California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

  Chapter 10

  After Mandy launched herself out of bed the next morning, she made her way to the camp showers, getting in and out quickly. Showers used by multiple people she didn’t know always increased her “yick” factor.

  She envied the actors and director their trailers.

  “I hate parks,” Sally grumbled when Mandy joined her at breakfast in the dining tent by the Tuolumne River. “Give me a city any time. Mice I understand. Here everything jabbers at you like a radio announcer at a slow ball game.”

  Mandy chuckled, but concentrated on the vegetable omelet in front of her. Anything that someone else cooked had an extra bite of sweetness.

  Her phone jangled, and she dropped her fork on the plate. “I thought we couldn’t get reception up here,” she said.

  Sally shrugged. “You never know where there’s pockets of coverage.”

  Mandy glanced at the readout.

  Lola.

  “I should probably take this.” She stood and went outside, hoping the signal would stay strong enough to give her mother a call back. If Lola didn’t hear from Mandy on a regular basis, she was likely to call the National Guard.

  “Oh, hi, darling,” her mother said when she got through. “Where are you? I thought you were coming back home to be with me. You need to get over all that California cooking nonsense and get on with your life.”

  Mandy sighed. No matter how often she told Lola she was never moving back to New Jersey, she persisted in thinking Mandy’s return was imminent. “I sent you an email, Lola. I’ve got a job that’s got me tied up until the end of September. Maybe I can make it out there for Thanksgiving.”

  “But darling, the play will be over then. I do want you to see me in it. I’ve still got it.” Her mother laughed, a tinkling sound that had always won her the attention of any man in the immediate area.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not going to make it this time, but I’m sure you’ll be on stage a lot more now that you’ve decided to resuscitate your career.”

  “Can’t you fly out for the weekend? The play ends Sunday night.”

  “No, I can’t. The movie just started shooting.”

  She hadn’t meant to tell Lola that.

  “Movie? What movie? What are you doing there? If you have to join me in this awful business, come back east so I can give you a proper start. You’d be great in ingénue roles.”

  “I don’t want to act, Lola. I want to cook.”

  “Nonsense, Mandy. Everyone wants to act. Do you think they’ll give you a walk-on during shooting? They’re always looking for extras in an environment like that.”

  While her mother peppered her with opinions and questions, and clicked her tongue in dismay, Mandy managed to explain the bare bones of what she was doing, who she was doing it with, and where she was.

  “Oh, darling, you’ll never been safe in that environment. Come back home so I can protect you.”

  “I’m fine. It’s time for me to be on my own.”

  “Then I’m coming out there.”

  “No!” Mandy yelled, frustrated with her mother’s lack of understanding.

  “Well, if you don’t want me around—”

  Sheesh. Lola was pulling out all the stops.

  “It’s not that. It’s just this place is really remote. There’s nowhere for you to stay, and the nearest nail salon is in Oakhurst, two and a half hours away.”

  That should keep her mother in New Jersey.

  “Have you seen Dana? Did you ask him about the movie?”

  “No, Lola. I haven’t seen him. Remember, I told you last time I talked to you. I haven’t talked to him since I was five. You wouldn’t let me.”

  Silence.

  “I’m in Yosemite. Dana’s in LA. Our paths are not going to cross.” Then she remembered something she’d been meaning to ask her mother. “Do you remember George Stubbins from the old days? He seems to remember you.”

  “Um. Stubbins. No, I don’t think so.”

  Her mother was lying. Mandy could tell it from her voice.

  “Are you sure you can’t come to see me in the play? I’m very good.”

  The change of topic confirmed the lie.

  Sally walked out of the dining tent. She looked at Mandy, tapped her watch, and pointed in the direction of the food RV.

  “Sorry. I’ve got to go. My boss is waiting.”

  “Oh, darling. You should be able to talk a little longer.”

  “I’ll call you later.” She slipped the phone in her pocket.

  “Thanks for the rescue,” she said to Sally. “Lola can go on and on.”

  Sally nodded and handed her a cardboard box. “I had them wrap up your breakfast. Figured you’d need the sustenance.”

  Mandy warmed with the thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Sally.”

  • • •

  James knocked on the catering vehicle door before opening it and entering. Early in their relationship Sally had made it clear that was the proper way to interrupt her. He’d learned early to follow Sally’s instructions to the T.

  Mandy was alone, mixing some chocolaty concoction that tickled his nose with its hot-sweet spice. She smiled at him—a cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless.

  An ember of hope heated in his heart. “Mmm,” he said. “What is it?”

  “Brownies with Mexican chocolate. A hint of chili spice brings out the flavor. Want to stick around to lick the spoon?”

  “You bet.” He settled himself on a stool at the front of the galley kitchen. “How are things going? The crew seems happy with the food.”

  “They’re eating lots of it.”

  “Brisk mountain air.” He had a vision of the two of them at the top of a crest. “We have Sunday off. How about hiking to Cathedral Lakes?”

  She stopped stirring. “I think it’s a bad idea for us to be together. You know, boss-employee relationships and all that?”

