Wishmakers (17 page)

“I'll do that.”

“Have you missed me, sweetheart?”

You don't have to carry it that far, she thought angrily, and then she heard the giggle on the line again. She made a quick decision in favor of appropriate action.

“Of course I've missed you!” she breathed throatily. “Has it only been twenty-four hours, darling? It seems like years. Dolly and Penny are good company, but I want
you,
” she purred. “And Chip, darling, you did say I could redo the house
upriver
after we're married, didn't you? I've been looking in the catalogs for ideas.”

“Darling!” He cut her off abruptly. “Do you know you're announcing our engagement to everyone on the party line?” His voice had more than a hint of firmness in it.

“I told you he was going to marry her,” said a muffled voice that sounded very much like Beth's. The hand held over the phone failed to keep the words from coming across the line.

“Oh! I'm sorry, darling,” Margaret said in a soft, saccharine tone. “Didn't you want anyone to know?”

“Of course I did, sweetheart. But I wanted to wait until I had the ring on your finger. Would you like me to call the Chicago papers with the announcement?” There was an edge of a threat in his voice.

Margaret caught her breath. What would she do now? She hadn't intended for the joke to go this far. “That won't be necessary. I'll do it when I go home to make the arrangements.” Her voice tightened; the fun had gone out of the game.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” He paused, then said, “Beth, what were you doing in town today? I told you what would happen if you skipped school again.”

“I didn't skip! Classes were canceled for a teachers' meeting. If you don't believe me, you can call the high school,” the young voice rang out with no hesitation.

“I believe you.”

“Then why'd you have to say it on the line? You know everybody listens.”

“Not everybody. I don't think Tim Walker's on the line. Are you, Tim?”

“Oh, you make me so mad, Chip! I'm going to hang up. 'Bye!”

“Are you still there, Maggie?”

“Yes. You mean people listen to other people's conversations? How can you conduct private business?”

Chip laughed. “You can't—not on the phone, that's for sure.”

“Who is Tim Walker?”

“A boy in Beth's class. I'll tell you about him sometime. Are you terribly bored?” he asked in a tone that seemed to assume that she was.

“Nooo,” she drawled. “Keith's wife has been over, and I've been helping Dolly prepare apple pies for the freezer. We made six pies. Tomorrow we're going to make apple butter.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You like doing that?”

“Of course! I learned to do a lot of things in school. It's just that it's been so long since I've done any of them. Chip…?”

“Yes.”

“Guess what? Penny's class had a spelling bee today, and she won!”

He chuckled. “Great. I suppose you had a hand in it.”

“Well, we did study together.”

“I'll ring off, Maggie. Be ready at about ten, and I'll be by to pick you up. Dream of me,” he whispered, and he rang off before she could reply.

Margaret was ready and waiting long before ten o'clock. A duffle bag containing a change of clothes for Chip, a backpack with Margaret's things, and a Styrofoam hamper of food rested beside the living room door. She was nervous and paced the floor restlessly.

Before leaving for school, Penny had put her arms around Margaret's neck and hugged her. “You're neat, Maggie. I wish you'd never go away.”

Remembering now, Margaret stopped her pacing and looked at Dolly. “How can Penny's mother leave her here and not come see her? I'd give anything to have a child like Penny.” She regretted the words instantly as a pained expression flashed across Dolly's face. “I'm sorry, Dolly. I—”

“It's all right. Marion is like a lot of other girls. She likes the things a city offers. She couldn't wait to leave here, and she took up with the first man who offered to take her away. Penny was the result. He left her, and she brought Penny to me. Penny will probably want to do the same. I've no hopes of holding on to her. I've seen it happen so many times. And…so has Chip.” Dolly nervously wiped her hands on her apron. “Even his own mother—”

The scrunch of tires on gravel cut off Dolly's words, and she went to the door. Margaret stood in the middle of the room. Her jacket was on the back of the chair. Chip's eyes found hers the instant he came through the door, and a feeling of happiness swamped her.

“Ready to see what life in the backwater is all about?” Beneath his wool plaid jacket he wore a blue denim shirt tucked smoothly into his jeans. On his head was a visor cap with the Anthony/Thorn logo emblazoned in green on a white background.

