by Ann Herrick
"Gwen, this is Mikel," I said, launching the official introduction. "Mikel, Gwen."
They both smiled shyly, and simultaneously said, "Hi."
It reminded me of the scene in "Bambi" where he meets Faline. It was an atmosphere of puffy clouds, apple blossoms and cute little animals. I almost expected Thumper to hop out from behind a chair and nudge Mikel into making a move toward Gwen. Instead, Mom filled that role.
"Come on you two," she said, propelling them into chairs next to each other at the kitchen table. "Kaysie, would you go upstairs and get your father? I just have to spread the egg salad on the bread and lunch will be ready."
I took my cue and made myself scarce as Mom busied herself with the sandwiches. I knew she wanted Gwen and Mikel to have a moment more or less to themselves before we all descended on them.
I knocked on Dad's door, tiptoed into the room and waited a few seconds. I cleared my throat.
Dad held up his index finger, his indication that he'd be right with me. After a couple minutes I issued a loud sigh.
"Okay, okay," Dad said. "I had to finish that paragraph. What do you want?"
"Lunch."
"Lunch?" Dad's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You know, that meal that comes between breakfast and dinner."
"Already?"
"Yes. And by the way, Mikel Tomich from next door is having lunch with us."
"Oh, why is that?" Dad asked. Then he smiled and answered himself. "Your mother invited him."
"Yeah, you know Mom …" I let it go at that. He still thought of Gwen as his baby, and I was afraid he'd go into shock if he thought Mom had invited Mikel especially for Gwen.
When we got to the kitchen Dad didn't seem to notice the silly grins Mikel and Gwen had on their faces.
"Ah, Robert." Mom put on her brightest smile. "This is Mikel Tomich from next door."
"Hi, Mikel."
"Hello, Mr. Crawford," Mikel said as he stared at the tablecloth.
Lunch was unusually quiet. Mikel and Gwen ate like an army. But they didn't say a word to each other. Things picked up when Mom served the blueberry pie. Assorted oohs and aahs filled the conversational void. Mom tried to keep things going. "Mikel, isn't that a canoe I saw tied up at your dock?"
"Mmmm, hmmm." Mikel nodded as he gulped down his pie.
"I remember paddling a canoe here several years ago," Mom said with a dreamy look on her face. "It was a lot of fun."
Mikel chewed and nodded.
"You know," Mom said, "I don't think Gwen has ever ridden in a canoe. Have you, Gwen?"
"Me?" Gwen pointed to herself. "No."
There was a long pause. Finally, Mikel got the hint. "Say, Gwen. Um, would you, uh, like to go for a canoe ride with me after lunch?"
"Sure." Gwen tried to sound casual, but she looked as if she would explode from anticipation.
"Canoe ride?" Dad said. "Young man, I hope you have life jackets for that canoe."
"Yessir."
"And you'll make sure my daughter wears one?" Dad examined Mikel with a cold‑eyed stare.
Gwen shuddered with embarrassment.
I thought she'd be used to the way Dad grilled guys after seeing the drill with Brian, but this was the first time she was the one paired with the grillee.
"Oh, yes sir!" Mikel exclaimed.
"Well, be careful," Dad warned. "Don't be out on that lake all day. It might rain."
There wasn't a cloud in the sky.
"Oh, Robert." Mom waved off Dad's concern. "It's not going to rain. Gwen and Mikel, you two run along and have a wonderful time."
I saw Gwen blush slightly at Mom's "you‑two‑run‑along" comment. As Gwen and Mikel left, I heard Gwen quietly apologizing for both Mom and Dad.
"That pie was great, Margo." Dad kissed Mom's cheek. "You make the best crust I ever tasted."
"Oh, Robert." Mom tried to sound modest as she playfully poked Dad in the chest. But I could see how pleased she was by his compliment.
"Well, back to work for me." Dad gave Mom a quick kiss‑‑on the lips this time.
"Kaysie and I are going to take this other blueberry pie next door to that newly divorced man and his son," Mom said.
"What!" Dad exclaimed in mock horror. "Give away one of your delicious pies?"
