A hot retort arose in Amanda's throat, but she kept it in. Blast the man, if he wanted to see her as a hippie, far be it from her to disabuse him of the notion. She shrugged. 'Just waiting for my big break,' she said, bending her head to the guitar.
'Thought you were riding to Chad's,' Mac addressed his son.
'Well, I just stopped off here for a few minutes first. Mandy's going to teach me how to play the guitar,' John-Michael said half defiantly.
'For a properly large fee, I'm sure.'
John-Michael turned a questioning face towards Amanda, but she spoke before he could say anything.
'For fun, Mr. Cynic,' she told his father.
'Few women do anything for fun without it costing others.'
'And what is that supposed to mean?'
'Nothing, Mandy,' John-Michael spoke up hastily. 'Dad's mad because my mother ran off with Cora's son. He doesn't like women much.'
Amanda's head jerked round to Mac Mackenzie as his son spoke. No wonder he disapproved, a natural reaction to his wife's defection. But how had the woman been able to leave him? He was one of the most attractive men Amanda had come across. His rugged good looks were the stuff dreams were made of. His confidence and self-assurance were traits most women admired and wanted in a man. Sitting nonchalantly on the big bay, he was a man to be reckoned with, to learn to deal with, to grow to know and trust, not run away from.
Yet she didn’t know the entire story. He could be mean and underhanded, though she had not seen any evidence to support that.
'No need to air dirty linen in public,' Mac said.
John-Michael flushed. 'Mandy's not like that. I'm grateful to her for offering to teach me,' he said defiantly.
Mac gave her a long, hard look before turning back to his son. 'You get along to Chad's.' Without another word, he wheeled his horse around and rode quickly away, up the drive, towards the large house at the summit. Amanda watched him leave with a sudden, unexplained feeling of loss, her eyes still on the drive long after he had disappeared.
'When would be a good time for lessons?' John-Michael asked diffidently as he rose and moved towards the steps.
She smiled kindly at the tall boy. 'You need to practice between sessions. If you don't have a guitar, you can come use this one. Any time is fine, except mornings. I like my mornings to myself.'
'Okay.' He moved down the stairs, untied his horse. 'I'll see about getting a guitar.' Swinging himself up, he said, 'I'll be down again. Thanks, Mandy.'
She sketched a small wave as he turned his horse and started off, presumably for Chad's.
The afternoon seemed empty now. She stared at the music, but the burning desire to capture the words and melody had faded. Later, or tomorrow, she'd work on it again, but the immediate urgency was gone.
A general lassitude overtook her as she tilted her chair back to sit and enjoy the gentle breeze skipping across the deck. Ruminating on the revelation of John-Michael, she wondered at the circumstances of Mac's marriage, of its ending. Would she ever know? Probably not; the summer was too short, and it was not her style to pump others for gossip. Interesting though it might be.
Amanda awoke with a sense of purpose the next morning. She was going to walk into town to see what arrangements she could make for obtaining groceries on a regular basis. Maybe she'd also get a hat. The sun was fierce at these higher elevations and she could use the protection one afforded.
Having straightened up the cabin, but a few moments' work, she sat down to make a list. While she couldn’t purchase all she wanted today, she could at least determine what she needed, and decide what to buy today, what she could carry back.
Groceries. That was easy: jot down things she liked and the things she was low on. Toiletries. Now, cushions or large pillows to use in the living room until she could get furniture. A rug, a few knick-knacks for the place. A few inexpensive items would go a long way to brightening up the area until she could begin the real work of painting and decorating. She didn't recall seeing a furniture store in town. She would probably have to get furniture from a larger city. Time enough for that later. There was no rush.
A radio. She wanted a battery powered radio, so she wouldn't feel so cut off. Relaxing was one thing, being totally isolated was something else again. A telephone was also required. There was no cell service in Timber. She would make arrangements for a phone to be installed when she was in town, too. Cora really led a reclusive life, without many of the conveniences Amanda took for granted.