  “This isn’t a date. It’s simply a friendly hike.”

  She stared at him. “Right.”

  “So will you come with me?”

  She handed him the spoon, but didn’t answer.

  Maybe hiking was a bad idea. She probably hated physical exercise. That would be too bad. He loved to explore new areas.

  “Look. I know I messed up before. I promise not to do it again. But we could be friends, couldn’t we?” He put on his most puppy dog expression—the one that got him out of trouble with his mother every time.

  She poured the chocolate into a pan and scraped the bowl with a spatula. Then she placed the pan in the oven and set a timer before turning back to him. A smile teased her lips when she saw his face. She picked up the spatula and contemplated it for several seconds before licking it.

  The pink of her tongue sent a zing straight to his groin.

  Without taking his gaze from her he repeated her gesture on the spoon, making his tongue movements slow and leisurely.

  Her cheeks reddened and she dropped the spatula into a sink filled with soapy water. “How long a hike is it?”

  “About seven miles round trip.”

  “We should plan a picnic lunch then.”

  “Yes, we should.” He handed her back the spoon. “Maybe you could save some of those brownies?”

  “Could be.”

  “Leave about eight?”

  “Sounds good.” She stopped moving and stared at him.

  He returned her gaze for a moment. “Got to go.” Leaving the trailer required every bit of strength he had.

  After he closed the trailer door, he saw Sally walking toward him. “Anything you need that I should know about?”

  “Uh. No.”

  Sally moved closer. “James, don’t mess with her. She’s a good girl. She doesn’t need you breaking her heart.”

  He swallowed and debated for thirty seconds whether he should lie or not.

  “I asked Mandy to go hiking with me on Sunday.”

  “Why the hell did you do that?”

  His temper flared. “Becau
se I wanted to. We’re just friends, Sally. I’m not going to ravage her in the woods. Scouts honor.” He held up two fingers in the traditional Boy Scout position.

  Sally looked at him for a few more seconds. “Better not.” Then she turned and stomped toward the trailer.

  He hoped he could keep that promise.

  • • •

  Even though it was still early September, Sunday’s air suggested the decay of fall, awakening dormant memories of the leaf-covered driveways of Mandy’s childhood. She missed the seasons sometimes. True, coastal California had subtle variations that let her know the passage of time, but it didn’t contain the harsh reality of winter.

  Shrugging off the melancholy, she finished her morning chores and packed lunch into a backpack before she headed out to the parking lot to meet James. At the last moment she grabbed her camera. It might provide a slim form of defense against his charms.

  Cool air brushed her legs, making her wonder if hiking shorts and a sleeveless tee had been the best choice for the day.

  James was standing by his car when she arrived. He gave her a once-over and grinned.

  She should be insulted by his obvious male technique.

  Instead, her heart fluttered.

  This was so not good.

  She dragged her courage from its hiding place and stepped toward her boss with a smile on her face. Her boss. She needed to remember that.

  “Ready?” James asked.

  She nodded.

  He opened the car door for her and she stepped in, conscious of the brush of his arm against her back as he helped her.

  The ride to the trailhead was short and she was able to fill the air with questions about the shoot.

  When they reached their destination, James donned the backpack with their lunch. “Got mosquito spray on?”

  “Yes.” Mandy plopped her mosquito-repellent hat on her head and started up the trail.

  “Have you been up here before?” James asked from behind her.

  Acutely aware of the view of her he was enjoying, she regretted her decision to go first. “No. I haven’t spent much time in Yosemite. There always seemed to be plenty to do on the coast. You know, seals, dolphins, pelicans, that sort of thing.” She glanced around at the pines framed by the crisp outline of an early fall morning. “I believe I’ll be back, though. I’ll barely have time to explore much of the park if everyone keeps eating like they have been.”

  “It takes a long time to know Yosemite intimately. Most people spend their time in the valley. It’s beautiful in its own way, especially outside of the tourist season, but I like exploring the less traveled places.”

  “I’m sure it’s a great escape from Hollywood.” Mandy stopped, her eye catching a small patch of lichen on a craggy rock. An early fall leaf made the contrast in color and texture complete. She knelt and snapped a photo.

  “A budding Ansel Adams as well as a cook?” James asked.

  She stood and faced him. “I do it for fun. Sometimes I post them on Facebook.” She turned and continued up the trail. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone shooting.”

  “How come?”

  “Just things.” He didn’t need to know about her depressive episodes.

  He let the silence wrap around them.

  They were isolated on the trail. All she could hear was the tenor chatter of squirrels undercut with the fading hiss of a distant river, and syncopated with the bass rhythm of their boots hitting the ground. Peace seeped into her bones and courage returned.

  “Sometimes I get the blues,” she admitted. “I think after all the activity around the movie, it was a bit of a letdown when you all left. Then Sarah had her baby. She and Hunter are so good together. It felt like I’d never experienced anything like that.”

  A tear dampened her face. She quickly wiped it away.

  A few more minutes went by.

  “I know what you mean. It’s hard to be single around couples creating a family. My friend Mateo and his wife were like that. I always felt like an intruder around them and their son.”

