Bluebells on the Hill (17 page)

Both Mac and John-Michael were getting out of
the truck. Both were dressed in dark suits. While appreciating how
nice they both looked, Amanda was especially conscious of how
superbly Mac filled his out. His light shirt threw his tanned face
into greater contrast. The lack of his hat was a startling change,
his auburn waves gleaming in the late sun. John-Michael remained by
the truck as Mac advanced to the steps, studying her, his face
impassive.

'Hi.' Amanda smiled brightly. 'Not your usual
vehicle, I see.'

'No, this one's for show. Thought it more
appropriate for tonight than the gray one. Glad now I did. You look
very ... nice.' His eyes strayed to her lips as he spoke.

Amanda felt the nervousness again, quickly
licking her lips. She moved towards the truck, admiring it. Keeping
everything on a casual basis.

'Hi, Mandy,' John-Michael easily greeted her.
'Don't think we'll be too crowded, do you?'

'It's a big truck. Nice, too.' She slid in as
John-Michael held the door. Mac climbed in the driver's side, only
inches from Amanda. She sat primly upright. When John-Michael sat
down, it was a very close fit. Even more confining as Amanda became
more and more aware of Mac's every move. He brushed against her
turning to see out of the back window when reversing to the main
drive; the contact sent vibrations throughout Amanda's whole
body.

Afraid she'd give herself away, she turned to
John-Michael.

'Been practicing?'

'Not much, I've been busy. I like your hair
that way. It's pretty, all fluffy.'

'Thanks.'

Amanda looked out of the windscreen.
John-Michael had been her major concern. He was the only one in
Timber she knew for certain listened to her music, had at least one
CD. If he didn't recognize her, perhaps she exaggerated her fame.
Imperceptibly, she relaxed.

It was, fortunately, not a long drive.

Elizabeth Burke's house was as stately as its
owner. The old Victorian residence, freshly painted, sat in the
middle of a manicured lawn, with formal flower-beds flanking the
path. A small fence surrounded the garden. There were already two
other vehicles drawn up before it when Mac pulled the truck to the
curb.

In only a moment Elizabeth was greeting them
at her door ushering them into her living room. Two other couples
were already present, an older man and a much younger, blonde woman
on the sofa. Near the fireplace a man and woman about Mac’s age
were studying a figurine.

'Mac. So good to see you.' The blonde rose
swiftly and came to meet him, smiling prettily. 'It's been too
long!'

'Sally, may I introduce Mandy Smith,'
Elizabeth said, intercepting Sally. 'Sally Sutherland. And her
father, Henry Sutherland. Henry’s Timber's pharmacist,' Elizabeth
said. Mr Sutherland had risen and followed his daughter to greet
the newcomers, though at a more leisurely pace.

'How do you?' Amanda murmured, shaking hands.
“I thought Paul owned the pharmacy,” she said, remembering the name
on the sign in town.

'My father started the drug store. He still
comes in a few days a month,” Henry said.

The couple by the fireplace turned, friendly
smiles of welcome on their faces as they joined the others.

'Ron and Pamela Haversham. This is Mandy
Smith, she's a neighbor of Mac's; the singer I was telling you
about.'

'How do you do?' Amanda murmured again,
smiling at the Havershams.

'Ron's on the Festival Committee, so you'll
see quite a bit of him as the time draws nearer,' Pamela said with
a fond look at her husband. 'Have you sung in front of a large
audience before?'

'Yes,' Amanda answered briefly.

'You might even find a career in it,' Mac
murmured softly, for her ears alone.

Amanda refused to rise to the bait. She
smiled sunnily up at him. 'Maybe.'

Sally placed a perfectly manicured hand on
Mac's arm. 'Come and talk to me. I know you aren’t the least
interested in the festival.'

Amanda glanced at Sally, then back at Mac, a
mischievous smile lighting her face. There was a woman on the make
if she ever saw one.

'Yes, do go talk with your friend. I'll be
fine with my new acquaintances.'

With a hard look at Amanda, as if warning her
to watch herself, he went with Sally. They sat on the sofa, Sally
plunging immediately into an animated discussion designed to absorb
Mac's full attention.

The others remained where they were.