The list ready, she hitched up her shoulder bag, placed her glasses firmly on her nose and set off. It was just past mid-morning. She hoped the day would not become too hot, but knew it would likely grow hotter later on.
The walk proved pleasant. The air was clean and scented, balmy and soft against her skin. The shoulder of the highway was graded and easy to walk on. Two or three cars passed her, but the traffic on the highway couldn’t be construed as heavy. Winding down the hill to Timber, Amanda reminded herself that the walk back would be uphill the entire way. Even more reason to exercise constraint when shopping.
She heard another vehicle from behind her, but did not turn. Time enough to see it when it passed.
It didn't. Slowing, it pulled off the road, stopping just behind her.
'Going to town?'
Amanda turned. Mac Mackenzie had stopped, had opened his door and stepped out.
'I have some shopping to do.'
'Climb in. I'm going in and will give you a lift.'
'Thanks.' No false pride for Mandy Smith. It was a long walk and if she could cover the distance in a fraction of the time, so much the better.
'What are you buying?' he asked as she settled in and slammed the door. The truck started again.
'Some groceries. And a hat, maybe.'
He threw her a look. 'Good idea; get a gray one, sort of silvery. I bet you'd look nice in silver.'
Amanda stared at him. Could she believe her eyes? Mac Mackenzie almost friendly, almost complimentary? Giving a suggestion in a pleasant manner, not an order. She was surprised he’d even considered such a thing as what color she would look good in.
Her mind jumped to the silvery outfit she wore sometimes when performing. Would Mac think she looked nice in that?' It showed her figure to advantage, was a color that flattered her. For a moment she tried to imagine what Mac's reaction to her in the silver outfit would be. How he would smile,take her in his arms, press his mouth against her throat, her lips ...
Amanda jerked her head round, staring out the side window. What could she be thinking of? Good heavens, anyone would think her a love-struck teeny-bopper! Granted, she found Mac incredibly attractive physically, but she had been around attractive men before, without this reaction. She had better watch it. Was she getting bored already? Already fantasizing to pass the time? Looking for a summer romance? No. Then why the daydreams?
Mac drew the truck to a halt near the bus depot. Amanda looked around, already recognizing places in town.
'My business here should take about an hour. If you're ready to go back then, I'll give you a lift,' Mac said as he turned off the engine. 'If not, you're on your own.'
'Fair enough, thanks.'
He nodded.
Amanda's first stop was Chad's, Timber's one all purpose store. She smiled when she recognized the name. This was where John-Michael had been heading yesterday. Checking her watch, she was determined to finish under an hour. Who knew when she might have a truck at her disposal again.
She selected a bright rug and four large upholstered pillows in harmonizing patterns and colors of blue and green. One or two bright accessories would complete her venture into temporary decorating for the day. It would be a bit Bohemian but, since she was the only one living there, what did it matter? She liked it. It would suffice until she could start in on all the ideas she had for redecorating.
She wandered to the clothing section. Trying on several hats, she finally settle on one in a silvery gray. What a sucker for
a man's suggestion, she jeered herself, as she paid the sales clerk. Would he even comment on it? Even notice?
One last item, the small radio, and she was finished with this store.
Gathering her packages, she could scarcely hold them all and maneuver through the aisles. Making her way outside, Amanda walked to the truck. As she was well within her hour, she didn’t expect to find Mac there. With a swift glance up and down the street, she determined it would be safe to leave her purchases in the rear of the pick-up, as long as she didn't mind a little straw and hay when she got home.
She dropped the packages in and looked around. Seeing a likely store, she went to make inquiries about the phone. She was disappointed to find it would take longer to install than she had anticipated, but they’d have it in by the end of the month. An appointment was made and she proceeded to the market.
It was well after the hour's time when she finally finished grocery shopping. The truck was still parked where Mac had left it when she came out, laden with two large bags and one smaller one gripped tightly in her hand. Hurriedly she moved along the pavement. Don't let him start off just now, she thought, not when I'm so close.
