PEMBER LAKE

Dedicated to my sister

Isabella Augusta Skapski

1953-1958

Struck down by a drunk driver, her life barely begun.

She left a hole in our lives that could never be filled. With love – always.

CHAPTER ONE

The monotonous roar of the Greyhound’s engines could not drown out Bella’s thoughts. It wasn’t the first time she was wondering if she had made a big mistake, but the town she had left behind held nothing for her, and she knew it. It was dying. Ever since the pulp mill had closed four years ago and her father had lost his job. He had insisted that she go to college, but he hadn’t been able to find other work. How was she to know he had re-mortgaged the house to pay for her courses at Camosun College? Who could have foreseen that a logging truck would come out from nowhere and total the little Sunbird, killing both her parents, and leaving her and Layla alone in the world? Cut loose. Adrift. Why did people insist on blaming her father for the accident, even though he wasn’t even driving? No one mentioned it to her directly, but she heard what was said behind her back. She knew the feeling of entering a noisy room to find it become deathly quiet. And for the talk to start up again as soon as she left. Small towns could be harsh.

There was no will. The house was lost. Bella and Layla were left to the compassion of their Aunt Phillips. Bella’s second year of college was aborted, one month before the end of term. She was in a numb state of limbo that could not cope with class schedules or project deadlines. At that time she couldn’t even paint, let alone write essays or open her art history text. It had been a year since the accident, and now she could paint, she could write, she could read her textbooks, but Aunt Phillips said those things were unimportant, unnecessary, and it was high time she found herself a job. A job in a town where most of the adults were out of work, UI payments run out, and on welfare. And she was a lousy waitress. She’d been told that last week when she’d been let go after less than a month on the job.

"You’re doing me a favour, Bob," she said when he gave her notice, "so I’ll do you one. I won’t finish the week. I’ll leave right now." And she had taken her apron off and walked out without looking back.

Then there was Layla. She was only 18, but when she’d run off with that trailer trash, George Wicks, in his rusted out 68 Camaro convertible, their aunt hadn’t lifted a finger to stop her.

"At least she’s taken some initiative to support herself," Aunt Phillips had said.

"She’s going to be living on welfare!"

"George has money."

"Aunt! He runs a grow op! What happens when he gets busted?"

"He’s too smart for the cops," said her aunt confidently.

George Wicks, with his tattoos, cut off jean-jacket, and his black cowboy boots had her aunt under his spell too. The man had charm – if you liked the trailer trash variety. Bella had to admit that when she was in grade eleven and had first seen him walking down the halls of her high school, she had developed a crush on him. He wasn’t tall, but he was wiry and muscular, and he had a way of looking at you that weakened the knees. But one date with him had been enough to cure her. He was posturing constantly; all image and no substance. And his grammar was terrible. She remembered the other girls laughing at her when she said she wouldn’t go out with him again because of his bad grammar.

"I don’t care what he talks like, the guy is hot!" said Ashley Varcek. She dated him for three weeks until he dumped her. And nine months later when the baby was born most people did say there was a resemblance.

Bella’s aunt hadn’t left her alone.

"Look, you been moping round this house for a year, and you get fired from the only job you ever got. I can’t support you. The money we got when the house was sold is gone. You need to get a job, go on welfare, or take up with a guy like Layla’s done. Even Frank says so."

Uncle Frank. He was always following Bella with his eyes. He was on a disability pension and barely left the house. Aunt Phillips worked at the hair stylists, crimping and bluing old ladies’ hair, spiking and dying the young girls’ pink, and hiding the middle-aged women’s grey roots. Bella spent more and more time away from the house as the weather was getting a little warmer. March on the beach was windy and cold, but it was better than having those watery eyes constantly trailing you.

"With your hoity-toity college education, why can’t you find a job?" Uncle Frank’s voice was a nasal whine.

"I studied art, and I didn’t even get a degree!"

"What your father was thinking letting you waste his good money on that useless education, I’ll never know!" said her aunt. It was one of her favourite litanies. Bella knew what was coming next, so she left the room. She would not listen to a word against her father. He was the best man she had ever known. He had encouraged her to follow her dreams and not get stuck in a go nowhere job like he had. There was nothing he had regretted more than dropping out of university. But he had a wife and child to support, and everyone said millwork was secure. He never regretted his daughters, especially Bella who shared his interests in reading and art.

Bella had gone to her room, pulled down her backpack and stuffed books and clothing into it at random. And her art supplies; she could never leave those. She grabbed a towel and shampoo from the bathroom, shrugged into her jacket and walked past her aunt and uncle and out the front door. She turned and gave them one last look.

"Don’t expect to see me again," she said and then she slammed the door behind her. She felt such a swelling of liberation, and for the first time in one year thought that maybe there was a future for her. She checked her watch. There were fifteen minutes till the bank closed. She could make it if she ran. Half an hour later she was back on the road. Her one remaining term deposit was cashed out. She had $1235.43 in her pocket. The bus to Vancouver was leaving in an hour. Bella ran to the gas station on the corner and waited for the pay phone. She couldn’t leave without calling Layla.

"Jeez Bella, me’n George are goin’ to Vancouver soon. Maybe we’ll come by ‘n see ya."

"Layla, come with me. Please! George is a loser. He’ll only dump you," Bella pleaded into the phone.

"You’re always sayin’ that. You don’t know George! Just ‘cause he dumped you, don’t mean he’ll dump me. He loves me!" came her screech over the line.

"Look Layla, I’ll keep in touch. I’ll let you know where I’ll be living, and if you ever need me I’ll be there for you, okay hon?" No sense in saying I dumped him. No sense in trying to reason with her.

"See ya later then, Bell."

"I love you," said Bella and hung up the phone. She wiped at the crazy tears that were rolling down her cheeks and got out a Kleenex to blow her nose. Hefting her backpack, she walked the two blocks to Subway, bought a six-inch veggie sub, the cheapest thing on the menu, and ate it on her way to the bus stop. The Greyhound was already parked out in the street. She opened the door of the office and the girl on the phone motioned to her that she could buy her ticket on the bus.

"How much to Vancouver?" she asked the fatherly looking driver.

"Students are Twenty-five bucks."

"I’m not a student."

"You look like one to me. And I’m sure you’ve got a good use for the ten I’m saving you!"

"Thanks."

"Don’t mention it. Don’t worry about your bag; this bus is never full. You can just throw it on the seat beside you."

That had been a few hours ago. She had slept through Pender Harbour, gotten out and walked on the Horseshoe Bay ferry, and now the bus was coming into the Main Street station. Though the station was lit up brightly, it was very late, and dark, and she was downtown in a big strange city.

"Is someone meeting you, miss?" asked the driver as she was getting off.

"No. To tell you the truth, I don’t know anybody in the city. I don’t know where to go." She said it matter-of-factly, without a hint of self-pity or regret.

"If you take my advice, you’ll stay in the station all night. Say you’re catching the six am to Edmonton; that’ll keep security off your back. This part of town is no place for you. You sure you’ll be okay? If I were you, I’d think real hard of somebody that you might know out there. In the morning, look them up. If you really don’t know anybody, try a church." He looked at the expression on her face and continued, "Any church will help you whether you belong to it or not." He dug out his wallet and pulled out a card. Bella let out a sigh of relief. She had been afraid he was going to offer her money for a hotel or something. "Here. This is my church. Give them a call and tell them I sent you." He turned the card over and wrote his name on it. "I have to go now. I’ve got another route to drive. Take care!"

"Thank you!" Bella called after him. She looked at the card and then stuffed it into the small pouch in the front of her pack. ‘In case I get desperate,’ she thought. She wasn’t desperate yet. Her escape had just begun. She was going to make this work.

~

Bella spent her night sleeping fitfully on the bench, or reading, but she had a hard time keeping her mind on her book. The security guard bought her story, in fact he woke her up at 5:30 to tell her that her bus was loading. She dazedly walked out onto the platform and sat at the far end where she hoped she was out of sight. When the Edmonton bus left at six, she wandered along the edge of the cement and watched a train come in to the other platform. The morning was chilly and she knew she would not last out there for much longer, so she picked up her pack and re-entered the station, hoping the security guard would not kick her out. When he saw her he groaned.

"Murray told ya to do that, didn’t he?"

"Pardon me?"

"The bus driver, Murray Bowen. I should’ve guessed."

"I’m sorry – do I need to leave now?" asked Bella, preparing to go out into the street.

"Naw. You get some more rest. I’m sorry I woke you."

Surprisingly, Bella managed to sleep until eight, when the bustle of passengers arriving and buying tickets became so much a part of her dream that she thought she was about to miss her bus and woke up startled by her surroundings. She went into the washroom to freshen up; one look at herself in the mirror made her wonder why the security guard hadn’t tossed her right out on the street. Somehow she managed to wash and rinse her hair in the little sink, and as she twisted an elastic around her damp ponytail she felt much better. She went back into the waiting room and tried to read for another hour until she realised that she was only putting off the inevitable. She could not live in the bus station. Vancouver was waiting for her.

She recalled the trip her family had made to the city years ago. They had stayed in a hotel not far from the beaches. They had walked along brightly-lit streets full of eclectic little shops and ethnic restaurants. Every day they had eaten different kinds of food, Greek, Moroccan, Italian. They had walked all along the beaches and through Stanley Park to the Lions Gate Bridge. They had gone to Prospect Point and looked out over the water, watched the huge freighters. They had visited the Zoo and the Aquarium. Another day they had gone to the Planetarium, and another, Chinatown. She walked out through the front entrance of the station, across a plot of grass and trees and stood on the sidewalk of Main Street. Where was that beautiful city she remembered?

To her left were run-down buildings, to her right very seedy looking hotels. Across the road to the west she could see the Sky Train station and beyond that the dome of the Science Centre, the only thing she recognised. She had to make some kind of choice. It was after 9:30 and she needed breakfast – desperately. She’d eaten nothing since the veggie sub the day before. She turned to her right and started walking, if only because she had to go somewhere.

She had been walking past cheerless buildings for some time when she noticed signs in Chinese ahead of her. Chinatown. This was somewhere she remembered. Her step quickened and soon she was peering into dingy windows of apothecary shops looking at trays of strange wizened roots and assorted dried oddities. The greengrocers were setting out their vegetables and she was about to buy some fruit when a familiar smell assailed her nostrils. Wonton soup! She made her way into the small wonton house and sat at the nearest table. Almost instantly her order of a large wonton and noodles was placed before her. She had not realised how very hungry she was. She sprinkled the surface with hot chili oil and took up her chopsticks. Her father had taught her how to use them on that trip, and since then she always ate Chinese food with them. She savoured the noodles, the dumplings with their pork and shrimp filling and the broth. She’d tried the wonton soup at the China Can, the only Chinese restaurant in her hometown, and the soup had tasted of dishwater, the dumplings like soggy ravioli. This was heaven.

Feeling much better, she went out on the street again and continued on to her right. Chinatown was nothing like she remembered. It was bleak and drab, and the people on the street were all dressed in dark clothing. She walked another two blocks and stood on the corner to take stock of her surroundings. The street signs said Hastings and Main. The buildings were all old, shoddy, and grimy. Across the street from her was a large stone building. It could not have been more than eleven o’clock, but the steps were littered with street people. Druggies, pushers, prostitutes. She saw a deal going down before her eyes, and when she was approached, for she knew not what, she turned in the direction she had come and ran, not caring who she bumped into. She had to get out of this place! She saw tall buildings to the west. Skyscrapers. Possibly there she would find the Vancouver she had known as a child, but she didn’t care any more. She had been foolish to come. She had to stop and wait for walk signals, her only chance to catch her breath. The bus driver had been right. This place was not for her. Her pack bounced against her back as she ran, the straps cut into her shoulders. Her throat burned. But she kept on as if her life depended on it. Finally the bus station came into view. She slowed to a walk and tried to ease her side-ache. As she neared it she realised she had a decision to make. She couldn’t stay here. She wouldn’t go back. She had to find some destination. Somewhere to go that she could make her own.

Inside the station the focal point was a big arrivals and departures sign. Directly beyond it was the gate for the trains. To her right were the ticket sales and the doors to the bus platform. She looked back at the sign and then at her watch. There was a bus leaving in half an hour for Prince George. She didn’t want to go there, it was too far north, and the trip would be expensive, but maybe she could find somewhere good along the way. She went up to the ticket counter and asked for a schedule, then shut her eyes, circled her finger over the index, and stabbed. Her finger had landed on three names. Pembroke. Pemberton, Pember Lake. She turned to the page for Prince George, and swiftly ran her finger down the list of destinations on the way to see if any of her three choices were there. Her finger stopped. Pember Lake. Now, why did that sound familiar? She handed back the schedule and asked for a ticket before she could change her mind.

The trip out of the city and through the valley was monotonous, and she read until the terrain became more mountainous. The bus pulled into Hope for a half-hour break. She got out to stretch her legs and buy an overpriced sandwich at the cafeteria, which she ate ravenously. She bought herself a bottle of water and returned to the bus. She had been on the road for two hours already and there were still a few hours to go. It was almost 3:00; the sun shone brightly as they entered the Fraser Canyon. Great cliffs careened down from the road to the river. Tunnels were disorienting, taking her from bright light, to deep shade, to a seemingly increased brightness. A hint of a memory kept tugging at the surface of her consciousness. Just when she thought she had captured it, it would dissipate, only to start niggling at her brain again. Suddenly it came back to her with a bang - a big chunk of memory flooding back into her mind - and she wondered how she could ever have forgotten someone so important in her life.

June. It wasn’t as though she’d really forgotten June. How could she? June had been like a sister to her for almost three years. But she had forgotten that letter she had received a few months prior to her parents’ accident. The summer before she started grade eleven the girls had said goodbye. June was two years older and had gone to study teaching at UBC. In her letter, June had been ecstatic. After six months of subbing she had just landed a teaching job. She had put in for a full-time position anywhere in the province and had gone for a number of interviews. She had been accepted at Pember Elementary, a fine arts school in the rural community of Pember Lake. She had issued an open invitation to Bella to visit anytime she liked. Bella had never responded; after the accident, her life in shambles, she hadn’t paid much attention to anything or anybody. But somehow this bus, like a chariot of the gods, was bringing her to the one person in this world that she felt truly cared about her.

At six o’clock the bus rolled into Cache Creek, having left the Fraser Canyon far behind. She ate a bowl of soup at the cafeteria. It tasted like canned minestrone, but it was hot and Bella was hungry. She crumbled two packages of crackers in to give it ballast and then ate it absently, her mind far ahead of her, rolling down the miles that separated her from her destination.

Would June have changed or would she be the same caring friend that took everything in her stride and didn’t have a bad word for anybody? She had befriended her quickly in high school when Bella’s counsellor had okayed the transfer from grade eight art to grade ten. Two weeks after the beginning of term she had walked into the classroom. It was already in session and all the students had turned and stared at her. A tall pretty blonde had patted the stool next to her and invited Bella to join her, and she had walked the gauntlet of those unfriendly looks to sit beside the softly smiling girl. "I’m June. Don’t worry everybody here is really cool." It had only taken a week for Bella to gain the respect of her other classmates with her artistic talent and her sly wit, but she never bonded with anyone else like she bonded with June.

As the sky slowly darkened the bus took Bella through dry barren hills, trees were sparsely sprinkled across the landscape - long needled pines and budding alder. The further north they went, the thicker the trees grew, and as the bus pulled off the highway and drove the seven miles of country road to Pember Lake, the roadside was thickly forested in the shadows of dusk.

There was no station, just a stop outside a grocery store. Bella heaved her pack to her shoulder and alighted, apprehensive but eager. The phone booth had no directory - did they ever? - so she went into the store and asked the bored teenager behind the counter if there was a phone book she could borrow. A swift scan of the slim volume found her Benes, J., and she copied the number down on a scrap of paper she’d pulled from her pocket. Her heart in her throat, she went out to the pay phone again and made the call. It rang, two, three, four times. Her stomach was twisting madly and there was a tight feeling in her chest. The fifth ring was interrupted, and a well-known voice came over the wire.

"Hello."

It was a simple word; the two syllables that one would naturally expect to hear, but it sounded better to Bella than anything she had heard all day. "June!" She could say no more. Relief flooded her, blotting out all her other senses.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and then suddenly, unexpectedly, she heard her own name.

"Bella? Is that you honey?"

"Yes, June, it’s really me," she managed to say. She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re in town."

"Then I won’t, but how will you be able to pick me up?"

June laughed. "Did the bus just drop you off?"

"Yes, it did. I’m outside the grocery store, and I’m so tired!"

"I’ll be there in five, Bella! Don’t go anywhere."

Bella hung up the phone and walked over to the curb. Don’t go anywhere! As if! She had no idea which direction June was coming from, so she stood there, looking both ways, tracking the headlights of every car that sped along the road. Five minutes had never seemed like such a long time.

 

CHAPTER TWO

Opaque light filtered through the white gauze curtains, suffusing the room in an ethereal half tone, which blended well with the feeling of just waking up, between dream and reality. The room was almost as small as the near cupboard Bella had lived in at Aunt Philips’ but it had an airy spacious feel to it. The white of the walls, the cobalt and cream hand-woven throw on the pine bed and the bare boards of the floor all combined in a simplicity that greatly contrasted the crowded furniture, stacked boxes, and laden shelves of her old room which had doubled as a storage area. Bella slipped from her bed and stared through the filmy window covering at a world of muted green. Young pine and fir crowded close to the little cabin June lived in, soft and shadowy.

Though Bella was bone tired, she and June had stayed up for hours talking over old times and new. June was shocked by the news of Bella’s parents’ death, and they had both ended the evening emotionally exhausted. Today, Bella was determined to put that all behind her. To live for the present and to look forward to the future. To hold onto the memories of the past that were pleasing and to let the others go, carried away on gusting winds that would deposit them on some lonely shore where they would disturb her no more. She pulled the curtains back. Edges sharpened. The trees were brought into detail. She could almost count the three-needled whorls of the pine, delineate every green spike on the branches of fir. It was this type of clarity she hoped to apply to her life from now on.

The first thing Bella wanted was a shower. Last night she had barely managed to drag the covers over herself, not caring about anything but sleep. Now she needed to wash away the dirt of travel, and not only that, the dingy film of her last few months, a skin that needed to be shed. She wrapped herself in her towel and went in search of the little bathroom she had cleaned her teeth in the night before. There was no shower, but a huge old-fashioned tub held up by little clawed feet. She turned the taps and water gushed. The room was soon clouded with billows of steam, the mirror misted over. She tipped herbal bath salts under the tap and breathed in the fresh, biting scent. The water was hot and she lay submerged in it letting her mind drift away, the warmth overpowering and numbing her.

Bella wrapped her steamy pink body in her towel and borrowed one of June’s for her hair. She opened the door and released a cloud of hot, moist air to the tiny hall. June had just come from her bedroom and smiled warmly in greeting.

"I hope you don’t mind," said Bella. "I borrowed your towel and used your bath salts and soap."

"I’m glad you found everything you needed," said June. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I’ll get myself something when I’m dressed," said Bella. "I don’t want you to go to any trouble . . ."

"None of that talk!" June cut in. "I want to. Now what will it be?"

"Surprise me!" Bella smiled her thanks and ran for her room. The warmth of her bath was beginning to wear off. She emptied her pack and shook out her clothes, hoping she had brought something decent to wear.

She entered the kitchen in jeans and a t-shirt, her wet hair in a braid down her back. "French toast! You remembered!"

"How could I forget?" asked June, flipping the toast with a quick jerk of the pan.

"I could never do that."

"I know," said June placidly. "You should put something on your feet. It’s cold in here before the stove gets going."

"Would you believe it? I didn’t bring any socks."

"Watch the pan," said June. "I’ll get you some."

After the meal, they sat around the table brainstorming.

"You should spend your time painting," said June. "There are a couple of well respected galleries in town. Summer visitors buy a lot of art. The resort on the lake has a pretty wealthy clientele."

"I only have a little over a thousand dollars. I need to find a job and a place to live."

"You have a place to live," said June in a determined voice. They had gone over this the night before. Bella felt that dropping on June from out of the blue was an imposition. June saw it as a blessing. She didn’t relish living alone, nor did she want to share her home with just anybody. Her friend who had left three months ago, not being able to take the isolation of small town life, had not yet been replaced. Bella was an answer to a prayer.

"But even if I live with you, I need to pay my share of the rent. I need to eat. Eleven hundred dollars won’t last very long. I can’t rely on the possibility of art sales. You know it is a very precarious way to make a living." Bella took a sip of lemon zinger.

"You can do the cooking and keep this place clean, so your part of the rent can be less." June put her hand on Bella’s arm. "Really Bella, I don’t mind. There’re no jobs here. You said yourself you’re a lousy waitress."

"It wasn’t me who said it; it was Diner Bob!"

"Was he wrong?"

Bella laughed. "He was right. And anyway, I hate waiting tables."

"Well, I don’t know . . . wait a minute. I do know about a job. It’s not much, but it’ll pay the rent with a little left over. I’ll call Mr. Bing right now!" June reached for the phone.

"Wait!" cried Bella. "What are you doing?"

"I’m calling the principal. There’s a job at the school."

"I don’t have teaching qualifications!"

"It’s nothing like that! We need a lunch supervisor. Mary ran off to Prince George with a mechanic from the garage and left us in the lurch. I don’t think Mr. Bing has filled the position yet, after all, it’s spring break." June looked at Bella pleadingly. "It’s only an hour a day. You’ll have lots of time to paint, and you can even look for an evening job too."

"Okay, but, he’s not going to be at the school during the holidays is he?" asked Bella.

"I have his home number," said June, dialling.

"Hello, Mr. Bing? It’s June Benes, you know, from school."

"June, I know your voice. What did I tell you about calling me that? I’m not talking to you until you say my name."

"Um, okay, Chance." June glanced over at Bella who was laughing soundlessly.

"That’s better. So, what’s up? Want to grab some lunch?"

"Um, is that lunch supervisor job still open?"

"Don’t remind me. I haven’t even started looking; I got so bogged down in paper work. I guess I’ll have to supervise again on Monday."

"I have someone here who’d be perfect for the job. Well, really, she’s way too good for the job, so we’re lucky she’s considering it." June winked at Bella who was still laughing.

"June, you’re an angel! Why don’t the two of you meet me at The Lakehouse for lunch, and I’ll hire her."

"How can you say that when you haven’t even met her yet?" asked June, smiling.

