Leona Karr - Rocky Mountain Miracle

A stubborn set to Trudy’s full lips warned Allie not to make a scene about who was going to sit in the middle next to Scott. Allie sent her a veiled look, thinking, “I’ll get even with you later,” as she climbed into the truck beside Scott.

The truck was an old one, and Trudy’s ample hips took up more than a third of the high, narrow seat. Allie did her best to keep from crowding Scott, but there was little she could do about the close quarters. As she sat beside him, she tried to ignore the effect of his body warmth, and the faint scent of spicy aftershave lotion that teased her nostrils. His hair was still moist from a recent shower, and she remembered how the dark strands had waved around his face when they’d gone swimming in a river pool. His profile was the same and yet different because his attractive masculine features were marred by unhappy lines in his forehead and around his mouth. He drove without looking at her, and she was uncomfortable in this forced intimacy.

Window lights were visible through the trees as he turned off the road and drove a short distance to a wide clearing in front of the house. Almost immediately the front door flew open, and Patrick’s rangy frame filled the doorway.

Scott was aware of Allie’s obvious relief as she got out of the car. When he’d offered a lift, he’d hoped that some of the earlier friction over the room painting might be set aside, but he’d felt her body stiffness as she tried to keep as much distance between them as the cab would allow. Undoubtedly the next two weeks would only increase the chasm that had already widened between them. Once the campers arrived, he planned to keep his distance from her and the others.

Accepting this dinner invitation had been spur of the moment. Even as he asked himself why on earth he’d let himself in for a whole evening with Allie, he knew the answer. He didn’t want to be alone in the house with memories of his dad and Jimmy. The sooner he was finished with Rainbow Camp the better, he decided as he took a deep breath, put a smile on his face and followed Allie and Trudy into the house.

Dorie had dinner ready, and she shooed them into the kitchen with a flutter of her apron. They sat at a round table, and bowed their heads as Pat said his favorite grace. “Father, God, be our guest, and may this food to us be blessed.”

The meal was beautifully simple and delicious: golden-brown stuffed pork chops, accompanied by fresh garden peas and a spinach salad. Rhubarb pie with wild strawberries was served with rich, amber coffee.

“It does my heart good to see you haven’t lost your appetite,” Dorie told Scott in a tone that suggested that there were other things about him that had been lost since she’d seen him last.

The O’Tooles were as hospitable as ever, but as the evening progressed, Scott realized that they were in the same place they’d been years ago when they first started working summers for his father. Contented with few luxuries, they still depended upon things they could grow, chickens and pigs they could raise and a goat they could milk. Patrick’s handyman work brought in what little income they had during the winter months, and he wondered how they would replace the modest income that the two of them earned helping his father with the camp. If they weren’t so shortsighted, they’d recognize that he was doing them a favor by selling off his dad’s land. Any new development in the area would raise the value of everyone’s property, and if the O’Tooles sold out at a huge profit, they could live more comfortably somewhere else.

Scott hadn’t intended to put his thoughts into words, but there was a lull in the table conversation that invited a change in topic. The women had been talking about church affairs, and the new minister that both Trudy and Allie liked.

“Have you and Dorie thought about selling this place?” Scott asked Patrick as they were sipping their coffee and eating Dorie’s delicious pie.

Both Patrick and Dorie lowered their forks almost as one, and looked at him as if he’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language. “Are you thinking of buying it?” Patrick asked dryly.

“No, of course not.” Scott forced a laugh. He knew then that he should have kept his thoughts to himself.

“Land’s sake, why would we be wanting to sell our home?” Dorie asked.

“Because you could get the kind of price that would put money in the bank.”

“Money for what?” Dorie asked, frowning. “To buy another house? To live somewhere else not half as nice?”

Allie brushed her lips with a napkin to hide the smile on her face. Scott had stepped into the mud hole with both feet. Obviously, money was the wrong criteria to measure the O’Tooles’ wealth of happiness. Didn’t he realize that Pat and Dorie were living a life of peace, joy and contentment that a huge bank account could never replace? What saddened Allie was remembering that as a youth Scott had never talked about making big money as a goal in life, but the man sitting across the table from her had sadly settled on financial prosperity as the measure of his life. What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?

To ease the tension, Allie said, “What do you say we get the kitchen cleared, and then persuade Patrick to get out his guitar? Trudy and I have been harmonizing on some good old country tunes. We thought we’d do a couple for ‘Skit Night’ if Patrick would help us practice.”

“I reckon I could strum a tune or two for a couple of pretty lasses,” Patrick conceded as a smile creased his craggy face.

Scott suddenly felt out of place, and wished he’d stayed at the house. He had nothing in common with these people anymore. He couldn’t see that they had matured at all.

As soon as he could, he got to his feet and he said, “Thanks for the wonderful dinner, Dorie. I’m sorry but I’d better run along. I’ve got some business calls coming in later.”

“Sure and you’re always welcome at our table, Scott,” Dorie said with a sincere smile. “I’m hoping we’ll be seeing more of you while you’re here. You’ll probably be helping out with the young ’uns, won’t you?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answered quickly. “I really had planned to have everything wound up by now and get back to my brokerage business. Because of the delay, I’ve had to put a computer in one of the bedrooms so I can work from here. I don’t expect to have any free time.”

“’Tis a shame you can’t take a little vacation for yourself,” Dorie said sadly. “Especially since this is the last time that there’ll be a Rainbow Camp.”

“The property will be put to good use,” Scott assured her. “There’s no doubt that I’ll get my price out of it.”

“So you’ve made up your mind to sell out, have ya?” Patrick pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Yes, I have,” Scott said firmly, looking the older man straight in the eyes.

“The Lord has made good use of that place for a good many years, and Sam was a good partner doing His work.”

“There’s a buyer all lined up to sign the papers,” Scott said flatly. “It’s a done deal.”

“Maybe not,” Patrick said. “Ever hear the saying, ‘Man proposes, and God disposes’?”

Scott gave a short laugh. He wasn’t going to argue. He’d made his plans, and he’d learned the hard way not to trust anything or anyone, but himself.

“Oh, you can’t leave now, Scott,” Trudy protested. “That hike back to the camp will finish me off for sure. If you hadn’t come along, I’d probably still be huffing and puffing to get here.”

“If Scott wants to leave, I’ll run you ladies back to camp,” Patrick volunteered, giving Scott a dismissing wave of his hand. “Go on, son, tend to your business.”