"Don't worry." Mom wrapped a piece of waxed paper around the pie. "There'll be plenty for you as long as the berries hold out. Meanwhile, it shouldn't take us long to deliver this one."
"Okay." Dad went back upstairs.
"Mom," I said, "I have things to do. Can't you take the pie by yourself?"
"Of course I can," Mom said. "But it would be so much nicer if you went with me. After all, the boy might appreciate some company his own age …"
"He can introduce himself to Mikel."
"Now, Kaysie. Mikel's canoeing with Gwen. Besides, I'd feel more comfortable if you were with me."
That was it. It was silly, but Mom felt uneasy running off by herself to meet some guy she knew was divorced. I guess she figured if I went along it would be more "proper" or something. "But, Mom. I wanted to write to Brian. And I haven't even read one‑‑"
"Please," Mom begged. "It won't take long. And I do so much for you."
Mom is always very direct in her use of guilt as a weapon.
"Oh, all right." I sighed. I figured it wouldn't hurt to play chaperone and come right back. It wasn't as if I'd spend more than two seconds with that guy with the blondish hair.
Bearing the pie, Mom led the way and I trailed a few feet behind. As we approached the house next door I saw a small faded sign nearly covered with vines and leaves. It said, "The Daly Family." That name sounded familiar. But I couldn't figure out why.
Mom knocked on the door. We waited a few seconds, but no one answered. Maybe they weren't home. Maybe we could just leave the pie and go.
Mom knocked again. The door opened. A drop‑dead gorgeous man with muscular arms packed into a tight black T‑shirt raised an eyebrow and said, "Yes?"
"Hello," Mom said. "I'm …" She gasped and almost dropped the pie. "Parker? Parker Daly?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know …" the man started to say. Then he looked more closely at Mom. He snapped his fingers. "Margo! Margo Shelton!"
I so gawked in disbelief as this Mr. Daly gave Mom a big hug, then picked her up and swung her around in a circle. I managed to grab the pie just as it flew out of Mom's hands.
Suddenly the blond hunk appeared in the doorway. Drop‑Dead Gorgeous, Jr., I presumed. He looked at Mom and Mr. Gorgeous, then at me and the pie. With a mild tone of curiosity he asked, "What's going on?"
"I think they must know each other." Understatement. Then it hit me. Parker Daly. The man Mom had her first summer romance with twenty years ago. At first I thought, What a coincidence!
But then I remembered the vine‑covered sign in the yard. Suddenly I was suspicious. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence at all!
Chapter Four
"So they know each other. Huh." The blond guy shrugged, then gestured for me to come into the house. "What about you and the pie?"
"We know each other, too." I was too distracted to make sense. We stepped inside. Gorgeous Jr.'s rich laugh snapped me back to attention. "I mean, my mother baked the pie and we brought it over for you and your father."
"Thanks." Gorgeous Junior pulled out a chair for me at the kitchen table. "We can dig into the pie while those two visit. By the way, my name is Troy. Troy Daly."
"I'm Kaysie Crawford." I sneaked a peak at Mom and Mr. Daly out of the corner of my eye. Gorgeous … I mean, Troy didn't seem to be at all upset by the way our folks were laughing and getting "reacquainted," so I tried not to worry. "But no thanks on the pie. I just had some."
"Aw, come on," Troy said, coaxing me with a smile. "I hate to eat alone."
"Sorry, I‑‑"
"Ple‑e‑e‑e‑ase …" Troy pleaded in the voice of a small boy, but his clear blue eyes focused intently on me. I had the feeling he'd polished this technique
well enough that he usually got his way.
"I'll compromise. I'll have a glass of milk with you." It looked as if I'd be there a while anyway, from the way Mom and Mr. Daly were yakking away out on the porch. I tried to curb my suspicions and relax.
"Great." Troy poured a couple glasses of milk, cut himself a huge wedge of pie, and sat down next to me. "So," he said, stabbing his pie with his fork, "please tell me you'll be here for more than just the weekend."
"I'm here for a whole month," I said, dropping into a depressed mode at the thought.
"Cool." Troy quickly scanned me up and down, and then smiled what I guessed was his approval. "I've got a boat. There are over two hundred small islands we can explore."