'Elizabeth said you were a neighbor of Mac's.
Are you the one who bought Cora's place?' Henry Sutherland
asked.

'Yes. I have lots to do with it before it
will be the way I envisage it. But I'm very excited about it. It's
the first home I’ve bought, you know,' she confided.

'Where are you from?' Pamela asked.

'Most recently, L.A.'

'That explains it,' Ron said. 'Anything would
be better than L.A., even an old house that needs a ton of work
done to it.'

'Ron, lots of people like L.A,' Pamela
scolded.

'But not Miss Smith or she'd not be
here.'

'Right you are. I already love Timber. But,
please, call me Mandy.'

'Glad to. I'm Ron.'

'Henry.'

‘
Pamela.'

'I'm John-Michael. Is this a new game Aunt
Elizabeth has thought up?' John-Michael joined the group, coming up
easily and standing near Amanda.

'No, dear. We are just introducing ourselves
again,' Elizabeth said. 'Would you help serve the cocktails? I seem
to have lost your father.'

John-Michael glanced at the sofa, smiling at
Sally when she waved to him.

'Yes, I guess you did. Sure, I'll help.'

John-Michael took the orders and efficiently
matched drinks to the proper individuals. Sally and Mac remained
isolated from the others, who moved as a group to sit on the chairs
and ottoman between the stone fireplace and long windows
overlooking the side garden. Even though they sat apart, Amanda was
soon aware of Mac's eyes on her. Twice she looked up, her gaze
locking with his, driving all thoughts from her head. Causing her
to lose the thread of the conversation around her. After the second
incident, she vowed to refrain from looking in his direction,
though she was still conscious of his regard, his constant
surveillance. It was almost a physical strain to keep her eyes
within the group, to refrain from looking at Mac.

'Do you have a job up here?' Pamela asked.
'Are you working?'

'Not right now. I'm sort of taking the summer
off,' Amanda replied.

'Are you a teacher?' Henry inquired.

'She's teaching me guitar,' John-Michael
volunteered from his perch on the arm of Amanda's chair.

'Wonderful. A good accomplishment to have,'
Ron said. 'I think it’s good to have a musical outlet if you have
even a spec of talent.'

'I often wished I did. We enjoy sitting
around in the evenings on the patio and listening to quiet melodies
played in the background. Not your type of music, young man, but
I'm sure what you play will give you many hours of pleasure,
John-Michael,' Pamela said.

'Wait until you hear Mandy sing. You'll love
it. Talk about listening pleasure,' John-Michael said, smiling down
at her, his eyes holding hers. 'Everyone who hears her loves her;
she’s very popular.'

Amanda's eyes
widened.
He knows who I am!
she thought, startled. Then amused. He had never
said anything. As she looked questioningly at him, he smiled and
nodded slightly. She smiled back at him, closing her right eye in a
quick wink.

At least I think he likes me for myself and
not for who I am. I wonder how long he’s known, she mused, turning
back to the others. She would find out later!

Amanda was surprised to learn when dinner was
announced, that Elizabeth had a maid. Somehow the rugged
independence of the rural community had not prepared her for the
trappings of the city. Yet, upon closer observation, the maid had
probably been with Elizabeth for years; she looked to be the same
age. A fitting accompaniment to the stately elegance of the old
Victorian house.

The party moved to the formal dining room. A
large mahogany table beneath a crystal chandelier dominated the
room. It was formally set with fine china, crystal and silver. Mac
sat at the head, with Sally and Amanda on either side. Elizabeth
was opposite him, with Henry and Ron on her left and right.
John-Michael sat opposite Pamela, who was between her husband and
Amanda.

The maid served quietly, soup first, then
salad and the entree, fresh mountain trout in a tasty, tangy sauce.
The food was delicious. Obviously the maid's talents exceeded the
excellent job she did serving.

Conversation lagged while the guests began
their meal, the silence a tribute to the excellent cuisine. As the
dinner progressed, Amanda was entertained by Sally's rather obvious
attempts to monopolize Mac. Observing more than participating,
Amanda deduced Sally would love nothing more than to be the next
Mrs John Mackenzie. From Mac's scowling expression, Amanda didn't
give Sally much of a chance.

