Rite of Passage (5 page)

“Can we stop?” she asked, pointing to the small building and series of corrals.

“Why not?” I agreed.

It was lunchtime and several families walked around the animals. I pulled into the dusty parking lot and turned off the ignition.

Courtney tilted her head. “How about an ice cream?” she suggested.

I nodded and motioned. “I have to go out back. You know.”

She crinkled her nose. “You go first. If it’s too bad, I think I can wait till we get to Naples.”

“Fine.” I opened her door and she got out, loosening the ribbon and running her fingers through her thick hair. A gust of wind twisted it into a tumbling swirl of chocolate brown. I watched her as she closed her eyes, twisting her neck to ease the stiffness, remembering she’d already spent time on a horse that morning.

When I emerged, I looked at the stand expecting to see her. Instead, she knelt in front of a homemade fence with a large sign that read,
Stand back! Beware of the Animals
.

Several children, their parents and two older folk, a man in overalls and a woman in a worn print dress, stood six feet behind her, motioning and whispering to each other.

As I approached, the man in overalls looked at me. I began to speak but he put his fingers to his lips. He backed toward me, grinning through a poorly maintained smile. “Is that little lady a friend of yours?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Why?”

“Never seen nothin’ like it.” He took off his straw hat and scratched his head. “She got them animals eatin’ outta her hand.” He shook his head. “I mean
really
eatin’ out of her hand. They ain’t usually that friendly.”

I turned to watch. Courtney smiled while a collection of animals and poultry nuzzled her hand and rubbed up against her arm. She turned and saw the small crowd watching.

“Never seen nothin’ like it,” the man repeated.

The small group gave her a round of spontaneous applause. Courtney blushed and motioned for the children to join her. “They’ll be fine,” she promised the parents.

She stood, supervising as the children followed her lead. The animals licked their hands. The small group broke up as the families went back to their cars after filling the tip jar to overflowing.

Courtney came to me, a shy smile on her face.

“How was it?” She nodded in the direction of the outdoor toilet.

“Anyone who can do that”—I motioned toward the animals—“can handle it.”

“Use ours.” The man in the overalls overheard her. He pointed to the farmhouse down the road.

“Thanks.” Courtney raised her eyebrows at me and walked quickly to the house. “I’ll take a chocolate cone with those sprinkle things. Get whatever you want. It’s my treat,” she called over her shoulder.

“Ice cream’s on me, too,” the man said, directing me to the stand.

Courtney ran back to join me after her visit to the farmer’s home. We ordered extra-large chocolate cones. Sitting on the hillside, the lake was a sparkling blue jewel in the distance as we fought a losing battle, trying to finish our cones before the midday sun took them.

“How’d you do that thing?” I asked. “With the animals?”

“I told you. It’s
magic
!” She raised her eyebrows, giggling. “Actually, just too much time spent alone on our estate,” she offered. She took a napkin, put it to her lips and leaned over, wiping the ice cream from my mouth as she held my eyes. “That’s better.”

She stood and held out her hand. “Shall we?” she asked, nodding toward the Jaguar.

“Sure.” I followed, resisting the urge to put my arm around her as we headed to the car.

Chapter Six

We drove for forty minutes. Courtney seemed relaxed, even animated by the wildlife, the spectacular vistas, and the lavish green-and-gold of the June landscape. Halfway to Naples, she grew quiet, donning a pair of sunglasses. Tying her hair back, she rested her head against the soft leather. In five minutes she was purring like a kitten.

It was past noon when we reached Naples, a little vacation community separating Long Lake from Sebago. Downshifting, I pulled up in front of a cluster of stores facing the lake. I recalled coming here with my dad. It seemed thriving—more active today.

“Hey, sleepy head,” I said softly, pushing the clutch in and putting the Jag in reverse as I shut off the engine. She awoke with a start, turning as she realized she was resting on my shoulder.

“So sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I never fall asleep like that.” She fingered the pendant hiding beneath her scarf, as if checking to make sure it was still there.

“I won’t steal it. I promise,” I told her. “As long as you don’t turn me into a frog.”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you.” She laughed as she awakened. “Did I miss something? Did you become a prince while I was asleep?”

“The Prince of Naples,” I said, pointing at the surrounding shops and diner.

“May I be your princess, Robert?” She raised her eyebrows.