"Anyone you recommend has got to be good. See you both at 1:00?"

"That’s perfect! Bye."

"I’ll be waiting for you, June."

June hung up the phone and turned to Bella. "What was all that laughing about?"

"You just happen to have the principal’s home number! Do all the teachers have it memorised, Miss Benes?" Bella started laughing even harder.

"Well, it’s an easy number," said June defensively. "Anyway, we’re joining him for lunch so he can meet you!"

"Is that the way he hires all his staff?" asked Bella, still laughing.

"You may laugh, girl, but I’ve got you a job." June was so pleased to see Bella happy and laughing that she didn’t mind being the brunt of the joke. "Now what do you have to wear?"

"What you see is what you get. You’ll never believe the motley assortment of stuff I crammed into my bag!"

"Try me," said June as she started clearing away the breakfast things.

The rest of the morning was spent organising Bella’s scant belongings. June found two big rocks for bookends, and Bella’s books were set up on top of the chest of drawers. Far From the Madding Crowd, Pride and Prejudice, The Day of The Triffids, The Moonspinners, Who Has Seen The Wind, and The Book of Atrix Wolfe, as well as a few art books on the Impressionists, The Group of Seven, and Emily Carr. Her art supplies were placed in the bottom drawer and all the clothes besides the ones she was wearing, and her backpack, were thrown in the wash. Bella thought they would have to make a trip to a Laundromat and was pleasantly surprised when June took her to the hall by the back door and opened what looked to be a cupboard to reveal a washer and dryer, one atop the other.

"I told you this cabin has everything," said June smugly.

Bella loaded the washer and watched with satisfaction as all the lingering dirt and odour of her past life was washed away. The smell that had been Aunt Phillips’s house, which had permeated every fibre of the fabric, was being replaced by the clean fragrance of good old-fashioned soap.

Bella longed to run out and explore the yard, the town, the lake, but she knew it was more important to get organised and get the business of finding a job over and done with. June lent her a sea-green sweater, and she let her now-dry hair out of its braid to flow in wavy abundance to well below her shoulders.

"You look great," said June, who had obviously taken some pains with her appearance as well.

"But not as good as you," teased Bella. "You go all out for lunch with the principal, don’t you?"

"You haven’t met the principal," June shot back.

They drove along a narrow winding road that soon brought them into the town. June parked outside a large rustic looking log building, but Bella only had eyes for the lake. It was a large, flat, sparkling expanse that diverged into numerous arms. Green slopes rode down to the water, layer upon layer. The translucent surface seemed to stretch endlessly till the hills that rose from the farthest shore showed blue instead of green. As she looked at it, Bella was filled with an intangible longing that swept through her like a maelstrom and left her breathless and hungry. Not a hunger for food, but a nebulous hunger that reached out to the water and the trees as if it could absorb them into her life-stream.

"C’mon," said June. "He’s waiting for us."

Bella turned reluctantly and followed June into the building. The room was large, with huge ceiling beams high above them, and a wall of windows looking out upon the lake. The lower level held tables and chairs, the upper level a gift shop with inviting displays. June led her through the tables to one by the windows where a lone man was seated. Principal Bing was not what Bella had been expecting, but seeing him instantly explained all of June’s interesting behaviour that morning. He was young, much younger than any principal Bella had ever known. He couldn’t be more than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but he looked even younger. He had blonde, wavy hair and an amiable smile upon his face. When Bella was close enough to see his eyes she saw that they were a deep blue. And they twinkled. He rose and held his hand out to her, smiling warmly. A real charmer, in the best sense of the word. Both words. He appeared as real and down to earth as anyone could get.

After the introductions, they ordered sandwiches and then Chance Bing got down to business.

"There’re only a hundred and twelve students in the school, so we only get funding for one supervisor. For the most part, they are good kids and we have never had a problem with having only one adult out on the playground. Have you ever done this kind of thing before?"

"Not really, but I’m sure I could handle it. I’ve taught summer art classes to kids, and I was a camp counsellor three years running. We both were," she said, indicating June.

"She was always really good with the kids," said June. "She could get right down to their level, and they loved her."

"I see you have a highly reliable character reference," said Chance, as he smiled at June.

"The best of the best," agreed Bella.

They then discussed how she would handle certain situations, should they arise, and Chance appeared pleased with Bella’s responses. "You’ll be getting $15.30 an hour," he said, "The only drawback is that there is only one hour a day, but still you’ll clear an average of $300.00 a month. So what do you think? Do you want the job?"

"I need the job, Mr. Bing."

"Call me Chance - that way June may remember to!" He reached over and shook Bella’s hand. "See you at the school on Monday."

Bella smiled and finished her sandwich as she looked out over the water. She let June and Chance’s conversation drift over her as she allowed herself to be mesmerised by the view. She was suddenly brought back when she realised she was being addressed.

"I have to drive down to Clinton this afternoon to pick up some school supplies that were delivered there by mistake. Would you two like to come for the ride?"

"What a dedicated principal, working on his holidays!" said Bella.

"Hey I didn’t just get this job because of who I know in the school board," laughed Chance, "although it did help."

"Don’t listen to him," said June. "He’s an amazing principal and he really deserves the job." She blushed and looked down at her hands. Chance seemed to be very pleased with her support of him.

"You two go by yourselves," said Bella. "I was in a bus all day yesterday, the last thing I want to do is head out on that highway again today."

"I hadn’t thought about that," said June. "Do you want me to stay with you and show you around?"

"I would love to explore on my own. I’ll be fine, really," added Bella at the look of concern on June’s face.

"Do you want the keys? You can drive my car back to the cabin when you’re done," said June, digging in her pocket. "Do you remember the way?"

"I would imagine it’d be hard to get lost here. Don’t worry about me. Go and have some fun."

They went out and Bella watched the two of them get into an older model Jeep Cherokee. She waved as they drove off and then turned towards the lake. She wandered on the shoreline for some time, just gazing at the water, letting her mind drift. After a while she found a trail leading from the parking lot, and decided to explore it. Just as she was about to enter the shadowy coolness of the path, a Dalmatian bounded out and then a man came running after, almost barrelling right into her. She stopped in surprise.

"Pardon me!" She looked up at the man. He was tall and dark, and rather harried looking.

"So sorry. It was all my fault," he said brusquely. "Excuse me, I have to get my dog before she runs out on the road."

She watched as he ran across the parking lot and called to his dog, who obediently came running, tail wagging. He opened the door of a dark green Jaguar that looked to be a model from the sixties. It showed wear, but it was beautiful. The dog jumped in and settled itself on the leather of the front seat, and the man got in after. The engine started with a low purr, and he drove off, oblivious of her continued attention.

Bella sighed. She could forget a guy with a car like that. He would never look at her. Turning, she entered the path, and soon the stranger was erased from her mind. She was engrossed in discovering vistas of the lake from between sweeping branches of fir. As she took in the world around her, she translated it with the eyes of an artist. Colours were defined by her palate - what she would mix to achieve exactly that shade and tone. Objects were broken down into form and shape. Bella immersed herself in texture; studied negative space. Past, present and future no longer mattered. All that existed was this elaborate composition of reflected light.

 

CHAPTER THREE

The school was about four kilometres down the road, and as Bella enjoyed walking she saw no irony in spending more time getting to and from work than the hour that her workday comprised. When she walked she absorbed scenes, was caught by the play of shape upon shape, mesmerised by colour and form, and when the outside world was not burgeoning her senses, her inside world was formatting words and phrases, delicately balancing and blending them, or running away with some plot line that bore no relationship to the trees that rose up beside her.

She and June had visited the school that weekend, so that she would know where she was going and what to expect. The smaller building stood close to the road, behind chain link and surrounded by gravel. It was built in the twenties and had been the original school for the district with its two upstairs classrooms. June explained that the recess rooms downstairs were now used as a pottery workshop and a music room.

The building behind was newer, dating from the fifties, with a gym added to it in the sixties and an additional two classrooms in the seventies. Two years ago a new school had been built on the other side of town where most of the development was taking place, and this school had been slated for demolition. The community had risen up to save the school, which had a history dating back a hundred years if one considered the little one room shack that had originally stood on the site.

"There is a painting of it in the office," said June, "with all the barefooted students standing out front, and the teenaged teacher who can barely be distinguished from the students. She’s the only one wearing shoes!"

"So how did the school get saved?" asked Bella as she stared up at the ugly grey building.

"For one thing it so structurally sound it will probably outlast the new school. There were two groups lobbying, one for a traditional school, the other for fine arts. The only way to keep the school open was to bring in an alternate program, that way students from other catchment areas would provide the enrolment that was needed. Luckily, fine arts won out or I wouldn’t be here today; I didn’t apply to teach in any traditional schools. C’mon, I’ll show you the playground," said June, grabbing Bella’s hand and dragging her to the back of the property.

A large playing field stretched far out to the trees, circumferenced by chain link. Close to the school building was a pod of six picnic tables, and off to one side a playground. Behind that was an outdoor basketball court.

"Swings!" cried Bella as she ran onto the pea gravel. "I haven’t been on one since our summer camp days!"

Giggling and laughing, both girls were soon soaring through the air.

"We’re going steady," said June as they swung in unison.

"Not for long!" cried Bella, pumping madly to go higher and faster than her friend.

"Do you believe this is the first time I’ve been on these swings?" asked June. "Teachers don’t usually do this."

"Then I’m glad I’m not a teacher," said Bella. "Dare me to jump off?"

"You wouldn’t! You’re going way too high!"

"That’s when it’s the best!" cried Bella, hurling herself from the swing to come up almost upon the logs that surrounded the play area. "Beat that!"

"I wouldn’t even try!" said June, slowing her swing by dragging her feet in the gravel. "Actually the kids aren’t allowed to do that."

"Good, then none of them are going to beat my mark," laughed Bella. "Don’t worry, I’ll behave when I’m at work. No spinney contests on the tire swing, no chicken fights on the monkey bars."

"So what do you think?"

"I’m going to like it, June. Thanks for everything," said Bella, sobering up a bit. If it wasn’t for June she didn’t know what she would have done, where she would have been by now. It didn’t bear thinking about. "We’d better get back home so I can finish knitting my sweater if I want to wear clothes of my own to school on Monday." She looked down ruefully at the sea-green sweater she was still borrowing. June had arrived home from her trip to Clinton with a big smile on her face and a bag of wool and knitting needles. Bella knew the smile wasn’t only due to the contents of the bag. June had obviously had a good time. The fact that it was 10:30 in the evening was another sure sign.

"I hope you can still knit," she had said. "There was a sale on, so I bought you a present."

The wool was a dull russet, rich and soft, and quite fine. There was a pattern for a raglan pullover, and some very skinny looking needles. "Am I making it for Christmas?" Bella had joked, faltering at the amount of stitches the pattern called for, but it had all come back to her and in the few evenings she had available, she had managed to get a lot accomplished. She was now on the last sleeve.

Bella timed her walk so that she arrived at the school at 11:50, giving herself ten minutes of orientation before she started her shift. As she went past the cars in the front lot, she noticed a dark green Jag with collectors’ plates. There could be no mistaking it; a community of this size could not have two distinctive Jags. What would a guy like him be doing at an elementary school? She didn’t give it more than just a momentary thought before she went round to the back building where June had said she would find the office.

"You must be Bella," said an amiable looking lady who was sitting at the desk. She stood up and held out her hand. "I’m Carla, secretary, office manager, Joe girl . . ."

"And the brains behind the school administration. Without her we’d be floundering about, up a stream without a paddle," said Chance as he came out of the adjacent office. "Hi Bella, it’s nice to see you again. Carla will get you oriented. I’ve got a small problem to deal with."

Bella greeted him and he apologetically returned to his office. Carla cast him an evaluating look and than turned her attention back to Bella. "Don’t listen to him. He’s the real brains behind this operation. I’m just the hands and feet. Here’s the list of playground rules. If you think anything is out of line, Mr. Bing’s pretty open to discussion, and here’re the class rosters so you can familiarise yourself with the kids’ names. You should go around to all the classrooms and introduce yourself. They have to stay inside until quarter after and then they are all yours. The bell goes about ten to one. You can use the last ten minutes to ensure the kids are all in, the equipment is put away, and discuss any problems with the principal or individual teachers. We’ve got five classes. The K-1 and the 2-3 are down the hall on the left, and the 6-7 is on the right. The 3-4 and the 5-6 are upstairs in the other building. Any questions?"

"Not yet," laughed Bella. "I’ll probably have a ton when I’m done. I’d better memorise these rules before I get out there."

"It’s mostly just common sense," said Carla, "and I’m sure you’ve got plenty of that. Have fun!"

Bella read the list and realised Carla was right. She folded it, slipped it in her back pocket, and headed for the K-1 room. The teacher was still there and explained that the ten kindergarteners would be arriving during the lunch hour and one or two parents would probably supervise them until the bell. The twelve little grade ones all smiled very sweetly, and a few insisted on telling her jokes. She found the grade two’s and three’s just as cute. As she crossed the hall to the 6-7 classroom, the man she had seen by the lake came out and walked right past her, totally oblivious to her presence. Slightly startled she entered the classroom to introduce herself to the twenty-one twelve and thirteen year olds who were chatting and eating their lunch.

"So, should we call you Miss Gardiner, or can we use your first name?" asked one of the girls.

"It’s okay to call me Bella," she answered. She didn’t know how the school would feel about it, but she felt comfortable with it, so why not?

"So, are you gonna be nicer than Miss Smythe?" asked a boy. "She was a real crab."

"That’s because you always got DT’s!" said another girl. "And you deserved every one of them."

"I have no idea if I’ll be nicer than your last supervisor," said Bella, "but I’ll be fair, okay?"

By the time Bella had made the rounds of all the classrooms, it was time to go out. There was no bell, but most of the kids were pretty good about watching the clock, and waiting until it was time. Out on the playground, Bella found herself surrounded by groups of little girls and boys who would walk with her for a while, pelting her with questions, and then run off to play. She spent most of her time trying to put names to faces, and wondering why so many parents had felt the urge to name their boys Kyle, or Tyler, or Jordan, and their girls Caitlin, or Ashley, or Katie. They obviously didn’t do it for the teachers’ benefit. When the bell rang, she urged the stragglers in, pointed out balls on the field to the equipment monitors, and sent a couple of helpful grade threes scurrying to pick up all the jackets and sweatshirts that had been left lying around. Back at the office, Carla greeted her with a warm smile.

"So I see you survived."

"Just barely," answered Bella, "but it’ll take me a while to get all the names straight."

"Any problems?"

"There was a bunch of girls complaining about a boy in grade five named Adam who was chasing them. Apparently he was calling them sheep and said he was going to shag them. I tracked him down and asked him about it and he gave me the most innocent look and said, ‘Shag means shear, doesn’t it?’ I told him that he knew very well what it meant, and that the next time he said it he would be sitting in the hall."

"Sounds like Adam! He’s a rascal. By the way, I’ll show you your box, and if you don’t mind waiting a minute, Mr. Bing would like to see you about something." She took Bella into a small anteroom filled with shelves of files and other odds and ends. In one corner was a wall of cubby-holes with the teachers’ names over them. "There you go," Carla said with a flourish as she taped Bella’s name above one of them.

"My own box! How official."

"It’s for timesheets, paystubs and memos and such. And I’ve got a bit of paperwork for you to fill out, but that can wait until you see the boss."

Five minutes later, Bella was in the office facing a harried looking Chance.

"Here’s the thing," he said, brushing his hair back with his hand. "We have a bit of a problem, and I’m hoping you can help us."

Bella looked at him blankly, wondering how she could be of any help. "Shoot."

"Our TA for the art department just had a multiple fracture roller-blading this morning, and she’s had to go to Kamloops to see a specialist. I’ve been on the phone all morning, and it looks like she’ll be out on compo for the rest of the school year. Her one and only substitute is giving birth as we speak, and I’m going to have to hire a temp. I hear you’ve got art training."

"I’ve got almost two years. I didn’t get the fourth semester finished because my parents . . ."

"June told me about that. I’m so sorry," said Chance, reaching out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Bella was impressed that he could have so much empathy for her sorrows when he was sitting here faced with a crisis of his own. "I’ve taught summer art classes too," she said. "Through Community Rec."

"Do you have your transcripts?"

"I think they’re with my art stuff."

"Can you bring them in tomorrow? I almost forgot to ask, would you like the job?"

"But what about the supervision?"

"That’s the beauty of it. You could do both. The TA job goes from one to three, and it pays $20.14 an hour. The way the fine arts program here works is that we do all our academics in the morning, and then we have our music, theatre, and art programs in the afternoon. Our school day runs about half an hour longer than regular school, and then after three we offer clubs and sports, but that is all volunteer time. What do you think?" Chance leaned back in his chair and eyed her expectantly.

"You would really hire me?" asked Bella, a little stunned at the unexpected offer.

"It’ll probably only be until the end of June, but I don’t see why not."

"But I don’t have a degree."

"I’m sure you’ll be wonderful. I’ve got June’s word on it! So, shall I take you to meet Maddy?" Chance appeared to be more excited about the prospect than Bella. She was still in a state of shock, but his buoyant enthusiasm was infectious, and she eagerly walked down the hall with him.

"Maddy?" she asked as she hurried to keep up with him.

"The art teacher. She’s probably going crazy by now without an assistant."

At three o’clock Bella was putting away the last of the art supplies with two of the older girls when Maddy came up to her.

"Did I tell you how grateful I am for you to take this job on such short notice? I know we’re going to be a great team. Now you run down to the office, I think there’s some paperwork Carla needs. I’ll finish up here with Cindy and Alyson."

Bella smiled, and thanked her and then hurried along to the office. She couldn’t have been happier. Helping in the art class had been such fun, and Maddy was an incredibly warm person with seemingly boundless energy and creativity. The kids had all been friendly and cheerful, and the few teachers she had met were welcoming. She felt like this was going to be an important place for her, somewhere she would feel comfortable and accepted. Like a part of a big extended family. She entered Carla’s office, but she wasn’t there, so Bella sat in a chair in the corner of the room to wait for her. Chance’s office door was slightly ajar. She suddenly became aware of a raised voice coming from the room.

"What do you mean you hired her?"

"Well, I needed someone right away."

"You always act on the spur of the moment! You could have got a regular sub for a few days while you searched out someone with the proper credentials."

"She has credentials."

"Chance, June telling you that she is amazing is not what I mean by credentials. I mean some kind of university degree related to education, with a visual art major, at least a college degree in special ed, letters of reference from employers – you know!"

"She said she has transcripts."

"Chance, who is she for gosh sakes? She just came into town on a bus from who knows where. A girl you have the <i>hots</i> for used to go to high school with her, and hasn’t seen her in years. She’s only a lunch supervisor because you hired her. Has she ever held down a steady job? Dammit, she’s a college dropout!"

"June vouches for her, that’s good enough for me. I am the principal here."

"Nepotism runs rife in this school, but you are taking it a bit too far!"

"I do the hiring around here, Fitz, you only teach. Remember that."

Bella was frozen where she sat. She wished she could get up and walk out, but it would mean crossing in front of the door which was now gaping wider than before. Suddenly whoever had been doing all the talking came bursting out of the room. It was him. The guy with the Jag. She’d seen him in the hall earlier but couldn’t believe that he really was a teacher here. But he was. On his way out of the office he turned, and she could see that his face was livid. What gave him cause to be so mad? To put her down so vehemently when he didn’t even know her? She stared at him as the blood drained from her face. There was no doubt that he saw her too, but he just strode off down the hall without a backward glance.

Bella felt her initial embarrassment at being discovered ebb away to be replaced with the anger that had been building as she had listened to his scathing comments. How dared he refer to June as ‘a girl you have the hots for’? How could he question her employment record? But the thing that hurt the most was when he called her a college dropout. He knew nothing about it. She swiped at the hot tears that began to trickle down her cheeks. Why did she always have to cry when she got really mad? She took some deep breaths. She had to get back in control before Carla returned.

 

CHAPTER FOUR

"You look like you got run over by a truck!" said Carla as she returned to her office, followed closely by June. Bella’s face turned to her, white with shock, and she started shaking. "Did I say something out of line?"

"Yes," said June as she rushed over to Bella’s side, "but there’s no way you could have known." She took Bella in her arms and stroked her hair. "What happened, honey?"

Carla stood over them helplessly for a few moments and then went out of the room. Five minutes later she was back with a cup of tea which she handed to Bella, who was still looking desolate but appeared a bit more composed.

"Thanks Carla," she said. "I’m sorry, I need to grow a much thicker skin. I thought I had, but I was just thrown for a loop before you came back, and your comment did me in."

"I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . ."

"It’s not your fault. It was something that arrogant jerk said, and then . . . well, I think you need an explanation." Bella brushed her hair back from her face and took a sip of the tea. She leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"I think we all need an explanation," said June. "Who is an arrogant jerk? Not Chance?"

"Chance is a prince among men," said Bella, smiling at June. "You know I could never say that about him. When I think of everything he’s done for me . . . anyway, I’m talking about that tall guy – the one who drives the Jag."

"Mr Fitzwilliam?" asked Carla. "What did he do to upset you?"

"What didn’t he do? He practically told Chance he was a gullible fool for hiring me. He questioned my reliability and my credentials. He called me a college dropout. Isn’t that enough?"

"But Bella, he had no idea of the circumstances," said June.

Bella looked at Carla. "This all makes me sound like a whiney kid. I’ll give you some background, so that you can understand. A year ago, one month before my second year of college finished, my parents were both killed in an accident with a logging truck. I was so lost that it was all I could do to get up in the mornings. School was out of the question. You don’t know how much it hurts to be called a college dropout. It brings all the pain of their deaths right back to me."

Carla’s hand flew to her mouth. "And then I said . . . oh! How awful for you. I could kick myself!" She went over to Bella and put her arm around her shoulders. "I’m so sorry about your parents."

"Thanks," said Bella. "I can deal with it now, really. But I’m so mad at that creep!"

"He shouldn’t have said what he said about you," said June, "but he is a good teacher, even if he is a little proud and reserved."

"Arrogant and conceited!"

"You’d do well to get over it," said Carla. "He has a lot of pull in this school."

"Isn’t he just a teacher?"

"Yeah," said Carla. "But he’s more than that. He’s Mr. Bing’s best friend and he’s the head teacher, so he’s acting principal when Mr. Bing isn’t around. And this school is his baby. We wouldn’t have new band equipment, or a kiln, or a computer lab without the money he’s donated."

