by Lyn Cote
She drove quickly to the church. As church organist, she possessed a full set of church keys. Unlocking the side door, she hurried to the locked equipment closet, checked out one of the excellent tape recorders on the list, and a blank tape, locked everything back up, and dashed out to her car.
The clock told her she still had seven minutes to go. Five minutes later she pulled into the parking lot, then rushed into the high school. In anticipation of a large turnout, the county board meeting was to be held in the cafeteria. As she hustled along the hall of sickly beige lockers, her sandals made a shooshing sound on the polished linoleum floor.
She walked in at the back of the cafeteria, crowded to bursting. Voices, humming like angry bees, buzzed in Thea’s ears. Her stomach tightened. As she surveyed the scene, she noted Peter hadn’t arrive and heard Mrs. Chiverton calling her name. In response to Mrs. Chiverton, she held up her recorder and shook her head. After her grandmother’s unkind comment, sitting with Mrs. Chiverton would make Thea too uncomfortable.
When she’d almost given up finding a seat, she saw some men begin to unfold another row of metal chairs at the front. Though hating to sit on display at center stage, Thea scurried forward and claimed one of the aisle seats. As discreetly as she could, she sat her tape recorder down on the floor beside her chair and prepared it to record.
Then Thea sat rigidly avoiding eye contact with everyone. She heard voices she recognized—Mrs. Chiverton’s, Mr. Crandon’s, Mrs. Magill’s, Vickie Earnest’s, even Thad’s. But she was really listening for Peter’s voice.
Realizing this made her stop. She tried to discount this. But she couldn’t shake it. How could I not be drawn to him? His voice would be the one that counted tonight. But he’s just my neighbor. And that’s all I am to him.
Then the board walked in, led by Joe Swenson, the county board chairman. Mr. Swenson, a large man about sixty years old with a gruff voice and an abrupt manner, had never agreed on anything with Grandmother.
The board meeting began. As usual, the most mundane questions topped the agenda. The statements, questions, comments and replies from the front droned on, lulling Thea into a restless calm before the storm.
Around Thea, people fidgeted, whispered, grunted, burped, snored. A baby cried. Thea’s agitation waned. The warm early summer stillness made the room stuffy. Men got up and propped open doors and windows. Finally the zoning challenge came up for discussion.
Mr. Crandon, the one making the challenge, hustled to the front. In spite of the room’s uncomfortable closeness, he wore a suit and a starched white shirt and he carried a thick, official-looking black notebook.
Thea pressed down the red button on the tape recorder. The county chairman motioned Mr. Crandon to the microphone and asked him to state his case.
Mr. Crandon cleared his throat. “Chairman, County Board Members, and fellow citizens, I am here to cite the change in the land use at the Double L Boys’ Camp necessitates a change in zoning.” He launched into a detailed explanation of the reason for zoning and several cases that had needed zoning changes which had been ignored, reaping negative land values. “Now in the case of the Oxbow Inn in Marathon County…”
Thea tried to concentrate on the convoluted reasoning Mr. Crandon had constructed, but only became embarrassed for him. Didn’t he know his transparent words only showcased his bias?
“Okay,” Joe Swenson barked. “We’ve heard enough.”
Startled, Thea jerked and her foot knocked over the tape recorder with a clatter.
Joe glared at her. “And, who, young lady, gave you permission to tape-record this meeting?”
Thea blushed and couldn’t think of any reply.
“Don’t answer that.” Joe tempered his tone, “I didn’t mean to take this out on you, Thea. But you can tell Her Highness, your grandmother, that this board is quite capable of doing the work we were elected to do without her…help.”
Thea blushed more hotly.
“This has nothing to do with Althea Lowell.” Dick Crandon brought all eyes back to him. “It has to do with changing land use—”
“Double L has been zoned for a boys’ camp for nearly thirty years, Dick.” Joe motioned toward the rear of the room. “Mr. Della, stand up please.”