  His voice was anguished, but there was something else she couldn’t identify. “What happened?” she asked.

  He stopped and looked back at the trail they’d come up. “They had their whole lives ahead of them—they were even planning another baby—when he got deployed. He was—” His Adam’s apple moved with his swallow. “He was killed a year ago. I’ve been helping Theresa with their son, Ruiz, ever since.”

  “That must be hard.” She turned.

  Their eyes met and she saw the vulnerability in his. She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his solid body to give him comfort. For a simple moment she wanted the connection. It didn’t have to last a lifetime, but she needed him to feel her touch.

  Their closeness awoke another need in both of them.

  “Mandy.” His voice was more like a groan.

  The noise of a throat clearing behind them forced them apart.

  A spry couple with lean bodies and gray hair were behind them.

  Mandy and James stood aside to let them pass.

  As he went by, the man said, “The park recommends you wait until you get to the lake before smooching. It’s so much more fulfilling, isn’t it dear?” He raised his voice to the woman in front of him.

  She wiggled her butt and said, “Yes, dear. It certainly is.”

  Mandy and James stared after them.

  “Did she—?” Mandy asked.

  “Yup.”

  “I hope I can do that when I’m an old lady.”

  “I hope I know you when you’re an old lady.”

  Seconds passed while she measured the connection between them. Was it there? Or was it merely wishful thinking on her part?

  Like the characters in Waiting for Godot, they stood there for a few moments longer.

  Then James said, “I’ll lead.”

  “Okay.” She followed him, enjoying her turn at watching the nicely wrapped male rear in front of her.

  The trail was steady, but uphill. She noticed markings on the trees, but didn’t know what they meant. “What does the ‘T’ stand for?”

  “Tree.”

  “C’mon James, really. What does it mean?”

  “For real. I read it somewhere.”

  “Oh.” She stopped and took a picture. “I have to post this.”

  They walked another hour before coming to a fork in the trail.

  “Upper or lower lake?” James asked. “I prefer lower, myself. It may be more crowded, but it’s prettier. And it’s got a great place on a granite ledge for picnicking—and other things.”

  She tried not to think about what other things he meant.

  “What’s the upper one like?”

  “More secluded, but you can’t really see the lake.”

  “Oh. Then I think the lower one is the right choice.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  As James led the way to the right-hand fork, Mandy berated herself for being an idiot. This was exactly the kind of thing she was trying to avoid—being alone with her boss.

  She forced a scowl on her face. She would not let him kiss her. She planned out a number of ways to keep his lips from hers as she pounded up the trail.

  Suddenly, her foot sank into the muck, and water poured to the top of her boot. She fought to keep her balance as mud sucked unrelentingly at her foot.

  She lost.

  Her butt hit the water first, and she forced her left hand down to keep her from toppling into the swamp with her face, holding her camera overhead with her right hand. “Oh! Crap!”

  James turned and started laughing.

  “Stop laughing!” she shouted. “Take my camera before it gets ruined!”

  He grabbed the camera from her hand and strung it around his neck.

  “You should probably help her up.” The old man they’d seen early had apparently heard the ruckus and come back down the trail, his wife behind him.

  “Oh. Yeah.�
�

  James reached down his hand.

  While she was tempted to bring James down to her level, she remembered her camera, and leveraged herself up with his assist.

  “Thank you,” she tossed off to James. They walked to solid ground. “Thank you.” She smiled at the man who’d urged James to help her.

  His wife edged in behind him. “I have some tissues, but I don’t think they’re going to help much. Maybe your face and hands?”

  Gratefully, Mandy took the proffered sheets from the woman and made some swipes and stuffed the dirty wad into her shorts’ pocket. “Maybe I can wash up in the lake.”

  “It’s a tad cold for that,” the old man said.

  “I can use one of the napkins we brought.”

  The woman nodded. “That will work.” She turned to her partner. “Let’s go on, Tim, and leave these young people to themselves.”

  The couple took each other’s hands and walked back up the trail toward the lower lake. Once again Mandy and James stared after them.

  After the couple was out of sight, they looked at each other again.

  The right corner of James’s mouth began to twitch.

  “Don’t you dare,” Mandy said. She looked down at herself. Pretty much a disaster. Her pants were so heavy in the butt, she must look like she was wearing a dirty diaper.

  So much for her effort to look put together.

  The laugh sputtered from James’s mouth. “I’m sorry … you look … like … Marjorie Reynolds … Holiday Inn … in the pond … ” Laughter swamped his speech.

  This time his laughter caught her off-guard. Her responding roar of hysterics set her off balance, and she almost tumbled into the muck again.

  James held out a steadying hand. “Whoa, there!”

  She grabbed it.

  For a moment they both teetered.

  Then she regained her balance.

  He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at her face. “You have some mud here.” He rubbed a little harder. “It’s not coming off.” He studied her. “Maybe—” He leaned down and touched the spot with his lips and then rubbed again. “There.”

  She stood still, her heart beating madly, while he repeated the ritual two more times.