The others remained where they were.
'Elizabeth said you were a neighbor of Mac's. Are you the one who bought Cora's place?' Henry Sutherland asked.
'Yes. I have lots to do with it before it will be the way I envisage it. But I'm very excited about it. It's the first home I’ve bought, you know,' she confided.
'Where are you from?' Pamela asked.
'Most recently, L.A.'
'That explains it,' Ron said. 'Anything would be better than L.A., even an old house that needs a ton of work done to it.'
'Ron, lots of people like L.A,' Pamela scolded.
'But not Miss Smith or she'd not be here.'
'Right you are. I already love Timber. But, please, call me Mandy.'
'Glad to. I'm Ron.'
'Henry.'
‘Pamela.'
'I'm John-Michael. Is this a new game Aunt Elizabeth has thought up?' John-Michael joined the group, coming up easily and standing near Amanda.
'No, dear. We are just introducing ourselves again,' Elizabeth said. 'Would you help serve the cocktails? I seem to have lost your father.'
John-Michael glanced at the sofa, smiling at Sally when she waved to him.
'Yes, I guess you did. Sure, I'll help.'
John-Michael took the orders and efficiently matched drinks to the proper individuals. Sally and Mac remained isolated from the others, who moved as a group to sit on the chairs and ottoman between the stone fireplace and long windows overlooking the side garden. Even though they sat apart, Amanda was soon aware of Mac's eyes on her. Twice she looked up, her gaze locking with his, driving all thoughts from her head. Causing her to lose the thread of the conversation around her. After the second incident, she vowed to refrain from looking in his direction, though she was still conscious of his regard, his constant surveillance. It was almost a physical strain to keep her eyes within the group, to refrain from looking at Mac.
'Do you have a job up here?' Pamela asked. 'Are you working?'
'Not right now. I'm sort of taking the summer off,' Amanda replied.
'Are you a teacher?' Henry inquired.
'She's teaching me guitar,' John-Michael volunteered from his perch on the arm of Amanda's chair.
'Wonderful. A good accomplishment to have,' Ron said. 'I think it’s good to have a musical outlet if you have even a spec of talent.'
'I often wished I did. We enjoy sitting around in the evenings on the patio and listening to quiet melodies played in the background. Not your type of music, young man, but I'm sure what you play will give you many hours of pleasure, John-Michael,' Pamela said.
'Wait until you hear Mandy sing. You'll love it. Talk about listening pleasure,' John-Michael said, smiling down at her, his eyes holding hers. 'Everyone who hears her loves her; she’s very popular.'
Amanda's eyes widened. He knows who I am! she thought, startled. Then amused. He had never said anything. As she looked questioningly at him, he smiled and nodded slightly. She smiled back at him, closing her right eye in a quick wink.
At least I think he likes me for myself and not for who I am. I wonder how long he’s known, she mused, turning back to the others. She would find out later!
Amanda was surprised to learn when dinner was announced, that Elizabeth had a maid. Somehow the rugged independence of the rural community had not prepared her for the trappings of the city. Yet, upon closer observation, the maid had probably been with Elizabeth for years; she looked to be the same age. A fitting accompaniment to the stately elegance of the old Victorian house.
The party moved to the formal dining room. A large mahogany table beneath a crystal chandelier dominated the room. It was formally set with fine china, crystal and silver. Mac sat at the head, with Sally and Amanda on either side. Elizabeth was opposite him, with Henry and Ron on her left and right. John-Michael sat opposite Pamela, who was between her husband and Amanda.
The maid served quietly, soup first, then salad and the entree, fresh mountain trout in a tasty, tangy sauce. The food was delicious. Obviously the maid's talents exceeded the excellent job she did serving.
Conversation lagged while the guests began their meal, the silence a tribute to the excellent cuisine. As the dinner progressed, Amanda was entertained by Sally's rather obvious attempts to monopolize Mac. Observing more than participating, Amanda deduced Sally would love nothing more than to be the next Mrs John Mackenzie. From Mac's scowling expression, Amanda didn't give Sally much of a chance.