Thea kept her focus forward, but all around her the sound of people shifting in their seats told her that everyone else must have turned to look at Peter.
“Yes, Mr. Swenson.” Peter’s voice came out deep and sure.
At its sound, Thea wished with all her heart the two of them could be transported magically back to the bench at her back door. Instead of wasting a beautiful May evening in this stuffy cafeteria with contentious people, they could be watching the sun set over Big Bear Bay.
“This is a small town, Pete. Just call me Joe. Now I want to know, when you bought the property from the Kramers, it was a boys’ camp, right?”
“Yes, Joe, it was a boys’ camp.”
“And tell me—what do you intend to use the property for?”
“A boys’ camp.”
“Nothing else? You’re not planning on subdividing or building condos or turning the camp into a land-fill?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’re not changing the land use?”
“Yes, he is!” Dick Crandon bellowed. “He is changing it from a private camp to a—”
“We all know what Peter is doing. It’s all you and your gang have talked about since April. But a boys’ camp is a boys’ camp. Now if there are no other matters to discuss, will someone—”
Mr. Crandon, with cheeks inflated like a crimson hot-air balloon, shouted, “I’m not done!”
“Yes, you are,” Joe said firmly. “You knew you didn’t have a legal leg to stand on when you started.”
Swenson adjourned the meeting. Mr. Crandon, sputtering with indignation, marched out in the company of his cronies.
Thea felt sorry for Mr. Crandon. Had he thrown himself into the battle against Peter’s camp to keep his mind off losing his son, Scott? She clicked off the tape recorder, but didn’t rise to leave. She didn’t want to speak to anyone, especially Peter. What would he think about her coming—and with a tape recorder, no less—after she’d refused his request? When the cafeteria quieted and the custodian was locking up, Thea picked up the tape recorder and walked out to the parking lot.
In the glow of the streetlight, Peter leaned against her vehicle. A rush of pleasure suffused her, followed by a slither of uncertainty. The now cool night air chilled her. Just a few steps from him, she paused holding the tape recorder in front of her.
Slowly he looked her over, a grin breaking over his face. “We have to stop meeting in parking lots like this, Miss Glenheim.”
A tingling feeling raced through her limbs. “Yes, we do, Mr. Della.”
“But I wanted to say goodbye before I flew back to Milwaukee.”
He’d said on the phone earlier he’d be leaving tonight But he’d waited to see her anyway. She couldn’t help herself. A happy glow radiated through her. But she kept her tone even. “Did you need me to do something for you while you’re away?”
“No. Just wanted to gloat.”
“Gloat?” Her eyes widened.
“Looks like your county chairman knows the law. So much for the zoning challenge.”
Thea looked away and then back up at him. Did he really think this was over? Should I warn him again or not?
She decided not. He still didn’t comprehend where he now lived. He’d just won the first skirmish and he thought the war was won.
He stepped toward her. “I won’t be seeing you for a few weeks, but my parents will be arriving soon. Can I tell them you’ll help them out?”
“I am your closest neighbor,” Thea said simply. She was having a hard time not letting the slump in her spirits creep into her voice.
“Here. Let me take that for you.” He lifted the tape player out of her hands. This action took her by surprise, so she reached out reflexively.
Peter caught her hand. Before she recognized his intent, he lifted her hand to his lips.
For a second, she couldn’t breathe. The touch of his lips moved her beyond anything she could have imagined. Through a glorious haze, she let him help her up into her car and bid her good-night. On sheer intuition and habit, she made her way through the dark streets to the care center where she left the tape for her grandmother to listen to in the morning.
By the time she arrived home, the euphoria inspired by Peter’s kiss had evaporated. As she drove up the road, her eyes lingered on the dark Double L Camp. All was normal.
Peter’s optimism seemed to be endless and in the quiet darkness, she began to doubt her own fears. Perhaps the opposition would grouch and mutter but do no more. A tempest in a teapot after all.
