“My friend Mr. Jennings was vague on that topic—I understand he hadn’t planned to come up here this fall, so we have the use of his camp for as long as we wish. My brother is looking after our business while I visit here, though he plans to pay us a short visit as well. And when we return, Kit will be joining us in the office.” He turned to look at her. “What of you, Miss Boisvert? Back to school after this?”
“I don’t know. I would like to go to college next year, but I believe my parents would like us to travel for few months in Europe before we decide anything.”
“It’s not a bad plan. Travel can be as educational as any classroom or professor, as I found out after I graduated college with perhaps too inflated a view of my abilities.” He told her an anecdote of his visit to the West Coast as a young man, and then another, and kept her entertained as they went on a little farther, then turned and retraced their steps down the path. When they reached the edge of the camp clearing, Grace hesitated. “I—I think I’ll go back and walk a little more.”
Mr. Rookwood looked stricken. “And here I’ve been depriving you of your solitude among the trees. Will you forgive a thoughtless old man who’s too delighted to have found a new audience for his stories?”
Grace laughed. “It was a pleasure to hear them, sir. And…thank you,” she added. “About Alice—and all.”
“Not at all, Miss Boisvert.” He looked at her, head to one side. “Tahawus suits you, I do believe. You—pardon me for saying this—you look to be in much better frame here than in Newport.”
Oh, dear. She had better check her hair when she got back to the camp. “I am finding the air here very…agreeable.”
“I’m very pleased to hear that.” He lifted his hat to her. “Enjoy your ramble!”
Grace returned his polite bow, then turned back to the woods. He really was a nice man; she’d be able to reassure Alice that the secret of their first meeting in Newport would remain a secret. And as for his delicate warnings about Kit—oh, bother Kit Rookwood! He was ruining a trip that should have been pure fun for her and Alice.
Above her, a purring, clicking sound made her glance up. The crow that had followed them—or was it another one?—looked down at her. “Well, and what do you want?” she said to it.
It jumped up into the air and cawed loudly, flying ahead of her and landing on branches, keeping a close eye on her as she walked. She’d always liked crows. The trees at home said they were proud and touchy but curious and intelligent observers and a useful source of information. Too bad she didn’t understand their speech. “No, I’m afraid I’m not edible,” she said to it. Maybe next time she ought to bring some breadcrumbs when she walked in the woods.
The crow chuckled and walked up and down the branch for a minute, then leapt out of the tree toward her. For a second Grace thought it was attacking her, but instead it soared past her head, so close that she felt the air displaced by the beating of its wings against her face as it climbed up into the air and disappeared into the sky.
“Well!” she said, squinting after it. That had been odd. She went to the tree in which it had been perched. “What was that bird that sat on you? Was it really a crow?” she asked.
The maple stirred under her hand. You are the tree-cousin, it said.
Well, that was quick. These trees didn’t miss much, did they? “Yes, I am. Please—was that a bird?”
Sometimes it is. It takes other shapes as well, but I have mostly seen that one in the shape of a crow. They each have their preferred forms.
Their preferred forms… “A Changer,” she murmured.
Yes. It is curious about you. You are not something we have seen before.
“Can they talk? Why didn’t it talk to me if it’s so curious about me?”
Because they do not yet know if you are dangerous. The tree hesitated. It might be best if they continued to wonder. So long as they fear you, they will keep their distance and watch.
“Hmm. Thank you.” Grace let the tree satisfy its curiosity about her with a few more minutes of questions, then went back to camp to think about the very different conversations she’d had that morning with both man and tree.
Chapter Eleven
Alice was practically floating around the camp, smiling dewy-eyed at nothing, when Grace finally returned from her walk.
“And?” Grace asked. Not that she had to ask—Alice’s happiness was almost ridiculously obvious. “Did he propose?”