"So he’s rich and he thinks he can just buy his way everywhere? What about treating people with respect?" asked Bella scornfully.

"I understand why you’re angry, Bella," said Carla, "but just think about what I’m saying. It’s better to be on his good side."

"I’m certain his opinion of you will change when he sees how well you do your job," said June.

"Oh June," said Bella hugging her. "You just can’t see the bad in anyone, can you? I know he hates me, but that’s okay because I can live with it."

"So does that mean you are ready to fill out all this paperwork and sell your soul to Pember Elementary?" asked Carla, picking up a sheaf of papers from her desk.

Bella laughed and reached for the papers. While she was writing, Carla went off to tidy the staff room and Chance came out of his office looking exhausted but smiling happily when he saw June. "Don’t tell him about it," whispered Bella. "I don’t want him to know I was listening." June nodded and went over to talk with him.

"What a day!" he said stretching his arms above his head. "Bella has been a Godsend."

A half-hour later everything was complete and Bella was ready to leave with June who had waited for her in the principal’s office.

"Is your detention over already, June?" teased Bella, as she said goodbye to Chance and thanked him again for everything.

"She can go now," said Chance, "but I think she’s got a half hour after school for the rest of the week!"

As they walked out to the parking lot, they passed Mr Fitzwilliam who was just getting into his car. He gave Bella a long, hard stare which she did her best to ignore. She opened the passenger door of June’s car and slid in as he slowly drove past, his engine humming smoothly. She did not look up.

"That is one nice car," said June appreciatively.

"Too bad you I can’t say the same for the driver," said Bella. "Did you ever notice how you see a really hot vintage sports car parked somewhere, and the driver always turns out to be a dumpy platinum blonde housewife or a balding guy in his sixties with a big gut?"

"I think this breaks your rule, then. Have you ever actually looked at Mr Fitz, Bella? He’s just the kind of guy you would picture driving a car like that, tall, lean, handsome . . ."

"Handsome? He’s always scowling. I prefer a guy to be friendly looking. Hey, I was wondering about something else that creep said." Bella looked over at June who was waiting for a car to pass so she could turn into the road. "He said there was too much nepotism in this school already. What did he mean by that?"

"Well, for one thing, Carla’s dad, Mr Leukes is on the school board, and her sister Marla is the grade 2-3 teacher."

"Carla and Marla! What were their parents thinking?" laughed Bella.

"When you meet their mother, you’ll understand," said June. "Chance has three close family friends on the board, old business associates of his dad, and Mr Fitz’ aunt, Katrina Berg, is the chairperson. Then there’s the school janitor, Phil Collins. He is Mrs. Berg’s lackey. Really, it’s true," she said as Bella started to snicker. "Wait till you meet him. And Chance’s cousin Cassandra caters all the hot lunches."

"Caters hot lunches? In elementary school? Are these gourmet meals or something?"

"Not really, but they are a big step up from hot dog day. Chance likes to make sure the kids get a really nutritious lunch every week, and his cousin likes coming by the school. I think she uses it as advertising for her catering service, and to tell you the truth, I don’t think she gives the school a cut rate. I think the lunches are subsidised."

"So what is the big attraction of the school for Cassandra? Is she interested in the arts?"

"I think she likes one of the teachers," said June with a sly grin.

"How many male teachers are there? I only saw Mr. Jag."

"There’s a band teacher too; besides him, Chance, and Mr. Fitz, the only other male at the school is Phil Collins, and Cassandra is not after him. No one is after him! Oh! I shouldn’t be gossiping. Pretend I never said it."

"June! You are not gossiping. You are giving me important information about my co-workers so that I fit in at my new job and understand all the in-jokes. Anyway, I can guess. She likes money. There, am I right?"

"The moment you saw the band teacher tomorrow it would have been obvious - he’s a portly middle-aged man with a happy home life, not Cassandra’s type at all. But he is a great guy, and he has a wicked sense of humour. You’ll like him. How did you like my kids, by the way?"

"The grade 3’s and 4’s? They look like a good bunch. Most of the boys were playing soccer, and the girls were organising rides on the tire swings. How about your afternoon class?"

"Primary music and acting is so much fun! And I’m volunteering for a sports club after school. I think we are doing badminton next, so I’m going to have to learn all the rules quickly. Have you thought about doing an afternoon club?"

"June! Give me time! I still have to get my bearings."

They stopped for groceries on the way home, and Bella picked up more yarn in the craft store next door. She couldn’t wear the same sweater everyday. She found a cone of nubbly textured natural brown raw silk for an amazingly low price. Her week was full with her morning chores, new expanded three-hour workday, and sweater project. By Friday she was wondering if she was ever going to find the time to paint. She had a canvas ready, and shapes and colours dancing behind her eyes, but she wanted a big space of time where she could actually go out and paint in situ, something that she had rarely done but felt increasingly called to do.

It was the end of the school day and she had her head in a cupboard, putting away squeeze bottles of paint and thinking about her weekend. She pulled her head out of the cupboard and was surprised to find Mr. Fitzwilliam staring fixedly at her. She matched him glare for glare until he said, "Have you seen Maddy? I was looking for her." His voice was austere and distant; his eyes never left her face.

"I think she’s in the paper room," said Bella finally, hoping he would stop looking at her and go away.

"Thanks." He stood there for a moment longer as if he was about to say something else, and then he turned and left.

Other than the few words they had exchanged when they had bumped into each other at the lake the week before, that was the first time they had spoken. She had noticed his eyes on her a few times during the week and she supposed he was watching her closely, hoping to catch her making a mistake. Well she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. It surprised her that the kids in his class all liked and respected him, and did their best to please him. Maybe is was something to do with the fact that he taught guitar, bass and drums in a popular group combo class in the afternoons that was an integral part of the music program. They probably saw him as some sort of rock star and could forgive him his reticence. She had no plans to forgive him, no matter how many good reports she heard about him. He might have bought the rest of the school, but she did not come that easy.

"Bella!"

Hearing her name called knocked her out of her reverie. Alyson and Cindy were standing in the doorway, just where Mr. Jag had stood a few minutes earlier.

"We have a huge favour to ask you," said Alyson. "Can we come in?"

"How can I help you?"

"We were wondering," said Cindy, almost shyly, "if you would sponsor an after school club for a bunch of us?"

"Me?"

"Oh, please! Say you will! We will be your slaves forever," they both begged.

Bella laughed. "I don’t need slaves, but sometimes I like to have assistants. What kind of club is it?"

"A creative writing group! Can you, pleeeaase???" said Cindy, flashing her sweetest smile.

"It’s not just us, there’s a whole bunch of girls, like Rita and Alicia and Sarah and Heather," said Alyson.

"And you all want to do creative writing? Do you mean like poetry and stuff?"

"To tell you the truth," said Alyson coming closer and lowering her voice to a hush, "no. That’s the kind we had last year, and Miss Smedley had us do dumb things like write poems where the first letter of each line was from our names, or a spring theme or if I was queen of the world, as if we were still in grade three. And then when we complained about it she asked us to write about preteen angst!"

"Well, what kind of things do you want to write?" asked Bella, intrigued.

Cindy looked over her shoulder and then said in a stage whisper, "Fanfic."

Bella looked at them both. "I’m a little confused. Is that like writing for some pop star’s fan club? I thought you said creative writing?"

"Don’t you know about fanfic?" asked Alyson in surprise.

"Never heard of it. You’ll have to fill me in before I can agree. It’s not something that would be banned is it? I don’t want any of us to get into any trouble. It would have to be okay with Mr. Bing and your parents."

"There’s nothing bad about it, at least not at the site we go to. It’s all ages so they have PG restrictions. Anyway, fanfic is when you write stories that are like a famous book or movie or something, but you put your own spin on it. Did you ever read Pride and Prejudice, or see the videos?" explained Alyson.

"I think I know what you’re talking about now. So you want to write your own stories of Pride and Prejudice?"

"And we want to post them at the site," said Cindy. "So we want to get them really good so no one will know we’re kids."

"I’m not sure about pretending . . ."

"Come on Bella, please. If they knew we were in elementary school they probably wouldn’t want to read our stories," said Cindy, smiling that special smile again. Bella looked over at Alyson and she put on the smile too.

"I’ll tell you what. You give me the address of the site, I’ll go on the net and check it out, and then I’ll think about it over the weekend. If I think it’ll be okay, I’ll talk to Mr. Bing about it on Monday."

"You are the best!" "Thank you!" The two girls smothered Bella with hugs and thanks and then ran off to tell their friends. Bella hoped that she had done the right thing. The girls wanted to write, and that was wonderful, and it was Jane Austen, so what harm could there be in it? Their eagerness was heart-warming and inspiring, and if they were really trying to write seriously, developing style and vocabulary, she was all for it. It could prove to be quite a challenge.

She wandered down the hall, looking for June. She had said to meet her in the music department. She opened a door and saw band equipment, so she went further into the room. Music was coming from a small room in the back, intricate and delicate guitar soloing. She was drawn to it. The door was closed, but there was a window in the wall, and through the window she saw him, sitting on a stool. Mr. Jag, intent on his music. The fingers of his left hand ran up and down the strings, sometimes softly pulling them. The pick in his right hand danced upon the wires. His head was bent over his instrument, his face concentrated, lost in the music. She had never noticed the planes of his face, the symmetry of his features. The flashing auburn lights in his dark hair. He looked up, and his green eyes caught her own. Electric. The music stumbled momentarily, and then continued, as evocative as before. Bella almost thought he smiled. She felt her own cheeks burning at being caught watching him, and she ran from the room. Later she found June downstairs in the older school building, in the little primary music room. She was unsure why, but she was completely out of breath.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

"Bella, are you sure you don’t want to come?" asked June for about the fifth time. "Lots of the teachers will be there and you could get to know them better."

"Will Chance be there?" teased Bella.

June stuck her tongue out and said, "You know he will. Stop bugging me about him - we’re just friends."

"Right. That’s why you’ve tried on three different outfits. That’s why you’ve been going crazy because your hair’s not doing what you want it to do. Don’t worry. He’d be happy to see you if you were just wearing a burlap sack."

June blushed and put a few more pins in her hair. "So what are you going to do tonight?"

"I promised some of the girls that I’d check out a web site they want to write stories for. They asked if I would sponsor their writing group."

"Do you mean the girls from Mr. Fitz’s class?"

"Yeah. Alyson and Cindy asked me. They seemed pretty excited about it. They call it fanfic, and they say it’s all about writing alternate versions of Pride and Prejudice."

"There’s a bunch of really smart girls in that class. All the grade 6’s in that class are top students too. That’s why they are in Mr. Fitz’s class. He really challenges them." She gave Bella a pointed look.

"I’ll accept that he’s a good teacher," said Bella with resignation, "but that doesn’t make him a nice guy."

"I wish you’d come," said June, "but if you insist on staying home, the internet ties up the phone line, so don’t forget to check for messages in case I call you."

"Okay mom!"

"Don’t be so sassy," said June with a smile as she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Say hi to Chance and give him a big kiss for me!" Bella called after her.

"If you want to kiss him, you’ll have to do it yourself!" was June’s parting shot as she slammed the door.

Bella made herself a big salad and then got comfortable in front of the computer. She connected to the internet and typed in the address that Cindy had given her. She found herself at a page with a number of titles posted, rows of responses under each. She read a few chapters and responses, and soon was navigating her way through the archives to read some of the stories from the beginning. Suddenly she was startled by the sound of the door opening.

"Did you even once check for messages?" It was June’s voice, but what was she doing back already? Bella looked at the time in the bottom right corner of the screen and thought there must be some mistake. It was after midnight.

"I called you three times," said June, coming up behind her.

Bella rubbed her eyes. "I only thought it was an hour or so . . ."

"You’ve been on there the whole time?"

"Some of these stories are amazing. I think I’m hooked." She looked around and noticed her uneaten salad beside her. "I am hooked. I didn’t even eat. Did you have a nice time?"

June’s smile told her everything. "We went over to the Lodge, and afterwards we walked down by the lake. The resort has the best beach."

"We, hey?" asked Bella with a smirk. "And just who is we?"

June threw herself on the couch and lay back with a smile. "The first we was Cassandra, Chance, Fitz and me, and the second we was just Chance and me."

"So, did you kiss him for me?"

June picked up a pillow and threw it at Bella, almost knocking her salad off the desk. "Nobody kissed anybody!"

"So Cassandra didn’t get lucky either?"

June giggled. "Poor Cassandra. When we got back from our walk we found her sitting on the porch by herself, and she was not in a good mood. Apparently about fifteen minutes after Chance and I had gone down to the beach, Fitz had said goodnight to her and turned in. He lives at the Lodge. She had to wait for us because Chance was driving her home."

"If Mr. Fitzwilliam was out with her, why didn’t he take her home? He really is a winner." Bella threw the pillow back at June. "I really don’t know why you keep supporting the rat."

"He wasn’t out with her – she just tagged along. When we left The Lakehouse, Cassandra suddenly jumped in the back seat. Anyway, I’m bushed. Are you going to get off that computer and go to bed too?"

"In a minute. I’m in the middle of Obstacles to Overcome and I need to finish it."

"Get to bed! It’ll still be there in the morning."

"In the morning I’m going out painting. I won’t be a minute, really."

"Well goodnight then," said June, dragging herself up from the couch.

"G’night," said Bella, her eyes glued to the computer screen once more.

It was 4am when her head finally hit her pillow, and her mind was madly formulating a story of her own. It involved an elven Lord who had stopped at a lowly tavern and scorned the serving wench who was really a nobleman’s daughter on a quest to find her lost father. He had turned his disdainful glare on her and his green eyes had seared through her while music started to filter through the crowded room, drowning out the boisterous babble with clear sweet tones that seemed to be plucked from the very air . . . sleep came with those hauntingly familiar notes, and shadowy dreams that flitted elusive and intangible behind her closed lids. In the morning she awoke, sleepily wondering at the image of green eyes that was all her dreams had left her. She couldn’t follow any of the tenuous thought tendrils that remained, so she gave up with a sigh.

Bella washed with cold water. It erased that muzzy feeling in her head with its sharp bite. Gave her cheeks the tingle of a slap. She pulled a brush through her tangled hair and re-wove the braid that had come loose as she slept. After a toasted bagel and a long draught of milk, she shouldered her pack, hitched a canvas under her arm and left June deep in papers at the kitchen table.

Late March could be surprisingly summer-like. Even though it was only 10:00, the sky was bright and the air was warm and mellow. The scrubby spirea at the roadside was showing green, and the pussy willows were all looking loose and shaggy. If this weather kept up, the swelling buds on the trees would soon be bursting to reveal their soft delicate leaves, like butterflies emerging from cocoons. Bella’s step was fast and light, and she felt like singing as she followed the road that took a shortcut to the lake, bypassing the town.

When the dream came I held my breath with my eyes closed
I went insane like a smoke-ringed day when the wind blows
Now I won’t be back till later on, if I do come back at all
But you know me, and I miss you now

Buffalo Springfield, Last Time Around. One of her father’s favourite albums. It belonged to her Aunt Phillips now, but she wasn’t going to let that get her down. She’d buy her own CD. She didn’t have a record player anyway. By the time she arrived at the lake she had progressed to I Am a Child. She knew the words to every song on that album.

Bella looked at the lake and a wave of nostalgia hit her full force. It was not the ocean she had grown up beside, but it was a huge expanse of water, and a light breeze was sending little wavelets splashing against the gravelled shoreline like the flow of the tide lapping against the pebbled beaches of her childhood. It was in part due to the song she had been singing, and she had to lean against the rough bark of a pine to steady herself. She took a deep breath, and drew in pitchy resin instead of salt sea air. She reached up and pulled off a whorl of pine needles, crushed them in her fingers and breathed them in, so different from the hemlock and cedar back home. Smell can really evoke a place, and she was brought back quickly to the lake edged by rock and surrounded by evergreen ridges.

She entered the shadowy underworld of the spruce, fir and pine, buoyed by a soft carpet of needles. She wandered, looking at this new world for the edges of shapes as they layered and overlapped, until caught by a slope of mossy rock that fell down into the water. A dwarf juniper snaked from one of the deeper cracks, and at the crest grew mahonia with its spiky ilex leaves. Sun warmed the planes of rock, deepened the contrasting shadows. Caught up in the vision, Bella put down her canvas and shrugged off her pack. She set up her easel, and squeezed out paint upon her palette. Ochre, Indian red, Phthalo blue, Crimson, Cadmium yellow, and white. Water she got from the lake itself, scrabbling down the rough bank. She settled herself on a convenient stone and began mixing, blending, and applying her colours to the open canvas that called out to be filled. She entered a different space and time where there existed only colour and shape, light and stone.

A lingering presence finally made itself known to her. She heard nothing but suddenly, like a cape flung over the sun, she felt a heaviness descend. The feeling of being watched. Bella never usually painted out of doors because of a dread of onlookers. People coming to stand behind her shoulder and offer comments. She always was afraid to put the brush to the surface lest she make a mistake under someone’s eyes. This was exactly how she felt now. Her mood was lost and she fell back into the real world with a sinking sensation in her gut. She turned.

He was standing three yards away, still as a tree and just as soundless. And he was staring straight at her. Mr. Jag. D Fitzwilliam. The guy who thought she was incompetent.

"How long have you been there?" she asked in a shaky voice, completely unnerved.

"I’m not sure. Maybe five minutes." It sounded short and stiff.

"I don’t like it when people creep up from behind and watch me."

"I didn’t creep."

"But you were watching, and you didn’t let me know you were here."

"I didn’t want to disturb you."

"Well I don’t like it." The conversation was getting away from Bella. She didn’t know how to deal with it. She wanted him to go, but he just kept standing there, his look intent, his voice distant. Just when she thought he was immovable, he took a few steps closer and sat down on an adjacent rock.

"If you are going to paint outdoors, in public, you’ll have to get used to it. Especially in the summer when there are more tourists about."

"Thanks for telling me; next time I’ll take a picture instead." The sarcasm hung in the air between them. Bella turned back to her painting, thinking that he must soon go away. But still he sat there. She couldn’t pick up her brush and continue as long as he was there. Her paints were beginning to dry. She dipped the brush in her water, sprinkled it over her palette, and waited.

"I like the way you’ve caught the light on the rock. I can almost feel the sun’s warmth on it."

Bella turned and looked at him, amazed. The last thing she had been expecting was a positive comment. And one that really hit to the bone of what she had been striving for.

"Your use of colour is intriguing." He leaned forward a little and almost smiled.

"Th – thank you," Bella stammered.

Out from the trees burst a whirlwind of white with black spots. It ran up to Mr. Fitz and licked his hand and then twirled around Bella, sending dry needles and leaf mould flying. She hurriedly covered her palette and attempted to shield her painting.

"Do something about your crazy dog!" she shouted.

"Daisy, down! Heel girl!" he called sternly, and the dog immediately returned to him and sat at his feet, quivering in anticipation.

Bella sat down in shock and then burst out laughing. "I don’t believe it! That is just too much! Daisy!" She put down her palette and wiped her eyes, shaking with laughter. The dog whined and looked to her master for permission to go to the lady who had just said her name.

Mr. Fitz put his hand on Daisy’s back and gave her a firm, reassuring pat. "Just what is so funny?" he asked.

"Your dog is named Daisy!" Bella said between giggles. "I just never pictured a guy like you calling his dog Daisy. I thought she would be called something more refined and classical like Juliette or Desdimona."

"Desdimona? You must be joking."

"Okay, maybe not Desdimona – but Daisy?" She started laughing again.

"I think you should stop laughing. You just might hurt her feelings," he said coldly. "And what, precisely, did you mean by ‘a guy like you’?"

"Well, you know," said Bella, suddenly feeling very awkward. Mr. Jag wasn’t taking it quite the same way she did. "Serious, exacting, fastidious, posh."

"Posh?" He looked at her in some surprise.

"Look at the car you drive." For gosh sakes he must realise everyone didn’t drive a classic Jag.

"So, that’s what you think I’m like?" His voice was austere, devoid of feeling.

"That’s the way you come across."

"Do I? You might need to adjust your analysis of me. I do, after all, have a dog named Daisy. I think I’d better be going," he said as he got up from his rock. "I’ve disturbed your painting for too long. You must want to get back to it." He stood and walked away, looking back only to call Daisy to heel as she made another attempt to befriend Bella.

She was left with the distinct feeling that she had hurt his feelings. ‘He probably hates me even more than he did before,’ she thought. Bella shrugged it off and turned to her painting. Could she possibly get back into that space she had been in? Had the light changed too much to continue? She picked up her palette. The paint was dry. Unusable. She scraped it off into a plastic bag. Drat that man! She stared at the rock, and then at her painting, and then at the rock again. She let all her animosity ebb out of her. Flow out of her pores and float away on the gentle breeze. The rock again became her object. She narrowed her eyes, caused her vision to blur and then refocus - concentrated on pure shapes. Tone. Image. Colour. She reached for her paint tubes, squeezed pigment out once more. Immersed again, she mixed, looked, and mixed again. Took a tentative stroke. And then another. Soon she was seeing and feeling the rock, the little plants that clung to it for support, the water that pulled it to its surface. She continued on while the intricacies of a delicate tune played inside her head; the type of music that is pulled and teased from the steel strings of a guitar to resonate clearly through the sweet living air.

 

CHAPTER SIX

On Monday, the moment she got out on the playground, Bella was bombarded by six eager girls, all speaking at once. "Did you talk to Mr. Bing yet?" "What did he say?" "How did you like the site?" "Can we do it?" Bella held her hand up for silence, and when that didn’t work she drew it across her neck in a slashing movement. "Cut!" The girls suddenly stopped and stared at her in anticipation.

"You kids remind me of a flock of starlings, a pack of Hyenas . . ."

"A murder of crows?" asked Sarah innocently.

"Well, I do feel like murdering you, come to think of it," laughed Bella.

"So what’s the scoop?" asked Cindy in her best reporter voice, holding out a pencil as a microphone.

"Is that thing on?" asked Bella.

"Get to the point!" cried Rita in exasperation.

"Did you bring him up to scratch?" asked Heather.

"Scratch? What are you talking about Heather?" asked Alicia. "No, don’t explain it to me. Bella, tell us before I go nuts."

"Before she goes distracted," whispered Alyson.

