Bluebells on the Hill (9 page)

'No. None of it, in fact. I was expecting a
package; nothing yet. Are you ready to go?'

'Just about. I want to pick up a few things
at the grocery store. Won't be long.'

'I'll go with you. I could use a few
things.'

She fell into step as he walked. She had to
walk fast to keep up with his longer stride. Once she almost
stopped to let him go on ahead and follow at her own pace. But the
distance was short, the market already in sight.

Her few things filled two bags. When Mac
lifted them into the truck, he commented on them.

'Only a few things, eh? What's your heavy
shopping like?'

She smiled up at him. 'I think I plan to
assuage my disappointment in lots of food. Would you and
John-Michael like to join me tonight for spaghetti, then hot fudge
sundaes for dessert? I got ice cream since I knew I had a ride
back.'

He hesitated a moment, studying her. Then he
nodded. 'I think it could be arranged. Sounds good.'

Amanda carefully kept the conversation along
neutral lines as Mac drove back. They had a pleasant discussion on
the various ways to cook and eat spaghetti. It was safe and would,
she was sure, ensure they would not be feuding at dinner.

Mac carried one of the bags and followed
Amanda into her cabin. Upon entering, Amanda, out of habit and
unthinking, took off her hat, tossing it on to the dining-table as
she passed. Discarding her glasses, she put them on the kitchen
counter. She smiled her thanks at Mac as he put the bag on the
counter.

'Good God, no wonder you wear those glasses!
With those eyes, you must knock men for six!' he said
involuntarily, staring down at her.

Delight and surprise flooded Amanda. She was
pleased that he noticed the first time she had her glasses off. She
was surprised he hadn't made more comments about her wearing
glasses. Then, as she saw his suddenly wooden face, the clenched
jaw, she realized he had not meant to say it. With a sudden rush of
understanding, protection almost, Amanda realized Mac wished he
were anywhere in the world but where he was. Such a compliment was
totally foreign to him.

Gently, in hopes of easing the situation,
Amanda teased him. 'Sorry, Mac, compliments won't get you anywhere.
This place is mine and will remain so.' She was pleased to see him
relax a little.

'Can't blame a man for trying,' he said. 'I'm
off now. John-Michael and I will see you later, then.'

'Come about six. You can both help me with
salad and garlic bread.'

'I'll bring some wine. It'll round off the
meal.'

'Good, I look forward to it. What's
that?'

An engine could be heard, gravel spinning on
the driveway. Moving to the window, Amanda gave a brief exclamation
of surprise then, with a lightened heart, dashed out to greet the
new arrival, scarcely aware that Mac had followed her out on the
deck.

'Dave, oh, Dave!' She flew to meet the
bearded man climbing off the big Harley motorcycle. Swept off her
feet by his embrace, she was spun round and round. He gave her a
big kiss, setting her down, loosening his hold on her, but keeping
his hands locked behind her back, hers around his neck.

'Hello, Mandy girl. Glad to see me?' he said,
with a sweet smile. His hair was the same rich brown as his beard,
worn long, brushing his shoulders, kept from his eyes with an old
bandana tied like a sweatband. His shirt was faded, partially
covered by an old, worn, leather waistcoat. Faded jeans and scruffy
boots completed his attire.

'I sure am. What are you doing here? How did
you find me? Oh, it is good to see you. I've missed you. Vacations
are fun, but I have missed you all! How is everybody?' She smiled
in complete happiness, giving him a hug.

'What do I answer first? I've come to bring
you your blasted banjo, and to see what you are up to.' He looked
up and swept his eyes around. 'Oh, oh. Who's the dude on the porch?
Is he mad at you or me?'

Amanda turned to find Mac's glaring at her.
Gingerly she disengaged herself from Dave's embrace, a sinking in
the pit of her stomach. Just when she thought she was getting
somewhere with her neighbor, he had to see this. No telling what
conclusions he was jumping to.

She glanced quickly at Dave and winced just a
little. If she ever wanted to convince Mac they were hippies, now
was the time. Dave had patches on his denims, old western shirt,
and a stained bandana. He looked totally disreputable. No matter
that he was a wealthy member of her troupe, responsible and
respected in the music industry, or that he was from a good family
in Colorado. Mac would think the worst. She turned back. So much
for her incognito summer. She'd have to explain.