Elizabeth's voice broke into the small silence after an amusing story Sally told, swinging Amanda's attention to that end of the table.
'... of course, in my younger day, a woman stayed home and tended the household.'
'And so they still should.' Sally jumped in. ' I think being a homemaker is a full-time career in itself. Every woman should strive for that goal.' Sally's eyes slid quickly to Mac, quickly away again.
Elizabeth nodded. 'I agree.'
'If they can and want,' Amanda couldn't resist inserting.
'Huh?' Sally said, rather inelegantly.
'If a woman wants to be a homemaker, fine. It's not always feasible, either economically or emotionally these days,' Amanda said. Seven pairs of eyes stared at her. Open mouth, insert foot, she thought wryly, glancing around the table.
'Well, yes, I can see if someone had to work because of money,' Sally reluctantly concurred, 'but, otherwise, I can't understand a woman wanting to go out everyday to a job, competing with men. Her place is in her husband's home, providing for him.'
Amanda wrinkled her nose. 'If I ever get married, I’d expect my husband to give me the same respect and support as I’d give him. A career that was important to me would, by that mutual respect, also be important to my husband.'
'If you want to work, don't get married,' Sally said.
'Men aren't given that advice,' Amanda said. 'They can have a career and a home life. They have to help out around the home. Why can't a woman do that, too?'
'I still say a wife's place is in her husband's home. What do you think, Mac?'
'I'm old-fashioned enough to agree. I think it is a fine profession for a woman, taking care of a home, a husband, a family.'
Sally beamed around the table. Mac sided with her!
'Perhaps being at home all the time isn't enough for some people. Look at my mother,' John-Michael interrupted. 'Maybe if she’d something else to do, she wouldn't have run off. I think she was bored.'
From the stunned silence around the table, Amanda realized the taboo he’d broken. Her anger rose a little. The poor boy. He probably had always missed his mother, but because of the coddling everyone did to shelter Mac, he was unable to talk about her,to resolve any feelings he had, get clarification of what really happened.
'Maybe,' Amanda replied as the others remained awkwardly silent, 'but she was a fool to leave you behind, sweetie.'
John-Michael shot her a grateful glance, then looked apprehensively at his father. Mac's face was closed, his eyes narrowed, going from Amanda to John-Michael and back to Amanda. Sally reached out a consoling hand.
'Maybe she was bored,' Amanda spoke up. 'There isn't much to do keeping a house tidy these days, and with neighbors so far away here in the country, maybe she yearned for something more than she got. I know I would.'
‘Well, I've been a full-time homemaker and worked outside. If you have a job you like, it’s rewarding to feel a part of the community. I enjoyed it when I was home all the time, but I had small children that needed me. Once they were older, it was boring to stay home all day alone, no friends close by.' Pam spoke. 'With all the modern appliances we enjoy, the actual work involved in keeping a house is greatly reduced. I like working now. It's not so bad, do you think, Ron?'
‘No. I'm happy you're happy, Pamela.'
Amanda smiled at them. Was this another couple like Dave and Evie?
'I still think a wife's place is in the home,' Sally said.
'And I still think marriage should be a partnership, a sharin
g of two lives, of whatever the two lives are doing, not the abdication of one in total absorption to the other,' Amanda said clearly, meeting and holding Mac's eyes for a long moment, breaking away to look over to Sally. 'Anyway, Sally, it's a useless conversation. I've had these views for years. You probably have had yours for years, too. I know I'm too set to change.' Amanda smiled at the other woman, inviting comment. Almost reluctantly, Sally smiled back.
'You are right, I am too set to change, either.'
'Mandy pans for gold.' John-Michael changed the subject.
The others, eager to lighten the atmosphere, joined in with questions and advice, with an occasional derisive comment thrown in by Mac. Amanda took it all in good part and the rest of the meal passed smoothly.
Coffee was served in the living room. This time everyone sat together, although Sally stayed as close to Mac as she could. The conversation was general and Amanda enjoyed herself, learning more about her new acquaintances while not revealing more about herself than she wished.