Bella had to will herself to stop laughing as six pairs of eyes stared at her imploringly. "You girls had better start writing, because Mr. Bing thinks it’s a great idea! Miss Leukes is going to have permission slips ready for you to take home tonight."

The girls began jumping up and down and cheering, and then Bella found herself in the middle of a big group hug.

"So, after all the legalities are over," said Alicia, "when do we start?"

"If you get all your permission slips in as soon as possible, we can start next Tuesday. So, have all you girls read Pride and Prejudice? I’m impressed!"

"I read it two years ago in grade five," said Sarah. "Now I mostly read sci fi that my brother lends me, but I still love it."

"I read it last summer, and then I found out it was on video," said Cindy, "so I rented it and Alicia and Alyson came over and they went crazy! Alyson fell in love with Darcy right away!"

Alyson blushed. "I know he’s a little old, but those Regency clothes and that look he always gives Lizzie did me in!" She sighed. "I read the book soon after that, and then Alicia did too."

Cindy had a far away look in her eyes. "I wonder what Adam would look like in regency clothes?"

"Adam?" Heather asked in horror. "Can you imagine him in anything other than gumboots and corduroy?"

"I bugged my mom so much, that she bought me the DVD for my twelfth birthday last fall," said Cindy, trying to pretend she had not just said what she had, as all the girls looked at her wonderingly. "That’s when Rita and Heather first saw it - at my party."

"Good thing it was a sleepover," said Heather. "I had already read the book, though, because my mom has this really old copy with the original illustrations. I used to look at the pictures all the time, and one day I just decided to read it."

Rita started to look a little embarrassed. "Okay. I admit that I haven’t read it yet, but I’ve seen it enough times to be able to write stories about it."

"Yeah, but now you think the colonel is a more important character than he really is, because you like the guy who acted him," said Alyson.

"Who’s this colonel you are talking about?" asked Lise, who had just joined the group.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam in Pride and Prejudice," said Alicia.

"Oh, Studmuffin!" said Lise, blushing shyly.

All the girls looked at her. "Are you a Dwiggie too? That’s what he’s called in lots of the stories."

Lise looked at her feet and admitted to the addiction, and then the girls told her about the club and begged her to join. "As long as I don’t have to write stories with kissing," she said, blushing furiously.

"I’m going to put kissing in my stories," said Alicia. "That’s okay isn’t it Bella?"

"As long as it’s appropriate, like after a proposal," said Bella.

"I have swimming on Tuesdays and Thursdays," said Lise, "so I will have to leave early. Is that okay?"

"No problem," said Bella. She looked around the playground and saw that everything was going smoothly. No fights on the soccer field. No arguments over the tire swing. There was a girl wandering in the back field by herself. Bella had often seen her alone, and now that she thought of it, couldn’t remember her playing with anybody at all. "Who’s that girl over there?" she asked. "Maybe she would like to join our club."

The others all looked in the direction she was pointing. "Oh, that’s Sofie. She is such a snob," said Sarah.

"She never talks to anybody," said Alyson. "It’s like she thinks she’s better than us."

"If she ever answers me when I ask her something," said Cindy, "she’s not polite. Usually she just walks away."

"She’s not nice," said Alicia.

"She’s proud and disagreeable," said Heather. The other girls all giggled, knowing the context of her words.

"Well," said Bella, "remember Georgiana? Everyone said she was proud. Maybe Sofie is just shy. Why don’t you give her a chance and try to get to know her? I don’t think it’s good for her to be wandering around alone all the time."

"Okay," said Rita. "I’ll go and talk to her. But what if she ignores me?"

"Just keep trying. A little kindness does a lot to help. She probably thinks no one likes her," said Bella. "If you make an effort to include her she might feel more comfortable and open up, and she might turn out to be nice after all. But don’t all of you go over there – you’ll scare her off."

Rita set off across the field and the other girls looked on, doubt clearly written on all their faces. Bella made her rounds of the playground and stopped some six-year-olds from filling their pockets with pea gravel. Then she had to deal with a group of grade 4’s who were trying to play chicken on the monkey bars while two of them distracted her with silly questions. Meanwhile a fight broke out on the soccer field and she ran over to break it up, knowing full well that the chicken fights would resume as soon as her back was turned.

"He was slide checking!" cried one of the boys.

"Well, everybody else is!"

"My mom will kill me! Look what you did to my pants!"

"I don’t think mothers make a habit of killing their children over a bit of extra laundry," said Bella. "All you kids know that you aren’t allowed to slide check, so you have no excuses."

"I slipped!"

"Right. Every time Tyler had the ball, you just happened to slip and trip him by accident? It won’t work, Kyle. Do you guys want me to ban soccer for the rest of the week? Okay, Tyler and Kyle, you two go sit in the hall, and when the bell rings I’ll talk to you. Hopefully by then you will be able to tell me how you should have dealt with the problem. The rest of you, play by the rules or you’ll lose your privileges." Bella hurried back to the monkey bars to issue detentions to all the kids who had ignored her when she had told them to stop the chicken fights. It was turning out to be one of those days.

After talking to the two boys in the hall, Bella rushed in to fill out her detention reports before she heading over to the art class. June came out of the staff room and handed her a steaming cup of Raspberry Thriller.

"June you’re a doll! How did you know I needed that?"

"She’s actually an angel," quipped Chance as he hurried past them.

June blushed lightly and followed him with her eyes until he rounded the corner.

"Earth to June!" called Bella.

"Sorry, did you say something?" asked June, a little flustered. "I was just thinking of my next lesson."

"You give lessons about cute butts?" asked Bella, her eyes dancing. Carla snorted in the background.

"I’m going to be late for class," said June, running down the hall, trying to hide her blazing cheeks behind the music sheets she was carrying.

Bella took her tea with her and was soon helping the kids stretch silk over frames. They were doing a unit on printing and had just progressed from lino cuts to silk screening. By the end of class, most kids had their screens masked and ready, and the messier work of printing could start the next day.

"I’m putting in an order for canvas and stretchers. Do you want me to order you some?" asked Maddy. "It’s way cheaper than buying them locally. Just figure out what you want and give me a cheque for it."

"Thanks!" said Bella. "How long will it take to come in? I really need a few canvases now. I only brought stuff to make one, and I’ve used it."

"There’s some canvas and stretchers in the stock room. Just take what you need and pay me for it. We won’t be painting until I get the new order in, so don’t worry about using anything up."

Bella soon found what she needed to make two 16"/20" canvases, and one 24"/30". She had the two smaller ones stretched quickly, and was just starting on the larger one when she dropped her staple gun.

"Here, let me help you with that," came a deep voice, and someone leaned over to pick up the stapler. She found herself looking into deep-green eyes, and her words caught in her throat. "You stretch and I’ll staple."

She nodded mutely and started to pull the canvas across the frame, holding it in place while he effortlessly shot the staples in. How long had he been in the room? She hadn’t heard him come in at all. He must be part cat. A chill went up her spine.

"I’m sorry if I disturbed you the other day," he said, intent on his job. "I hope you were able to finish the painting."

Unable to trust her voice, she only nodded.

"My dog is usually better behaved than that."

"Daisy," she finally managed.

"Yes, Daisy," he said ruefully.

"I’m sorry I laughed," said Bella, turning the other end up to stretch it evenly. She did not look up, and was glad she hadn’t when she heard his response.

"You have a nice laugh. Don’t be sorry about it."

The comment effectively stopped all conversation between them until the task was done.

"That should do it," he said as he shot the last staple home. He placed the staple gun on the table and turned to leave the room, barely giving Bella any time to thank him before he was through the door.

She stared after him, her mind all jumbled confusion. She was angry. Angry because he had been so nice. Why? Angry because he had probably been watching her all along while she was making the other canvases. Why? Angry because she had been so discomfited. Angry because of the way she had felt when their eyes met. She couldn’t stand the guy, so why, why, why had she experienced such a visceral reaction? There was no way she was going to let his undeniable good looks get to her. She had to remember how callous he had been when he had spoken to Chance about her. How he always stared at her so critically. How he was always sneaking up on her, like a dark and brooding jaguar prowling his territory, ready to eliminate anyone he thought did not belong.

Bella looked at her watch. It was almost four. She had promised Maddy she would unload the kiln for her. She quickly tidied up and then, grabbing her canvasses, she headed out the door, switching off the light as she left.

The Kiln was in the small art room. The primary children had been making slab pots, and they were now bisqued and ready to be put on the shelves, and a new batch put in. Bella stowed her canvases in June’s car before attending to the kiln. She enjoyed the carefree styling of the small bowls and vases that the young children had built. They had carved designs into the clay, and textured the surface. She was just placing the last bowl onto a shelf, and had shut the kiln, when the door opened and someone entered the room. Her heart fell. Not again! What did he want now? She turned quickly, ready to confront him.

It was someone she had never seen before. He was of average height, thick-waisted, and balding. His eyes were slightly protuberant, and his chin receding.

"Well, well, well. Who have we here? What beauty from yonder kiln appears?" he intoned nasally.

Bella closed her mouth suddenly, biting back the acerbic comment that was on her lips. She felt herself having to repress a giggle. She turned away to compose herself and then faced him again.

"You must be the infamous new art department teacher’s assistant cum lunch-hour supervisory aide. I hear there was quite a conference about you at the latest school board meeting, and that all eyes are upon you now – if you should flounder, Chance Bing’s head will be in the basket, and the whole little project could be down the pipes."

Bella froze. "You have the advantage over me," she said. "I have no idea who you are."

"I’m so sorry," he said, smiling ingratiatingly. He came forward and held out his hand. "Phil Collins, senior maintenance custodian."

"Oh! You’re the janitor," said Bella, letting go of his clammy hand as quickly as she could. "I thought you were on the school board or something."

His chest puffed out a bit at that remark. "I am in a position of privilege in that respect. I am very close to the chairperson, Mrs. Katrina Berg. I have the distinct pleasure of attending to her windows every Saturday morning. She has the largest triple paned windows I have seen in a private residence. An entire three-story wall of them facing the lake. Do you know her estate? It is on the western shore, where only private residences are allowed. Rosemary Gardens is its name, and I think it suits admirably. The herb gardens must be seen to be believed. But the piece de resistance, of course, is her amazing fireplace. Hand picked river rock from Pember Creek. All matched porphyry. It is large enough to roast an ox!"

"How interesting. And she tells you all that goes on at the meetings?" Bella persisted, not wanting to be side-tracked into discussing the furnishings of the entire house.

"She confides in me incessantly!" said Collins, sitting at a table and rapping on it with his fingers. "She trusts my judgement and relies on my discretion."

"Well, I can see her reliance has not been misplaced," said Bella acidly.

"Not at all. And in return I do what I can to keep her informed of all the goings on here. My ear is always to the ground! She would have preferred a traditional school to this artsy fartsy agenda, and I can’t agree with her more, so much mess to clean up with all the paint and clay and paper scraps. Her nephew, D, managed to get the public on his side and she had to relent. She is a very shrewd businessperson and knows exactly when to back off, and when to make her move. I thought the dirt that I had uncovered about D Fitzwilliam would have done the job, but she refused to use it out of family loyalty. The woman is a real lady!" He paused, but kept up his persistent offbeat tapping.

Despite herself, Bella felt her curiosity quicken. She had no wish to encourage the self-important little man, but she wanted to fuel her dislike of the Jag man and she was certain Phil Collins was itching to spill the ‘dirt’ he had on him. "Everyone here seems to like Mr. Fitzwilliam," she said carefully, "but I have always found him a bit creepy."

"You won’t repeat this anywhere?" asked Phil Collins in a lowered voice. "The last school he was at was a high school, and there was some sort of scandal. It involved stalking a student or another teacher. I’m not entirely certain, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a student. Licentious behaviour too. It was all hush-hush, of course."

"And it was him?" Bella was shocked. She had not thought it would be as bad as that. "What’s he doing teaching here, then?" ‘And why is he questioning my background?’

"Well, it was about four years ago - it was his first teaching job. There’s nothing concrete to go on, but all the evidence I’ve heard points to him. Soon after the whole kafuffle, he left the school, and he was the only teacher that did. His sister went there too - she was in grade 8. He pulled her out when he quit, and sent her off to some fancy-dancy private boarding school on Vancouver Island. Probably didn’t want her to hear all the rumours that were going ‘round about him."

"And he didn’t teach again till he got this school started?" She asked, appalled that money could buy someone so lacking in morals out of a mess like that. She thought about the way he was always watching her, and the way he would just unexpectedly be standing near her when she looked up from a job – like today when she was stretching the canvases. Her skin began to crawl.

"No, he actually taught here the very next year, before the old school closed. And then he put all his energy into lobbying for this fine arts school. I don’t think anyone else knows about this but you and me and Mrs. Berg." He leaned over and smiled at her. "We’ll keep it our little secret, shall we?"

"Don’t you think the rest of the staff have a right to know?"

"Mrs. Berg says it’s just unverified gossip. She thinks her nephew is a saint. I don’t want to disillusion her. Anyway, he’s engaged to her daughter, so it’s no wonder she wants to avoid a scandal. Just forget I ever told you. I mean, there is a possibility it wasn’t him." His table tapping became more frenetic. Bella wished he’d stop. Her head was reeling from all of his allegations, and she felt a headache coming along. What she needed was supreme quiet.

"I have to load this kiln now," she said.

He still sat there, staring at her and tapping.

"Don’t you have some floors to wax or something?"

"I’ve got all evening. I can create my own hours. I don’t want to leave just yet, not when we are starting to get to know each other. How would you like me to take you for a drive along the lake one day? I could show you Mrs. Berg’s place."

A portly middle-aged man came through the door. "Phil, old chum, I think Mrs Berg is in the office looking for you," he said. "You’d better hurry along. Don’t want to miss her."

As Phil Collins jumped to his feet and scuttled out, the newcomer winked at Bella.

"Thank you," she said. "I thought he would never leave. I’m lucky that Mrs. Berg sent you to find him."

"Mrs. Berg?" he said with a mischievous grin. "For all I know she’s in Timbuktu. I can never resist playing that trick on him. I love his reaction as he scurries off! I’m Eric Davis, the band teacher. You must be Bella, I’ve heard all about you."

"Oh, no. Not another one," moaned Bella.

"Don’t worry – everything I’ve heard about you is good. My sources are much different from our friend Phil’s. Would you like some help with that?"

Together they loaded all the little pots into the kiln. Eric Davis kept up his end of the conversation with amusing little stories, and Bella attempted to concentrate on his anecdotes and let all her dangerous musings subside.

"You must know young Adam by now," said Mr. Davis. "He told me he wanted to learn the bagpipes. I told him that if he wanted to make noise fit to wake the dead he might just as well just stick to his accordion."

Bella laughed outright at this. There is a lot to be said for the efficacy of laughter to dispel bad feelings. The alarm that all Phil Collins’ insinuations had brought on, from her position as a potential threat to the program to the more serious charges against Mr Fitzwilliam, was tempered. When Bella joined June for their drive home, she was able to joke about her encounter with Phil Collins and his great pride in his boss’s fireplace, and to keep to herself those things he said that did not bear repeating.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Friday, April 4, 2003. Bella filled in her time sheet and placed it in the box on Carla’s desk. She was alone in the office; she had arrived fifteen minutes early, and Carla had asked her to man the phones while she ran off on an errand to the library. Picking up a sheaf of papers, she was just about to return them to her box when a tall thin woman came walking into the office. She was wearing a jersey sheath that clung to her frame and ended way above the knees. It was a rich butternut and set off the auburn highlights in her dark, straight, blunt cut hair. Highlights that must have been expertly placed at a high-class salon. Aunt Phillips could never have achieved such results. She peered around, as if trying to see into Chance’s office and then glanced at Bella.

"Is anyone important here?"

Bella looked around the room, down at herself, and back at the woman. "I don’t think so. It’s just you and me." She smiled.

The woman did not return her smile. She paused, looked right through Bella, and then asked. "Have you seen D?" She dragged it out so it sounded like ‘Deee’.

"I would imagine he’s teaching," said Bella.

"On Fridays he has prep time before lunch," she said in a voice that insinuated, ‘don’t you know anything?’

"Why don’t you try the staff room then?" This woman who could effectively ignore her presence and question her at the same time was irritating Bella.

"I expected him to be there, but he’s not. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Look, I don’t have his schedule memorised like you do. Why don’t you get a GPS for him so you can track him whenever you need him? It’s not my job to keep tabs on him." Bella smiled again and was about to turn away when the woman’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the upper arm.

"Just who do you think you are?"

Bella shook herself free. "I could ask you the same question. I work here, and right now I’m in charge of the office. You aren’t wearing an identity badge, and as such really have no right wandering around the school without signing in."

"Everyone knows me so I don’t need one of those tacky badges. The clip would stretch this fabric."

"I don’t know you," said Bella.

The woman tossed her head in annoyance and abruptly turned to leave the office, almost colliding with Chance who was just rushing in.

"Cassandra! Is this what you’re serving for lunch?" He held up a piece of paper.

"Chance, never mind that. Who is this rude girl? She just insinuated that I don’t belong here." She eyed Bella with distaste.

"What do you expect when you don’t wear your identity badge? Bella is our lunch supervisor and art TA. We are really lucky to have her – she’s heaven sent." He turned to Bella and smiled. "This is my cousin Cassandra who runs the hot lunch program."

"Caters the lunch program," amended Cassandra, looking down her nose at Bella. "So you’re the lunch monitor. I’ve heard about you."

"So you’re the lunch lady," said Bella, unable to suppress a smile.

Chance laughed. "You deserved that one, Cassandra. Now about this menu. What were you thinking? These are kids we’re feeding. I thought it was supposed to be carrot sticks and baked macaroni and cheese today. This says endive and artichoke salad with juniper berries and balsamic vinegar, medallions of veal with asparagus and wild rice, and amaretto cheesecake for desert. Haven’t I warned you to stop watching Emeril?"

"There’s also Bavarian chocolate mousse," said Cassandra defensively. "What on earth is wrong with developing gourmet tastes in children? Besides, D loves asparagus."

"We are not catering to Fitz’s tastes here!" said Chance. "Please try and remember that this program is for the children, not the teachers."

"Well I can hardly change it now," said Cassandra, flouncing off in the direction of the kitchen, where the volunteer parents were waiting to serve up the meal.

"What are you laughing about?" asked Chance, turning to Bella who had exploded as soon as Cassandra was out of range. He attempted to look severe, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

"I was just imagining the children coming back for seconds of juniper berries," said Bella between giggles.

"And demanding artichokes every week!" Chance’s shoulders were heaving.

Carla returned to her office to find both Chance and Bella hanging on the counter, laughing uncontrollably.

"What did I miss?" she asked.

"Cassandra," said Chance, handing her the menu.

"Tending to Mr. Fitz’s needs again, I see," said Carla with a smirk. "The classiest meals I get are here at the school. I’ll have to call Phil in to empty the garbage cans right after lunch; they are going to be full."

"Where is Fitz anyway?" asked Chance.

"I don’t know, but Cassandra was desperately looking for him," said Bella.

"I saw him hiding out in the library, but don’t tell her that," said Carla with a conspiratorial wink.

At the end of her school day Bella was exhausted. Hungry kids can get pretty grouchy, especially when all they’ve had to eat for lunch is chocolate mousse. They were practically climbing the walls. Even Cindy and Alyson, her faithful helpers, were not in their usual cheerful spirits.

"Rita wants me to invite Sofie over to watch P&P tonight with the rest of us," mourned Cindy. "If I ask her she’ll just say no."

"It doesn’t hurt to try," said Bella.

"I see her on the playground," said Alyson who was looking out the window. "I guess we’d better go out and talk to her. Is it okay if we go now? This mess isn’t all cleaned up yet."

"You girls go," said Bella. "You really are a great help, but I’ll be fine now."

They ran off and Bella resumed wiping printing ink from the desks. Later she got caught up in organising the cupboards and by the time she was finished the school was practically deserted. June had a dentist appointment after school, and was long gone.

Bella turned out the lights, and then sat in a chair to relax for a few moments before heading off on her walk home. She let her mind drift to the new painting she had been working on in the afternoon. A scene of the young forest outside her kitchen window. She slowly became aware of voices in the hall by the art room. She tried to shut her mind to them, but there was that deep masculine tone that continually intruded into her thoughts. D Jag and Chance. They were discussing the Blue Jays’ season opener - the injury to Derek Jeter and his accusations that it was intentional - and Bella’s interest was captured.

She loved baseball. Her dad had taken her to see the Blue Jays at B.C. Place in exhibition about nine years ago. She had been disappointed that Alomar had not played, but had seen the new acquisition, Carlos Delgado, playing at first. He looked like he could really crank the ball, and in the years that followed, he lived up to this expectation.

As she listened, Bella was surprised to hear that D’s opinions of the Jeter incident coincided with her own. For some reason she had expected him to side with the superstar. She was just about to get up and leave the room, when the topic of conversation changed abruptly. There was no way she could go out and walk past them now.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea for a principal to date a teacher in his own school."

D’s voice sounded impersonal and cold. The blood in Bella’s veins turned to ice.

"We are not dating," said Chance. "But June is becoming very special to me. I care about her."

"People are already talking. After your rash move hiring Bella, it won’t take much for the axe to fall. I don’t want to lose this project because you are too impetuous."

"There’s no rule prohibiting dating," said Chance. "I don’t see how Katrina Berg can have any say over how I conduct my private life."

"Unfortunately, she’s the most powerful person on the board. She has a lot of influence over your supporters. And you know we’ve gone way over budget on this. I’ve tried to offset costs as much as possible, but Aunt Kat is not going to like it when she discovers the amount I’ve subsidised. You can’t let your infatuation for that girl jeopardise everything I’ve worked for."

"It’s more than infatuation, Fitz," said Chance quietly. "I think I’m in love with her. And I think she likes me too."

"I think you’re deluding yourself. I’ve watched her. She is friendly with you, but she doesn’t really treat you any differently than a number of other friends she has."

"Do you really think so? I was sure . . ."

"Trust me Chance. I wouldn’t steer you wrong. Look, if I really thought she cared about you I would say go for it, and damn the consequences."

As they had been talking, they resumed walking and finally they were out of earshot. Bella sat frozen, unable to come to terms with what she had just heard. How dared he presume to know how June felt? How dared he warn Chance against her? She realised she was shaking uncontrollably. First he had questioned her character, then he turned out to be a stalker, and now this! A completely unjustified attack on June’s happiness. She almost ran from the room. As she walked home the turmoil inside her stewed relentlessly. She did not allow herself to remember how he had apologised for interrupting her painting session, how he had helped her with the canvas, the beauty of his guitar playing, the jolt she always felt when she looked into his vivid eyes, the sound of his voice. They were aberrations. Just when she had begun to discount all that Phil Collins had told her, the creep once again appeared in his true colours.

