Chapter 10

Amanda stood by the cabin window, watching the cloak of night slowly settle over the quiet campground. Only the haunting call of a Whippoorwill interrupted her reflective mood.

She'd been nervously pacing all evening, waiting for the final verdict on the camp. Hopefully, Lee would show up soon and fill her in on the details. It was hard to be out of the loop, but she'd dutifully gone through the motions of being fingerprinted and playing the clueless camp volunteer.

She only knew what Francine had told her at lunch - Brandi had confessed to having a brother who was a known terrorist. With that stunning revelation, the chances were slim to none that the peace camp would take place as planned.

"Come sit down, darling," Dotty called from the kitchenette. "I've made tea. We'll have to take advantage of the quiet time before our college cabin mates return from town."

"They'll probably be late getting back. It's their last night of freedom before camp starts." Amanda took a seat on the worn sofa and tried to focus on her mother's favorite topic. She'd been prattling on about the merits of Bryce Topping for the better part of an hour.

Dotty handed over a mug of tea. "Darling, do you agree with any of my observations about Bryce?"

"Of course, Mother. You're absolutely right. Bryce is intelligent, charming, successful and a wonderful father. And, yes, he's solid marriage material."

"And don't forget handsome. My word, he has great hair, and he barbeques, too. It's only a matter of time before someone snaps him up."

"He even claims to have fixed a kitchen sink," Amanda said, humoring her mother's obsession. "Domestic skills are helpful, and good hair is a must. He'll make a terrific husband for someone."

Dotty set her cup down and leaned closer to her daughter. "So, what are you waiting for, Amanda? Opportunity only knocks once. Here you are, sharing a lovely week of camp with Bryce, and you're letting a golden chance pass you by. Men need a nudge. You have to be pro-active if you want to jump-start a romance."

Amanda rolled her eyes, wondering how she could jump-start a romance with Lee. "Camp is a beautiful romantic setting. You're right about that, Mother, but I'm not sure I want to pursue Bryce."

"Well, look around you. There are any number of available men here. Chuck Sawyer is certainly worth a second look. He's tall, dark, and handsome, and he's the strong leader type. Goodness, he even resembles our favorite private eye."

Amanda laughed. "I've noticed."

"And then there's Skip. Granted he seems a bit shy and awkward, but there's something about Mr. Stanton that makes you want to take care of him. Maybe all he needs is a woman's touch."

"I beg your pardon." Amanda choked on her tea.

"Well, his clothes were rather rumpled. I suspect he slept in them. And, of course, some barber did him a major disservice when he shaved off most of the poor man's hair."

"Well, Mother, Skip is at camp. He doesn't need a stylish haircut or a three piece suit."

"You're right, dear. Skip may knock um dead, in the real world."

"You never can tell about people," Amanda said, trying not to smile. "They're never what they seem to be."

"Oh, speaking of Skip," Dotty announced abruptly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Really?" Amanda tensed as she felt a rush of panic course through her body. What was coming next? "You know, maybe it can wait, Mother. I think I'm going to get ready for bed."

"This will only take a minute." Dotty rummaged through her knapsack. "Loretta says Skip left a brochure in the kitchen."

Amanda reluctantly accepted the proffered pamphlet. "Oh," she said, in a raspy voice. "This is the brochure for I.F.F. I wonder how Skip got a hold of one. I didn't bring any to camp."

"Well, according to Loretta, Skip works for International Federal Film."

"What a coincidence."

"Isn't it though." Dotty drummed her fingers against the table, her brain apparently in overdrive. "How is it possible that Skip is a film maker for I.F.F., and you never mentioned him?"

Amanda's mind worked feverishly, trying to stay a step ahead of her mother's speculation. "Well, for starters, I.F.F. employs a lot of people."

"Darling, it's not possible to fit a lot of people into that little Georgetown office?"

"Well, you see, if Skip is a film maker, he probably travels all over the world. Many of our film people contract for special projects."

"I see. Then you think he is an independent movie maker?"

"Yes, very independent."

