Authors: Barbara Delinsky
She took the report card and left, knowing from experience that further argument would not help her cause. John was behaving true to form. He would keep her dangling while he made up his mind in his own sweet time, and only when he knew she was suffering.
Indeed, she was suffering. She was furious at him and at herself. With the school year over, her friends had dispersed, so she had no ready diversions. She tried to be available and acquiescent whenever John was at home, but he gave no clue as to which way he was leaning. He was perfectly content to let her swing.
Needing a respite—and unable to help herself, although she doubted it would help her cause—she took off early one afternoon and drove to Timiny Cove. She went to the mountain first to say hello to Simon and the men. When she was certain Cutter had seen her, she left for the stream in the woods.
He joined her there soon after the workday ended. At the sight of his tall frame emerging from the trees, she felt the familiar brightening inside. Grinning, she rose from the rock on which she’d been sitting and ran to meet him.
He swept her up and swung her around. When her feet touched ground again, he held her back. “Jeez, do you look grown-up. I wasn’t sure who it was when I first saw you. This is a change from jeans.”
She was wearing a short white skirt, a lavender jersey, and flats, which was what she’d put on that morning when she hadn’t expected to go farther than Beacon Hill. The impulse to leave Boston had been so sudden that she hadn’t thought to change. Given the admiration in Cutter’s eyes, she was glad she hadn’t.
He twined a long strand of her hair around his finger and gave a light tug. “You’re looking pretty, Pam.”
John had said the same words to her not so long ago, and in the echo of the words he had looked at her breasts. She suddenly wondered if Cutter had noticed she was getting bigger there. Maybe he’d even felt her breasts when he hugged her.
Her cheeks grew warm. “Thank you.” Her eyes couldn’t quite hold his. They angled off, then returned. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.” It occurred to her that what with his height and his laborer’s build and his long, light brown hair that never seemed dirty but was always mussed, he was more handsome than anyone she knew at home. “How’ve you been?”
“Not bad. Arguin’ with Simon. Stickin’ up for a thirty-minute lunch hour. Steerin’ clear of John. How ’bout you?”
“Pretty much the same as you. Not bad.”
But he was studying her closely. “You look tired,” he decided, and she knew then why she’d felt such a dire need to see him. He cared in a way that no one else did. He was a haven she could run to when she was lonely and discouraged. He knew her, understood her. He gave her his full attention.
In no time they were sitting side by side on the rocks and she was spilling the whole story about her grades and John and the trip that was up in the air. She also told him that John knew they were seeing each other.
“He must have someone up here, Cutter. You joked about it once, but I think it’s true. He knows I spend more time with you than I do with the others.”
Cutter’s features had hardened the way they always did when John’s name came up. “Is he taking it out on you?”
“Not yet. But he’s holding it over my head.”
“Typical.”
“Who do you think is watching us?”
He stared at a spot across the stream for so long that Pam looked that way, wondering if someone was there. The trees were in full bloom, fresh and lush in a June sort of way, so that though sundown was a ways off yet, the shadows were deep. She couldn’t see a thing.
“I’m not sure,” he said at last and looked back at her. “You came anyway.”
“Of course.”
He gave her the smallest smile, a tiny twitch of the lips that told of his pleasure. “Does he know you’re here now?”
“He’ll know when he gets home from work and finds my note. I was going to tell him I’d gone to a friend’s house, but I figured someone would see me up here anyway. If John catches me in a lie at this point, I can forget that trip.”
“When’s the trip?”
“Next Thursday.”
“And you really want to go?”
“I really want to spend the summer up here, but John won’t hear of that.” Tucking her hands between her knees, she gritted her teeth and threw back her head. “I’m so tired of this, Cutter. He’s impossible. He decides what’s important, forgets about what isn’t, and takes everything that is as seriously as if it’s the end of the world. He’s such a prig!”
Cutter flattened a hand on the rock behind her hips. “I won’t argue with you there.” He looked down at her more gently. “How long can you stay here?”
“Not long. I said I’d be back later tonight.”
“You can’t just turn around and drive another three hours alone.”
“Want to come along for the ride?” she teased, then her grin vanished, her eyes grew wide, and she grabbed his arm. “Do, Cutter. Come back with me. You could stay across the Common at the Parker House. I’d love to show you the city. You’ve never been there, and I know everything there is to see. It’s five days before I’m going away—if John lets me go; and if he doesn’t, that gives us even more time. It would be such fun. I mean, like there’s nothing else I’d want to do more than that. I wouldn’t even mind not going on the trip if you came to Boston.”
She felt the flex of a steely muscle in his arm even before she heard the hardness in his voice. “Wouldn’t John just love that.”
“John wouldn’t know!” She hurried on, “Don’t you see, Boston’s so much bigger than Timiny Cove that he wouldn’t ever know you were there. We’d be lost in the crowd. It happens all the time. He doesn’t know half of what I do, and since he wouldn’t be expecting—”
“Not a good idea, Pam.”
She dropped her hand from his arm. “Why not?”
“First, because I have a job to do.”
“Take time off.”
“Second, because you’d be in big trouble if he found out.”
“He won’t find out,” she said, but nervously. Cutter’s voice was growing harsh.
“Third, because it’s bad enough that I have to be under the guy’s thumb at work, but I’ll be damned if I’m goin’ down to Boston just to be looking over my shoulder to see if he’s there!” After a minute of silence, he muttered, “Besides, I’ve been to Boston before.”
Pam knew Cutter didn’t like John, but she hadn’t known the force of his dislike until then. Nor had she known that he’d been to Boston. But before she could ask him about it, a sound in the woods caught her ear. At nearly the same time, Cutter put a cautionary hand on her thigh. Silent and still, they listened. Together, they looked in the direction of the sound.