Bella had never done the walk from school to cabin quite as quickly before. She was still filled with such restless energy that she took up her canvas, and in a frenzy of green and blue and gold she emptied all her fury upon the rigid cloth.

 

The next morning, with June still raving about her latest painting, Bella allowed herself to be convinced to take the two completed canvases to the Lakehouse gallery. By the time they had breakfasted and June had parked outside the store, her resolve was fading. She had never attempted to sell her work before. She had taken part in the displays at college, but that was it. She felt vulnerable – like she was laying herself open for all to see the innermost parts of her soul, and she couldn’t bear the thought of rejection. June squeezed her hand.

"It’ll be fine. Aimee is a nice person. She’ll love your paintings."

"You think everyone is nice," said Bella. She took a deep breath. "Well, here goes nothing. Wish me luck."

She got out of the car and collected the two paintings from the trunk, then she squared her shoulders and strode purposefully into the Lakehouse. The gallery and gift shop was upstairs, overlooking the restaurant. Without allowing herself to be distracted by the remarkable view from the huge windows, she mounted the stairs, and when she reached the top she looked about tentatively. Her courage was starting to fail her again. What now?

A woman came towards her. She looked very artsy and sophisticated. Her blonde hair was cut short and close, like a cap. Her eyes were black with mascara and liner, but her face was deathly pale - even her mouth with its opalescent pearl lip-gloss. Her nose was rather hawkish. She had enamelled abstract fish dangling from her earlobes, coming to rest on the unrelieved black of her calf-length dress.

"May I help you?" Her voice was clipped and business-like.

"I understand you take artwork on consignment," said Bella, proffering her two paintings.

"We deal in the very best here," she said. "What is your name – should I know you? Where else have you displayed your work?"

"Pardon me," said Bella, putting the paintings down to rest against her leg and stretching out her hand. "I’m Bella Gardiner."

"Aimee Berg." She took Bella’s hand in a quick, limp shake. She gave her a penetrating look and then said, "Is this your first time?"

"Yes it is," Bella admitted, smiling. "I have only been in town for a few weeks. I work at the school."

"I think my cousin has told me about you," said Aimee. "Well, let me see your work. Bring it into my office where the light is better."

Bella was momentarily shocked. She knew very well who Aimee’s cousin must be, and wondered what terrible things she had heard from him. Her hopes plummeted as she carried her work into the office. With the kind of build-up she had undoubtedly had, her chances for success were slim.

She set the paintings up on a ledge where the natural light from the window hit them full on. Aimee stood back in contemplation for a few minutes. Her expression was unreadable. She shifted the positioning of the paintings and studied them again from a slightly different angle. Bella felt tension gnawing into her. ‘Just get it over with and tell me to take them home,’ she cried inwardly.

Aimee turned to her. "I don’t usually take work from unknown first time contributors, but your pieces have a certain intangible quality. The one is so very contemplative and warm, as if you understand the very rock you are painting. The other is filled with the vigour of growth; the new young forest threatening to overtake civilisation. They are quite unlike those of any of my other artists. You may leave them with me."

"Do you mean you will display them?" asked Bella.

"They will have to be framed," said Aimee. "I suggest a simple strip frame that will leave the paintings free to speak with their own voice. We will just add the price of the frames into the overall price. Do you have any idea what you want to ask for them?"

"I really don’t know. I was hoping you would advise me."

"Good. That is very sensible of you. So many new artists think they can ask the same prices as established names. It’s also not a good idea to undervalue yourself. You have to keep in mind that we charge a 40% commission as well. I’ll get you a contract to sign and we can decide on the frames."

Aimee briskly went about all the business of the deal, and soon Bella was downstairs once more, slightly in awe of her good fortune. She had her work in a gallery, first try. The best one in town too! She pushed open the doors and saw June waiting for her on the small gravelled beach. She ran down to her. When June turned and saw Bella running towards her, a smile lit her face and she held her arms wide open. Bella was soon resting her head on her friend’s shoulder, letting happy tears trickle undeterred down her cheeks.

"What did I tell you?" asked June proudly. "Anyone can see that your paintings are amazing. I’m certain they will sell really soon. Let’s go for lunch to celebrate."

Bella agreed and, wiping her cheeks, took one last look at the lake before heading back to the restaurant with June. The water was still and clear, deep blue with the reflected April sky. On the distant shore were the tiny-looking buildings of the resort that nestled there in perfect tune with the landscape. A canoe slipped past her vision, its green prow cutting through the water as the lone passenger deftly paddled, ripples flowing outward and then softly melting into the surface once more. Far off, almost transparent against the lucid sky, snowy mountains backed the green of the closer hills, their ghost-like image recurring in the silent depths below.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

The girls had decided to hold the creative writing club in the grade 6/7 classroom. Bella hesitated about agreeing to the decision, but there were three computers in the classroom and the computer room was already in use. She peeked her head in the doorway and noticed that Mr. Fitzwilliam was still at his desk. The girls were all waving for her to come in, but she was apprehensive.

"Is it okay for us to use this room?" She barely looked at him when she asked.

"It’s great. I’ll be out of your way in a moment." He looked a little distracted as he ruffled through some papers on his desk. "Just go ahead and pretend I’m not here."

"Thanks." Bella walked over to the girls. Pretend he wasn’t there? Impossible. She could already feel his eyes boring into her back. She looked over to where he sat, but he was bending over some papers, making notations. ‘I’m a bundle of nerves,’ she thought. ‘He probably resents me being here just as much as I resent his presence.’

"You’re all here," she said to the girls. "How do you want to do this? Shall we read the stories aloud, or pass them around, or are there specific plot or grammar problems you want to discuss first?"

"Most of us have outlines we want to figure out how to develop," said Alicia.

"I’m not writing an outline," said Lise. "I’m just going to write it and see what happens. The colonel and Caroline are my main characters."

"I’m not going to write anything yet," said Heather, "but knowing me I’ll probably end up writing a spoof of everyone else’s stories."

"I was thinking of writing a funny story about Darcy and Lizzie and all the other characters complaining about the things writers make them do in all their fanfics," said Rita.

"Cool."

A discussion ensued about the various plots that the girls were developing and the use of dialogue; the next time Bella looked over, she noticed that D Jag had left the room. He could have gone directly after they had started, or have been there the entire half-hour and just left – she had no idea. She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter - that even if what Phil Collins had said were true, he wouldn’t jeopardise his career again, or the program. She knew he felt strongly about that. A movement outside of the doorway caught her eye, and a chill involuntarily ran down her spine. Was he out there spying? A shadow shifted, and she got up and walked towards the open door, her anger rising. He was going to hear from her. She almost stormed through the doorway to come to an immediate standstill. Sofie was hovering out in the hall. It was obvious that she had been contemplating entering the room, but now she stood there, her eyes wide and afraid, staring at Bella. Almost immediately she started backing away.

"Don’t go," said Bella. "I’m sorry if I startled you. Did you want to join the writing club?"

Sofie nodded, and then looked at her shoes.

"Come on in then," said Bella. "Everyone will be glad to see you. Have you started to write a story yet?"

Sofie shook her head. She looked up at Bella quickly, and then back down at her shoes. "I read the book." It was barely audible.

They returned to the classroom, and Sofie sat a little to the side of the other girls, even though Alyson and Rita moved to make room for her. There was a long pause in the discussion, and then Cindy broke the silence.

"Adam wants to join our group." Everyone stared at her instead, leaving Sofie free to relax a little.

"Adam?" asked Alyson. "He wants to write fanfic? Does he know what this writing club is all about?"

"Yes," said Cindy defensively. "He told me he read Pride and Prejudice, and he has a story all planned out."

"Tell him that we want to see the story first," said Rita. "And then we’ll decide if we want to let him join. He has to prove he can . . . hornswaggle like the rest of us."

"Hornswaggle?" It was Rita’s turn to be stared at.

"Are we all good hornswagglers?" asked Alyson.

"Beats me," said Rita. "I don’t even know what it means, but if it confuses him, it’s worth it."

"And no sheep," said Alicia. Everyone laughed.

"Yeah," said Sarah. "If we leave it up to him, he’ll turn Darcy into a shepherd. He can’t join our group unless he’s going to take it seriously."

"But can’t we write funny stories if we want to?" asked Cindy.

"Of course," said Sarah. "That’s not what I meant. He can be as funny as he wants to; he just has to be serious about writing and not just join the group because he wants to fool around."

"If he only wanted to come here to bug you girls, I’d kick him out," said Bella. "That reminds me. Sofie, you’re going to need a permission slip, so I’ll get you a form, and one for you to give to Adam too, Cindy."

After the meeting broke up, and the last stragglers had gone, Bella sat and looked about the room. She had become really paranoid back there when she thought D Fitzwilliam was spying on them, and it was only little Sofie, too shy to come in and join the group. She shouldn’t let him get to her like that. The whole idea of him skulking in the hall was ludicrous. She picked up all the papers the girls had left. She’d promised to read them over and give them feedback. She was really impressed with their writing skills and their inventiveness. And they were all such great kids too. She was really going to enjoy working with them.

In the hall, the mellow tones of music drifted towards her, softly intriguing. She knew who must be playing - it was too good to be one of the kids - but she followed the sound despite herself. It was a song that she loved. Her father had known this and had often played it just for her. His guitar playing had not been exceptional, nothing like the smoothly flowing notes she was hearing now, but he had been able to pick it out by ear, slowly and carefully, always stumbling at the same spot. She was filled with nostalgic longing as she stood at the music room door.

He was not in the sound room. He was sitting on a stool about three metres from her, his back to the door, skilfully running through the intro again, the music flowing around him like silk. Then he began to sing.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage? *

His voice was deep and clear, hauntingly plaintive. He sang through the chorus and then continued on, playing with a tenderness of feeling that brought the tears that had already sprung to Bella’s eyes rolling down her cheeks. The last chorus he sang softly, caressing the words. Bella turned and ran down the hall, fighting her inward response to his voice. There was no way he was going to catch her standing there watching him. Especially if she was crying. It had touched her so deeply, and now she was filled with conflicting emotions. Was it just the song and her natural response to it, or was it something more? Her mind rebelled against the fact that it could be anything else. Not with the way he acted, so cold and distant all the time, his criticisms, and his dubious past. It was just the song. She was taken by surprise, unexpectedly hearing something that meant so much to her, nothing more. Even though his singing and playing were so evocative, it did not change the fact that he was a creep.

Bella wiped her cheeks dry before she entered the office. June was sitting at Carla’s desk waiting for her, a wistful look upon her face. When she saw Bella, she smiled warmly, but not before Bella had caught her earlier expression.

"Where’s Chance?" she asked. "Aren’t you having a detention this afternoon?"

June grabbed her pile of books. "He had to go," she said noncommittally.

Bella fell into a trance again as they drove home. The song kept echoing through her head, teasing her with its haunting lyrics and the beauty of its execution. She looked out the window at the sunlight glancing off the empty branches of Douglas maple through a rift in the clouds. She was beyond coherent thought. She just let the world bombard her with its colours and shapes and drifted along the natural channel forged by the music in her mind. She was puzzled when they arrived home and June asked her if she was planning on getting out or if she was going to stay in the car forever.

They made a quick meal and then June went straight about her marking and her lesson planning. Bella sat and read the story outlines and fragments, laughing here and there, and considering deeply before she put her pen to paper and wrote her comments. After she was done, she reached for the sketchbook she always kept handy, and started to draw quick sketches of June as she worked at the table. She crept closer and began a close-up study of June’s face, her long blonde hair stuffed out of the way behind one ear and trailing down her cheek. The hair on the other side hung like the screen of a backdrop. Her face was pensive. Bella sketched on and then looked at her picture in surprise. She had given June such a forlorn expression. She looked back at June again and realisation struck. The ever-cheerful June had been surprisingly quiet since they had left the school.

June glanced up at her. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked.

Bella brought her sketchbook over to the table and laid it in front of June. "Look."

"I don’t look very happy," she said. "Why did you draw me like that?" She smiled shakily.

"That’s how you looked June," said Bella. "What’s up?"

"Nothing’s up, really."

"I know you June. You do not normally look sad, and don’t say it was my fault because I transposed my own feelings on to your portrait. This is real."

"I’m just being silly," said June, "That’s all."

"Did something happen between you and Chance?" asked Bella, on the alert. She remembered what she had overheard that creep saying to Chance on Friday. He couldn’t have had an effect on him, could he? "Did you guys break up?"

June gave Bella an exasperated look. "We’ve never been going out, so how could we break up? No, like I said, I’m overreacting. He was just sort of distant today. Not his usual friendly self. He must be preoccupied with some school business, because for the life of me, I can’t think of anything I could have done to offend him." She smiled wryly, but Bella could tell that tears were not far off. "Don’t worry about me. I’m fine."

"No you are not fine," said Bella, giving her friend a hug, "but I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I know Chance really likes you, and there is no way you could have possibly done anything to offend him."

"We’re just friends," said June. "I don’t know why I’m acting this way."

‘Because you love him too, if you could only just admit it,’ thought Bella. ‘And his friend is the biggest jerk in history.’ But she could not say anything like that to June. It was better if she didn’t know about that overheard conversation. Bella didn’t want June to see how his precious friend had influenced Chance. She would talk to him tomorrow herself, and D Jag could go fly a kite in a thunderstorm for all she cared. This was one little skirmish that he was not going to win.

The next day Bella arrived at the school half an hour early, hoping against hope that she would find Chance in his office.

"What’re you doing here so early?" asked Carla.

"I just need to talk to Chance about something. Is he available?"

"He’s just on the phone right now, but you could go in as soon as he gets off. Is everything going okay with the job?"

"The job’s great, Carla. It’s nothing like that. I just want to get something else back on track that’s in danger of getting derailed by the Jag express."

"Aha," said Carla. "He’s still getting under your skin? You know, I think he kind of likes you."

"What?" Bella turned and stared at Carla. "You must be joking. Or else you must be talking about a different person, like that sleaze Phil Collins."

"Has he been hitting on you?"

"He keeps inviting me out to the lake to see Mrs. Berg’s magnificent windows, with the bonus of a dinner and evening with him talking about her fireplace thrown into the bargain."

Carla laughed. "How can you refuse an offer like that?"

"Oh, it was easy. Believe me."

"Chance is off the phone now," said Carla, looking at her console. "Go knock on his door."

Bella knocked, and then entered Chance’s office. He smiled in welcome and offered her a seat. As Bella pulled up her chair and sat, putting her sketchbook on her lap, she gave him a steady gaze and noticed that he was looking a bit strained. Of course he was. She’d heard what he’d said about his feelings for June. It was time to come straight to the point.

"So what’s up?" asked Chance. "Has Adam been giving you a hard time again?"

"No," said Bella, laughing. "He stopped as soon as I told him that all he would get for his behaviour was garbage duty and not a trip to the office. He really likes you."

"We are great buddies. I can relate. I used to be quite a mischievous kid! So what did you want to see me about then?"

"I wanted to show you a picture I drew," said Bella. She opened the sketchbook to the last picture she had drawn and held it out to him.

"I always like to see your . . ." Chance’s voice trailed away as he looked at the picture. His face warmed perceptibly and then became wistful. He looked for some time without saying a word and then he looked up at Bella. "She’s beautiful, but you’ve made her so sad. Why’s that?"

"I didn’t make her sad, Chance. Somebody else did." Bella looked straight at him.

"Who . . . do you mean me?" His face was pale.

"I’m sorry, but I thought you needed to know, and she would never tell you. I care about you both, and I want to see you happy. She really likes you, Chance. I should know. Don’t believe anyone who tells you different." Bella got up and reached for her sketchbook.

"Can I buy this picture?" asked Chance, unwilling to give the book up. He looked so pathetic that Bella almost laughed.

"It’s yours, buddy," she said as she took the book and ripped the page out. "But if I were you, I’d go after the real thing. She’s even more beautiful when she smiles."

"Thanks, Bella, for everything," said Chance. "You are a true friend." He took her hand and held it for a moment. She gave him a wink and left the office.

Now that she had her sketchbook with her she decided to take it out and draw the kids at play, if they would let her and not goof off. She sat on the stairs, circled by all the youngest children, and drew some rapid action sketches amid all their innocent praise. At the far side of the building a tall figure stood, leaning against the wall, staring as much out at the playing children as at her. She pretended that she didn’t see him, and inwardly gloated that she had foiled him in his scheme to separate Chance and June. If he loved his art program so much, he would just have to stand up to his aunt himself. They were not going to be his victims.

*Wish you were here ~ Pink Floyd



CHAPTER NINE

Bella was sitting on the back steps with a group of grade 2’s who were excitedly showing her that they had learned how to do cat’s cradle, when she noticed a commotion on the playing field.

"Sorry kids, I have to go. It looks like someone got hurt playing baseball."

She ran over towards the backstop as a few grade 6’s came running towards her.

"Bella, Kyle’s hurt!"

When she got there it was obvious that nothing was seriously wrong. Kyle was sitting on the ground crying and rubbing his side as more and more children gathered around.

"I only want the people involved to stay," said Bella. "Everyone else go and play." She sat down on the ground beside Kyle, who she already knew to be a person who made the most of his injuries, and ensured that he was all right. "So what happened?"

"Jordan threw the ball at me and hit me in the side," he sobbed.

"He got hit with the pitch," said Tyler. "He leaned into it. He just wanted an easy base."

"It curved in on me!" cried Kyle. "Jordan throws way too hard. I told him I wanted a slow pitch and he threw a fastball."

"I threw it at half speed," said Jordan, who was standing and tossing the ball up and down.

"Is that the ball you were using?" asked Bella. "Can I see it?"

"It’s mine," said Jordan, putting it in his glove.

"That’s a hard ball isn’t it?" asked Bella.

"So . . ."

"You aren’t allowed to play with a hard ball – you know that. It has to be a tennis ball or a wiffle ball."

"That’s no fair! Have you ever tried to play baseball with a wiffle ball?"

"You probably use them for soft toss at your practices all the time if you play little league," said Bella.

"Yeah, but you can’t pitch properly with them. Or with tennis balls."

"A hard ball is too dangerous and you know that. Give it here."

"But it’s mine!"

"You can have it back after school, you know the rules, Jordan."

"It’s no fair. The rules are stupid and this school stinks!" Jordan threw the ball hard at the side of the school, where it bounced off the gym wall with a loud bang. All the kids who were in the area jumped back in shock.

"Jordan! You’ve just earned a free pass to sit in the hall. Move it. I’ll come and talk to you when the bell rings." One of the kids picked up the ball and ran over and gave it to Bella. Everyone else looked at Jordan expectantly.

He stood there, breathing rapidly, staring back at her rebelliously then he turned and walked toward the school, his back rigid. Tyler made as if to follow him.

"Leave him, Tyler," said Bella. "He’ll be okay – he just needs to cool off. The rest of you can still play if you use the right kind of ball."

"Take your base, Kyle," said Tyler, giving him a dirty look.

Kyle sprinted over to first base, obviously unhurt, and the game resumed. Bella watched for a few minutes to make sure that they were playing fairly, and then she did a circuit of the playground. When the bell rang she asked Rita and Sarah to see that no equipment was left on the field, and she went into the school to talk to Jordan.

She sat on the chair beside him and said, "What’s up, buddy?"

He stared straight ahead at the office door for a few moments and then looked at her. "I’m sorry. That was a really dumb thing I did."

"Not the best decision you’ve ever made," agreed Bella. "Someone could have been hurt."

"I know. But it’s not fair that we can’t play with a real ball. It sucks with a tennis ball. That’s not baseball!"

"How many of you kids are wearing jocks?" asked Bella. "None, of course. You can’t tell me that your coach would let anyone on his team play or practice without one."

"I know, but I wasn’t throwing hard. I’m not even a pitcher, really." Jordan gave her a pleading look.

"Jordan, get real. Kyle didn’t have a batting helmet and the catcher had no protection, not even a catcher’s glove, and most of the kids out in the field don’t have gloves at all – besides, there’s only a backstop and no fence. Other kids on the playground could get hurt. They aren’t paying attention to your game."

"I wish we had better equipment," said Jordan, "And then we could play a real game. We could organise teams and stuff, and have a tournament, like we do with hockey. I don’t like hockey."

"You’re a real baseball player, eh?" said Bella.

"Yeah!"

"What position do you play, then, if you’re not really a pitcher?"

"Shortstop."

"Hey, that’s what I play!" cried Bella. "Who’s your favourite player?"

"A. Rod. Did you know he hit 57 homers last year? More than anybody else in the majors? And he makes 22 million a year. That’s more than the whole payroll for Tampa Bay!"

Bella laughed. "Texas paid way too much for him. I like Miguel Tejada, he doesn’t hit as many home runs, but he’s a better defensive player." Bella looked up and noticed Chance standing there, watching them. "My favourite shortstop was Tony Fernandez, but he retired a couple of years ago. He wasn’t a big home run hitter, but he could stretch a single to a double, and a double to a triple, and he was a great clutch hitter."

"Is everything okay with Jordan, Bella," asked Chance, "or do I need to speak to him?"

"I think we’re all straight. He just has to decide on his consequence." She looked at Jordan.

"I won’t play baseball for the rest of the week," he sighed.

"Next time you lose your temper," said Bella, "take a deep breath and calm down. Give yourself time for your brain to kick in before you do anything, okay? Go back to class now."

"Can you ask Mr. Bing about the equipment?" Jordan looked at them both eagerly, and then hurried off to class.

"What was that all about?" asked Chance.

Bella explained the situation, and then told Chance about Jordan’s idea for a lunch-time tournament. "They would need better equipment, though, and extra supervision, and I still don’t think they should play with a hard ball, but a softie ball would probably work."

The teachers were all going from the staff room to their classes. June and D stopped in the hall and listened to Bella’s suggestion.

"Do you mean one of those soft practice balls?" asked Chance. Bella nodded. Chance turned to D and said, "Hey, you pitch. Do you think that would work?"

"It would be way better than a tennis ball, and Bella is right. It wouldn’t be safe to use a real baseball." D looked at Bella steadily.

