What We Find (18 page)

“I meant no offense,” Sully said, taking a long pull on his beer. “He said you thought he was playing golf,” he added. “I thought that meant...”

“He’s always playing golf!” Phoebe said.

“New hair color?” Sully asked her.

“My hair has always been red,” she said.

“Was it red?” he asked. “I can’t remember.”

“Well, at your age, that’s to be expected, isn’t it?” Phoebe said. “Maybe if you weren’t always headlong into the bottle—”

“Oh, Jesus,” Maggie muttered, rubbing her temples.

“I haven’t had a beer before five in the afternoon in at least twenty years,” he said. “Hadn’t felt the need until now.”

“At least I don’t have to point out where your sore spots are,” Maggie said. “Be nice to each other or you’ll be sent to your rooms.”

“When will you be done with this hiatus?” Phoebe asked. “When will you be back in Denver?”

“I don’t know. Not much longer.”

“Leave her be, Phoebe. She hasn’t had a proper vacation in years and she’s burnt out. She can stay here as long as she likes. Don’t bully her.”

“I’ve been more relaxed since I’ve been here than I have been in years and that should make you happy, Mother.”

“Of course your health and happiness are paramount. And I
don’t
bully.”

“Course not,” Maggie said. She took a big bite of her pickle.

There was a loud burst of laughter somewhere in the campground and Maggie looked around. A man wearing a backpack but no clothes was coming down the trail. He had excellent hiking boots on his feet, a straw hat on his head and that was all. His thing was swaying in the breeze.

Maggie hadn’t seen something like this in a long time. She covered her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Oh my hell,” Sully swore, slamming down the beer and jumping to his feet. “I should shoot his pecker off! Doesn’t that idiot know this is a family place?” And he charged down the steps toward the naked man.

Maggie started to laugh and slid down in her chair.

“Dear God,” Phoebe said. “Maggie, you can’t stay here! This is why I took you away. This is the bowels of hell!”

Just be what you are and speak from your guts
and heart—it’s all a man has.

—Hubert Humphrey

Chapter 11

“You’re a coward, that’s what you are,” Maggie told Cal.

“Don’t be so hard on me. Tom ran for his life and he said he’d never even met the woman, just heard about her. I’m sure she’s very nice but she just intimidated the hell out of me. So, what happened with the naked man?”

“Oh, he gave Sully some song and dance about being over-heated, taking off his shirt first, then his sweaty shorts, being dehydrated and confused and forgot to get dressed again before hitting camp. All bullshit, I’m sure.”

They sat on low beach chairs by a little fire near the lake. Lots of small fires dotted the grounds, being enjoyed by campers. This was the first chance they’d had to talk since Phoebe’s visit.

“Sully was occupied with him, dragging him out of sight of the other campers—not so many around at lunchtime—and out of sight of the porch. Just another loony-tune. They pop up regularly, though that’s the first nudist I’ve seen. But I’ve heard naked hikers are seen out on the trails from time to time. If one of the forestry guys, a park ranger, sees one they throw the book at them. That was pretty brazen, walking into camp that way. Why anyone wants to hike naked is beyond me. Imagine the interesting places you could get a mosquito bite. And here’s a little-known fact—they’re never women.”

“Exhibitionists,” Cal said. “I bet it made your mother’s day.”

“She’ll be talking about it for years, trust me. So then we had a little chat. Not too long. She wants me to go to a charity luncheon with her. She has these social obligations from time to time and in the past I’ve gone to some with her. They’re not horrible and she likes to show me off, I think. My daughter the doctor, you know? When I’m in Denver I try to spend a little time with her. Sometimes I take her to lunch and endure a little shopping. It makes her happy and quiet. What intimidated you about her?”

“The very look on her face,” he said. “Looked like she was here for a takedown.”

“And you abandoned me? Some knight in shining armor you are!”

“You didn’t ask me to stay. You said it made no difference!”

“Well, I think she was here for more than her need to corner me and convince me to go to her friend’s charity luncheon. I think she wanted to see it again because Walter had been here and told her he enjoyed himself and that it was a nice place. It wasn’t up to her standards, of course, which I think came as a relief to her. She’d die a thousand deaths if this had been an exclusive spa or something. She wants to see Sully as a country bumpkin, an idiot with no taste. She hates that I love his campground. It’s been a thorn in her butt all my life.”

“I’d love to meet this Walter,” Cal said.

