Almost Perfect (8 page)

More than once they'd watched the sunrise together. For Maddy, the start of a new day held infinite promise and excitement. For Amy, it was a time when yesterday's troubles still lay sleeping.

She remembered one morning when Amy confided in a hushed voice that when she was a child, she believed that if she was very quiet and still, the bad things of the world would forget to wake up. The theory had intrigued Maddy. Too bad she could never be quiet or still long enough to test it. Who could, though, when the world held so many wonderful things to do and see and experience?

This morning was a perfect example. How could she hold back the thrill of watching a new day begin? The mountain air felt crisp as the smell of coffee rose from the warm cup cradled in her hands. The sun climbed higher, gilding the tops of the peaks while the valley remained cloaked in blue shadow.

The sight brought the never-ending urge to capture it with color on canvas.

If she was quiet and still, maybe the tension with Joe would forget to wake up, but then, maybe the opportunities that lay before her would do the same. Christine had been right about taking Jane's advice. She was here to go after something she'd always wanted. If that meant living with Joe's brooding animosity, she would do so calmly, professionally, and unemotionally.

With that in mind, she started to go back inside, but a movement along the road caught her eye. She peered into the long blue shadows that lay across the road and saw Joe running up the hill, charging toward her at a fast, steady clip. Her heart skipped a beat.

Was something wrong?

Her mind bounced from one possibility to the next: Mama was having a heart attack, one of the girls was hurt, there was a forest fire heading over the mountain and they needed to evacuate. Or some new anger had set Joe off and he wanted to yell at her.

She braced herself, preparing to dash for her robe before he made it up the stairs to pound on her door. Yet when he reached level ground, he veered toward the head of the trail back down the mountain, which would have him jogging right past her balcony. Jogging! She nearly smacked her fore-head. He wasn't coming to see her. He was out for a morning jog.

And gifting her with an inspiring sight.

Her chilled skin heated as she watched the fluid grace of his powerful body. He wore a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off, showing off the sculpted muscles in his arms. She squinted at the armbands circling his big biceps. Were those tattoos? Her gaze drifted lower, past the shorts to his legs. The rhythm and strength behind each step made her heart pound in time.

Then she noticed the brace on his left knee, and how he moved with a slight limp. Was that where he'd been shot? In the knee? Thoughts of him in pain, of what he must have gone through, made her ache—until he moved past her and she blinked at the spectacular view he presented from behind.

The shorts fit just tight enough across his backside to let her see the flex of his gluts. She leaned forward for a better look.

Stop that
! she scolded herself.
You're ogling the man's butt
.

Yes, but look at it
! she argued back, bending out over the low wall.
It's gorgeous! He's gorgeous
!

He reached the top of the trail and started down, forcing her to bend farther out and over. She craned her neck, tipping her head.

A loud clanging exploded in the air. Crows flew up from the aspens on a rush of black wings. She jumped so hard she bobbled her coffee mug, then nearly tumbled off the balcony catching it. With her heart racing like a scared rabbit, she scurried back from the edge.

What the heck was that
? She pressed the now-empty cup to her chest. Her gaze dropped to the camp in time to see Carol stepping away from the big bell mounted on a pole in the center of camp. Maddy let out an embarrassed laugh. Reveille.
Rise and shine, campers. Time to greet the day
.

Deciding to skip another stilted encounter with Joe, Maddy opted for a granola bar she'd unearthed from the depths of her purse. After polishing it off, she headed downstairs for her first good look at the arts and crafts room below her apartment. The door opened with a creak of hinges. Inside, fingers of sunlight strained past the solid wooden shutters that had been battened down through the winter. A flip of a switch next to the door brought a few bare bulbs to life overhead. Not a vast improvement for light, but enough to reveal several dust-covered folding tables and a stack of metal chairs in one corner.

She tried not to think of spiders and other crawly things.

Then her gaze fell on the floor-to-ceiling cabinets that filled the wall to her right. With her nose wrinkling at the grandmother's-attic scent, she headed in that direction and opened two of the doors with another squeak of hinges.

Her breath caught with wonder at the treasure trove that lay within. To someone else the contents might have looked like a jumbled mass of discarded, half-used craft supplies one step away from going in the trash, but to her… it was Aladdin's Cave.

