes had grown quite round, and Adam laughed. Anything either one of them might have said was cut short by the boys’ arrival. Lisa was close on their heels, and within minutes they were roasting marshmallows and telling stories. A few hours later Adam suggested bed.

  “We’ve got a long day of hiking and swimming tomorrow, so we’re going to need our rest.”

  “Just think,” Chad spoke as he made his way to the men’s tent. “This is only Wednesday night, and we’ve still got four days to go.”

  Smiling at Brad and Adam across the fire, Hilary stood, retrieved her towel, toothbrush, and soap, and made her way to the women’s shower room.

  “You never said anything to me about cutting up dead fish, Adam Maxwell!”

  Adam hid a smile at Hilary’s look of horror and shrugged. “Didn’t your husband fish?”

  “Yes, he did,” she told him, still frowning fiercely. “But he always cleaned the fish himself.
Did your wife clean the fish you caught?”

  “No,” Adam said with a grin, “but on the off chance that you’d just love to, I had to ask.”

  Hilary laughed and tried to put the fishnet over his head. Adam snatched it away from her, and they smiled at each other. Adam’s look grew very tender as he took in her sunburned nose, and Hilary blushed. She transferred her gaze to the water below them and spoke wistfully.

  “It’s hard to believe we go home tomorrow, but I praise God for the time we’ve had. I don’t know if I’ve thanked you properly, Adam, but you’ve given us a wonderful vacation.”

  Adam found he couldn’t speak as he watched her adorable profile. He thought of how poorly his purge had worked. She was going to be someone whose faith was fake, but it hadn’t been so. She was going to be someone who was grouchy at breakfast and a poor sport about the heat or mosquitoes. But she’d been none of those things. In less than 72 hours, this sweet, caring woman was more fully embedded in his thoughts than Adam believed possible.

  “Hilary,” Adam said suddenly, then waited for her face to turn to him. “If I asked you on a date once we were home, would you go?”

  “Yes,” she answered him softly and without hesitation. “Do you think you’ll ask?”

  His head moved affirmatively as he held her eyes with his own. He extended his hand in a careful gesture, his fingers reaching for hers. Hilary’s hand went out and was captured within his own. No words were spoken; no words were needed.

  Brad had told him that she need not be the woman of his dreams. Adam smiled to himself, looking forward to telling him just how wrong he’d been.

  A Note from Lori: Although I’m not specific in this story, I pictured the campground at Emerald Bay as I wrote. The campground is on Lake Tahoe, one of my favorite places. We camped there several times when I was a child and even as a teenager. The memories of my father, who was very good at driving and setting up our travel trailer, along with my mother, brother, cousins, aunt, and even a friend who joined us one time, are sweet beyond description.

  Keep reading for more bonus material in volume 3 of the Lori Wick Short Stories collection!

  free sample: Every Storm by Lori Wick

  free sample: Sit, Stay, Love by Dana Mentink

  More eBooks in the Lori Wick Short Stories Collection

  Other Books by Lori Wick

  Every Storm

  Enjoy this special selection form Lori Wick’s moving full-length novel, Every Storm.

  One

  Carson Point, Australia

  April 1945

  “Miss Josie,” the little girl said, tugging at the hem of her teacher’s dress. Josephine Archer looked down, her face patient and calm.

  “Yes, Norma?”

  “I finished my picture.”

  Josie suppressed a sigh. Her sister, Lorraine, who taught with her, had just given the assignment before leaving to run an errand. Josie knew that if she looked at eight-year-old Norma’s paper right now, it would be a mass of scribbles that went far beyond the bounds of the page.

  “Thank you for telling me, Norma. Go back to your seat, and I’ll come and see your picture in a moment.”

  The little girl started away, but Josie’s voice stopped her.

  “Norma.”

  The little girl turned.

  “If you used only one color, I want you to add at least two more colors before you show the picture to me. Can you do that for me?”

  “Yes, Miss Josie.”

  “Do your best,” Josie encouraged with a gentle smile that the little girl returned.

  After making sure that Norma headed in the direction of her desk, Josie returned to the large desk that sat at the front of the room and sat down to look at the papers piled there. She was just beginning to read, when Lorraine—Lorri—slipped into the room and came directly toward her.

  “Mail,” she said quietly, her excitement showing in her eyes and nowhere else. Josie’s gaze scanned the room to see that all was in order and then followed her younger sister out the door.

  Stationing themselves by the window so they could still see their students, they each took one letter.

  “Mine’s from Mother,” Lorri said.

  “Then mine must be from Max.”

  Silence fell and smiles emerged as the two women read the words that came from so very far away.