“I'm ready if you are.” Margaret reached for her jacket.

“It's a dusty drive. Sure you want to wear the contacts?”

“I have my glasses in my purse.”

“Okay then. We'd better get started.”

“Hi, Chip,” Dolly finally said from her place beside the door.

“Oh, hello, Dolly. I didn't see you. I—”

“Don't make excuses,” she chuckled. “I know why you didn't see me.” She split a wickedly sparkling look between the two of them. “You'd better get started, unless you want a cup of coffee first.”

“None for me, thanks. Is this it?” He glanced down at the bags beside the door.

“There're clean sleeping bags and blankets piled in the chair on the porch,” Dolly said. “The ones up at the camp might be a little raunchy by now,” she added with a note of derision in her voice.

Chip carried the bags and the hamper out onto the porch, and Margaret and Dolly followed.

“Hop in,” Chip said without preamble. He opened the back of the Jeep and tossed in the bags.

“You'll have a good time, Maggie, if you can stand the rough ride,” Dolly said.

Impulsively, Margaret hugged the older woman and kissed her cheek. “I can stand it all right. 'Bye, Dolly. Tell Penny I'll be looking for a star on her spelling paper.”

As soon as Margaret was seated beside Chip he started the motor and turned to look at her. “It's no luxury hotel up there, you know.” The sarcasm bit.

“I know,” she said simply.

He shrugged and swung the car in a circle and headed down the lane.

They left the road before they reached the mill and took a dusty track that almost immediately began to climb through the trees. The road was rough almost to the point of nonexistence, jolting the Jeep first to one side and then to the other. Chip didn't seem to mind the pitching, but Margaret found it distinctly uncomfortable. As she grasped the armrest on the door to minimize the turbulence, she wondered if Chip had chosen the worst route available solely for her benefit. If so, he would be disappointed, because she wasn't going to utter one word of complaint. Was he still angry because she'd made that remark about marriage on the telephone? As soon as I'm gone he can tell whatever story he wants to save face, if that's what's bothering him, she thought with a feeling almost like despair.

The track wound upward, and gradually the trees thinned out, bare rock taking over from earth. They drove along the edge of a deep wooded chasm. The air was cool and clean-smelling, and the sun shining through the windows was warm on her face. Margaret was sure she had never seen anything so achingly beautiful as the landscape stretched out before her.

Neither of them said much. Chip appeared to be preoccupied with his own thoughts. Margaret took a deep breath and half turned in her seat to look at his face. He was frowning, his lips set in a tight line. She couldn't see his eyes to read his expression, but she noticed that his knuckles were white as his tanned hands clenched the steering wheel. Not sure this was the right time to say anything to him, she was still compelled to murmur, “Oh, Chip! It's so beautiful up here.”

“This was my father's favorite place,” he said quietly after a moment or two.

“And yours?” she ventured. She saw the broad shoulders lift.

“There're hundreds of beautiful vistas like this all over the northwest.”

“It seems impossible,” she remarked softly.

The long magnificent sweep of landscape was green, yellow, and bronze. The colors glistened in the morning sun, providing a startling contrast to the snowcapped ridges of the mountains beyond. Margaret found it all breathtaking, overpowering, and beyond anything she could have imagined.

“It's magnificent!” Her voice was joyous. She turned her head sharply and looked at Chip. He had taken his eyes from the road for an instant, and they locked with hers.

“We'll be going down again soon, but first there's a place where we can turn off if you want to stop a bit.”

“I'd like to, if we have time. Oh! Look, Chip!” A startled deer raced ahead of them and disappeared into the woods, its white tail standing straight out as it fled. She caught her breath and laughed with sheer delight.

At the top of the crest he pulled the car over and stopped. Margaret opened the door and got out. The ravine was only yards away. She moved a few feet and stood almost on the edge of it, gazing at the view of vast forest tracks falling away below.

“Careful.” Chip had followed and was standing behind her. “The ground can give way in some of these places.”

Margaret stepped back, and his hands came roughly about her waist, drawing her even farther from the edge. They stood quietly for a moment, and then Chip suddenly jerked away. He yanked open the Jeep door and reached for the fieldglasses in the glove compartment. He adjusted them and, holding them steady, focused on a distant spot.

