by Lyn Cote
The silence lasted too long. When Thea couldn’t come up with anything better, she remarked, “So your camp opens next Monday?”
“Yes. I work here this weekend and next weekend, then the first campers arrive on that Monday. Just eleven days to go!” Peter rubbed his hands together.
“You must be feeling wonderful.” Thea wished she could have shared his enthusiasm, but wouldn’t the coming of the campers pour fuel on the smoldering opposition? She began individually cutting the stems of the roses and greenery under running lukewarm water and arranging them in the clear vase.
Peter watched the graceful way Thea went about the homey task of dealing with the flowers. She wore white shorts which showed off the most elegant pair of golden-tan legs in northern Wisconsin. The weeks away from his camp had been a trial. As excited as he was about the camp opening, with more and more frequency, Thea’s face had begun popping into his mind whenever he pictured returning to Lake Lowell.
But as usual, Thea was impossible to read. How did she keep everything in? Did she like the roses? Was she attracted to him at all?
Despite these questions, he made himself speak confidently, “It does feel great. That spray painting and broken windows kind of shook me. But nothing has stopped my plans. I know this summer is going to be successful. God is providing funds in amazing ways.”
Thea glanced at him.
He couldn’t read her expression. “What?”
She gave him a bittersweet smile.
Cynda plopped down on the edge of the kitchen table attracting his attention. “She’s probably thinking of the county electrical inspector who showed up before lunch today. He livened things up pretty good.”
“Electrical inspector?” Peter leaned back against the counter beside Thea and inhaled her perfume. Lily of the Valley. It mingled with the sweet scent of the roses, making him forget about the inspector for a moment. “What did he want?” he asked finally.
Thea glanced at him as though measuring his response. “To see if he could find something wrong, of course.”
Peter said, “Everything’s up to code. I had that all checked out before I signed at the closing.”
Thea added another pink rose to the arrangement. “The inspector’s an old friend of Dick—”
“Crandon,” Peter finished for her.
He was rewarded with one of Thea’s rare dazzling smiles. He continued, “So, what did Mr. Dick Crandon’s friend find?”
Cynda spoke up, “Don’t know. Said he’d call Monday bright and early to give your dad the good news. Guess what, big sister?”
Peter enjoyed the sight of Thea gracefully tossing her long, golden-brown hair over one shoulder as she turned to face Cynda.
Thea asked, “What?”
“I am now employed.”
“Employed? You got a job?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.” Cynda smirked.
“I knew you would get a job, but how? I thought I was going to take you around again—”
Cynda jumped off the table. “Ask me where I’ll be working. I can’t wait to tell you.”
“Of course, please tell me where you’ll be working.” Thea put her hands down and gave her stepsister her full attention.
Peter’s mother had told him all about the sudden arrival of Thea’s stepsister and how in a week’s time Thea had already had an obvious calming effect on the teen.
“Next door,” Cynda announced with a sassy grin.
“What?” Thea wore an expression of extreme surprise. “At Peter’s camp?”
Oh, oh, would this violate Thea’s idea of her independence from the camp? Peter pushed away from the kitchen counter. “My parents hired you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be working in the camp kitchen with your mom.”
Uneasy, Peter turned to Thea. “Do you think it will be all right for your sister to work for me?”
Cynda flared up. “It’s not her decision!”
Peter held up his hand. “Cool those jets. There are bigger issues here.”
“What issues?” Cynda demanded petulantly.
“Your sister’s position in the debate, in this community.” Trying to read her, Peter watched Thea for her reaction.
“What?” Cynda looked baffled.
“It’s all right.” Thea looked up into his eyes, as though letting him know she were serious. Then she glanced toward Cynda. “I think it will be just the place for you.”
Peter wanted to move closer to Thea, to let her know that while he still didn’t understand her need to maintain her neutrality in the debate over his camp, he thought her wonderful.