Mac descended the steps and moved to his
truck, his face set with stern disapproval.

'Mac,' she called bravely. 'I'd like you to
meet Dave. This is a neighbor of mine, Dave, Mac Mackenzie. He just
gave me a lift to town.' She trailed off as Mac disdainfully
regarded the two of them briefly before climbing into his
truck.

She moved quickly to the window. 'Please,
Mac, won't you stay? I can explain.'

'I think not. You'll understand why we won't
join you for dinner, too. Though I'm sure you'll not miss our
company tonight with your visitor.'

'But the spaghetti...'

'So long, Miss Smith.' He slammed the truck
into gear and jerked back.

'What's all that about?' Dave asked, joining
her as the gray pick-up made the turn up the driveway.

She sighed and turned, linking her arm with
his. "Nothing. Just an impossible man ... that I wish I knew
better.'

She smiled at Dave. 'Tell me about Evie and
everything. Did you really come to bring the banjo or to check up
on me? And from where? You didn't drive all the way from L.A. on
that bike?'

'No, of course not. It's Marc's. I picked it
up at his place in San Francisco. That's far enough. It took almost
three hours to get here. And, yes, I came to check up on you, and I
brought the banjo, and messages from the gang. How's the vacation?
Looks like it is doing you good. You look terrific.'

'It is. Oh, Dave, come and see my house,' she
invited proudly. 'It's going to be nice, I think, though there's
loads to do yet. But I'm in no hurry. I like the planning and
dreaming. And I've written a couple of songs, as I told you on the
phone. I want your opinion, of course. But I think they’re good. I
may write a dozen before the summer is over. Come on in. This is my
living room.'

Amanda proudly showed off her place, ending
her tour in the kitchen. Chatting with Dave while she put away the
groceries, anxious for the messages he relayed from the others in
the band, and his wife, Evie. They discussed their forthcoming trip
to Nashville, plans to meet in San Francisco to fly east
together.

Finally Amanda played the new songs for him.
He listened without comment, without expression. Only when she had
finished the last notes of the second song did he speak
enthusiastically.

'They’re good, sweetheart! That first one
should go to the top. They’re like some of your earlier ones --
Sing the Mountain Down for instance-- yet different enough not to
be repetitions of other songs. I think they'll do great. If
vacations do this for you, take two or three a year.'

'I'm so glad you liked it, cousin. I thought
they were pretty good, but I can't always tell. I knew you'd tell
me true.'

' Of course I will. We don't want any
clunkers. Got any more songs?'

'In my head. I'll have another before
Nashville probably.' She put the guitar aside. 'Okay. You've given
me the messages from everyone else, now tell me how you and Evie
are doing. How's the baby? Everything okay?'

Evie was Dave's wife, pregnant with their
first child. Amanda and Dave, first cousins, had been best friends
since childhood. He’d been with her the entire time she’d been
singing; making arrangements, leading the band, protecting his
cousin.

Evie had been a devoted fan who had asked for
an autograph when they had played in Dallas a couple of years ago.
She began dating Dave, then married him. Amanda was fond of her and
pleased for Dave in his happiness. The expected child was looked
forward to eagerly by the whole troupe. Amanda hoped the arrival of
the baby might cause Dave to want to travel less, as she herself
was ready to settle a little bit. Fewer weeks on the road would
suit her fine. Especially since she had her own place now to care
for, to work on.

They talked fast and furiously, catching up
on all the news as if they had been parted months, instead of
weeks. Making plans for the autumn tour, future concerts.

Amanda cooked the spaghetti, with only a
small pang of regret that Mac and John-Michael would not be there
to share it with her. She and Dave ate; but there was no wine.

Dave stayed the night, slept on the narrow
bed in the second bedroom. His view was different from Mandy's, so
he duly admired the scene from her bedroom window the next morning
before leaving early for his return journey. He smiled indulgently
at his cousin's enthusiasm for the bluebells on the hill. A flower
was a flower to him.

'I'm so glad you came,' Amanda said, hugging
him goodbye. 'I'll see you in a couple of weeks in San
Francisco.'