“Of course not, goose! But everything’s fine.” Alice sighed ecstatically. “It was so romantic, walking among the trees with him. You were right—he feels we ought to behave a little more circumspectly while we’re here with our families…and what’s more, he…well, he says he cares too much for our friendship to not treat me with respect. Isn’t that so noble of him? It’s exactly what my father would have been like, I’ll bet.”
“Mmm,” Grace said noncommittally. Of course, it was also what he might say if he were trying to start separating himself from her, just as Mr. Rookwood had suggested he might. But no matter the reason, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about them being caught canoodling in a woodshed by Mrs. Roosevelt.
All through dinner that night at the clubhouse Alice gazed soulfully at Kit, who did not, Grace noticed, return her gaze. Instead, she caught him looking at her, twice. It was disquieting, as he’d always seemed to avert his eyes from her in Newport. Well, so long as he maintained his new politeness toward her, she didn’t care if he stared at her till his eyes fell out.
* * *
To Grace’s surprise, Alice did not get up for breakfast the next morning. “Ask them to send me a tray,” she mumbled, burrowing deeper into the blankets. “I’m too relaxed to get up.”
“Even to see Kit?”
“I’ll see him later.” She smiled mistily. “That’s why I’m so relaxed. I’m not all anxious over him anymore. It’s such a relief—you’ve no idea. You go on.”
“Where’s Sister?” Ted fell into step beside Grace as she joined the children on the walk over to the clubhouse.
“Sleeping late today and wanting a tray sent up to her later.”
“Huh. What a slug-a-bed.” He looked at her sideways. “So I guess that means you won’t be busy with her this morning.”
“It looks that way,” she agreed.
He didn’t say anything further until they were seated at table, when he turned to his mother. “I wondered if we could go fishing again today up at Lake Henderson.”
“Oh, can we?” Ethel said eagerly. “Kermit, don’t you want to go again?”
Mrs. Roosevelt sipped her coffee, then nodded. “Very well. Archie and Quentin will stay here with Miss Young.”
“But I wanna fish!” protested Quentin.
“You’re too little. If you were to fall in, you’d get eaten by a pickerel. Grace will come with us though, won’t she?” But Kermit was looking at his elder brother as he spoke, rather than her.
“Yes, please do come with us, Miss Boisvert.” Ted turned pink behind his spectacles, and she knew immediately that he’d put his brother up to inviting her. “We’ve got a pole for you and everything—or if you don’t actually want to fish, you don’t have to.”
“I can put your worms on for you,” Kermit volunteered. “Unless Ted says we’re using flies today.”
“I worm my own hooks all the time at home, but thank you for the offer. I’d love to come with you.” Going fishing with three younger Roosevelts would be more fun than watching their older sister sigh after Kit. Hopefully Alice would get through this phase soon so that they could have fun together again, just like always.
“She puts her own worms on,” Kermit said, awed.
“Well, so do I,” said Ethel. “What’s so great about that?”
“’Cause you’re not a young lady.”
“Am too!” Ethel punched him in the arm.
“One would never think so,” Mrs. Roosevelt commented dryly. “Do not feel you have to accompany the children if you don’t want to,”
she said to Grace.
“No, I really would like to go.”
“Of course she wants to come with us!” Kermit said indignantly. “Don’t scare her off, Mother!”
“Come where?” Kit was there suddenly, though Grace hadn’t noticed him enter the dining room. But no, there were Mr. and Mrs. Rookwood, making their way to their table. Mr. Rookwood smiled and nodded to her.
“Fishing at Lake Henderson,” Ethel told him. “We’re going after breakfast.”
“What a coincidence—so am I.” Kit’s flashing grin lit up his face. “Maybe we should consider joining forces. I expect you know where all the good spots are,” he said to Ted.
No. Oh, no. Grace felt her smile turn rigid on her face.
“We’ve found a few, haven’t we, Kermit?” Ted looked flattered. “Kermit took a brook trout the other day that was at least two pounds. We’d be glad to show you a good place or two.”