Chance looked at both of them and then smiled. "I just got a great idea! Fitz, your favourite pitcher is Barry Zito, right?"

"And you like Rocket Roger. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up. What’s it got to do with anything?" D looked over to him, one eyebrow lifted.

"I was thinking that the next time the A’s play the Mariners, the four of us should go to Seattle and catch a game." He looked over at June with a big smile and she blushed slightly. Bella shuffled uneasily, and D just looked confused.

"I don’t see the connection," said D. "One minute we’re talking about new equipment, and the next . . ."

"I heard Bella tell Jordan that her favourite shortstop, besides Tony Fernandez, is Miguel Tejada. Isn’t that a bit of a coincidence? Both of your favourite players play for the same team. So I thought . . ."

"Chance, the A’s have a four day road trip in Seattle next week. We’ll be teaching. I don’t even know if Zito will be in the rotation. Then they have two games in the middle of July, and another two near the end of September."

Bella glanced over at D Fitzwilliam and looked away again. She had known about the upcoming games but not about the rest of their schedule. For someone like him a jaunt over to Seattle was probably an easy matter – a flight out of Kamloops or something. For her it would mean a ridiculously long and expensive bus trip.

"Okay, we’ll go in July then. How about we all get together at my place next Thursday to watch the game? What do you think? June? Bella?"

June looked at Bella, and then turned to Chance and smiled. "Sounds like fun – now I’ve got to run to class – I think I’m late."

"Oops, me too," cried Bella.

"Say you’ll come next week and I won’t tell the principal that you were goofing off in the hall," said Chance.

"Okay," said Bella reluctantly, and then she hurried away. She could feel D’s eyes on her as she almost ran down the hall. What had she just agreed to do? She hadn’t been able to resist the smile on June’s face – that was it. If it meant getting those two back together she could sacrifice her own pleasure. Anyway – she didn’t have to talk to Mr. Jag – she could concentrate on watching the game.

"Sorry I’m late, Maddy," she said as she rushed into the room.

"Don’t worry about it. The kids told me you were dealing with a problem, and Alyson and Cindy have been a great help."

"Don’t tell me I’m going to have to start paying them for filling in for me," said Bella with a laugh. "Hmm, what would ten minutes pay be? I don’t think I can do the math."

"That’s okay Bella," said Cindy. "You can just give us extra help with our stories."

"Your stories are great, by the way," she said as she started looking around the class to see if anyone needed her help. "I like your big Dr. Darcy, Cindy, and your university setting is a wonderful idea, Alyson."

Both girls smiled and would have loved to keep talking about their stories, but Bella was soon busy assisting and explaining the new printing method to some of the other students. Later, during their writing group, Bella gave them all back their stories and they discussed all the comments she had made. New chapters were all shared around, and it was decided to have at least five chapters written and edited before they began to post their stories. Even Sofie had brought in a chapter, and she stood with her face burning as Bella read it.

"This looks really interesting," said Bella. "Whatever gave you the idea to write about a shy Darcy?"

"Well," she mumbled. "I know he’s not shy at all, but I thought – what if he was? That would make the story different." It was the most Bella had ever heard her say at one time.

"There are a lot of people who really do think he’s shy," said Alicia. "I went to this other board where they always have really big arguments about it."

"No way," said Sofie, then she stuffed her long straggly hair behind her ear and sat back down again.

The other girls all started to discuss different reasons why Darcy could or couldn’t be considered shy and Bella sat back and smiled. The group was going better than she had ever anticipated. Not only was the girls’ writing at a higher level than she had expected, they were very focused, and they appeared to know a lot about not only the Davies adaptation and the book, but also aspects of Jane Austen’s life. She had trouble getting them to stop when their allotted time was over.

On the way home from school, June was all smiles.

"Looks like you had a good day," teased Bella.

"I was silly to be so upset the other night," said June sheepishly. "Chance was nicer than ever today . . . you don’t mind about going over there next week, do you? I know you don’t really like Mr. Fitz, but maybe it’ll be a good chance for you to get to know him better. You two seem to have a lot in common."

"Just because we both like players on the same team doesn’t mean anything," said Bella. "It’s like saying I have a lot in common with Phil Collins because we both sweep floors."

"I would never encourage you to get to know Collins better," said June. "He even creeps me out. I don’t know how you can compare the two."

"They are about equal in my estimation," said Bella. "I think I prefer Collins. At least I know where I stand with him. If he tries anything, I can handle him."

"Mr. Fitz wouldn’t try anything!" said June defensively. "I don’t know where you get such ideas about him. I know he said some critical things about you when you first got the job, but he didn’t know you then. His opinion of you has changed, believe me."

"I don’t care what his opinion of me is," said Bella contemptuously. "I know he’s Chance’s friend so you feel obliged to like him, but I’m under no such obligation."

June heaved a sigh of frustration and switched the topic of conversation, much to Bella’s relief.

The next day was Friday, and another hot lunch day. Bella wondered apprehensively what exotic creations the children would be expected to eat this time and was pleased to find nothing more unusual than lasagne, and not even so much as an eggplant in sight to put the kids off their meal. Cassandra sashayed past without a glance in her direction. D had made the mistake of coming out of the gym and into the hall. She made a beeline for him and attached herself immediately.

"Why did you never tell me you love lasagne?" she asked coyly. "I had to find out from Chance. I hope you like today’s lunch."

"Anything will be better than what we had last week," he said dismissively. He looked over at Bella who quickly hid her smirk. "Is Chance in his office? I need to speak to him."

"I think so," said Bella.

He began walking over, and then turned to look at Cassandra who was still leaning on him. "Do you mind? I need to talk to him privately about school business."

"Oh, Chance won’t mind if I tag along," she said. "I might be able to make some helpful suggestions."

"I don’t think so," he said, shaking himself free. "Don’t you have a lunch to see to?"

"The volunteer moms have it all under control," said Cassandra, pouting.

"I think they could use your help," he said as he sidled past Bella and into the office.

Cassandra flung her sheet of hair back with a toss of her head and headed for the kitchen, but not before Bella had seen the look of disappointment that crossed her face. ‘What a rotten guy,’ she thought. ‘He can’t be nice to anybody.’ She almost felt sorry for Cassandra, but she had to honestly admit that she deserved what she got, throwing herself at him like that, but still . . . that didn’t stop him from having acted like a jerk. She filled out her time sheet and then did her rounds of all the classrooms. The kids seemed to be enjoying their food – that was a good sign.

When she got out onto the playground she noticed the kids crowding around the backstop. "Not again," she sighed, and sprinted over. When she arrived she realised that the situation was much different than she had anticipated. No one was on the ground crying, instead D Fitzwilliam was there unloading some boxes and passing out new baseball gear to the expectant kids.

"Look at this, Bella," called Tyler excitedly, "A Mizuno catcher’s mitt!"

Kyle ran over holding two graphite bats. "An Easton and a TPX!" he crowed delightedly.

Jordan was hovering nearby with a wistful look on his face. "I don’t suppose I’d be able to play today?" he asked.

"You set the consequences," said Bella.

"I could do garbage duty instead," he said hopefully.

"Sorry. I think your consequences are more logical. Anyway the gear will still be here on Monday."

"Yeah, but it’s all new today. Do you believe Mr. Fitz went out and bought all this stuff after school yesterday? He’s the best – and so are you. Thanks for asking them. And thanks for supporting me even after I did such a dumb thing."

"We all do dumb things now and then Jordan," said Bella. "The fact that you recognised that you made a mistake gives me confidence in you. I don’t think you’ll do something like that again."

"No way! Hey, can I be equipment manager?"

"I don’t see why not. Just go ask Mr. Fitzwilliam."

"Bella look at these!" Tyler called over to her again. He was holding up catcher’s gear with a broad grin on his face. The pads and chest protector were dark green, as was the helmet. Bella looked over at D who was smiling ruefully.

"That was the only colour they had in stock," he said. "It was a pure coincidence."

Jordan was soon putting the school’s initials on everything with a permanent marker, and not letting anyone take anything until he had it on inventory. Bella knew that Mr. Jag had it all under control, so she reluctantly left the diamond and went over to supervise the playground. She was amazed at how quickly he had provided the kids with the equipment, and the obvious rapport he had with them. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was a really nice guy. She grudgingly admitted that he was a good teacher, and he cared about the kids – it was just his personal life that was unethical. Unless he was using the kids in some way.

Her attention was continually drawn to the baseball diamond, and soon she found herself sitting with a group of young children, watching the game. D Fitzwilliam was umping the game between the pitcher and second, and even Chance was out watching from behind the backstop. Jordan was standing off to one side with a yearning look in his eyes. He looked so sad she almost broke down and told him that he could play. Bella got up and joined Chance.

"Thanks for the equipment," she said. "The kids are thrilled."

"Don’t thank me, thank Fitz – he sprang for it," said Chance. "I think he had the time of his life at the sports shop in Clinton."

"He went all the way to Clinton after school yesterday?" asked Bella in amazement.

"He phoned ahead so they wouldn’t close the store before he got there," laughed Chance. "There’s nowhere you can buy this kind of stuff here."

Bella looked out at the field, staring at the enigma that was D Fitzwilliam. She didn’t understand him at all.

Chance looked at his watch. "Bella, can you do me a favour and run into the office and ask Carla to hold the bell?" he asked. "I think I’ll join them for a bit. If we start classes a little late it won’t matter."

"I won’t tell the principal if you don’t," said Bella laughingly as she turned to go.

She was distracted on her way out again by a group of girls playing foursquare in the covered area. They squealed and jumped up and down when they found out that the recess period had been extended. When she finally got back to the ball game, there were a few teachers out watching too. Chance was at the plate, and the Jag Man was pitching. There were kids cheering on both sides.

"Strike him out, Mr. Fitz!"

"Throw the cheese!"

"Mr. Bing! Park it! You can do it!"

There were loud jeers when the first ball was in the dirt.

"1 and 0," cried Jordan from behind the backstop.

The next pitch, Chance squared to bunt, and dribbled the ball down the third base line. D ran over to field the ball and slid, throwing from his knees. The ball hit the dirt before first base and rebounded up for what should have been an easy out, but Adam misplayed it as it bounced off the heel of his glove and it went trickling into right field. Chance rounded first and headed for second. Heather’s throw from right was high and Matt missed it. Chance continued on to third. Rita scooped up the ball and lobbed it to Dan, who leapt to catch it, only to fall and have it roll out of his glove.

"You throw like a girl!" yelled Kyle from the sidelines.

"I am a girl!" yelled Rita back to him.

Chance continued on around third and headed for home. Alyson ran in from left field and fired the ball right into Tyler’s glove. The new catcher’s glove was stiff, but he squeezed the ball and crouched, ready to lay the tag on his principal. Chance skidded to a stop and ran back towards third.

"We’ve got him in a pickle!" everybody cried.

Tyler chased Chance back and then threw the ball to Dan who almost tagged Chance when he put on the breaks and turned for home again. Dan threw low and in the dirt, and D, who was covering the plate, dove for the ball and swept his glove back as Chance slid in under the tag.

"Safe!" yelled Jordan.

Chance and D both sat in the dirt at home plate laughing.

"I had you man," said D. "Adam missed that catch on purpose."

"I had a home run on a bunt!" laughed Chance. He looked over to Bella and called, "Can you get Carla to ring that bell?" All the kids groaned.

"Can’t we just play baseball for the rest of the day?" asked Tyler. "I read that doing sports makes the brain work better."

"Then yours are all working overtime!" said Chance.

Bella smiled and made her way back through the gym and into the office. Chance was a great principal. Why were they never like that when she went to school? Watching the game and all the excited kids had made her feel elated. She had really felt the urge to get out and play with them too. She thought back to the image of Chance and D Jag lying on the ground in the dirt laughing. She had never before seen the man so relaxed and carefree and so amazingly attractive. The moment the thought entered her head she checked herself. No good would come from thinking like that.

 

CHAPTER TEN

"Bella!" called June. "The phone’s for you."

Bella came from her room where she had been finishing off her latest painting. She gave June a questioning look as she took the phone, and June shrugged her shoulders. The call only lasted a few minutes and when she was done she hung up and turned to June with an ecstatic look upon her face. "Do you know who that was?"

June looked up from the stack of papers she was marking and gave Bella her attention.

"It was Aimee, from The Lakehouse. Someone bought one of my paintings!"

June rushed over and gave Bella a hug. "Your first sale! I’m so thrilled for you. Did she tell you who bought it?"

"She said it was a private collector who is a regular customer. She wants me to bring in a couple more paintings!"

"See! I knew you could make it as an artist!"

"June, I’ve only sold one painting," said Bella with a laugh. "That hardly constitutes making it."

"But she’s asking you for more paintings. Soon she’ll be asking you to do a show!"

"I’ll have to have a lot more time to paint to be able to put on a show. I’ve only got one almost finished right now, and I’m not happy with it. I think I’ll take the big canvas down by the lake tomorrow morning. Do you mind? I know we were supposed to go for lunch with Carla."

June could see that Bella was already looking abstracted, and she smiled indulgently. "Carla and I will be fine on our own. I can see that you need to get out there and paint."

"Thanks!" said Bella, kissing her friend’s cheek. "You are too good to me. Get back to your marking – I’m going to see if I can reclaim that painting."

The next day was dry, but the sky looked threatening, and a strong breeze was blowing. Bella bundled up with a sweater and a jacket, and even grabbed a blanket to wrap around her legs if it got too cold. The trees should afford some protection from the wind, though, so she thought that working out of doors would still be doable. As Carla was going to pick June up, she borrowed the little car and drove deep into the provincial park, along the east shore of the lake.

She took a trail that led along one of the many deep arms of the lake where it was more protected and the water was only lightly rippled. A branch of fir hung down across her view, and through it she studied the broken reflections of the farther shore. The green of the branch darkened to near black silhouetted starkly against the shifting surface of the water. She finally chose a spot and then made herself comfortable and settled in to paint. The lake reflected the muted greys of the murky sky. To her blue she added ochre, white, and Indian red, until she had a colour more near the dull pewter of the water. She painted a dark undercoat and then set in lighter patches, and flowing ripples.

Just when she thought her painting needed something more, a canoe came into view, cutting sharply through her vision. She quickly opened a tube of cadmium yellow, blended it with her blue, and had the canoe sketched in before it disappeared again. She followed it with her eyes, memorising its sleek form, taking in the canoeist’s confident posture. The stroke of his paddle. Then she became absorbed back into the layers of tone and form upon her canvas. After two hours she pulled back, and studied the tracery of branches that spread across her painting, framing rather than obscuring the patchwork of images that connected to reveal the small craft traversing the narrow arm of water.

 

Monday, Bella arrived at the office with barely enough time to sign in before beginning her rounds of the classrooms.

"I wanted to catch you," said Chance on his way through the office. "Fitz checked the internet and discovered that Zito isn’t pitching until Friday. It’s a home game against Texas. I know it’s Good Friday, but is our get together still on if we change it from Thursday to Friday? June said it was okay with her if it was okay with you."

"If it’s okay with June, it’s okay with me," said Bella with a smile.

"Hey," said Carla. "I wouldn’t mind seeing that game, but I don’t have satellite. Would I be able to crash the party?"

"Cassandra has already invited herself," said Chance, "so I can hardly say no to you."

"Then I guess I’d be welcome too," came a voice from behind them.

Chance and Bella turned to see Phil Collins standing there, a sly grin on his face. "What time should I come? Is it a 7:00 start?"

A brief look of annoyance flitted across Chance’s face before he sighed and said, "The more the merrier."

Carla gave him an apologetic glance. "Can I bring anything?"

"I’ve got it under control," said Chance. "Don’t worry about it."

"Just as long as Cassandra’s not catering it," Carla smirked.

"I was thinking pizza," said Chance.

"Good choice," said Bella. "I’ve gotta run." She toured through the classrooms, pondering the change of plans. She was glad that it was not going to be just the four of them, even though it meant she would have to put up with Cassandra and Phil. At least Carla would give her someone to talk to. June, she was hoping, would be monopolised by Chance.

June approached Bella after she came in again from playground duty

"I just remembered something that I hope isn’t going to be a problem for you. On Friday I have to take the choir on a concert performance in Clinton, and in order to get back by game time I’ll have to drive directly to Chance’s house. You’ll have to find a ride with someone else." June’s forehead was furrowed with a little frown of concern.

"Don’t worry about it," said Bella. "I’m sure someone will be able to drive me." She noticed Phil Collins, who was taking a screwdriver to a duct on the wall behind Carla’s desk, look up in interest. She quickly put him out of her mind as she rushed off to the art room, but after school, just as she was getting her things together for the writing club, he turned up in the doorway, barring her exit.

"It seems the perfect opportunity for us has arrived," he said in a suggestive voice.

"I don’t know what you are talking about," said Bella, waiting for him to move so she could leave the classroom.

"We have been wanting to get together," sad Phil with a slimy grin. "I am available to pick you up on Friday. I’ll come a bit early and we can go on that tour of the lake."

"No thank you," said Bella. "I’m going with someone else. Now, can you please move? The girls are waiting for me."

"Who are you going with? You only just found out that June couldn’t drive you before class. You haven’t had an opportunity to talk to anyone else. I’m here - only too willing to take you. There is nothing to be afraid of, being alone with me. I would never make a move on you unless you wanted me to." He took a step forward, starting to close in on her, when another voice cut in from behind him.

"Phil, I’m driving Bella to Chance’s house," said D.

"What? Where did you . . . when did you ask her?" sputtered Phil.

"I’ve been looking for you. There’s an overflowing toilet in the boys’ washroom you need to attend to," said D, and he stepped aside to let the flustered Phil Collins make a hasty retreat.

Bella just stood and stared at him. He had come out from nowhere as usual. Had he been lying in wait for her? And now he had the nerve to say she was going to Chance’s with him. It was outrageous. Her anger started to build as she regarded him. She was about to make a scathing comment when he spoke first.

"I won’t hold you to it."

At first what he said did not even register. He spoke sincerely, with consideration, and it was his tone more than anything else that left her speechless.

"I don’t think it’s a good idea to go anywhere alone with that guy. He can be very persistent. I ‘m not sure he can be trusted," said D levelly.

"Do you think I can’t handle him myself?" asked Bella, finally finding her voice. "I don’t need you to tell him to get lost for me! I’m perfectly capable . . ."

"I was only trying to help," said D. His voice had become stony, expressionless. "If you can’t get a ride from Carla, my offer still stands. Just let me know." He turned and departed as quickly as he had come.

Bella was left fuming. The man unnerved her completely. It was true that she could have managed to get rid of Phil Collins on her own, but she had to admit that D got quick results. The guy was obviously in awe of him, for all his talk. And she knew he had been close to putting his greasy hands on her. She should be grateful right now, but she wasn’t. What D Jag had done was so managing - so arrogant - to say that she was going with him, without even asking her, and then to let her off the hook again so considerately that she couldn’t even blast him for it. She had wanted to tell him he was the last person she would go with. Now she was left feeling almost guilty for her reaction. She walked through the door and slammed it to vent her frustration.

The girls were waiting for her when she arrived; Mr Fitzwilliam was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. She took a deep, calming breath and joined them.

"So, what was the reason for this extra, top secret meeting?" she asked, smiling. "It must be something pretty important if it couldn’t wait until tomorrow."

"Bella," said Cindy, "I have Adam’s story. Could you read it out loud to all of us so we can vote whether he can join the club or not?" She was waving a sheath of papers. Bella took them and smoothed the wrinkles out. There were a lot of pages, but the font was about sixteen point so it wasn’t as long as it appeared, and most of the lines were very short. They almost looked like poems, or songs.

"The Pirates of Pemberley?" asked Bella, reading the title.

"Yeah," said Cindy. "He’s mixed up Pride and Prejudice with Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance."

"Oh, I remember when we went and saw that last year!" said Sarah. "For weeks afterwards Adam was always running down the halls singing!"

All the girls broke out into the chorus, "But I’ll be true to the song I sing, And live and die a Pirate King. For I am a Pirate King!"

"How many detentions did he get before he stopped doing that?" asked Rita, giggling.

"I think until Mr. Bing was so sick of seeing him sitting outside his office that he sent him out on garbage duty," said Alyson. "Read it, Bella!"

Bella read the story which continually sent the girls into whoops of giggles. The pirate king was Lady Catherine; the lieutenant Samuel, Mr. Bingley; the apprentice Frederick, Mr. Darcy; Major General Stanley, Mr. Bennet; his daughter Mabel, Lizzie; and the maid Ruth, who tried to convince Frederick that she was the woman for him, Caroline.

"I’d say that was pretty inventive," said Bella, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "What do you girls think? He’s got my vote."

"I don’t know," said Rita.

"C’mon," said Alicia, "there was plenty of hornswaggling."

Everyone seemed to think he should join, so Rita finally relented, on the condition that he remember none of them were sheep. Cindy ran out to tell him the good news and bring him in, and the rest of the group got down to the business of discussing problems they were having, and reading over each other’s work. They hoped to be able to begin posting after the Easter long weekend.

The next day Bella lost no time in organising a ride to Chance’s with Carla. The rest of the week passed uneventfully, not only did Phil Collins leave her alone, but she barely even saw D Jag, except from the distance as he stared out onto the playing field through his classroom window.

Thursday when she arrived home there was a message for her on the answering machine. It was Aimee. Another painting had sold, and she was hoping Bella could bring in more for the long weekend.

"June, what shall I do?" asked Bella. "I only have this one that I’m not sure about. Should I take it in?"

"I don’t know why you don’t like it," said June. "It looks great to me."

"You always like everything," said Bella, squinting at the picture. "Okay. I guess I’ll take it in. Can I borrow the car?"

June threw her the keys and Bella drove over to The Lakehouse. Aimee was disappointed that she only had one painting for her again, but she readily accepted it.

"This holiday is our first big weekend of the year, but from now on sales really pick up. The resort brings in a lot of potential buyers, and I had hoped to have more than two of yours. There has been a great deal of interest in your work. I could have sold that last one twice over."

"But I just brought it in on Sunday!" cried Bella in amazement.

"It was sold almost immediately, but the buyer didn’t pick it up until this afternoon. If you paint something like it again, I have the other person’s card. He wants to know right away. He liked that almost stained glass effect of the tracery of branches overlaying the lake." Aimee gave her a critical stare. "If you really want to make a go of this, you are going to have to devote more time to it."

"I’m sorry, I’m out of canvasses. I’m waiting for the order to come into the school."