'Right. Take care of yourself. Hey, Mandy.'
He tilted her chin up gently. 'Don't go falling for that
bad-tempered neighbor of yours, you hear?'

She flushed a little. 'I'm not.'

He frowned. 'Not convincing. If you do, I'll
talk to him. He'd better do you right.'

'Yes, Papa,' she replied saucily.

He smacked her bottom. 'You behave.' A quick
kiss, a wave and with a roar the motorcycle came to life and off he
spun. Amanda waved goodbye until he was out of sight. She was so
very fond of her cousin Dave.

She felt a little lost when he first left,
pottering around for a while, nothing holding her attention.
Finally, she grabbed her pan and headed for the creek. The great
gold discovery just might be today! How Dave had laughed last night
when she told him of her panning activity. She didn't care. She
found it relaxing and she loved it.

Soon, lost in the concentration of panning,
she swirled the water, flushing out the sand and grit, the gurgling
of the stream a pleasant melody, blocking out cares and worries.
Its soothing rhythm was soporific to her. She lost track of
time.

A shadow on the water caused her to look up.
Startled, she found herself gazing into the glittering eyes of Mac
Mackenzie. Nearby, tethered to a tree, was the lovely bay gelding
he rode. She was surprised; she had not heard their approach.

'Good morning,' she said, standing. Oh, her
knees were stiff, her back sore.

'What are you doing?'

'Panning for gold.' What did it look like,
she wondered.

'Is that how you plan to make your living
here?'

'No.'

He waited a moment, but when she added
nothing to that, he spoke again. 'Did your friend leave?'

'Yes.' Should she try to explain now that
Dave was her cousin?

'This morning?' Mac ground out as if
goaded.

'Yes, this morning. We missed you last
night,' she taunted, 'the spaghetti was delicious.'

'Dessert, too, I imagine.'

She looked puzzled. They hadn’t had dessert;
Dave didn't especially like ice cream. As she looked at Mac, a
small flicker of fear ran through her when he stepped on the rocks,
advancing deliberately towards her, carelessly disregarding the
water splashing on his boots. Coming right up to her. Crowding her
on her rock.

'Sorry I missed it last night. I'll have my
share now.' He reached out and caught her arms, pulling her
ruthlessly up against him, finding her mouth with his, kissing her
, his lips forcing hers against her teeth. A punishing display of
male physical strength.

After only a moment of shocked paralysis,
Amanda struggled to pull free, pushing against him, twisting,
kicking, but to no avail. His fingers bit hard into her arms, his
head forcing hers back until she thought her neck would break.
Finally, eons later, he released her.

'I should have come last night,' he said
provocatively, anger evident on his face.

'In a pig's eye,' she spat, jerking away from
him. The movement caught her off balance and, with an involuntary
shriek, she fell backwards into the creek. The icy water knocked
the breath from her. While the water wasn’t deep, it was sufficient
to cushion her from the sharp rocks and to soak her thoroughly with
the icy liquid swirling and splashing around her. She sat up,
shaking water from the eyes.

'Next time be more generous with your
favors,' Mac said.

'No favors,' she gritted, sitting in the cold
water as it raced around her. 'Dave's my cousin.'

'And I'm your Uncle Fred,' he retorted.

Amanda looked up in surprise, a small gurgle
of laughter escaping as she struggled to stand against the stream's
pull. 'I don't have an Uncle Fred.'

'Maybe you should. Here.' Mac held out a
strong hand, helping her back on to the flat rock. Water streamed
from her.

'Mac,' she said sweetly, opening her eyes
wide and coming closer. Her shirt and shorts dripped water,
droplets glistening on her arms and legs.

'Next time you kiss someone, use a little
more gentleness,' she said in a sultry tone as she moved up to him,
offering her lips, swaying towards him with a come-hither look.

He took her gently, lowering his lips against
hers again. Amanda moved quickly into his arms, encircling his neck
with her wet hands, pressing herself against the length of him,
feeling him shrink back from her dripping clothes. She pressed
closer. Let him share the icy water. She was freezing!

As his lips moved persuasively against hers,
she forgot the revenge she had tried. Forgot all else save the feel
of his mouth against hers, moving gently now. Now exciting. His
lips warm and firm, moving against hers. She gave herself up to the
enjoyment of the embrace.