Drawing nearer, she saw Mac leaning against the side of the truck, talking to another man. With a sigh of relief, she slowed her pace a little. The two men noticed her at the same time. Mac pushed off and came to meet her, taking two of the bags.
'Thank you.' Amanda smiled warmly in her relief. She could not have carried the bags all the way home.
He glinted down at her. 'You're late.' Disapproval was back.
'I know. Thank you for waiting.' She dumped the third bag into the back of the truck, not letting his bad temper affect her. She was truly grateful for his help, much as he might resist giving it.
'It's a good thing I did wait,' he replied, putting in the other bags. 'How would you have managed for the five miles or so to your place?'
She smiled impishly. 'I would have coped. Do you like my hat?' she said, changing the subject.
For a moment Amanda thought she saw a softening of his features; no, she must have imagined it. He was as impassive, as disapproving as ever. With no reply, he took her arm and led her over to the man he had been talking with.
'Ed Tyler, I'd like you to meet Mandy Smith. She lives in Cora's place.'
'How do you do?' Amanda shook hands. Ed Tyler was tall and very thin, with a weathered face and kind eyes.
'Pleased to meet you, Miss Smith. I heard Cora left us. Glad you've come to settle here. We don't get a lot of young blood moving into Timber. Most young folks want big cities and excitement.' He smiled kindly at Amanda, then turned back to Mac.
'Keep in mind what I said. Let me know if you think of something.'
'I will.' Mac shook hands and bade him goodbye. As Ed ambled away, Mac opened the door for Amanda.
'Ready now?'
She gave him a look as she climbed in. No one had asked him to wait. Though she was very glad he had.
Fifteen minutes later they were unloading the truck, carrying in the bags and packages to Amanda's cabin. Mac had not said anything on the ride, nor spoken when they reached her place. He got out of the cab and began unloading the supplies. He followed Amanda in, made two more trips. Putting down the last package, he looked around.
'Looks about the same as when Cora had it.'
'Yes, I know. But that's what's in some of the packages, things to brighten it up a little, until I can get it painted and get some rugs and furniture.'
'Mandy, I want you to listen to my offer. I know from the county records what the place sold for. I can give you a nice profit on it.' He shook his head and held up one hand as she made to speak. 'No, just listen. I also know from chatting with Martin that you just stumbled across this place. I'm sure that there’re others around here that would be just as good. I want this property.'
'It's not for sale,' she replied. He was stubborn, but she could be, too.
'Times will get rougher when the mortgage comes due. Work’s scarce around here. I don't know how you financed it to start with …'
'I don't have a mortgage,' she said.
'So you just wrote a check?' he said sardonically.
She nodded.
'Sure you did. Listen, in reality you have to keep up with a mortgage, not to mention insurance, taxes, assessment fees ...'
'If it’s such a burden,' she interrupted, 'why do you want it so much?'
'It's Mackenzie land. My father deeded this portion over to Cora Rosefeld years ago. It was a mistake. I want it back.'
'No sale.'
'Dammit, Mandy,' he slammed a fist down on her table, 'you have all of Calaveras County out there. Find another place. I'll pay any increase within reason.'
'Another place won't be as appealing, won't have a stream; won't have bluebells on the hill.'
'You can plant flowers!' he roared.
'It's not the same!'
He shook his head wearily and moved towards the door.
'Mac.' Amanda stopped him. 'Thank you for taking me to town and for waiting. It was most kind and helpful.'
He paused and looked back at her, a grin lighting his face, the first Mandy had seen on him. What a change; he looked younger, happier almost.
'Maybe I'll get to you with kindness. See you.'
She remained where he left her, staring thoughtfully after him. When had his wife left him? Amanda didn't think it had been recently, not if the lines on his face were an indication. They were too deep; too set not to be from years of frowning. Were they divorced or just separated? Had they tried a reconciliation? She smiled, trying to visualize knowing him well enough to ask. She couldn't ever envisage such a time. Still, if he were planning to 'get her with kindness', she’d try to make him smile more. What a challenge that might be.