"That's nice," I said coolly. Troy was assuming a lot. But then, with his looks he most likely was used to girls hanging all over him. Wherever he was from he was probably everyone's Number One Crush. "But I have other‑‑"
"Troy! You'll never believe it." Mr. Parker swept into the room with Mom.
I bit my lip and tried not to stare at Mom's hand resting on Mr. Daly's arm.
"This beautiful woman was a girl I knew twenty years ago. Margo Shelton, meet my son, Troy."
Troy stood up to greet Mom.
"It's Margo Crawford these days." Mom reached out to shake Troy's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Crawford. And thanks for the pie. It's great!"
"Pie? I didn't see any pie!" Mr. Daly exclaimed. "Let me guess. Blueberry?"
Mom beamed as she nodded.
"You know, young lady," Mr. Daly said, talking to me, "I remember that your mother made the best blueberry pie I ever tasted."
"Oh?" Blueberries were in season, I thought, trying to convince myself that Mom's choice of fruit was purely coincidental.
Mr. Daly hacked off a huge slab of pie for himself, while Mom managed to get off with a small glass of water.
"Man, does this take me back." Mr. Daly paused and savored a bite of pie. "It's as if the years just melted away."
"It does seem as if it was just yesterday." Mom sighed and shook her head.
I couldn't imagine even remembering twenty years ago, let alone having it seem like yesterday. I mean, second grade seemed like another century to me.
"Where did all the years go?" Mr. Parker asked.
I knew it was just a rhetorical question. But I felt like saying that the time went into marriages to other people. Marriages that produced children such as the two sitting there at that very table!
But I didn't want to sound suspicious or anything. I mean, I hoped the tiny little doubts in my brain were completely unfounded, so why cause trouble by voicing them? Besides, I didn't want to give Mom and Mr. Daly any ideas they didn't already have.
"Margo, that pie was great." Mr. Daly crumpled his paper napkin and tossed it down on his plate. "Now I want to do something for you. How about if I take you out in the boat?" He glanced at me. "You and your family, that is. It's a beautiful afternoon."
"Oh!" Mom clasped her hands together. "I'd love to!"
"Sounds like fun." I tried to look excited even though I wasn't thrilled with the idea. But I figured I ought to keep an eye on this Mr. Daly guy. Just in case.
"Change into your swimsuits," Mr. Daly said. "We can go for a swim, too."
"You bet!" Mom grabbed my hand and hurried me along the path back to our cottage. "This is going to be so much fun!"
"Right." I tried to remind myself that girlish enthusiasm was typical behavior for Mom.
As soon as we got back, Mom flew up the stairs and into Dad's office.
I sort of half‑caught their conversation‑‑mainly because I was straining to hear as I changed into my swimsuit.
"Robert, you'll never believe … my friend from over twenty years ago … sailing … oh, come on! It'll be fun!"
"Sorry … really am, Margo … just too busy … you and Kaysie have a good time."
I wanted Mom to persuade Dad to change his mind. I wanted her to cover him with kisses, force him to turn off the computer and come with us. But I realized how engrossed Dad got in his work and how he worried about his self‑imposed deadlines. I knew Mom knew all that too.
So I tugged on my rosy‑pink swimsuit and smoothed out the straps. I liked the way the strategic draping of the material, edged in black, actually created the illusion of a figure.
Just as I stepped out in the hall, Mom appeared in her red, ruffled, polka dot bikini. It was really cute and showed without a doubt that she was terrifically fit.
"This is so exciting," Mom said. "I haven't been sailing in years."
Funny how she'd assumed we'd go out in the sailboat. I'd pictured us in the speedboat.
When we got back to the Daly's cottage, Mr. Daly looked Mom over from head to toe. Not that he spent much time on her toes. He whistled softly. "Margo, you look great."
Mom just smiled and blushed prettily.
Troy scanned me with the same sort of appraising look his father had given Mom. But all he said to me was, "All set?"
I nodded. For a moment, seeing Troy in nothing but his swim trunks took my voice away. I couldn't help but appreciate his athletic body and six-pack abs.
"Where is everybody, anyway?" asked Mr. Daly, who, I noticed, had his own six-pack abs. Dad's stomach, unfortunately, looked as if he'd swallowed the contents of a six pack.