She eagerly pushed up the sleeves of the paint-splattered men's shirt she'd tied at the waist over jeans so tattered they'd split at the knees. The shirt had been pilfered from Nigel's "pre-Maddy" ward-robe, since button-down whites had quickly been deemed too boring even for an accountant. They did, however, make perfect painting shirts, and reminded her of the early days of their marriage when he'd been healthy enough to have shoulders broader than her own.

An hour later, craft supplies lay strewn across the closest table like battle-scarred survivors of past summer camps. With a cleaning cloth in hand, she bumped her hips back and forth and belted out a rock song—not that she could carry a tune in a bucket, but she never minded torturing her own ears.

"Wow, you don't waste much time," Sandy said.

Maddy whirled with a gasp to find Sandy and Carol standing in the open doorway. She laughed in embarrassment to be caught singing and doing the cha-cha with a dust rag. "Sorry. You startled me."

"We missed you at breakfast," Carol said, moving forward.

Maddy shrugged. "I was eager to get going."

"Well, you keep on with organizing the supplies. We'll start on cobweb eradication," Carol directed. "First, though, we need more light."

Maddy returned to her task as the other two went outside to prop open all the shutters, which were hinged at the top. By the time they came back inside, sunlight and fresh air filled the room.

"Is it my imagination," Sandy said as she took up a broom, "or was Joe acting a little weird at breakfast?"

"A
little
weird?" Carol replied. Maddy went still at their words, her ears alert. At the sink, Carol filled a bucket with soapy water. "If you ask me, he's been acting a lot weird since the cookout last night. And this morning he was downright surly."

"Exactly. Last year he was a bit of a hardnose, but in a fun way. When we teased him about it, he teased us right back. This year…" Sandy shook her head. "It's like he's pissed about something but trying not to show it."

"All I can think is that last year he thought working here was a temporary thing while he was out on medical leave." Carol attacked the tables with a soapy rag. "Maybe he's depressed about leaving the Rangers."

"Well, he doesn't have to act like working here is a life sentence." Sandy swept dirt out the door.

"We should think of something to cheer him up."

"I know," Sandy said with a grin. "Tag football. Tonight after dinner. Maddy, are you in?"

"Me and sports?" She laughed, looking for a graceful way out of their plans. Asking Joe to play tag football with her would definitely not improve his mood. "I'm, um, afraid that's a really bad idea."

"C'mon," Sandy wheedled. "How bad can you be?"

"There aren't enough words in the English language to express how badly I stink at sports."

"Really?" Sandy lit up. "Cool. We'll put you on Joe's team. You can be his handicap."

"No, wait." Carol wrung out her rag. "Let's make it a real challenge. Joe likes a challenge, right?"

"What do you have in mind?" Sandy asked as she resumed sweeping.

"Joe and the geriatrics against the rest of us."

"The geriatrics?" Sandy laughed.

"You know." Carol moved to the second table. "Harold, Mama, and the kitchen staff."

"What about Maddy?"

"She goes on Joe's team. Not," Carol added quickly, "that you're a geriatric."

"No." Maddy tried to smile. "I'm just his handicap."

"We'll trounce 'em!" Sandy grinned.

"Which will at least make him laugh," Carol said.

Maddy started to protest, but their enthusiasm rolled right over her words. By the time the lunch bell clanged, she was torn between panic and depression.

Sandy and Carol headed for the door, still making plans. When Maddy just stood there, Carol turned back. "Aren't you coming?"

"Actually, I have a lot to do. Could you bring me something back?"

"Sure," Carol agreed, and the two started down the trail.

Maddy pinched her forehead. What was she going to do?

Chapter 6

The gift of good intentions is often a burden to the receiver.

—How to Have a Perfect Life

"Gee, that went over well," Sandy grumbled as the screen door to the dining hall snapped shut behind Joe's retreating back. Through the large screen windows along the side walls, he remained in plain view as he went down the wooden stairs and toward the riverbank.

Maddy struggled with guilt as she watched him go. Ignoring Joe's silent treatment for her own benefit was difficult enough, but how did she ignore the fact that her presence clearly upset him? She couldn't skip every meal. Yet, all through dinner he'd sat quietly eating while the coordinators and Mama Fraser made plans for the following day. They'd gathered at the long table closest to the massive rock fireplace, amid a sea of other tables that would soon ring with the voices of campers.

Their lively conversation had died, though, when the meal ended and Carol suggested a game of tag football. Joe had simply stood, claimed he had a canoe to fix in the boathouse, and left.

"You're right," Dana said to Carol. "Something's clearly bothering him."