Amanda turned to her purchases. She reached up to remove her hat, then paused. Walking to the bathroom, she peeked at herself in the mirror. Cora Rosefeld certainly could not have been a vain woman, the sole mirror in the cabin was the one over the bathroom sink. What Amanda saw when she peered in pleased her. The pale gray hat was attractive, its silvery color bringing a glow to her skin. Her blue eyes seemed deeper, her skin smoother. Tipping it down over one eye, she tried for a seductive look. Pushing it flat back gave her an open, friendly look. She giggled, tilting her head to one side. Which mood would work best with Mr. Mac Mackenzie?
Tiring of her game, she returned to put away her groceries, then turned to her other purchases. She tore the paper from the large cushions, arranging them near the wall. The fresh colors in the cushions only emphasized the dirty, faded condition of the walls. She would have to paint soon. The soft blues and greens brightened the living room, made it prettier already. Two small lacy cushions gave a feminine accent to the rather rugged cabin. Lastly, a small rug, to place before the cushions and, later, before a sofa when she bought one.
She stepped back to admire.
It was almost like Christmas, with all the new packages, she thought as she drew out the combination radio/CD player. She inserted the batteries according to the directions, tuning in to a local station. The gentle strains of the music filled the room, making it instantly more comfortable. A home, now, no longer just a old house in the woods.
As the radio played softly in the background, Amanda drew the last purchase from its wrapper, a large sloping-sided black pan, with ridges along one side. A pan to use in panning for gold: the black color to facilitate spotting the golden flakes or nuggets, the ridges to offer resistance for the heavier metal when the water washed out the sand and grit of lighter materials. Tilting and swishing, she tried to practice what the salesgirl had shown her, a small smile of happiness on her lips as she pretended she was already panning for gold.
Tomorrow she'd go up to her creek on her hill, near her bluebells, and try her luck. What fun!
A rap at the door startled her. Glancing around almost guiltily, she quickly stashed the tell-tale pan in the kitchen, out of sight.
Going to the door, she found John-Michael, guitar in hand, smiling shyly at her.
'Hi.' He sounded unsure of his welcome.
'Hi, yourself. Time for another lesson?'
'Yes, if you have time.'
'Sure, come on in. I just got back from shopping.'
'I know, you weren't home earlier. I came by. If it's not convenient, I'll come another time. I got a guitar,' he offered shyly.
'I can see, good brand. Come in and sit down. No not there, use one of the chairs; those cushions won't give proper position. Good posture is important. You don’t want anything to interfere with your hands and arms. Did you practice the chords I showed you the other day?'
'Yes.' John-Michael strummed a few times, changing the chords.
'Good. I'll get my guitar and we'll get started.' Amanda took off her hat, tossing it casually on to the table. She pulled out another chair, turning it so it faced John-Michael, then got her guitar.
'You look kind of familiar, like I've seen you before,' John-Michael commented as Amanda strummed a few chords.
'You have, just a day ago. Let's get started.' She bent her head to look at her guitar. Blast, she had forgotten John-Michael had some of her albums. Her eyes were distinctive enough, even with her hair pulled back and a changed environment, for her to stand out. She should have put the tinted glasses back on. Oh, well, take his mind off it and maybe he'd let it go.
'Now, try these strings; fingers here.' Amanda watched as John-Michael faithfully followed her directions with serious concentration.
'Loosen up, John-Michael,' she urged gently. 'Enjoy it, making music's fun.'
He smiled, but became serious again as he changed the chords. In a minute he stopped. 'It hurts my fingertips,' he said, flexing his left hand.
Amanda nodded. 'Yes, initially. But you can build up calluses, see?' She held out her left hand, showing hardened fingertips. When you build these up, you can play forever and your fingers don't bother you.' She shifted position slightly.
'Now, there are other ways to strum.' Amanda demonstrated different rhythms, plucked the strings, and waited each time for John-Michael to try.
Bluebells on the Hill Page 4