"My husband insists on working and my other daughter, Gwen, is out canoeing with a friend," Mom said.
"Too bad they couldn't make it." Mr. Daly did not look the least bit disappointed. "Well, let's get going. We shouldn't miss a minute of this beautiful day."
Troy walked next to me on the path. "So that brunette I've seen you with is Gwen?"
"Yes, she's twelve," I said quickly. I didn't want him getting any ideas about my sister.
When we reached the dock, I noticed that Mr. Daly put his hands around Mom's waist as he helped her into the sailboat.
Smooth move, I thought, gritting my teeth.
I started to head toward the sailboat, but Troy put a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, Dad. We're going out in the Bayliner."
"Okay! See you later."
"I thought we were all going sailing," I protested to Troy. After all, my mission was to keep my eye on Mom and Mr. Daly.
"Dad gets so caught up in trimming the sails that it's just no fun. Besides, I prefer something with some speed."
"Oh." I shrugged, feeling kind of helpless. I would've backed out of the ride with Troy, but I did want to be out on the lake where I'd have a better chance to keep tabs on Mom.
When I started to climb into the speedboat, Troy reached out and caught my hand in his. He held it just a moment longer than necessary.
I so couldn't believe it, but when he offered me a big smile, my heart went "Boink."
Chapter Five
It was physical, purely physical, I told myself. A great‑looking guy takes my hand and smiles at me, and, well, it's only natural to react for a second. It didn't mean a thing. Really.
I sat down and took a deep breath to collect myself. Troy was busy untying the boat and fiddling with the engine. I must've put something into that smile of his that wasn't there.
What worried me was that if even for only a second I could react the way I did to Troy, who I hardly knew, what about Mom and Mr. Daly? They'd once had a summer romance! Of course, Mom was happily married and presumably a lot more mature than I was. Still, I was afraid it could be a long month.
"We'd better wear these." Troy handed me a life jacket, and then we were on our way.
We slowly pulled out of the cove, but once we were out in the open Troy pushed it up to full throttle. The wind whipped across my face so hard I could barely see. If Mom and Mr. Daly were nearby, I couldn't tell.
I opened my mouth to ask Troy to slow down, but air rushed right down my throat.
"Speed!" Troy shouted as he patted the boat. "That's what I like about this baby!"
Finally, as we approached one of the many small i
slands, we slowed down. Troy guided the boat up to the edge of the shore, then hopped out and carefully tied the boat to a fallen log. He ditched his lifejacket, and I did the same.
"Come on." Troy offered me his hand.
"Where are we going?" I got a quick shot of that tingle again when his hand touched mine, but I immediately dismissed it. It meant nothing. Nothing …
"Exploring," said Troy. "I like to explore. Don't you?"
Actually, I was more comfortable with what was familiar. But for some reason I found myself wanting to sound adventurous. "Sure!"
"Good." Troy smiled as his gaze moved slowly from my nose to my toes and back again.
Nervous flutterings pricked at my skin. I suppose I could've insisted that I wanted to go back to the house right then and there. But I figured, why let a dumb case of nerves ruin a beautiful day for me? After all, the sun was shining brightly and a warm breeze brushed the treetops.
There were only fine threads of paths through the dense undergrowth on the island. In some of the heavily shaded areas the leaves and needles beneath our feet were damp, and as we walked, a wet, woodsy smell was released. Sprinklings of wildflowers dotted the area.
"Whew!" Troy said suddenly. "It's too hot here. Let's turn back and go for a swim."
"Oh. Okay." I would've enjoyed more time in the woods, but a swim would be nice.
When we got back to the boat, Troy ran into the water and dove right in. He surfaced and called to me, "Come on!"
Slowly I waded in up to my knees. I was used to the heated community pool back home.
When I stopped with the water just barely covering my knees, Troy said, "You'll never get in at that rate."
Next thing I knew, Troy grabbed me and lifted me into his arms. Before I could even decide how I should react, he lowered us both into the water.
For a second, the cold sliced right through me. After a moment I felt better, but I was seriously aware of being in Troy's arms.