Our eyes met. Hers were soft and warm. If eyes were the mirror of the soul, Courtney
was
a princess.

“For as long as you’d like,” I whispered.

She pushed her lips into a mock pout. “I don’t think I believe that.”

“How about until we get back to Jon and Gretchen’s?” I asked.

“Sounds like a bargain,” she agreed, breaking into a smile as she stuck out her hand. We shook, letting the grasp last a moment longer than we needed.

Getting out, we strolled along the block of stores. I pointed to Scotland by the Yard, a shop advertising handmade, imported woolens.

“Would you mind? I want to get something for my mother.”

Courtney nodded and followed me inside. We studied the scarves and sweaters. She pointed out the strengths and weaknesses of each piece with expertise.

“Your young lady knows her wool,” said a gray-haired man with a thick Scottish accent. His heavy gray mustache hung long, covering his upper lip. He was tall and wiry, wearing a fine-looking kilt in place of trousers.

“What a beautiful tartan,” Courtney observed when she saw him.

“Thank you, missy.” He smiled broadly when he heard her accent. “Where are you two from?”

Courtney blushed. “I come from Gloucestershire.” She touched my arm. “My friend is from Boston.”

The man directed us toward the rear, bringing out a beautifully knit cardigan.

“It’s the best we have.” He beamed. “Finest imported wool and hand-woven. For you folks,” he whispered, looking around to make sure no one overheard. “Fifteen dollars.” The price tag said twenty-five.

I took it and held it up, trying to judge the size. Courtney held it to her chest. She examined it, expertly feeling the wool, turning the threads between her fingers as she nodded her approval. “This is a delightful piece, Robbie. It would be perfect for your mother. Wonderful material and finely made.”

“Keep it,” I said, giving the man a twenty. He wrapped it in brown paper. I took the parcel as we thanked him. He followed Courtney with his eyes. As she headed out the door, he took my arm.

“That’s one bonnie lass you’ve got there.” He slapped my back. “You’re a lucky man.”

Courtney turned and stood in the doorway, framed by the verdant backdrop of the mountains and the striking blue of Long Lake.

“Thank you,” I nodded, shaking his hand and wishing with all my heart that she was mine.

Chapter Seven

The afternoon was as magnificent as the company. A northwest wind had descended, bringing relief from the heat and humidity. The fresh breeze sprinkled tiny whitecaps over Long Lake as feathery clouds hurried across the deep blue of the June sky. Courtney and I were willing spectators as we moved along the walk next to the lake.

“Tell me about your home.” I asked. “It’s in the west?”

“That’s right. Briarwood. It was lovely.” She looked at me. “Thanks to the war, we couldn’t travel much.” A faraway look crossed her face, adding, “Mother and Grandfather were very protective.” Courtney stopped. “I kept myself busy exploring on the estate,” she continued. “Endless riding trails, lovely streams, and hardwood groves. It got
lonely. Little companionship except for Mummy, my nanny, and Simon.”

“Simon?”

“Yes, that’s my grandfather.” She looked up at me. “I thought I’d mentioned him. I hope you get to meet him. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” Her eyes showed something akin to awe. “You’d like him.”

“I hope so, too, Courtney. What about your father?”

“Ah, the inscrutable Duncan.” Courtney shook her head. Melancholy transformed her features. She cast her gaze down. “When he was at home, and it wasn’t often, he treated Mummy and me as if we were strangers. I dreaded it.”

I tensed, having no right to ask. “Courtney, did he ever…?”

She raised her hand, anticipating my question, a harsh expression frozen on her face. “No. Never laid a hand on us.” She paused. “I sometimes think it would have been better if he had.” She shuddered and laughed. It was brittle and cold. “At least that would have been something. Recognition we existed.” Her words trailed off. “He sent me here. Gretchen came to fetch me. I never knew her. She’s been very kind.” Her words were clipped. “I think my father was angry Mummy left me her estate,” she said, frowning. “But I have to be twenty-one.” She shrugged. “I’m not a young lady of means for another week.” She sighed. “So I may have to keep begging your cigarettes.” She laughed. I joined her.

Courtney beamed. “I did have another love.”

Was that jealousy gnawing at me?