“As long as it’s all right with Thea.” Peter stepped forward, lifted Cynda’s hand, and shook it. “Welcome aboard Double L Boys’ Camp.”
Cynda did a little hop of success. “So, Sis, see I told you I’d get a job. Plus you won’t have to drive me to it. And I love Irene. She’s such a great listener.”
“I must agree.” Peter smiled, pleased with Thea’s acquiescence.
“Well, are you going to ask her?” Cynda looked expectantly at Peter.
Chapter Eight
“Ask me what?” Thea stared at Peter.
Peter frowned at Cynda. He’d wanted to build up to his invitation carefully. “I’d like some privacy please.”
“Okay.” Cynda turned to leave. “By the way, Sis, I’ve got a date tonight, too.”
Peter grimaced inwardly. He could do without a kid sister with a big mouth. “Thea, I’ve made reservations for two over at the Hunt Club Inn. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
Why did all his experience with women fail him whenever he was around this woman? He wanted so much to know what her feelings for him were. That’s what this dinner invitation would decide—with any luck. But the way she looked at him now, he doubted his ability to persuade her to go with him.
“Yes.”
Peter felt his heart lift at her reply. Then he wondered—had she agreed out of boredom or pity?
*
By his dash clock, two hours had passed. He drove up Thea’s drive for the second time and his nervousness, his elation had not abated one iota.
Pale gray clouds raced over the sky. He’d flown up from Milwaukee early enough to miss the weather front coming in after midnight—plenty of time for them to return before the first raindrop.
What is it about this woman, Father? I can’t get her out of my mind. I know I never felt this way about Alanna. A shadow flickered through his emotions. Would Thea drop him like Alanna had once she knew all about him?
When he parked by Thea’s door and got out, his mood lifted with anticipation. Through her screen door, he saw her walking forward across the kitchen to greet him. She wore a blue, cotton-knit dress gathered at the waist and flowing around her hips. She had secured her long hair above her ears with combs, but had left it hanging loose around her shoulders. Peter couldn’t move. Her loveliness overwhelmed him. I’m so glad she kept her hair down. For a moment, he feared he’d spoken the words aloud.
“Peter? Come in.”
He stepped inside and gave a long, low wolfwhistle.
Startled, Thea looked up, then smiled hesitantly. “I didn’t know what to wear. I’ve never been to the Hunt Club Inn.”
“The dress fits you and the Hunt Club Inn to a tee. I chose the Inn because it’s a half-hour drive away. I thought we wouldn’t have to worry about people seeing us together.” And, yes, I want to impress her. Honestly, Lord, I need all the help I can get here.
She picked up her purse and walked toward him. “Thank you for understanding.”
Maybe tonight he could change her mind about staying neutral, especially about him. He took her hand as tenderly as a hard-won prize. “For weeks now I’ve been waiting to take you out on a date.”
Warmth coiled through Thea. He’d said “date.” A real date, not just a thank-you dinner. Thea’s spirits soared even though she tried to hold on to reality.
Peter drove away from the lake, leavi
ng behind all the tensions that separated them. Sitting beside her, close and alone, heightened Peter’s awareness of Thea. He noticed her bare slender arms, her graceful hands resting in her lap, her even breathing, the way she sat so serene.
Thea had trouble breathing as though someone had slipped a tight corset around her ribs. Up close, Peter’s presence overwhelmed her. He looked so confident in his expensive gray sport jacket and black twill slacks. In her catalog-ordered dress, she felt like Little Miss Country Mouse.
When he turned off the state highway, she asked cautiously, “Did someone give you directions?”
“My real estate agent suggested this scenic route.”
“Yes, this road winds around several small lakes.” Thea glanced at the ominous clouds as they turned a darker shade of gray and the wind rushed the clouds across the sky.
To break the silence, she cleared her throat. “So, how many campers are you expecting?”
“About twenty. We’re starting with a small group to work out any bugs.”
“And you said God’s been providing for the camp?”
“God’s taking care of everything.”