“I’ll catch up with you after breakfast then. Good morning, ma’am. Miss Young.” He nodded to the adults politely and went to join his parents.
Grace ate her oatmeal and pancakes and bacon without really tasting them. Kit’s presence would ruin the day, but she couldn’t back out now. She’d simply have to find herself a fishing spot as far from Kit as possible.
She walked the half mile up to the lake with Kermit and Ethel, carrying the basket of sandwiches and lemonade that Mrs. Hunter made for them, answering their questions about Newport and enjoying their chatter. Ted and Kit walked ahead, Ted occasionally glancing wistfully back at them.
On reaching the lake, Ethel and Kermit jumped into one of the club dinghies pulled up on shore and rowed toward the middle of the long, narrow ribbon of water, squabbling amiably about whose favorite spot they’d head for first. Ted turned to Grace. “Do you want to fish from shore or from a boat?”
“Oh, you must show Kit where your good places are. I think I’ll try that gravel bank over there.” She nodded toward a low, rocky spit a short distance away, partly shaded by overhanging trees.
Ted looked crestfallen. “No one ever catches anything there. Out on the lake is much better.”
Oh. He’d wanted to take her out on the lake, hadn’t he? A row would be pleasant, but if Ted had developed a crush on her, it might be awkward.
“Why don’t we go out there after lunch?” Kit put in. “I’d like to try my luck from shore first as well. Anyplace you suggest?” He clapped Ted on the shoulder, who swallowed his disappointment manfully and nodded.
Grace picked her way carefully along the water’s edge to the gravel spit and put her line in for a few minutes, for form’s sake, then set her pole down and retreated to the shade of the trees. She didn’t try to engage them in conversation but spread out her jacket on the low bank beneath them and sat down, eyes closed, the better to listen to the murmur of their thoughts and speech. Their cadence was so different from the trees at home—faster, more complex, full of unfamiliar notes and words…
Once again, that shiver lanced through her, this time leaving her almost light-headed. She dug her fingers into the soil of the bank to steady herself—
The shiver deepened. Her fingertips tingled, and suddenly it felt as if they’d grown inches—no, feet—wiggling into the ground, branching out into dozens of tiny fingerlets burrowing purposefully into the dirt—taking root, drawing her down, drawing her in. The murmur of the trees grew louder in her ears, and her heartbeat took up its rhythm—
A new sound—the uneven crunch of footfalls on gravel—broke that rhythm. She gasped and opened her eyes.
Kit stood at the water’s edge a few feet away, his pole on his shoulder, gazing down at her. The sun outlined him in gold but left his face in shadow. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She drew in an uneven breath. “What are you doing here?”
“I…wasn’t having much luck where I was and thought I’d see if yours was any better. No, please don’t get up. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Well, he had—bother the boy! Something had been happening—the trees…but it was gone now. Grace started to scramble to her feet. “I really ought to try a few more casts so Ted isn’t disgusted with me.”
“I doubt he’d ever be that.” There was a smile in his voice. He set down his pole and stepped forward to offer his hand, but she’d already risen. They stood awkwardly facing each other for a few seconds. Kit broke the silence.
“I— Actually, I’m glad I found you alone. I wanted to have a word with you.” The smile in his voice had been replaced by something less assured.
Grace had been dusting her hands on the sides of her skirt and had to force herself not to clutch the fabric. “A—a word?”
“Well, more than that.” He stared down at his feet, then took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“What?”
He still held her gaze. “I’m sorry for how I behaved toward you in Newport.”
“Um…” She had to look away; his eyes were too intense. The Kit she’d known in Newport was gone; this was a different young man. Or had that Kit been real? Who was Kit?
“Will—will you accept my apology?” he asked into the once-again awkward silence.
“I—I don’t know. You were…” She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and met his eyes again. “You were perfectly horrible to me. A lot of the time you seemed to go out of your way to be unpleasant. If you hate me so, why couldn’t you just have left me alone?”