When it was time to leave, Amanda and John-Michael were first to the truck, but had to wait for Mac, who had walked Sally to her car. As they sat in the truck and watched them, John-Michael said,
'Sally would like to marry Dad, you know.'
‘Do you like her?' Amanda asked. She did know, it was very obvious.
"She's all right. She's been after Dad for years.' He was quiet for a moment. 'I don't think he'll ever marry her, though. He's never even kissed her.'
'You don't know that.' Amanda's face grew warm; she was grateful for the night's cloaking darkness. Mac had kissed her several times. She licked her lips in remembrance. John-Michael only knew of one time. Amanda wouldn't mind if Mac kissed her again. She shook her head; what was she thinking of?
'I know, Mandy,' the boy said definitely.
What could she say to that? There was no need. Mac gave a final wave and moved to join them in the truck. Amanda was achingly aware of Mac when he climbed in. His leg was only inches from hers, his arm almost touching her as he drove the pickup through the blackness, the headlights the only illumination on this moonless night.
Reaching her cabin, he stopped the truck with the lights illuminating the steps and front door. Amanda drew her key from her handbag before getting out.
'I'll walk you up,' Mac said.
John-Michael let Amanda out of his door. 'Good night, Mandy,' he said, climbing back in the truck, and turning on the radio while he waited for his father.
'Thank you for taking me.' Amanda reached the front door and unlocked it. Just as the door swung open, the lights of the truck went out, plunging them into total darkness.
'What the hell ... John-Michael!' Mac turned and roared at his son.
Amanda gave a small giggle. 'He's just being tactful.'
'What does that mean?' Mac's voice lost some of its anger.
She swallowed. 'Only that John-Michael thought we might be more comfortable saying good night in the dark.' Amanda trailed off, realizing where that might lead.
Mac's hand brushed her cheek, found her shoulders, and drew her slowly up to him.
'He's smarter than I thought,' he said softy, lowering his head to hers.
Amanda thrilled at his touch, reveled in the feel of his fingers as they threaded themselves in her hair, drew themselves through the silken strands. He tilted her head to suit him, thumbs along her jaw bone, as his mouth came down to hers. His lips were warm and persuasive, drawing a willing response from her as she twined her arms around his neck. His tongue moved to invade the softness of her mouth, to tease and tantalize her, causing sensations she had known only once before. In his embrace. Eagerly she returned his pressure, opening her mouth to his assault, losing track of time as the kiss deepened and went on and on.
'I want you, Mandy,' he said harshly against her mouth, his breath mingling with hers.
She felt a small frisson of pleasure course through her. 'John-Michael,' she protested.
'I know.' He kissed her again and again, his arms locked around her back, pulling her hard against him. Over and over his mouth took hers, his lips hard and demanding, his tongue filling her senses with a heady feeling of his passion.
'Not tonight, but soon. I mean to have you,' he said, in between kisses. He trailed his lips down her throat, back to her cheek, finding her mouth again. ‘You’re so beautiful. Do you know what effect that has on a man?’
Amanda could breathe in the scent of him, of the cologne he was wearing tonight. His hard body against hers was exciting and disturbing. She wanted Mac to keep kissing her, to move his hands as he had the other time. For the moment to go on and on. Forget about John-Michael. Forget about everything, save the feelings Mac could cause. Save Mac.
Finally, reluctantly, slowly, he eased his hold, drew back. With one last, brief kiss, only lips touching, he turned and left.
The truck reversed and reached the main drive before Mac turned on the headlights, sparing Amanda the harsh glare. She watched the lights disappear through the trees, thoughts churning. Lightly she traced her mouth with her tongue, her lips just slightly swollen from the pressure of his kisses. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. What a wonderful end to an evening. And there was promise of ... of what?