Aimee went into her office and returned with two 16"/20" canvases. "Here. These are on the house. Bring them in as soon as you can. I hope you have ordered larger ones, though. Most of my customers like their paintings big."

"You know, I usually just paint what I feel. The idea of painting to order makes me nervous."

"Don’t think too much about it then," said Aimee. "It’s just a suggestion."

Bella left feeling slightly apprehensive, but at the same time elated. Her painting of the rock had sold in a week; this had taken her by surprise, but the even quicker sale of the canoe painting was more than she had ever counted on. That it had caught the interest of two people! She felt a sort of wrenching inside at the same time. Both paintings that had sold were like little pieces of her soul that were now lost to her. Would it always be like this? If she kept creating and selling those particles of herself would she end up an empty void, or would the very act of creating replenish that life force inside of her? She was too new at this to really know for certain if there was an answer to the question, or if it was even a question that needed to be asked. Along with this confusion she felt a surge of conviction that she felt would give her strength to face anything life could throw at her. Even the coming gathering at Chance’s tomorrow evening.

CHAPTER 11

It was a perfect spring day – the type that one dreams of in the deep of winter when the snow is thick on the ground and the trees reach up their empty branches to a heavy grey sky. Bella left June preparing for her concert and headed out with her painting supplies and down the trail behind their cabin. The trees changed from young evergreens to a second growth deciduous forest - trembling aspen, with its smooth, yellowish brown bark, mountain alder, and a sprinkling of Douglas maple. Sunlight filtered through them sending dappled shadows down upon the scrubby underbrush. After about half an hour on the gently descending path, Bella broke through the trees by the side of a creek bed. She wandered along it for a short while until she came upon a perfect rock for sitting on. Putting her things down beside her, she sat back and soaked in the gentle spring sunshine. Little white wildflowers spilled from the woods to the banks of the stream which flowed lightly over smooth pebbles and stones.

Bella got up and walked out into the waterway, balancing upon some of the larger rocks, until she came to a small, clear, glittering pool. She bent over and drank the cold water from her cupped hands, splashed it upon her face. She suddenly experienced that sensation of awe that starts in the pit of one’s stomach and then flows throughout the body; awe at the amazing wonder of creation. The water, the trees, the flowers, the sun. The very air she breathed. There are many ways to pay respect, to honour, to worship and, deep in her soul, Bella felt a need to translate the complete moment onto her canvas. She brought out her easel and stood it there in the middle of the stream, balanced her canvas on it, laid her box of paints upon a flat rock, and unfolded her little stool. Water she had plenty, so there was no need for a jar.

She painted the layers that surrounded her. The air, mellow and sweet; the surface of the water, in places rippled to opacity, in others full of the glinting sun, and then again transparent to its depths and the bright rocks that lay magnified by its lens on the bed of the creek. And all about were the fractured reflections of the trees, fresh new leaves breaking out upon the branches. Though her stool and easel were precariously placed, Bella never wavered in the transposing of this scene onto her canvas until the sun had shifted completely and shadows began to lengthen. She lifted eyes to a landscape that blurred around her until it came into focus once again. Her arms were prickled with goosebumps in the cool breeze that rode down the long furrow the stream cut through the woodland. It was time to go.

Bella emerged from the woods to find Carla sitting on a lawn chair by the back door of the cabin.

"What time is it?" she asked, startled.

"Don’t worry, I haven’t been here long!" said Carla. "It’s only about 5:00 – I decided to come straight after mass so we can chat a bit before we go. Maybe I can take you on that tour of the lake that Phil Collins is always promising you and show you Katrina Berg’s house so the next time he invites you, you can say you’ve already done it."

"That would be great! So what is it with those people anyway?"

"Which people?"

"The ones who own this town – Mrs. Berg and Mr. Fitzwilliam, even your dad."

"Katrina Berg and my dad have basically run this town between them for as long as I can remember, and been at loggerheads most of the time. Dad’s usually the one who ends up caving. The Fitzwilliams are different. They own most of the lakefront. The two families just used to use this as a summer home. When they were young I’d see D and his sister and cousin on the water, but I never knew them. They kept to their side of the lake. Then about ten years ago, D’s dad, Henry Fitzwilliam, decided to develop the property and built the resort. I got a job there and I had a short but sweet love affair with Colin." She smiled reminiscently.

While Carla was talking, Bella had put her painting gear down and pulled up another lawn chair. "Who’s Colin?" she asked, her interest deepening at Carla’s disclosure.

"Oops, sorry. I forgot you haven’t met him yet. He’s D’s cousin. He runs the resort now – it keeps him pretty busy. Anyway, I was eighteen and he was twenty-one. He was only working there for the summer. And what a summer! His dad, Harold Fitzwilliam, was Henry’s twin, so you can imagine what he looks like. At twenty-one, tanned and fit, he was hard to resist. The problem is most girls feel that way about him and he – well – to tell you the truth, he glories in it." She laughed ruefully.

"So they are a lot alike – both of them with huge egos, hey?"

Carla looked at Bella quizzically. "You’ve got to get over that attitude, girl. Neither of them have huge egos, but they are not at all alike. D’s reserved, serious, and dedicated. Colin’s outgoing and full of fun, but a bit of a slacker. While D was at UBC at the top of his class, Colin was barely scraping through business school. He loves the resort, though, and they both have the same vision for it, which is good now that it belongs to D."

"I thought you said his dad owns it."

"His dad died the same year D graduated from university. His mom died when his sister was a baby. She’s ten years younger than him, and he’s completely responsible for her, that’s why when he got his first job teaching high school she went to the same school. They lived in Vancouver, in Point Grey, but the school was in the east-end – not quite their neighbourhood."

Bella felt the conversation was getting too centred on D Jag, and too close to that touchy subject of what had happened at the school. "What about Chance? Did he grow up here with you?"

Carla took the change of topic in stride, but she wasn’t giving up easily either. "Chance didn’t move to Pember Lake until high school. His dad and mine were business partners and my dad convinced him to make some property investments here. Chance went to UBC after he graduated and met D there. He majored in school management; that’s how he was able to become a principal so young. When D left that high school he was teaching at, Chance and Colin convinced him to come out here to work, and he hasn’t looked back."

Even if Carla’s object was to talk about D, Bella’s was not. "I’d better go in and get changed, then you can take me for that drive you promised."

"Is that a new painting?’ asked Carla, twisting in her chair in an attempt to get a look at what Bella had just picked up. "Can I see it?"

"I’m not really ready to show it to anybody yet," said Bella self-consciously.

"Give it," ordered Carla, jokingly. "I’ll be gentle in my criticism." She made a grab for it and Bella reluctantly handed it to her as she ran into the house. Carla fell silent and just sat and stared at the painting in her hands. When Bella returned shortly she handed it back to her. "It’s totally amazing."

"Thanks." Bella gave her a quick little smile and ran to put the picture in the house. They got into the car and Carla, putting on her best tour-guide voice, began to give her the spiel on Pember Lake that she had used on visitors the summer she worked for the tourist bureau. They had been reduced to giggling maniacs by the time they reached Chance’s house.

"Thanks," laughed Bella as she got from the car. "I don’t even think Phil Collins could have topped your descriptions of Mrs. Berg’s home."

"Where do you think I got all that amazing detail? It was everything he has ever said to me on the subject all rolled into one."

Chance opened the door to them with a welcoming smile. "You two look like you’re having a good time," he said. "I trust you can put a spark to this party. So far only Cassandra, Collins, and D are here, so the conversation is not exactly scintillating. Hopefully June arrives soon." He stared down his driveway wistfully.

"Isn’t Colin coming?" asked Carla, disappointment tingeing her voice. "I had wanted to introduce him to Bella."

"No, he phoned. Some important guests are expected tonight and he has to host a meet and greet. His loss."

"Is the game starting soon?" asked Bella, suddenly wondering if she had just missed out on a set up. She wasn’t interested in D or his fun loving cousin. They sounded like two peas in a pod to her, no matter what Carla had to say in their defence.

"They were just announcing the line up," said Chance, directing them into the living room. "I think it's the top of the first."

"Zito just retired the side," said D. "The A’s are coming up to bat."

Bella took a chair as far from both him and Collins as possible, and settled in to watch the game. The A’s had a five run first inning that included four doubles against Texas. Chance missed most of the action when he went to answer the door. It was quite a while before he returned to the living room with June, but nobody was paying him any attention. Their eyes were all on the ballgame.

"Oh! That hot pitcher is playing again," said Cassandra as she settled into her chair for the top of the third inning. "I love the way he stares the batters down with his green eyes."

"Do you mean he’s a hot pitcher because his pitches are working tonight or are you just talking about his looks?" asked Bella.

"I like his technique," said Cassandra.

"What is it about his technique that you like?" asked D.

"Well . . . look at the way he throws a curveball," said Cassandra.

"He hasn’t thrown one curveball yet tonight," said Bella.

"He’s mainly using his fastball and change-up," said D, giving Bella a grin.

"That’s what I meant," said Cassandra. "See, he’s got them all out again."

"He doesn’t have many strikeouts," said Collins. "Just wait until the next inning and he’s back at the top of the Texas order, they’ll get to him for sure. Alex Rodriguez will intimidate him."

"Look Bella," said Cassandra after a few minutes, "your favourite player got another lucky hit."

"The first time he got to first on an error, Cassandra," said Bella.

"Defensively Tejada’s been stellar tonight," said D, giving her a long look.

"Well I don’t think he’s all that good compared to A. Rod," said Cassandra. "And A. Rod is taller and way cuter."

"Again, the definitive quality of a good player," smirked Bella.

"Well, that’s why I watch baseball," said Carla unabashedly.

The fourth inning, Texas threatened and Collins began to gloat that he was being proved right, but with two out and the bases loaded, Palmeiro hit nothing more dangerous that an easily caught fly ball.

The bottom of the inning, Cassandra had another complaint. "Why doesn’t that good looking pitcher ever get to go up to bat?" she said. "It’s not fair."

"American league pitchers don’t bat, Cassandra," said D in exasperation.

"Well, I think he’d be a good batter, so they should let him. Look how tall and strong he is."

"I wouldn’t mind seeing all 6’4", 210 lbs. of him up to bat either, Cassandra," joked Carla.

"6’4"?" asked Cassandra. "That’s just the same as you, D." She gave him a lingering look.

"I’m not 210 lbs.," said D shortly as he tried to concentrate on the game.

In the fifth inning, Oakland scored two more runs on back to back homers by Long and Hernandez. After that Hatteburg hit a double and the Texas pitcher, Thompson, was pulled.

"I would have pulled him way back when he got in trouble in the first," said Collins knowingly. "He’s just making Zito look good. You’ll see, now that the game is almost unattainable, the bullpen will come in and hold the A’s down. Should have done it in the first!"

"The manager would have to have a heck of a lot of confidence in his bullpen to do that," said D. "Anyway, after the first, Thomson really settled down. Until now, that is."

Chance’s cheering disrupted them as Hatteburg scored on an error by the relief pitcher, Esteban Yan. This was closely followed by Durazo’s fourth homer of the season.

"I’d say that wraps the game up for us," Chance yelled over to Collins. "It’s nine to nothing now. You might as well get your money out."

"As they say," said Collins pompously, "the game’s not over till the fat lady sings."

"Well, I’m not singing!" said Carla as she jumped up to go to the kitchen. "Anyone want more pop or pizza?"

"You’re not fat, Carla," cried June, always ready to defend her friend.

"Well, I’m not skinny either," she shot back.

Cassandra preened herself. She stroked her hand down the fabric of her skin-tight stretch jeans, and then pulled her little sun-fire tank top closer to her waist, bringing attention to the fact that no one in their right mind would ever call her fat. "D, Tessa is so slim. I envy her so much."

"I don’t see why you should envy her," said D blandly. "After all, you are much thinner."

"Do you really think so? I do love Tessa - is she coming this summer? Next time you email her, tell her she has to come – I miss her so much."

"Tess is coming," he said and tried to turn his attention back to the game.

Cassandra turned to Bella. "Tessa is D’s sister. We are very close. She’s graduating from grade 12 this year! I’d give anything to be able to be there!" She shot a meaningful glance at D, but got no response. "Don’t you just love her name? She’s named after that character in that book. You know. Tess."

"Tess of the D’Urbervilles?" asked Bella.

"That’s right! Their mother was so romantic and named them both after famous characters from her favourite novels, but D is so mysterious. He’s not telling who he’s named after." She pouted and cast a glance at him through lowered lashes.

"He’s not being mysterious," said Chance. "He just finds it embarrassing, and with good reason."

"Why? Is he called Dimitri or something, after Dimitri Karamazov?" asked Bella, jokingly.

D gave her a pained look. Obviously he didn’t like his name being the subject of conversation.

"How about Dill, from To Kill a Mockingbird?" laughed Carla. "That would be embarrassing!"

"No! It’s something romantic, of course," said Cassandra, a dreamy look coming to her eyes. "It must be Daniel, after Daniel Deronda. I just saw the Davies adaptation on PBS, and he was soooo handsome."

"You mean the George Elliot novel?" asked Carla. "He would hardly be embarrassed about that – anyone could be called Daniel. This name would have to be distinctive . . . what about Dorian from The Portrait of Dorian Grey?"

D was sitting in his chair, ramrod stiff, looking directly at the TV screen, a scowl deepening on his face.

"His cousin Colin is nicknamed Colonel, after some character in a book or movie or something," Phil Collins cut in.

"Oh, that has no possible connection!" said Cassandra. "He’s called that because of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and nobody even knows what his first name is. No, it must be Daniel." She sat back in her chair smugly, not noticing the concerned glance that Chance shot his friend.

Bella caught the glance, though, and suddenly everything became clear to her. She was positive she now knew what his name was and she understood his embarrassment completely. He must have been plagued by all the young women of his acquaintance when A&E was showing Pride and Prejudice. She kept quiet. Even if he was her worst enemy she couldn’t do that to him. Not after he’d gone to such lengths to change his name to an initial. It wouldn’t be kind at all.

After the conversation about his name, D retreated into his shell. The game ended in a complete game shutout for Zito, but he couldn’t enter into Chance’s glee as he collected his money from Phil Collins. Even though his stare was often directed to the corner of the room where Bella sat, completely unnerving her, barely two more words passed his lips until he got up to leave.

When he was gone, Collins became even more loquacious and moved to sit closer to Bella who didn’t want to leave until June and Chance had the opportunity for a long visit. They had gone out onto the balcony together and nothing in the world would induce her to interrupt them, not even the insinuating comments of the slimy janitor. The other day she had adamantly told D that she could handle the creep, and she intended to prove it, even though only to herself. Luckily Carla came to her rescue and joined them, while Cassandra sat and watched Sports Net, her expression becoming increasingly bored as all the games of the day - hockey, baseball, and basketball - were recapped. It was quite late when June and Bella drove home, and the time spent with Collins had been excruciating, but the light in June’s eyes, and her smile of contentment made all Bella’s sufferings worthwhile.

CHAPTER 12

The days slipped into one another as school went into high gear. When Bella wasn’t at Pember Elementary, or working on editing the stories for the kids, she was painting. Sales were beyond her wildest dreams. She had taken the creek painting in to the gallery on Easter Saturday, and had been surprised on the next Tuesday when Aimee had phoned her again wanting more of her work. Guests from the resort had bought two of the three pictures on display.

Bella spent her weekends trampling through the woods or down by the lake, searching out scenes that spoke to her. Usually she would find her rhythm easily and become so absorbed by what she was doing that she didn’t notice the rest of her surroundings or her silent observers. Other days nothing would go right. People would wander up and stand right behind her shoulder, comment, and attempt to strike up conversations. Sometimes her mind would wander and she would feel that every touch she placed on the canvas was forced. As much as she tried she would not be able to catch the essence of the scene and she would end up packing up and trudging home in frustration. She often saw Daisy running through the woods with her master, but he always ensured that the friendly dog kept her distance if Bella was involved in her painting. She knew that there were times when he stood and watched her from a distance, but she did her best to ignore him.

Victoria Day weekend arrived; the Jays were finally at 500, Zito was 6 and 3 with a 2.51 ERA, the inaugural game of the CBL was slated to play the following Wednesday and though they had all watched televised baseball on their own, the group from Good Friday had not come together for a game again. It didn’t bother Bella in the least. What did please her was that June and Chance had been seeing a lot of each other during this time. While she had been busy putting her view of the outdoors on canvas, they had been taking hikes and going on picnics together. They had become almost inseparable, and at school even June’s grade3’s and 4’s were giggling behind their backs when the principal continually visited the classroom on the weakest of excuses.

The writing group was also very gratifying for Bella. The girls and Adam were getting along well, and still as focused as ever. Their stories were now being posted at the internet site, and reading all the responses brought a great deal of satisfaction and delight. Jordan was even showing some interest in joining the group. He still had yet to read the book or see the movie, but he had taken to sitting in on the discussions and reading and editing some of the stories for the girls. His idea for a P&P baseball story interested Bella, but she made a provision that he could not write one until he had at least watched the video. A marathon viewing session was set for Saturday morning, unless the weather was amazingly good.

The only thing that irritated Bella during their club sessions was that D Jag had taken to staying in the classroom, ostensibly marking papers. She knew she had no right to complain – it was his domain after all – but she felt he only did it to keep an eye on her. Luckily none of the kids seemed to mind his presence at all, and he never involved himself in any way. Whenever Bella looked over to where he sat, he generally appeared to be concentrating on the work in front of him, though sometimes she noticed him staring abstractedly out to space, and more than once caught his eyes fixed upon her, an unreadable expression on his face. He would normally look back down at his desk immediately, but once his eyes had held hers for a long moment that seemed to stretch unendingly until Cindy’s repeated questions returned her attention to the group. She had been left feeling confused and slightly breathless.

Friday afternoon when all the kids had run off, Bella slipped one of her favourite CDs into Maddy’s player and set about giving the art room a good tidying before the long weekend. She was organising paint bottles and singing along to the music when she suddenly sensed a presence. She looked up and saw the Jag man standing in the doorway, contemplating her.

"I didn’t want to disturb you." He did not sound apologetic and his gaze did not waver.

Bella blushed. How long had he been there? She never sang in front of people and she realised that in her involvement she had been singing quite loudly. She waited for him to state his business, but he just stood and stared. An uncomfortable feeling crept over her.

"Did you need anything?" she asked brusquely, almost rudely.

Her walked into the classroom and came quite close to where she was standing. "No, I heard you singing and realised you hadn’t left yet . . . I wanted to tell you something."

She waited again as he absently took a tube of paint and began spinning it in his fingers.

"Do you mind?" she asked, extending her hand for it. "I’m trying to get these things organised."

"Sorry," he said, handing it back to her. Their fingers touched briefly.

Bella couldn’t account for the thrill that the unexpected contact sent rushing through her. She looked away. "So what is it?"

"What?" He looked distracted.

"What you came here to tell me." The whole situation was getting a bit weird. The room had become stuffy. Bella was finding it difficult to breathe steadily.

"Oh!" He suddenly smiled a little crooked smile that made him almost look like a child. "I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done with Sofie in your writing group. You’ve really brought her out of herself. I’ve always known her potential, from her work, but I’ve never been able to get her to say more than two words to me – or make eye contact."

Bella felt her face grow hot and looked away again. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say – but clearly it was nothing like this. "Thanks."

"She actually said hi to me when she came into class this morning."

Bella smiled. "Are you sure it’s my doing that she finds you less intimidating?"

"Certainly," he said, grinning. "I haven’t been any more charming than usual lately."

Bella wondered if charming was a word she would ever use to describe his behaviour, although right now he was actually being quite nice. It was disconcerting.

"So you like the Counting Crows?"

Bella looked at him, startled, and then remembered the music that was still playing behind them. She had been so caught up in the strange conversation that she had been completely oblivious to it. "A lot."

"I figured as much the way you were singing. You didn’t miss a beat." Bella blushed again. "Do you have the Across a Wire album?"

Bella looked at him blankly. "No, I’ve never heard it. I thought they only had four . . . isn’t Hard Candy the latest?"

"This is a live album they put out after Recovering the Satellites. It’s a two CD set - the Story Tellers CD is mainly acoustic with new arrangements of songs from the first two albums. It’s very mellow and evocative – you should like it. I thought Maddy had my copy here." He began sorting through the CDs while Bella made an attempt to get back to straightening out the paints. "It’s not here, but I’ll look for it at home and bring it in for you."

"Thanks." There was nothing else she could say.

"Have you ever seen them in concert? They put on a really powerful show. Adam Duritz’ performance is incredibly emotionally charged."

"I’ve never seen them, but I would love to," Bella said honestly, not thinking how her words might be interpreted.

"Really? They aren’t playing in Vancouver on this tour, but they will be in Seattle on July 11th. Maybe we could go." He was still smiling at her rather disarmingly.

Bella was completely taken aback. What did he mean, ‘we could go’? There was no we - not in the sense that conjured up. "Seattle’s too far." She said it dismissively as she turned back to the paints she was organising, completely missing his reaction. The smile disappeared to be replaced with a much more severe expression. She felt him come up close behind her and her heart began to pound furiously.

"Are you putting the greens with the blues for any particular reason?" he asked over her shoulder, and then he turned and left the room as silently as he had come.

He must have been half way down the hall before Bella realised that she was allowed to breathe.

Saturday morning dawned rainy and grey as is common with the May long weekend in BC. Either it is the first spell of really hot weather, presaging summer, or it is wet, dismal and dreary. There are no in-betweens. Bella gave up on the painting trip she had planned to the farther reaches of the provincial park. Instead she had to be content with what could be done from the house. She puttered about touching up one or two paintings that had been giving her problems while June desperately wished for a change in the weather, if only to rid her friend of her cabin fever. By lunchtime it was raining harder than ever. June smiled apologetically as she left to have lunch with Chance.

"Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?" she asked hopefully.

"You and Chance don’t need me tagging along."

"We’d love to have you join us – you know that!" said June with such sincerity that Bella almost laughed.

"Don’t worry about me, June. I’ll be fine." She looked out the window at the pounding rain. "I’ll probably end up going for a walk anyway."

"In this downpour?"

"Sometimes walking in the rain can be great," said Bella with more enthusiasm than she actually felt.