“The Holsteiner my mother gave me on my twelfth birthday.” She sighed. “I named him Romeo after my favorite hero.” Laughing softly, her eyes found mine as she played with her hair.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“He had the most incredible coat, Robert. Black and lustrous.” She touched my hand softly. “It shone like glass after our workouts. He stood sixteen hands high. There was nothing we couldn’t do together. I miss him dreadfully.” Her eyes found the sprinkling of clouds overhead.

“Will you be going back to England?” I asked hesitantly, not sure I wanted to know.

She looked up at me, eyes wide and curious. “I miss so many things I left behind, but I think I may stay here awhile.” She blushed.

Suddenly, she stopped and sat on a bench facing the water. I sat next to her, our shoulders touching. “What about you? Auntie told me so much. I want to hear everything.” She looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s not much to tell.”

“Nonsense. I must hear every detail,” she said, touching my forearm.

“I went to Exeter, a private school north of Boston, then Harvard.”

She nodded.

“I just graduated. I’d tried to enlist before the end of the war but they rejected me for a bad knee.”

“You’re conflicted about it. Part of you feels relieved but another feels sorry you didn’t serve.”

She’d read my thoughts again. “You’re incredibly perceptive.”

“No. But from what I’ve seen of you, I know that’s how you’d feel.” She touched my shoulder. “Robbie, we’re all called upon to be heroes in different ways. I’m sure that when your time comes, you’ll do the proper thing.”

“I hope you’re right,” I whispered, studying the lake. “Anyway, I’m going to law school in the fall. I live on Boston Harbor, played center field on the baseball team until my knee gave out, and—”

She’d listened politely to my brief résumé, not letting me finish. “And have a brilliant beauty waiting for you back in Boston. And what does she want to be?” Courtney whispered, finding my eyes. “Besides Mrs. Robert McGregor.”

“I told you we have no agreement…”

She interrupted again. “Robert. Please. Stop dodging the question.”

“All right. She wants to be the first female surgeon at Massachusetts General Hospital. Rachel’s very ambitious.”

“Are you worried?” she asked.

“Worried?”

“Yes, Robbie. Being here with me while…?”

“Rachel.”

“Yes, while Rachel’s in Boston thinking you’re spending the day with my boring relatives. Isn’t that what you’re going to tell her?” Courtney’s smile teased.

“I suppose so,” I admitted. “What should I say?”

“That you showed a lonely English girl a bit of the countryside.” She laughed. “Don’t take me too seriously.”

“All right.” I needed to change the subject. “I know about your magnificent horse, your two cats, Cepheus and what’s her name?”

“Cassiopeia…
C-a-s-s-i-o-p-e-i-a
!” she spelled out.

“Oh.” I grinned. “I forgot. You have so many animal friends with unusual names, it’s hard to keep track.”

She nodded, laughing.

“What about people? You must have someone besides your aunt and your nanny.”

She lowered her lashes and turned. When she raised her eyes, finding mine, I felt my heart race. She touched my shoulder again.

“I think I’ve found someone.” Her fingers walked lightly down my sleeve. I swallowed.

“Is this another tease?” I whispered, waiting for her answer.

“No. I don’t play those games.”

“Then you have,” I told her.

“Well,” she said, exhaling as she removed her hand. “Enough philosophy, McGregor.”

I stood, still tingling from her touch.

“I owe you some cigarettes,” she said, looking thoughtfully toward the small collection of stores. “I’ll go get some and then we can try that salmon you were raving about. My treat.”

“You don’t have to keep buying things. I thought you were short of funds.”

She laughed. “I can manage. You’re a cheap date. After all, I talked you into bringing me along, boring you with stories about my life and pets.”

I took her by the shoulders. If she was searching for compliments, I’d gladly oblige. “I wanted you to come.”

She twisted her lips, doing her best to hide a smile. “Thank you.” Her face grew flushed. “I hoped that was the case, but it’s nice to hear you say it,” she confessed. “Come on.” She quickened her pace, heading toward the general store. “Cigarettes, then salmon.”

“Interesting menu,” I joked and hurried to catch her.

Chapter Eight

It was almost three when we left the small restaurant. The inside had been spare and utilitarian, offering little charm or atmosphere. Cracked red vinyl covered the seats, worn red Formica the tabletops. But the salmon and the view—of the scenery and my luncheon companion—were superb.