"Hmm." Dotty peered over the rim of her reading glasses as she reached to reclaim the leaflet. "That must explain the absence of a wedding ring. He probably has a girl in every port."

"At least. The Skips of the world aren't the marrying kind."

"Maybe that's why they call him Skip. He must skip out on every female he meets."

"You're probably right, Mother. The man must break a lot of hearts."

"I think I'll scratch Mr. Stanton's name off the list. You already paid your dues with the traveling kind."

"The list?"

"Well, not really a list." Dotty looked insulted. "Darling, I'm just trying to be helpful. After all, I've had more experience with men. My suggestions may produce results."

"I know you mean well," Amanda said, resigned to her mother's matchmaking schemes. "But you don't really need to burden yourself with my dating life."

"What dating life? All you do is work, work, work. Your boss wants you at his beck and call every hour of the day and night. Dear, you're never going to find a suitable partner if you spend all your time at that sweat shop."

"Mother, I love my job."

"That's well and good, dear, but you can't snuggle up to a job when you're cold, or tired, or in need of hug. Your boss isn't going to assign you the 'love of your life' as a fringe benefit."

Amanda reached for her mother's hand. "Don't you worry. I haven't given up on finding love again."

"Thank you, darling. I needed to hear you say that." Dotty offered a kiss and then rose to go. "I think I'll turn in ahead of you, Amanda. Pleasant dreams."

"Goodnight, Mother. Sweet dreams."

A light tapping on the window caught her attention. Looking up, she saw the man of her dreams motioning for her to join him outside.

"Hey," Lee said, as she opened the door.

Amanda placed a finger against her lips. "Shush, don't let my mother hear you." Stepping out on the porch, she graced him with a smile. "Some things never change. You're still peering in my windows, huh, Stetson?"

"I thought you'd find the tried and true routine a comfort tonight." He slipped an arm around her waist as they sat down on the top step. "How are you doing?"

She waved her hand back and forth in a gesture of uncertainty. "I'm okay."

"Where are the boys?"

"They're bunking in Bryce's cabin tonight. He managed to keep them busy hunting lizards, turtles, and other camp creatures. All things considered, they seem to have recovered from the lighthouse scare pretty quickly."

"Well, that's a relief." He paused for a beat and then cleared his throat. "It gets better. Billy gave the green light for the camp to proceed as planned."

"Really?"

"You bet. It seems our baby-face lifeguard, Frankie McGuire, got mixed up with Paddy O'Grady."

"Oh, no, not our sweet Frankie."

"I'm afraid so, but he was manipulated for sure. Paddy was the real threat. Fortunately, O'Grady was seen taking a flight back to Ireland. The coast is clear, and the camp is a go."

"And is Brandi in the clear?" she asked, still feeling a nagging twinge of doubt.

Lee studied her for a beat, a guarded look on his face. "Yes, she was cleared. What's eating you now?"

"I'm not sure." Amanda nervously ran a finger over the rough wood of the step, weighing the validity of her concerns.

Lee's arm tightened around her. "Well, I can't promise Utopia, but you can rest easy about security. Francine and I will be onboard for the entire week."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Gosh, I can hardly believe you and Francine agreed to stay."

He laughed. "Well, in truth, Billy had to do a little arm twisting, but he's right to provide protection. Now the campgrounds will be safe; so relax and have fun."

"You make everything sound so simple," she said, nursing a lingering fear. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Just like that, you believe parents can breathe a sigh of relief, children can sleep snug in their beds, and peace can reign on earth."

"Whoa," he said, his body stiffening in protest. "I can't believe you're still worried."

She sighed softly. "Well, I can't believe that Brandi's still here."

"A-man-da," he gritted out between clinched teeth. "I don't know why you're so hard on poor Brandi."

She shook her head. "Don't forget, Lee, I was the only one who had real concerns about Miss Litchfield in the first place."

"Granted, you were right. Brandi was keeping a secret. Having a brother who's a terrorist is a big deal, but that doesn't make her a suspect."