“I’m sure it’ll be another thirty years before either of them will be back. They live in an entirely different world. But Walter isn’t uppity. He’s rich, of course—he not only comes from old money but is a highly respected neurosurgeon, but his gift is his passion. His patients have always been his priority. He’s compassionate and brilliant, very soft-spoken and quietly powerful. Since I’ve known him, he makes the money and Phoebe spends it. And that works fine for him.” She smiled at Cal. “Phoebe means well, I suppose, but she’s shallow. She can’t help it.”

“Everyone can help it, Maggie,” Cal said.

“She was poor growing up, she said. I don’t know the details because to my memory we never had anything to do with her family, but clearly she plotted her escape from her roots. She fully intended to marry up, as they say. She started off with a tech school that would teach her what she needed to know to get a great job in a high-level corporate setting where she would meet men with money. She concentrated on beauty, intending to snag a rich husband. Sully was an accident.”

“Oh?”

“I think he was working as a welder at the time they met. They met in a classy uptown bar in Chicago. He was a handsome, sexy guy, midthirties, had been a Green Beret, had been to war a couple of times, had medals, liked to have fun. She fell for him. He told her he was coming into a big property near Aspen and so she married him. She was twenty-two. He brought her here and knocked her up. It was all downhill from there.”

Cal whistled. “Best laid plans...”

“She obviously played a better hand with Walter. Ohhh, I so hated him. They wouldn’t let me see Sully for years. Of course that was Phoebe, but Walter went along with it. Later, much later, I came to like him. Then respect him. Now I’m more fond of Walter than of Phoebe. He’s always been on my team. He tried to talk me out of marrying my husband. I should’ve listened to him.”

Cal came to attention. “You were married?”

“Didn’t I tell you that?” She laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. “I apologize. It was so insignificant. Sergei was...
is
an artist. Painter, sculptor. He was a dirt-poor immigrant but hung out with important people who endorsed his talent. Someone introduced us—I was still finishing residency, which might account for my brain atrophy. I didn’t realize Sergei would do absolutely anything for money and I was the trifecta—I came from Walter’s money, sort of. I had great earning potential. And I had the prestige of being a neurosurgeon who was the stepdaughter of a very well-known and highly respected neurosurgeon. But Sergei had a very short attention span and once the wedding was done, he began to flirt and rove and we didn’t last long. We were divorced before our first anniversary. Honestly, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve listened to... Hey! What’s that look? Have you lost all respect for me because I married badly?”

He raised his gaze to hers. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I could’ve sworn I told you that...”

“Maggie, I was married.”

“Well, that’s okay. A lot of people our age—”

“Mine wasn’t short,” he said. “It wasn’t a mistake. I was married for eight years. My wife died two years ago.”

She was stunned silent for a moment. “Wow. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Listen, I’m not trying to be secretive, but is it okay if I don’t talk about it right now? She died of scleroderma, a difficult disease. Let’s save that discussion for another time. Okay? It’s still hard to talk about.”

“Sure,” she said quietly. “Wow. I mean, I had no idea.”

“How could you? I’ll fill in the blanks one of these days. When the time feels right. Okay?”

“Are there a lot of blanks?” she asked.

“Details, that’s all.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m moving on the best I can, but I still find it very personal. And emotional. Right now, I want to hear about Phoebe and Walter and anything else. I want to laugh with you, then I want to hold you and take you to bed. Let’s cover my background another time. A better time.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me about your childhood with Phoebe,” he suggested.

“Ohhh, you’re not going to believe any of it,” she said.

“After the family I came from?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Really?”

“You mean that’s all true?”

“Maggie, I may be guilty of withholding, not being ready to talk about some things, but I’ve never lied to you.”

“How can you manage that?” she asked.

“Force of habit, I guess. Tell me stuff.”

“Well, Phoebe had it hard,” Maggie said. “She rescued me from this
shit hole
, as she called it, and took me to Chicago where she somehow managed to get a very nice apartment. I have no idea how she did it. Sully swears she never asked him for any money. She got herself a very good job in a posh restaurant and although I seemed to spend most of my time with the next-door neighbor lady, Phoebe only worked or looked after me. When she got home in the middle of the night, her feet were swollen and her head ached. After about a year she brought Walter home—she met him in the restaurant. She must have picked him on sight. And I hated him because I knew what he meant—Walter getting together with Phoebe meant I’d never see Sully again. I was horrible to him. And to Phoebe, for that matter. They even had me sitting with a psychologist for a while. I ran away several times but I only made it a couple of blocks. I got bad grades, had temper tantrums, wouldn’t eat, or so they thought... I was a growing girl—I sneaked food. And then when I was eight Walter said to me, ‘I think you should visit your father, but if you’d like to do that, this is no way to go about it.’ When I tried to explain that Phoebe would never let me he just said, ‘Let me work on that. Try to be patient. And for God’s sake, try to behave. You and I both know what you’re doing.’ It wasn’t just the fact that he had me nailed that made a difference, but that he spoke to me as if I were an adult.”