No one had ever kissed her hand before. During the two years she had commuted an hour south to the community college, she had dated a few music students casually. But her heart had not been touched by any of the young men attracted to her. They had been as quiet and reserved as she. None of them had possessed even a fraction of the charm Peter exuded without effort.
After closing up the house for the night, Thea fell asleep easily, lulled by hopes for a peaceful summer filled with Peter Della smiles.
Thea jerked upright in bed. Frantic barking. Molly jumped and turned and jumped again on the side of Thea’s bed. Molly never gave false alarms. “What’s the matter, girl!”
Thea scrambled out of the bed, throwing on her robe and slipping on her sandals. Molly raced ahead toward the kitchen. Grabbing up a flashlight, she ran out the back door behind Molly.
The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence.
Chapter Six
Shattering glass. Molly howling.
“Hush, Molly,” Thea whispered urgently from where she cowered on the drive. The dog paid no attention, but clamored louder and rushed the fence.
Afraid Molly would get hurt, Thea moaned loudly. Instantly Molly ran back to her. Thea grabbed her collar and, huddling close to the ground, dragged Molly into the kitchen.
Thea slammed and locked the door and dog hatch. Trembling, she went immediately to the phone and dialed the sheriffs number. But when she heard his voice, she faltered. Weak in the knees, she sank onto a chair. “Sh-sheriff,” she stammered over Molly’s frantic barking. “It’s Thea. Can you come?”
“What is it?”
Howling, Molly hurled herself against the back door. “Somebody’s over at the camp. I hear glass breaking.” Trembling, Thea hung up the phone.
Within minutes, Molly gave up barking and lay down, though she still eyed the door. Glancing often at the wall clock, Thea kept her vigil at the kitchen window. Twelve minutes later, she saw the white sheriff’s car, with its siren blaring, driving through the camp entrance.
Through her binoculars, Thea watched as the sheriff got out of his car. He left the headlights on and by their light, examined the grounds around the lodge and tried the doors. Then he got back into his patrol car and drove toward her place.
The sheriffs presence reassured her, but still feeling jumpy inside, Thea folded her arms in front of her. “Molly woke me, then I heard glass shattering.”
He frowned. “I’m not surprised. Crandon’s heated things up pretty good.”
“Mr. Crandon wouldn’t—”
“Not directly, no. But he has everyone stirred up. I’ll need to get inside—”
“Should I come with you? I have keys.”
He studied her for a moment. “Sure.” He held the door open for her. Freed at last, Molly charged outside, baying. She leaped the fence and raced onto Peter’s property. The sheriff drove them down the long lane to the main road.
At the camp’s entrance, his headlights lit up the large sign. Thea cried out. The sheriff halted. The headlight beams focused on the large wooden sign etched with the words: “Welcome to Double L Boys’ Camp”. The sign had been sprayed with neon green words, “This Isn’t Over!” The violent color and ominous message screeched at Thea.
“Someone’s idea of art?” the sheriff commented dryly.
Chilled despite the warm night, Thea pressed her hands together in her lap. “Would it be easier to clean off now before it dries?”
“I’ll need to take pictures of this for evidence and daylight makes for better shots.”
Thea shivered. “I didn’t think.”
The sheriff drove up to the lodge. Again the headlights showed the damage done. Jagged glass remained in the window frames; the rest lay in shattered shards beneath.
“I want you to stay in the car while I take a quick look inside.”
“Fine.” She had no desire to step into the menacing shadows. She offered the sheriff the ring of keys. While he stalked off, the beam from his large lantern flashlight caused dancing shadows on the two-story log lodge. He unlocked the door then entered. Thea relived the shock of being woken by the disturbance.
Waking to blackness, frantic barking, breaking glass! Gooseflesh raced up her arms.
Angry words spoken earlier at the county board meeting were one matter; vandalism in the night was quite another. She pictured the scrawled neon green letters—This Isn’t Over! Oh, Peter, you thought you’d won.
“Thea?”