Whop! The steering wheel lurched in Peter’s hands. He fought to keep the vehicle on the road. What happened? The car pulled to the right. He safely guided it to the shoulder and parked. A flat? Not tonight! He swallowed an oath, but hit the steering wheel with both palms.
Thea sat very still, uneasy around anger. She’d seen flashes of temper in Peter—like that day at The Café when he’d shouted at Mr. Crandon.
Peter said in a pained voice, “I think I have a flat tire to change.” So much for the perfect evening I’d planned. I asked for help, not a flat!
His even tone reassured her. He didn’t sound pleased, but who would?
Peter opened his door and slid out. Disgruntled, he went to the other side to look at the tire. Definitely flat. No doubt about it. But why?
Thea got out quietly. “Your vehicle and tires look too new to go flat.”
“That’s just what I was thinking. Maybe there was a blemish in the tire.”
The wind kicked up in velocity. Dust and dry grass swirled around their ankles.
“I better get this done as quickly as I can,” Peter said.
Looking upward, Thea replied, “Yes, the front looks like it’s moving in faster than predicted.” Tornadoes had been sighted in Minnesota that morning. Though the weatherman on Rhinelander TV thought the front would veer south. Thea gave the sky a worried glance and murmured, “I hope Cynda is inside somewhere on her date with Thad.”
Peter opened the rear door and dug around for his jack and wrench. Looking grim, he brought the parts of the jack near the flat tire.
Thea tried to think of some cheerful topic to take Peter’s mind off the chore and make herself forget about the quick-changing weather. “You were telling me about how God is providing for the camp.”
Peter rewarded her with a full smile. “I got a donation in the mail yesterday, a check for $562.00.”
“Isn’t that an odd amount?”
He chuckled and twisted another part onto the jack. “That’s what I mean! What would you say if I asked you what the repairs on the camp bus cost?”
“Um—$562.00?”
“Give that woman a cigar!”
“Did the donor know about the repairs?” She mentally gauged the wind. The clouds swept across the sky like the quick strokes of a tar brush.
Obviously unconcerned, Peter shook his head. “I called her. She said the money was a year’s interest from one of her accounts. She’d heard about my camp and had decided she’d send it to us.” Peter finished assembling the jack.
“I’ve heard of that type of small miracle happening before.” Birds in the trees around her began squawking and launching into nervous flight.
“I wish I could just sit down with Mr. Crandon, your grandmother and the others and tell them how God is working to make this camp a reality.”
Thea lowered her chin ruefully. “I’m afraid their minds are made up.”
He squatted down on the dusty, gritty shoulder and positioned the jack. The shoulder was not the best, but it should support the jack. “You mean, ‘Don’t confuse me with the facts.’“
“Regretfully, yes.”
“What does your grandmother think about Cynda spending the summer with you?”
“She isn’t happy about it.” From a nearby lake came the call of a loon. The sound rushed to her on the wind like a warning. “Peter, you aren’t going to be much longer, are you?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll have this done hours before the first drop of rain.” He slid the assembled jack securely under the wheel well and manipulated the jack’s lever. The vehicle rose—click by click. “Now, why doesn’t your grandmother like Cynda?”
A burst of wind rippled Thea’s gathered skirt. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the uncertain sky. Please hurry, Peter. “Grandmother has never been happy that my father remarried. She says he married beneath us. Just because my greatgrandfather made money in lumber and bought most of the land around Lowell Lake, you’d think we were related to royalty or something.”
“So your family had money?” He gingerly knelt down on the dusty shoulder in order to get the flat off. Maybe if he was really careful, he’d be able to dust them off without leaving any mark. No dirty knees at the Hunt Club.
Thea’s hair flared with the wind. She gathered it into one hand to keep it out of her face. “Had is the operative word,” she spoke wryly. “My grandfather had a gambling problem. Before my greatgrandfather died, he deeded what was left of the lake property to my grandmother so his son wouldn’t be able to lose everything.”