“And he won you over,” Cal said.

“Not yet, but he was getting closer. You have to remember, Walter was a busy surgeon. We didn’t spend a great deal of time together.”

“He must have loved Phoebe very much to put up with you,” Cal said.

“I don’t know that Walter cares that much about love, though clearly he cares about Phoebe. I asked him once why the devil he married her and you know what he said? He said she was uncomplicated. How’s that for an assessment?”

He pulled her chair closer to him, put his arm around her and drew her in. Lips hovering over hers, he asked, “And what are you looking for, Miss Maggie?”

“Well, obviously I like ’em real complicated, California.”

Maggie made Cal laugh with stories of being a grave disappointment to Phoebe her entire youth. She wouldn’t take tap and ballet but played soccer and volleyball, forcing Phoebe to sit in the hot sun or smelly gymnasium. And when it came to the debutante ball? Of course Maggie wanted no part of that and her mother cried for a month. She wore a uniform at school but the rest of the time could hardly be pried out of her tight, torn jeans, boots and gauzy blouses that showed her bra. And just to see her mother freak out she’d leave out pictures of tattoos she was thinking of getting.

“I was a serpent’s tooth,” she said, sending him into peals of laughter. “And oh God, if she ever found out I lost my virginity here at the camp when I was fifteen, she would die. But first she’d kill Sully.”

“But of course you were safe and protected and—”

“I was fifteen! I worried about being pregnant for a year and the guy broke my heart by being a summer dude who never called or wrote or came back. But all things considered, I’d rather go through that than put on a white formal gown and dance a waltz.”

Cal sprinkled sand on the embers and they left their chairs sitting out. He had his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the house. As they grew closer, his hand slid down and he began to caress her butt. “Are you worried that I’m just a summer dude?” he asked.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, no one stays here. This is a bump in the road.”

“Sully stayed,” he reminded her.

“Well, that’s different. It’s his legacy.”

“You haven’t made any noises about leaving,” he said.

“I was born to this. I might be different like Sully. But mostly this is a place people escape to. Most of our guests are getting out of the city or away from work. Some think better in the solitude and serenity of the trail—they work things out. But no one stays.”

“You think I’ll go? That I’ll love you all summer, right in your father’s house, and leave you?”

“Probably,” she said.

He stopped walking. He turned her toward him and took her into his arms, kissing her deeply, passionately. He backed her up a couple of steps so that she was against the thick trunk of a big tree and he pressed the length of his body against hers. He was already aroused and if he knew Maggie, so was she. “You don’t think this time it might be different?” he whispered against her lips.

“I can want it to, but there’s been nothing to convince me. I don’t really know you. I’m trying to know you but there’s new information every day.”

“Maggie, you know the best parts of me. When I make love to you, I give you everything I have.”

“Will you deny there have been quite a few women along the way who have benefited from your rather amazing erotic skills?”

“Not really quite a few. Not as many as you might think, but at least one princess...”

“At least?” she said, already a little breathless.

“Come with me, Maggie. You’re way overdressed.”

“So, after all that you’re just going to play with my feelings again?” she teased.

“I won’t be playing...” He kissed her again and grabbed her ass, giving her a hard squeeze. “Come on, angel. Let’s get comfortable.”

Comfort was the least of his intentions. He stripped her and played her body as if it were a Stradivarius and he knew every note perfectly. He wanted to give her everything within him. It all came so naturally with her. He’d been aware of every nuance since that very first night they were together, and making love to Maggie allowed him to pull all his deepest feelings together. Sex with Maggie was more than just sex; it was intensely personal. All he had to do was think about getting into her body and his chest expanded a little; his wounded heart seemed to grow stronger.

What she gave back to him fulfilled him. Her natural abandon, her complete trust reminded him that this was like a smooth pathway to his most private emotions. Lovemaking wasn’t always like that. Sometimes it was all physical—just a need satisfied. Not complicated at all. Sometimes sex was emotional—a blending of spirits to strengthen each other. And then there were times like this when the give-and-take of bodies in the act of loving made one’s very soul feel sturdier. More sure. More stable. Sometimes making love relieved a deep tension. It could be exciting, stimulating and electrifying. And then there were times it felt like the one person you were destined to find came into your life and all the jagged edges you struggled with had smoothed out, calmed down, quieted.