Early the next morning, hearing Peter’s voice on the other side of her door shocked her. “Peter?” Her heart vibrating like a tremolo, she unlocked the door while running shaking fingers through her hair, which was still wet from the shower. “Has something else happened?”
He walked in. “All the excitement last night wasn’t enough for you?” Gently he took hold of both her arms.
Brushing aside thoughts of last night’s clamor, Thea drank in the steadying sight of Peter. “You flew back?”
“The sheriff woke me about 2:00 a.m.”
“I didn’t think you’d come.” Peter’s nearness warmed her, but she fought it.
“Thea, are you all right?”
More than last night’s shocking events, Peter’s gentle grip compelled her attention now. She controlled her voice. “I just lost a little sleep.”
“I never thought anything like this would happen. I should have been here.” He released her and stalked to the window overlooking his camp.
Losing Peter’s warmth, she hugged herself. “I’m glad you weren’t! You might have been hurt.”
He turned back sharply. “You might been hurt!”
“Did…the vandal want to hurt anyone? Just paint and broken—”
Peter’s voice surged above hers, “From that first day at The Café you told me my camp would affect you and I wouldn’t listen. Now this!”
She urged him toward a kitchen chair. “It’s just vandalism. Some spray paint and broken windows.” Her easy tone surprised herself. Where were these calm words coming from?
“It could have been worse. What if you’d been there, checking on something for me—”
She poured them each coffee and sat down across from him. “In the middle of the night? Not likely. Besides, the sheriff said the vandal may have known no one was around.”
“I don’t like any of this, Thea.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.”
This stopped her. “Peter, you always know what to do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, you always seem to.” She couldn’t help grinning.
He grimaced. “You’re sure you’re not worried?”
“I have been worried from the start—you know that—but I’m not scared.” If she didn’t want to be frightened, this wasn’t lying, was it?
He sipped his coffee. “I see. Still sitting on the fence?”
She added cream to her white mug and stirred, choosing her words. “I’m worried. I’m not scared. I’m still neutral.”
Peter chuckled suddenly. “I can live with that. I just can’t let anything happen to you.”
His words touched her, bringing a blush to her cheeks. She did her best to ignore her
reaction and his tender gaze. “You’re being overly dramatic. I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve never been in danger and I’m not now.”
“I don’t want you to become a target, too. I’ll make certain everyone knows you’re staying neutral.”
“I’ll call it into the weekly newspaper.” Teasing him gave her an unexpected lift.
Peter chuckled again, then he drained his cup. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Tomcat appeared and began winding around her ankles. She gazed at Peter, wishing she could thank him for his concern. He hadn’t told her it was all her own foolish fault. He hadn’t ignored the whole thing and gone away on business. His concern strengthened her, made her want to bolster him, too. “Don’t worry.”
He lodged his elbows on the table, leaning forward over the pyramid of his hands. “I can’t stay. I’ve got to fly back for a 1:00 p.m. meeting. I’ve asked the sheriff to patrol more often. I never expected anything like this.” He stood. “And God will have to take care of it. He can be here when the sheriff and I aren’t.” He stood up. Pausing as if he didn’t want to go, he leaned down and cupped her chin. “Be careful.”
At his touch, her breath stilled, but she nodded
His hand brushed her cheek, then he waved and walked out the door.
Thea closed her eyes and caught her breath. At her feet, Tomcat mewed, begging for breakfast. The sound echoed her own feeling of loss. She’d almost believed Peter’s prediction that everything would go smoothly after the zoning challenge failed.
God, help me walk my own path this time. I’m tired of feeling as though I can’t stand up to people or make up my own mind. But don’t let me read more into Peter’s friendship than there is. His outgoing personality makes me imagine things which will never come true. Please don’t let me make a fool of myself over him. But she traced the skin where the memory of his touch lingered.
Two weeks later, Tom Earnest played Brahms’ “Lullaby” at Thea’s baby grand piano. Thea closed her eyes and savored the gentle andante melody.