He looked down at his feet again. “I know,” he muttered, swallowing hard once or twice. Dear Yggdrasil…was the never-at-a-loss Kit Rookwood fighting back tears?
Well, good. She’d shed a few of her own, back in Newport. “So you’re sorry,” she said after a moment. “What difference does that make now?”
He raised his head. His face was pale and there was a suspicious brightness in his eyes. “I hoped that if—if you would accept my apology, then we could try again. Start from the beginning, and see if…if it couldn’t be different this time. If this time, we could be friends.”
The uncertain look in his eyes transported her back to the afternoon at the Casino when they’d met over a bucket of scattered tennis balls. Was it possible to pretend the subsequent weeks hadn’t happened and go back to that moment in time when something—some knot—had tied itself between them?
“Being…friends involves trust,” she said slowly. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to trust you, even if I do accept your apology.”
He looked both pleased and startled. “You do?”
“There’s not much else I can do if I’m trying to be the person my parents raised me to be. But you more or less ruined Newport for me. It’ll be hard to get over that.” She hesitated. “It might help if you could tell me why you were so—why you behaved as you did.”
His gaze fell. “I can’t. It— I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Well. That was that, then…but she wished he would. And she wished she could ask him about Alice, too, while they were at it. But it would be too difficult—and he would rightly be able to say that it wasn’t any of her business. Except that she couldn’t help feeling that it was—
He held out his hand. “Could…could we shake on it?”
She looked down at it, tanned and strong, and remembered how their hands had met once around a dropped tennis ball. She took it. “Can I…I have to ask—why? Why are you doing this now?”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “So that I can live with myself, and maybe get a good night’s sleep again.”
That was unexpected. “Would you have bothered apologizing if we weren’t here together for the next few weeks?”
“Yes.” No more smile now. “I would have followed you back to Boston if necessary.”
She realized that their hands were still clasped in a handshake and made a small movement to disengage them. But he held on. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to earn your regard.” To her astonishme
nt, he bent slightly and raised her hand to his lips.
Before Grace could do more than draw in her breath, the now-familiar sound of someone crossing the gravel bank was heard, and Ted materialized on the rocky shore to her right. “There you are! Did you get any strikes here? I’ll bet— Oh!” He fell silent, staring at their joined hands.
Grace snatched her hand back. “No, I—I didn’t,” she said quickly. “But I didn’t try very hard, and…and—”
“Is it time for lunch already?” Kit consulted his watch. “I expect Kermit and Ethel will be back shortly. Let’s eat and go out in the boats after that. My luck with the fish wasn’t any better than yours.”
There was an extra conspiratorial quirk to the look he gave Grace. He was never at a loss, was he? Here she was blushing and stuttering at being caught holding hands with him, and he was not at all ruffled. Yet he’d been close to tears not long before—at least, she thought he had. Had they been real? Back to that old refrain again: who was the real Kit? She might have accepted his apology, but she was a long way from trusting him.
Kermit and Ethel returned shortly with tales of fish too small to keep and too large to have landed, and they ate their sandwiches in the shade of a group of swamp maples close to the water’s edge. After they had finished she went out in one of the boats with Ted, Kit following behind them alone in another. Sitting in the aft of the boat and watching his stern young face, she knew she had to say something. She waited until they’d pulled a little away from Kit and said quietly, “I expect you’re wondering what Kit and I were talking about when you found us.”
The stern expression deepened into a scowl. “It’s none of my business.”
“No, it’s not. But it isn’t anything that needs to be kept secret either. He was apologizing to me, and we shaking hands over it.”
The scowl on Ted’s face shifted into surprise. “What was he apolo— I’m sorry.”
“No, you may ask. He and I did not get along well in Newport—in fact, we were more or less at daggers-drawn with each other. He acknowledged that it was his fault and asked if we couldn’t try to get along better in future.”
Evergreen Page 15