She had a sudden, dreadful thought. What if Mac thought she went in for casual sex. Just because he thought her a hippie, did he also think she went in for love-ins, and all the other casual relations the old hippie image held?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The telephone installation man woke Amanda early the next morning. He was a cheery old man, talked steadily as he wired the cabin from a line he had already strung outside. Amanda liked him, made him coffee and listened to his tales of various customers and the ingenuity it had taken for him to connect some of their remote dwellings with the lines from the local telephone company. Hers, in comparison, was an easy morning's work.
When the man had finished and gone, Amanda used her new phone to call Dave. After giving him her new number, she continued, 'Do me a favor and check on the status of my furniture. It was so hectic coming back from Nashville and trying to arrange for them to move my stuff up and still get back up here on the day I said I would, I don't have a definite idea of where it is and when it’s due to arrive.'
'I'll check it out right away and let you know,' he promised. 'By the way, I got two new songs from Bob Clive that you might want to hear. I thought they would be good for the new album, if you like them.'
'Sounds promising, what are they like?' Bob Clive was a songwriter whose music Amanda especially enjoyed performing. He had written several of her most successful songs and she was always eager to try his work when he wrote another one for her.
'One's a ballad, the other one’s fast, like Boatman's Shanty Boy. When can you try them? Shall I send them up to you? Did you take your laptop?'
'No, no service up here. Just mail them. Give me a few days to check them out and I’ll call you. I've written another one, too. I don't know how you'll like it, though.' The song Dave would probably like, the sentiment was really what she thought he wouldn't like.
'It's probably good; why wouldn't it be? They usually are. I talked to the others about Labor Day. We'll be up in Timber the morning of your festival, full gear and all. It's a noon show, right?'
'Actually I think Miss Burke said two o’clock. Close enough, I guess. You should be here by late morning so we can set up. We can have a picnic, too. How's Evie?'
'Big as a house. She won't make the picnic. I'll let you know when I'm a daddy. Thanks for the number. I'll call you about the furniture as soon as I find out.'
'Thanks. Hi to all.'
Amanda hung up slowly. A phone was certainly an added asset to her cabin. Now she could have the best of both words, rural living, yet instant contact with whoever she wanted to talk to regarding business. Perhaps she could work it so plans and transactions could be handled, at least preliminarily, by phone.
Wandering out to the deck, she dre
w up a chair, tilted back, feet on the railing. Maybe she'd even get cable in one day and be able to use her laptop again. She could imagine conducting business from her deck! What a set up!
Gazing out at the trees, she thought of what she and Dave had discussed. She had a new song, but was wondering how he would take the message it gave. Idly, she hummed it through, then again. It was good. She went to get paper, pencil and her guitar. The music had been in her head all summer, the words gradually growing as the days passed. She hummed it again, strumming the guitar.
Time drifted by as she worked on the lyrics, the tempo. It was almost finished, but she wanted it to be perfect before singing it for the band. She wanted to present it at its best. At one point her pulses quickened when she thought she heard the motor of the big gray pick-up, but nothing came into view and she grinned ruefully. No more wishful thinking; concentrate on the work at hand.
It grew warmer as the sun reached its zenith. Amanda was clad in the usual jeans and a buttoned cotton shirt. Her feet were bare and, as she sat with them on the railing, she considered going inside to change. Shorts would be much more appropriate in the hot afternoon. But first, she'd perfect this last section.
Preoccupied with the composition, Amanda failed to hear the truck when it really did approach, until it was actually turning into her drive.
Throat dry, heart tripping, she stood up, placing her music face down on the table. It might be John-Michael, he drove the truck sometimes. A smile lit her face, however, as Mac climbed out and strode to the deck.
Amanda moved to meet him. 'Hi, what brings you by?'
'Messenger service,' he replied, skipping stairs, joining her on the deck, his eyes raking her figure, reminding her of the first time they met. His look did not anger her this time, quite the contrary; she was warmed and excited by it.
'Aunt Elizabeth’s having a group meeting next week about the festival. She wants you to come if you can. I don't know why she didn't let you know last night, unless they just decided this morning. Anyway, she asked me to come by and let you know.'
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