“What is it?” she whispered.
He leaned closer. She felt the reassuring brush of his arm across her back. “I’m not sure.”
“Footsteps?”
“Sounds it.”
“Human?”
“Uh-huh.”
Their whispers were exchanged over the space of an inch.
“Do you think it’s John’s spy?”
“No.”
“Too obvious?”
“Too small.”
“Who is it?”
When Cutter was slow in answering, she looked up at him. His eyes were trained on the woods, looking sharp in a way that was in keeping with the heavy shadow of his beard. So was the firm set of his jaw and the squaring of his chin. She wondered if that squaring was from tension or if it was always there. Funny, she hadn’t noticed. She’d always looked at the whole, she guessed.
Then his lips moved. “Bumble,” he whispered, and the tension left his features as quickly as it had come.
“What?”
“It’s Bumble.”
It was a minute before the word registered, a minute more before she realized what he was talking about. Dragging her eyes from his face, she looked off in the direction of the rustling in the woods in time to recognize the small creature who emerged from the trees.
Of the people in Timiny Cove, Pam liked most, disliked a few, and was frightened of one. That one was Bumble. She was a wizened old lady who dressed in layers of dark clothes even on the hottest of summer days. Pam had always fancied that the clothes were the only things covering her bones, that if she’d ever had any flesh it had disappeared at some point during the course of the 110 years that she’d lived. The age, of course, was based on town gossip and was clearly an exaggeration, still Bumble was eerie. She lived in something that was half underground and not unlike a packrat’s midden—but that was town gossip too, since few had ever actually seen where she lived. She appeared to be entirely self-sufficient. She spent her days wandering through the woods gathering plants and herbs, and while she had never harmed anyone or anything, she was given wide berth. No one knew her real name. She was called Bumble after the sound she made when she talked.
Pam leaned closer to Cutter and whispered, “What’s she doing here?”
“Looking for mushrooms probably,” he whispered back.
“Why here?”
“Because the mushrooms are good here.”
“But these aren’t her woods. They’re yours.”
He whispered a chuckle. “Not quite.”
“You know what I mean. Cutter, she’s coming straight toward us.”
“It’s okay. She won’t hurt you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me.”
She did, of course. She trusted him with her life. Tucked up against him, she wasn’t half as frightened as she’d have been if she were alone.
The old woman didn’t stop shuffling until she stood directly before them. Her watery eyes focused on Cutter. Pam felt him nod a greeting. Then Bumble looked at her, and Pam felt skewered. She managed a small smile. “Hello.”
Those watery eyes stared at her for what seemed an eternity to Pam. Then a wizened hand came from the pocket of something that looked like a worn gunnysack, which was layered over a faded smock, which was layered over a frayed dress—all three in varying shades of dun. The hand disappeared into another sack, this one of canvas. It was burgundy and looked far newer than the rest of her.
When the hand came out, it was clutching a sprig of flowers, which she promptly extended to Pam. “Wi’zalis,” the little voice buzzed.
“Wild azaleas,” Cutter interpreted softly. He gave Pam a gentle nudge at a spot on her back that Bumble couldn’t see.
Pam took the flowers. She’d seen wild azaleas in the woods before, but never ones as delicately pink. When Bumble gestured toward her nose, Pam smelled them. Their scent was nearly as delicate as their color.
“Thank you,” she said. “They’re lovely.”
Even before she had the last word out, the old woman turned and resumed her shuffling trek through the woods. Holding the flowers to her nose, Pam watched the wrinkled figure until it blended into the forest and was gone.
“Weird,” she whispered then. She rested comfortably against Cutter for another minute before lowering the flowers and looking up at him. What hit her, though, wasn’t the intent look on his face but his scent. It was familiar in the way of something long taken for granted, new in the way of an awakening. He didn’t smell of aftershave like John, or of leather jacket like Robbie. He smelled of earth and of sweat, of man.
Feeling a fluttering in the pit of her stomach, she drew away from him and stood. Holding the flowers to her nose again, she said, “I should go.”
Cutter rose. “Can I take you to supper?”
She couldn’t think of anything nicer, but she felt strangely awkward. “We can make something at your place.” They’d done that many times, then had eaten out on the porch. It was fun and familiar.
But Cutter shook his head. “I’d like to take you out. I haven’t ever done that. You’re looking so pretty and grown-up. Let me.”
Her heart melted.
“There’s a steak place over in Norway,” he went on. “We could celebrate your finishing school for the year.”
“You don’t have to—”
“It may be the last time I’ll see you for a while.”
Abruptly, she felt close to tears. Just then she would gladly have given up her trip for the few weekends she might have in Timiny Cove. She had passed seven weeks before without seeing Cutter, but never being quite so far away. Only now did she realize the comfort she drew from knowing he was just three hours away.
“Okay,” she said softly.
So they went back to his place while he showered and changed, then he took her out to dinner. She had eaten at fancier restaurants and had better food, but she’d never treasured a dinner the way she did this one. The memory of it stayed with her through the long drive back to Boston later that night, and the tense days that followed.
J
OHN ALLOWED HER TO GO ON
the trip. She wondered if he did it because somehow he knew she was having second thoughts herself, but any reservations were gone by the time she was to leave. Hanging around the house for the first time in months, she found herself thinking about the past and the future, brooding about things she couldn’t change. She was on edge even when John wasn’t at home. She knew that if she spent the summer at home, regardless of how many weekends she spent in Timiny Cove, she would be a basket case come fall.