Elizabeth's voice broke into the small
silence after an amusing story Sally told, swinging Amanda's
attention to that end of the table.

'... of course, in my younger day, a woman
stayed home and tended the household.'

'And so they still should.' Sally jumped in.
' I think being a homemaker is a full-time career in itself. Every
woman should strive for that goal.' Sally's eyes slid quickly to
Mac, quickly away again.

Elizabeth nodded. 'I agree.'

'If they can and want,' Amanda couldn't
resist inserting.

'Huh?' Sally said, rather inelegantly.

'If a woman wants to be a homemaker, fine.
It's not always feasible, either economically or emotionally these
days,' Amanda said. Seven pairs of eyes stared at her. Open mouth,
insert foot, she thought wryly, glancing around the table.

'Well, yes, I can see if someone had to work
because of money,' Sally reluctantly concurred, 'but, otherwise, I
can't understand a woman wanting to go out everyday to a job,
competing with men. Her place is in her husband's home, providing
for him.'

Amanda wrinkled her nose. 'If I ever get
married, I’d expect my husband to give me the same respect and
support as I’d give him. A career that was important to me would,
by that mutual respect, also be important to my husband.'

'If you want to work, don't get married,'
Sally said.

'Men aren't given that advice,' Amanda said.
'They can have a career and a home life. They have to help out
around the home. Why can't a woman do that, too?'

'I still say a wife's place is in her
husband's home. What do you think, Mac?'

'I'm old-fashioned enough to agree. I think
it is a fine profession for a woman, taking care of a home, a
husband, a family.'

Sally beamed around the table. Mac sided with
her!

'Perhaps being at home all the time isn't
enough for some people. Look at my mother,' John-Michael
interrupted. 'Maybe if she’d something else to do, she wouldn't
have run off. I think she was bored.'

From the stunned silence around the table,
Amanda realized the taboo he’d broken. Her anger rose a little. The
poor boy. He probably had always missed his mother, but because of
the coddling everyone did to shelter Mac, he was unable to talk
about her,to resolve any feelings he had, get clarification of what
really happened.

'Maybe,' Amanda replied as the others
remained awkwardly silent, 'but she was a fool to leave you behind,
sweetie.'

John-Michael shot her a grateful glance, then
looked apprehensively at his father. Mac's face was closed, his
eyes narrowed, going from Amanda to John-Michael and back to
Amanda. Sally reached out a consoling hand.

'Maybe she was bored,' Amanda spoke up.
'There isn't much to do keeping a house tidy these days, and with
neighbors so far away here in the country, maybe she yearned for
something more than she got. I know I would.'

‘
Well, I've been a full-time homemaker
and worked outside. If you have a job you like, it’s rewarding to
feel a part of the community. I enjoyed it when I was home all the
time, but I had small children that needed me. Once they were
older, it was boring to stay home all day alone, no friends close
by.' Pam spoke. 'With all the modern appliances we enjoy, the
actual work involved in keeping a house is greatly reduced. I like
working now. It's not so bad, do you think, Ron?'

‘
No. I'm happy you're happy,
Pamela.'

Amanda smiled at them. Was this another
couple like Dave and Evie?

'I still think a wife's place is in the
home,' Sally said.

'And I still think marriage should be a
partnership, a sharing of two lives, of whatever the two lives are
doing, not the abdication of one in total absorption to the other,'
Amanda said clearly, meeting and holding Mac's eyes for a long
moment, breaking away to look over to Sally. 'Anyway, Sally, it's a
useless conversation. I've had these views for years. You probably
have had yours for years, too. I know I'm too set to change.'
Amanda smiled at the other woman, inviting comment. Almost
reluctantly, Sally smiled back.

'You are right, I am too set to change,
either.'

'Mandy pans for gold.' John-Michael changed
the subject.

The others, eager to lighten the atmosphere,
joined in with questions and advice, with an occasional derisive
comment thrown in by Mac. Amanda took it all in good part and the
rest of the meal passed smoothly.

Coffee was served in the living room. This
time everyone sat together, although Sally stayed as close to Mac
as she could. The conversation was general and Amanda enjoyed
herself, learning more about her new acquaintances while not
revealing more about herself than she wished.