“Grim. I don’t envy your grandmother.” He popped off the hubcap and started loosening the lug nuts.
“I think that’s why Grandmother is so difficult about ‘our position in the community’ as she calls it.” In spite of Peter’s assurance, Thea no longer believed the TV weatherman. Her apprehension mounted, but she continued calmly, “Having a gambling problem in the family must have wounded her pride, twisted it in a way.”
“Losing most of a fortune couldn’t feel good.”
“Peter, are you nearly done?” she asked. The dark currents above had begun tumbling around in eerie tornadolike swirls.
“Yes, almost done.” He pulled off the flattened tire, rolled the spare into place. An unpleasant idea came to him. “Do you think Mrs. Chiverton saw us going out?”
“It doesn’t matter. My grandmother already thinks of me as spineless. Your camp is just my latest weakness.”
“But you’ve stayed neutral.” Mentally he took a deep breath before diving in. “Besides, I was referring to what your grandmother thinks of me. If she knew everything about my background, she’d like you dating me even less.”
Thea glanced down. Perhaps this was the time to ask. She said carefully, “Irene said you were adopted. All of her children were.”
“That’s right.”
Dust gusted into Thea’s eyes, making her blink rapidly.
Peter wiped the dust from his eyes with the back of his and, then slid on the spare. As he pushed it forward, he tried not to touch the black rubber to his pant legs.
The scent of rain came to Thea on a gust of wind. The sun had been cut off by charcoal clouds. “Peter, that’s all you do for changing a tire, isn’t it?”
He began to lower the jack. Click. Click.
A large raindrop plopped onto her nose.
“Yes.” He looked down at his knees. Just dusty; no black rubber marks. They’d be late for their reservation, but he’d just have to wash his hands. He tightened the lug nuts, replaced the hub cap, then slid out the jack. Done!
Cold rain poured out of the clouds.
Thea let out a squeak and yanked open her door.
“Get in!” Peter shouted.
She leaped inside and pulled the car door shut. Chilled and dripping, she heard Peter slam the flat tire and jack inside t
he rear gate.
He opened the driver’s side door and jumped in. “How did that get here so fast!”
She felt his anger, his agitation. She didn’t blame him.
Peter pushed his wet hair off his forehead. He wanted to hit the steering wheel again, but refrained for Thea’s sake. He folded his arms over his chest. “Well, we’re too wet for the Hunt Club Inn,” he muttered at last. “I wanted this to be a great evening for us.” Evidently he wasn’t going to get any help in dazzling Thea tonight.
“The flat tire and rain aren’t your fault.” Thea’s voice sounded calm and understanding.
But what else could a polite woman say? Of course, Thea wouldn’t let her disappointment show. Frustration burned inside him. “I wanted you to enjoy yourself this evening.”
She gave him a trace of a smile. “I’ve enjoyed myself so far.”
He looked to her. “You can’t mean that! You can’t mean you enjoy sudden blowouts! Downpours?”
“Tonight I do.”
This woman was an angel in disguise. But it galled him that their first date would end like this and Lake Lowell wasn’t rife with trendy spots. Would they be reduced to ordering pizza from the Kwikee Shop? “I guess we better head home.”
She pushed damp hair off her face and said uncertainly, “We don’t have to go home if you don’t want to. There’s a little place near here,” she suggested tentatively. “Dad used to bring me on Fridays.”
“A place where they don’t mind wet patrons?” Peter sounded incredulous.
“On a night like this.” She motioned to the window. “We’ll blend right in with everyone else.”
“Really?” Thunder sounded overhead.
“Go on down this road about two more miles.”
She meant it. She actually meant what she said. Peter wanted to kiss her. Any other woman would have been upset. But not Thea. She hadn’t even complained that her hair or her dress were drenched.
Feeling blessed, he started the motor. Though the wipers fought hard, the rain flowed like a steady river down the windshield. His view remained rainwashed and rippled, but each passing mile lifted his mood.