"Lee, I'm sorry, but I still don't trust her." Amanda's voice dropped to a whisper. "If anyone around here is a painted lady, it's Brandi. In my opinion, she wears too much make-up for camp. Besides, it's not just her hairdresser who knows she colors her hair."

"Hey, stop right there." Lee's tone was thick with exasperation. "Come on, give the woman a break. The mystery of the painted lady has been solved. It turned out to be the freshly painted lighthouse. It all makes sense. Blowing up that baby would have made one hell of a political statement."

"Well, if you ask me . . ."

"And I don't," he said curtly. "Billy, Francine, and I are all in agreement about Brandi."

Hurt and frustrated, Amanda turned her eyes away from his gaze. "So, Brandi's story checked out perfectly?"

"Yes." He lifted her chin in his hand. "You're going to have to trust our judgment."

"But, Lee."

"Amanda, everything will be fine."

"I'm sorry, but my instincts tell me things aren't fine."

"Hell, I need more to go on than your gut feeling."

"I don't have more, Lee." Amanda inched away, widening the space between them until he reclaimed his arm.

Sitting in awkward silence for several minutes, Lee finally took the lead. "I hate to say it, but I'm beginning to wonder if you're jealous of Brandi?"

"What?" The edge in her voice could cut granite. "I'm not a jealous person?"

He sighed heavily. "Just forget it, Amanda."

"No, I'm not going to forget it," she said heatedly. "My reservations about Brandi have nothing to do with your fondness for Miss Litchfield."

"My fondness?" Like a match to parched woodlands, his temper ignited. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you do like her, don't you? I mean, of course you like her - she's blonde, beautiful, bright, and bubbling with personality."

He jumped to his feet, pumping a fist in the air. "Damn it, why does everyone make assumptions about my personal feelings?"

"I can't speak for anyone else, but I think Miss Litchfield is very skilled at blindsiding people with her charms - including you."

"Hell, now you're being ridiculous." With hands on his hips, he stood like a stone statue, glaring at her.

She glared back at him for a beat, before reining in her temper and rising from the steps. "You're right, Lee. I'm probably being too cautious. Of course, Mr. Melrose, Francine and you know what's best. I'm sorry I mentioned it." Abruptly, she turned on her heel and started for the porch.

"Wait," he said, moving closer, trying to take her hand.

She pulled away. "Lee, it's been a long day. I'm exhausted."

"Fine, then. I'm going."

"Fine."

"Well, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow." With that he started down the path, never bothering to wave or look back.

She watched him go, regretting that they'd butted heads again - something they were very good at doing. More often than not, they were at odds over one thing or another. She'd had more fights with Lee in the two years they'd been acquainted, than she'd ever had with Joe in ten years of marriage.

Maybe it was a good sign. Joe's brooding silence was always a marital sticking point. At least, with Lee, issues were brought out into the open. Once tempers boiled over, they could calm down and clear the air. It wouldn't surprise her at all, if Lee turned around and came back.

Once he'd had a chance to blow off steam, he was usually quick to forgive and to make amends. Joe, on the other hand, wanted to forget a disagreement as soon as it was over, leaving absolutely no opportunity to discuss solutions to persistent problems.

"Stop it Amanda," she chastised herself as she headed inside and closed the cabin door. Knowing a person through work was not the same as being married. Comparing Lee to Joe was totally irrelevant.

Methodically, she turned out the lights and headed for bed. Soft snores stated the obvious. Mother was sound asleep. Thank goodness.

Slowly, Amanda undressed in the darkness of her bedroom. Then pulling a nightgown over her head, she stood by the window, hoping for one last sighting of her irascible partner.

Lee was still out there; she could feel it. Her eyes followed the pathway where it led to the swimming and boating area. The orange glare of the lone pole lamp silhouetted the tall figure standing on the dock.

Amanda smiled. Most certainly Lee was still mulling over every detail of their fight. She knew him so well. The man would never go to bed, not until he figured out how to make things right between them.

Leaving him to his thoughts, she went to brush her teeth. Maybe she'd read for awhile and keep an eye on him. Quite possibly, before she fell asleep, he'd need to talk.

To be continued