  Dear Jo and Raine, Maxine’s letter began. I hope this gets there soon, or there won’t be any use in sending it. I have a huge test coming up in chemistry. I’ve studied until my brain is soggy, but I still fear failing. You’ve got to pray for my brain! It’s preoccupied these days with a cute boy who sits two rows over. In church, he’s always behind me, but in chemistry, he’s in view the whole time. Isn’t that rotten luck?

  Well, enough about me. How are the kids doing these days? Is Philip still biting? I think I’d be tempted to bite back. Tell Norma I received the picture she drew for me. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I guess she doesn’t need to know that.

  Josie’s shoulders shook with laughter as she read this fun letter from her youngest sister. Max had been slightly boy crazy from the time she was three years old. She didn’t do anything to encourage the boys—their mother and grandfather would never have allowed that—but her dreamy, romantic heart was often smitten with someone new.

  Wanting to laugh much louder than she should, Josie glanced up to find students moving around the room. She poked her head back through the door long enough to tell two boys to sit back down in their seats. Waiting only for them to obey, she returned to her letter.

  Lorri, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, completely missed her sister’s reprimand of the children. Fully ensconced in the letter from her mother, her heart was thousands of miles away.

  I’ve decided to put hostas on the north side of the house, Ruth Archer wrote. They do well in shade, and that flower bed has needed some sprucing up for too many years. Also, I can weed over there when the weather gets warm and makes the backyard unbearable. I could go with ferns but thought hostas would be more fun.

  Max wants to repaint her room. The admiral was amenable to the suggestion, but I’m still thinking about it. With the two of you gone, your grandfather has no one to spoil but your sister. He didn’t even blink when she suggested purple walls and a lavender ceiling. I’m still discussing it with her and telling her not to get her hopes very high.

  “Oh, no!” Josie suddenly said, bringing Lorri’s head up. The women looked through the window to see that a fight had broken out between two little girls. For the moment letters were put away. It was time to return to work.

  Because of a family connection, the Archer sisters had landed wonderful jobs as governesses. They had good hours, long holidays, decent pay, and the respect of their employer. The only drawback was the location: Burra Hills, in Carson Point, Australia, was over 7500 miles from their home in southern California.

  Ian Colins, a successful cattle rancher in a remote area of the country, had set up a school for his children and the children of his employees. He had hired the Archer sisters in the fall of 1940, and they had come to Australia in late January of 1941 to begin teaching.

  They hadn’t been home to see their mother and sister since they arrived. Their grandfather, a U.S. naval officer, had been to see them about six months after they arrived. He had stayed for three days, but it hadn’t taken long for that visit to feel like a long-ago dream. Letters and boxes were wonderful, but sometimes the girls wondered if it was worth it, especially after news of the attack reached them.

  It had been horrible to be so far from home when Pearl Harbor was bombed. As with most Americans, the women were in shock for many days. Then fear set in, fear they knew they must fight. God was working His plan for their family—they were sure of this—but trust came hard.

  Then months turned into years, and at times news of the war, ashamed as they were to admit it, became routine. They corresponded as much as possible through the mail, and even thou
gh information was delayed at times, it was always a relief to know all was well at home. Letters that spoke of new paint in a bedroom, flower gardens, and upcoming tests, helped them to feel as though some portion of their world was normal.

  For the most part, life on the ranch was insulated from the fighting going on around them, but the radio and weekly newspaper delivery helped to keep them informed of the situation. Both girls would have given much for a visit home, but such trips were very expensive and simply not an option.

  In the room the sisters shared, family photos were always in sight. They kept a basket with the latest letters available and did everything they could to make their space feel like home. It wasn’t the home they were accustomed to, but they had each other and knew that someday they would be back in California again.

  Josephine Archer was in love. First Lieutenant Kenneth Showers of the United States Army was stationed in England. He had asked Josie to marry him before she had left for Australia. A ring didn’t follow for almost a year, and a date for the wedding was contingent on the war, but their love was very real.

  Josie stretched out on her bed that night, a stack of Ken’s letters in her hand. It had been wonderful to hear from Mother and Max, but Josie naturally yearned for a recent letter from the man she loved. She reread his last one, trying to imagine him in combat and then deciding it was best not to think about it. In the midst of these speculations, Lorri returned from the bathroom.

  “Let me guess. You’re reading Ken’s letters.”

  Josie only smiled.

  “I can’t think why you need to do that,” Lorri teased her, hairbrush in hand, “when I’m such charming company.”

  A pillow flew through the air. Lorri settled on her own bed, her eyes on the ceiling. If the truth be told, she envied her sister. Hard as it would be to be separated, Lorri thought it would be wonderful to have someone like Ken Showers love you enough to ask for your hand. She sighed a little just thinking about it.

  “What was that sigh for?” Josie asked.

  “Did you hear that?” Lorri asked, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  The younger woman was silent.