It was several seconds before Margaret noticed the thin trail of vapor rising from the treetops below. Smoke—not a lot of it, but almost certainly too much for a small campfire.

Chip scanned the distance for several seconds before he brought the glasses down. “It can't be far off the road,” he said tightly. “Hop in and hold on. It's going to be a rough ride.” Inside the car he picked up the mike and flipped a button on the CB radio. “Break for Anthony/ Thorn camp four. This is a ten-seventy. Repeat. This is a ten-seventy.”

“Camp four. Go ahead.”

“Chip Thorn. Smoke in the west section down a couple of miles from the ridge. I'm checking it out.”

“Okay, Chip. Position noted. Will stand by for your report.”

“Ten-four. I'm gone.”

Margaret closed her eyes briefly as the rear wheels skidded on takeoff and the Jeep shot forward. She didn't speak, leaving Chip to concentrate on his driving. She kept her eyes on the spiral of smoke, and just as she thought they were about to pass it, Chip turned off into the trees. She registered how important it was for a vehicle to have four-wheel drive in this part of the country. The going was much slower as he angled the car downward between the trees, detouring around fallen logs and easing across gullies.

“Is it likely to be a serious fire?” Margaret queried while clutching the dashboard to keep herself from being slammed into it.

“Any fire out here is serious. There's a lot of dry underbrush. We need the fall rains to dampen things down.”

He didn't speak again. They were going downhill at a perilous angle. It didn't occur to Margaret to be frightened. It was exhilarating to be sharing this experience with Chip. They could smell the smoke long before they reached the bottom of the gully and turned to the right. Borne on a light breeze, the acrid scent stung her nostrils. The actual fire was in an open area and was so far confined to grass and the brush edging it. Chip slammed on the brakes, flipped off the ignition, and jumped out. Margaret saw little flames lick across another expanse of dry grass and into the brush, then run up a small tree like hungry red tongues.

“Come on. Grab those blankets. Use your feet on the small patches,” he shouted. “Keep upwind from the flames.” He jerked a fire extinguisher from the back of the truck and flung it over his shoulder. “Be careful. Stay out of heavy smoke.”

Margaret beat at the larger flames with the blanket while stamping out the small ones with her feet.
No! No! You won't get to my trees!
Like red and gold dancers they raced toward a young fir tree, and with a swish of the blanket she beat them back. Tears were streaming down her face from the smoke in her eyes, her vision was blurred, and the heat seared her throat. When the flames engulfed a bush, she circled behind it, flailing the grass with the blanket to keep the fire from spreading. She worked purely on instinct while the sweat rolled down her face and her hands became locked onto the end of the blanket.

There was no time to think about her parched throat, her heat-flushed face, or her arms that felt as if they each weighed a hundred pounds. She worked as if her life depended on it, and gradually she began to win against the flames. It was an exhausting effort. As fast as one patch was stamped or beaten out, another seemed to flare into being. Chip had emptied the fire extinguisher and was now beside her, beating at the flames with another blanket.

When at last it was over, they stood smoke-grimed and red-eyed in the blackened section. Margaret walked back to the Jeep, dragging a scorched blanket. She leaned wearily against the car.

“Did we do it?” It was an asinine question uttered out of sheer exhaustion. She knew if they hadn't, they would both still be fighting the flames.

Chip grinned at her. His face was blackened by smoke and his head wet with sweat. “You bet we did,” he said proudly, reaching into the Jeep for the CB to report the good news to the camp.

“It was caused by a campfire, Joe. Pass the word along. If they catch the bastards I'll file charges against them. This whole section would have gone up like a tinderbox in another hour.”

“I never did see the smoke, Chip,” the voice said. “Have you been fighting that fire all this time? It's been almost three hours.”

“Is that all? It seemed more like three days to Maggie and me. If you see anything of those campers, let me know. Won't be moving from here for a while; we're too damned tired.”

“Ten-four, Chip.”

Chip hung up the mike, then stretched and rubbed his shoulders. “I couldn't have done it without you, Maggie.”