After June had left, she made an attempt at writing her own fanfic story which was giving her much more trouble than any of the kids were having with theirs. There was just something about Darcy that held her up. Whenever she wrote him he turned out surprisingly like someone else. And no matter how many times she typed that his eyes were brown, she kept picturing a piercing green stare. Why had she ever discovered the man’s first name? She wished that Cassandra had never brought up that silly topic that day. Of course everything Cassandra ever said was close to meaningless, so how could she have expected anything better from her?

As Bella pondered these things she stared out the window at the raindrops trickling down the partially fogged pane, the indistinct colours and shapes of the yard beyond and the thickness of the driving rain. Without thinking twice, she set up her easel, laid out her paints, and brought out a pristine canvas. She included fragments of her inside world, the windowsill, the curtains, the slash of table in the foreground with the little jar of Solomon’s seal, and worked her way to the blurred, green depths on the other side of the mottled glass.

When evening came, she went on the computer and gave herself up to reading all the latest stories on the board as well as delving into the archives. By the time June returned home she had fortified her vision of Darcy with all those reincarnations in Colin Firth’s image. She felt more relaxed than she had since the previous afternoon when she had had the perplexing encounter with D Fitzwilliam. Actually it was better to think of him as D Jag and exorcise the name from her memory completely. Chance came in with June and the three of them stayed up very late drinking hot chocolate and sharing light-hearted conversation. Eventually Bella managed to turn in. The last she saw of them, they were snuggled together on the sofa speaking very softly. She went to bed suffused with a feeling of warmth and happiness.

The rest of the weekend was summer hot, so hot in fact that Bella was tempted to test the waters and go for a swim. Her only problem was that her bathing suit was still in the bureau at Aunt Phillips’ house, or rather - if she knew anything about the matter - now in the possession of her sister Layla. At the moment money was not a problem so Bella treated herself to a new suit from the boutique by the lake. It was touristy and quite expensive, but she finally found something that was not too pricey, relatively modest and of a design that it was actually possible to swim in. It was two piece, dark green and looked as if it was probably actually an exercise outfit. She met Carla at the beach in town and the two of them stretched out on towels and revelled in the warmth of the sun.

"Who would believe this after yesterday?" sighed Carla as she rubbed sunscreen on Bella’s back.

Bella stretched out on her stomach, stuffed a pillow under her chest, and reached for her book.

"I’m glad you’re taking some time off and getting out," said Carla.

"I’m out most of the time," said Bella with a little wink.

"You know what I mean. You never get out and do anything with people. How are you supposed to find a man if you’re always slogging through the underbrush with a canvas under your arm?"

"I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for a man," laughed Bella.

"Isn’t that the point of life?" Bella knew Carla was not being completely serious.

"Well, I can see that hanging out with the in crowd is really working for you."

"I know, I have to beat them off with a broom!" Carla looked wistful. "Oh no! Don’t look now. Play dead or something. Phil Collins at 4 o’clock! And he’s wearing a Speedo. This you do not want to see – trust me." Carla threw a towel over her face. Bella pulled her pillow out from under herself and plunged her head into it.

"Is he gone?" she cried through her giggles a few moments later.

"I don’t know. I’m afraid to look," gasped Carla. "I can’t keep this towel on my head anymore. The heat is unbearable."

Bella lifted her head slightly and scanned the beach with one eye. She saw quite a few of the kids from school, but the janitor was nowhere in sight. "Coast’s clear."

They were soon joined by Alyson, Cindy and Alicia who were bursting to tell Bella all about the video watching session of the day before.

"It was hilarious!" cried Alicia. "Adam couldn’t stand watching Bingley! He left before the first video was over, swearing never to watch it again!"

"I think Cindy was upset about that," teased Alyson. "She ran to the door and tried to convince him to come back – but he said, ‘when sheep fly’!"

They all convulsed with laughter, even Cindy who didn’t appear to mind their teasing at all. Later Rita, Sarah and Heather came along and they convinced Bella to join them for a race to the raft and back to shore again. When Bella hit the water it was a lot colder than she had imagined. There was nothing for it but to keep going as fast as she could. She knew that if she took it slowly, she wouldn’t get past her waist. As soon as possible she dove under and came up gasping from the full shock of the cold. If she didn’t know better she’d have thought the lake was glacier fed. When she got to the raft she was tempted to pull herself out of the water, but she knew getting back in again would be even harder, so she pushed off and splashed her way back to the beach. She was beaten only by Lise who had joined them just in time for the race and was waiting for her in the shallow water, not out of breath in the least. Bella was heaving and her head was spinning.

"How do you do it?" she asked when she could finally speak.

"I do it all the time," said Lise as she slid back into the water without a splash and swam quickly out to the raft with even strokes.

"She’s an amazon!" said Rita who had just emerged from the water, her teeth chattering.

"Let’s get back to the towels before I turn blue," cried Heather.

When they ran across the sand to Carla, Jordan, Tyler and Adam came along. Jordan sat down right beside Bella and began to give her his impressions of the movie and outline the plot of his baseball story.

" . . . and Lizzie is going to be the shortstop." He looked at Bella soulfully. "Can I join the club now?"

"As long as you get a permission slip signed," laughed Bella. "Your story sounds great."

Jordan beamed and Alyson gave him a slap on the side of the head and told him to stop being so goofy.

When they returned to their car about an hour later Carla looked over to Bella and said ruefully, "I take you out to try and meet some new people and you spend your time hanging out with all the school kids!"

"Who else was there to meet?" asked Bella. "Anyway, they are good kids. I had fun."

"And I guess you enjoyed the adulation."

"What do you mean?" asked Bella, stopping and staring at Carla accusingly.

"Jordan. I think that kid has a crush on you." Carla giggled.

"You’re imagining things," said Bella.

"Am I?" asked Carla as she opened her car door. "Ask Alyson what she thinks about it! I noticed she’s got eyes for him herself. He is kind of cute, you know."

"Carla! I’m reporting you to the principal!"

Monday Bella joined June and Chance for a hike and then they ended the day off with a barbecue back at the cabin. Tuesday everyone was at school again feeling like the weekend had not been long enough. After school, Jordan joined the club, having brought his mother to the office in the morning to sign a slip for him. Bella watched the boy and saw no sign to back up Carla’s suspicions. As far as she could see he was just eager and talkative, nothing more. Wednesday she was back in the art room tidying up, Counting Crows playing softly, when she had a distinct feeling of deja vu. She looked up and was not surprised to see the Jag man standing in the doorway. He had a CD in his hands.

"You can have it for as long as you like," he said as he came forward, holding it out to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking it, careful that their fingers did not touch again this time. Even so, she was feeling quite unsettled.

D stood looking at her, his head to one side, and then said, "Have you ever done that?"

"What?" she asked. What on earth was he talking about? He was continually confusing her.

"What he just said - in the song. ‘We drove out to the desert just to lie down beneath this bowl of stars’"*

"I’ve never been to a desert," Bella answered, still at a loss.

"No, I mean lie down under the stars. It’s exactly like he said. There is a meadow at the resort . . . would you like to come over tonight and check it out?" His expression was eager and childlike; it reminded her of Jordan, and for the life of her she just couldn’t let him down.

"Okay," she said before she could consider the matter fully. It was the idea and the look that had convinced her. When she thought about him, and that she had just agreed to be alone with him in the dark, far away from everything, she tried desperately to think of a way she could rescind the agreement. Looking at the stars with him was the last thing she wanted to do. "Maybe June can come too."

His ready smile faded a bit but all he said was "I think she and Chance are doing something tonight. I’ll pick you up about nine. You’ll need to dress warmly because it’s still quite cold at night." With that he left the room before she could think of an excuse not to go.

When she met June and Chance in the office she pleaded with them to come with her, but Chance just smiled and said they couldn’t change their plans. In fact, they had to leave the school at once because June was coming to his house to watch the Montreal Royales play the London Monarchs on The Score. It was history in the making – the first ever Canadian Baseball League game. The pre-game show was at 4:00. He followed June’s car back to the cabin and she rushed in to change quickly and join him in his Cherokee. He talked lightly with Bella while June got ready.

She came running out of the house and kissed Bella softly on her cheek. "Have fun!" she said brightly.

Bella was left standing in the driveway by herself with a sinking heart, watching her last hope for rescue drive off. She looked down at her hands and realised she was still holding the CD that D had lent her.

*Lyrics from Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby – This Desert Life – Counting Crows.

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Bella went inside the cabin. She had five hours to kill until her unwanted ‘date’. No – she couldn’t even think of it as a date. Appointment. That was more like it. She prepared herself some food and then, for lack of something better to do, put on the CD. The plaintive notes of Round Here filled the room. She made herself comfortable on the sofa and let the music take her away. It wasn’t long before she realised that the Jag man was perfectly right. She loved the CD – the change of pace - songs that once had a driving rock beat were now sweetly tender, gently teasing her senses with wistful longing. She played it over and over and felt all her trepidation filter away as if on a cleansing breeze.

The knock on the door at nine o’clock startled her. She had so lulled her mind that she had almost forgotten that she was due to be picked up. Bella rose and walked to the door, feeling her reluctance return with each step. He seemed a little uneasy himself as he stood in the doorway.

"How do you like it?"

"Pardon me? Oh . . . I love it – thank you. Do you . . . do you want to take it home now?"

"I said you could keep it for as long as you like, remember?" He smiled crookedly.

"Right – yeah – thanks. I’d like it a bit longer." Bella grabbed up her sweater from a chair and then hesitated. She wanted to walk through the doorway but he was standing in the frame, seemingly as immovable as a rock. "I’m ready to go now."

D suddenly came to himself and moved abruptly. He opened the car door for Bella and closed it behind her, then got into the driver’s side and set the engine purring. "Is this okay?" he asked and Bella was left yet again to attempt to figure out what he meant by his ambiguous questions. "The music," he clarified.

Bella became aware of the resonant tones of cello. "I like it," she said quietly. She sat close to the window and looked out at the darkening sky, attempting to appear as calm as possible. The inner peace that she had achieved earlier had fled with Mr. Jag’s appearance. Throughout the drive, though she attempted not to dwell on them, the images created by Phil Collins’ words arose to haunt her. It didn’t help that her companion was silent the whole way. When they arrived at the resort, he drove behind the buildings and then stilled the motor and put out the lights. Silence was almost complete in the sudden darkness. All that Bella could hear was the thumping of her heart. D Jag turned to her and she instinctively placed her hand on the door handle, ready to make a move if she had to.

"We’re here," he said and smiled softly as he reached into the back seat and pulled a blanket into his arms. "I think we’ll need this to lie on – the ground is still cold."

Bella discovered that she was shaking. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed herself.

"Are you cold? I have an extra sweater here if you want it." D leaned back again and caught up a thick raglan pullover.

"I’m fine," said Bella.

D got out of the car and came over to open the door for her as she foolishly chastised herself for not getting out on her own. Somehow she had not been able to move. She smiled her thanks as she climbed out and D took her elbow and steered her out into the overwhelming dark. Gradually she became accustomed to it. In the opposite direction light spilled from the windows of the lodge and even the tinkling of music carried on the night air. The meadow was alive with the chirping of crickets and the occasional distant croak of a frog. The waning moon was half full and with the help of myriad pinpricks of starlight gave ample illumination in the open stretch of grass.

"Don’t look up yet," said D. "Wait until we get to the middle. You’ll see how great it is." His tone was low and warm and sent shivers through her that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. If only the voice belonged to someone else. A person who was actually like the way it sounded and not some kind of strange predator. Bella moved to her right and managed to dislodge her elbow from his light touch.

When they reached the middle of the field, D spread out the blanket and offered it to Bella to lie upon.

"No thanks. I’d really rather lie on the grass," said Bella as she sat down a little way from the blanket. At first it was not cold at all, but after a few moments she could feel the damp creeping up.

"Then at least wear the sweater," he said, handing it to her.

She decided it was better not to argue, anyway it was big and would provide a lot of protection should he try something. "Thanks." She pulled it over her head, and found herself engulfed in the warm smell of wool scented lightly with sandalwood and something indefinable, but pleasing. He reached out and loosened her hair from the neck. His unexpected touch sent a shock running through her and she moved back instinctively.

"Sorry, did I pull your hair?"

It was that voice again and she trembled despite the warmth of the sweater. "It’s okay."

"Lie down now and see what you think," he advised, doing just that on his thick fleece blanket.

Bella lay back. The long grass nestled her head, tickling her cheek and forming itself around her. And the sky was above her – not the flat expanse she was used to, but a huge bowl of darkness filled with twinkling lights. She drew her breath in awe and just gave herself up to it.

D stirred beside her. "Usually we have buildings, trees, or mountains hedging us in. It was only when I found this spot that I really understood what Adam Duritz was talking about in the song. I suppose if one lived on the prairies or the desert one would take this for granted."

The whole experience was becoming slightly eerie. What was it about his voice in the darkness and the way everything he said seemed like echoes of her thoughts? Had he somehow read her so well that he knew exactly how to disarm her before he made his move, or was this really only an innocent outing to look at the stars? She was so engulfed in confusion that she was beginning to trust herself as little as she trusted him. She knew it wouldn’t be safe to lose her concentration for one moment.

"Are you familiar with the constellations?"

Bella gazed up at the thick velvety dome that filled her vision. The stars were forming patterns before her eyes, connecting in ways that were not found on the charts. "I see the Big Dipper," she said, pointing towards it, "but I can’t recognise anything else."

"If you follow down from the curve of its handle you’ll come to the second brightest star in the sky – that’s Arcturus. It’s the bottom star of Bootes, the herdsman. It includes that star there, there, there, there, and there to make a sort of kite shape."

Bella tried her best to follow his gesturing arm. "And that’s supposed to look like a herdsman to me?" she laughed.

"Who knows what they were thinking. If you follow the same curve from Arcturus, you come to Spica, way down there. That sort of bluish one. It’s the leading star of Virgo. And over to the west, if you follow down from the bowl of the Dipper you come to Regulus, the largest star in Leo."

"And somehow all those stars there form a lion?"

"Well it goes something like this," he said, leaning closer and attempting to point out the stars in the constellation. "Can you see that bright, creamy one over there that has a steady light? It’s not part of Leo. That’s Jupiter."

He was quite a bit closer now and Bella began to feel very nervous. She commented jokingly, but her voice sounded artificial to her, as if she was trying too hard to diffuse what was really happening between them along with the astronomy lesson. Here in the dark, with the stars putting on a display above them, the look of his face tinged softly with moonlight and the gentle, comforting fragrance of his sweater, she was having trouble keeping straight all the negative things she knew about him with how his closeness was making her feel. It was a very dangerous situation, and she knew it. He shifted his body and was suddenly almost touching her, half on, half off his blanket. His head leaned close in to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She was gripped with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

"Hey D, I thought I’d find you out here!"

D moved back over on his blanket quickly, as if recoiling from an electrical charge. Bella sat bolt upright. She could see a figure loping towards them across the meadow. When he came closer he seemed to hesitate and then stop altogether.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were . . . I thought you were alone. I’ll get lost right away."

"Colin," called D, his voice just a little rougher than before. "It’s okay. Come and join us." As the newcomer sat down, D continued. "Bella, this is my cousin, Colin. Colin, this is Bella. She works at the school."

Colin leaned forward to take her hand, a big grin shining through the darkness. "We finally get to meet," he said in a friendly voice. "I see I should take to visiting the school more often."

Bella heard a stifled groan from D, and she answered his cousin with equal friendliness. Right now she was experiencing immense relief. The only dismay she felt was at the fact that she had very nearly made a big mistake and succumbed to the moment. That would have been disastrous, given that in her mind she held D Jag in just as much contempt as always. How could her body have responded so traitorously?

"Let’s go in." D Jag sounded short and impersonal. Gone was that warmly appealing quality his voice had held earlier. Colin pulled Bella to her feet while D folded his blanket. On the way back he barely took part in the lively conversation that Colin had sparked.

When they arrived at the waiting jaguar, Colin turned to Bella. "Would you like to come into the lodge for a drink and a snack or something?" In the dim light that streamed from the rear of the buildings she could see him more clearly. He was almost as tall as his cousin, but of a more athletic build. His dark hair was thick and wavy, and he was regarding her with a most appealing expression. His features were not as good as the Jag man’s, she had to admit, but he was warmly attractive. She was very tempted to take him up on his offer, but there was also the matter of D himself, who was standing stonily to the side.

"No thanks. I really should be getting home."

"Well, I could take you then and save D the trip." He looked over at his cousin for approval of his plan but was met only with a cold glare.

"I’m taking Bella home."

"Well, it was nice to meet you then," he said with a smile, taking Bella’s hand in his warm clasp once again. "I’ll be sure to come by the school really soon." He waved and sprinted to the back door of the lodge.

Bella felt all her awkwardness return as D held the door of the jag open for her. They drove in silence the whole way to the cabin, the only sound the haunting richness of the cello drifting from the car’s speakers. Bella scrambled out the car door before D could come around to open it for her and hurried up onto the small front porch. She turned and spoke quickly to his approaching figure. "Thanks for showing me the stars." She opened the door and slipped into the house before he had time to do more than stand and stare after her. As she leaned back against the wooden panels to catch her breath, she remembered she was still wearing his sweater.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"So, how did your date go?" June smirked at Bella from across the kitchen as she waited for her toast to pop up.

If Bella had had something in her hands, she would have thrown it at her friend. She had not slept well. All night she had been haunted with visions of the Jag man in the moonlight and the strange confusion she was feeling. Her dreams had been worse. Not because they were bad, but because involved a certain green eyed man and herself in situations she did not even want to think about. "It wasn’t a date," she muttered as she opened the fridge and poured herself a large glass of milk.

"Okay," said June, undeterred. "How was your non-date?"

"Fine. We looked at the stars. I met Colin."

"So nothing special happened?" asked June, somewhat disappointed. "Spending more time with Fitz must have changed your opinion of him a little." She looked hopeful.

"I liked his cousin," said Bella tersely.

"Colin is a great guy," said June. And then she added with a note of concern, "He’s a bit of a player, though, so be careful."

Bella burst out laughing.

"What?" June stood with her hands on her hips, staring at Bella.

"You are so funny! Just because I said I liked him doesn’t mean there is anything going on between us. I only just met the guy – and I’ll probably never see him again." Bella rummaged around in the cupboard, looking for something to eat for breakfast.

"If I know anything about Colin, you’ll be seeing him soon."

"I’d like to see him again," said Bella. "And don’t worry about me. I know he’s a flirt – Carla already told me. I won’t take anything he says seriously. I guess it must be a family trait, or something."

June did a double take. "Fitz didn’t flirt with you, did he?"

"No." She remembered she had decided to say nothing to June about Collins’ allegations. Anyway, stalking wasn’t flirting – not by a long shot.

"Did you want him to? Are you disappointed?" asked June, poking Bella in the ribs as she walked by her to the table. "Is that what you are so grumpy about this morning?" An impish grin spread over her face.

"Don’t be silly," said Bella, finally choosing some granola.

When Bella arrived at school, Chance greeted her with an invitation to watch the Jays game at his house that evening. "They’re playing in New York. Andy Pettitte is pitching for the Yankees."

"I think I’ll pass. I’ve got a few paintings to finish up and take in to The Lakehouse tomorrow."

Chance smiled. "How’s that going?"

"Wonderful! I never imagined I would sell so many paintings. I can barely keep up with the demand."

"I hope that doesn’t mean we’ll be losing you next fall."

"Not on your life," said Bella. "Someone has to be here to keep you in line!"

"So how was your date?" Chance’s eyes twinkled.

Bella refused to rise to the bait. She simply stuck out her tongue and went off to do her classroom rounds. In the grade 6/7 classroom she noticed that there was a substitute. She sighed. Not because she regretted not seeing the Jag man – far from that. She had his sweater bundled in her backpack and she had meant to return it as soon as possible, but she didn’t think it would be polite just to leave it on his desk with a note.

"This is some wild class," remarked the young teacher as she walked past Bella and out the door.

Bella just stood and stared after her. Wild? That didn’t sound like the kids she knew. "Have you guys been giving that poor substitute a hard time?" she asked the class in general.

"She’s totally clueless." "I think her one brain cell died this morning." "She was treating us like we were little kids." "When’s Mr. Fitz coming back?"

Bella raised her hand to silence all the commotion. "Hold on! I have no idea where Mr. Fitzwilliam is or how long he’s going to be away. If I find out for you, do you promise to give that poor teacher a break for the rest of the day?"

They grudgingly agreed. On her way to the annex, Bella popped her head into the office to ask Carla where Mr. Jag was and when he would be back.

"Miss him already?" asked Chance as he came out of his office. Bella gave him a dirty look and then turned back to Carla expectantly.

"He’s gone to a conference. He’ll be back on Monday." Carla couldn’t hide the interest that she felt.

"Well I hope the substitute survives," Bella said. "Maybe next time he feels like some extra training he should do it on a professional development day, when there are no kids at school."

Chance laughed. "He’s giving the conference, Bella. He’s explaining how we set up this program to the Vancouver school board. Our school is to become a model for a new fine arts program they will be instituting. He left at about 3 in the morning so he could make it on time."

Bella blushed full to her roots and quickly fled to finish her rounds and go out on the playground. Besides being embarrassed by her childish outburst she was totally dumbfounded. If he was going to Vancouver, why hadn’t he gone after school the day before? Why invite her to look at the stars if it meant he would have to leave so early the next morning? He must have barely slept. Shouldn’t he at least have spent the evening preparing for such an important event? Why hadn’t he even told her about it? She had to admit that they hadn’t talked about anything except the stars, and neither of their attitudes on the ride home had been conducive to conversation – but still! He continually aggravated and bewildered her.

"Bella!"

She was brought out of her deep reverie by the children’s cries from the playground and she ran over to solve a dispute over the monkey bars. After, she informed all the grade 6’s and 7’s about the fact that their beloved teacher would not be in until Monday, and to remember that it was not open season on substitutes. She was ensuring that the kids made fair teams at the baseball diamond when all the members of the writing club ran off to the far corner of the playground together. Even Jordan, which surprised Bella because his presence could always be counted on when there was a baseball game in progress.

"So what is so important that we had to come way out here to talk about it?" asked Rita.

"I didn’t want Bella to hear," said Alyson, looking across the field to make sure that Bella was nowhere near.

"Oi don’t like secrecy, sez Oi."

"Adam, that is the dumbest accent," said Sarah.

"Stifle it, you two," said Heather. "What’s up?" She turned to Alyson along with everyone else.

"Do Bella and Mr. Fitz remind you of anyone?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jordan.

"Well, I’ve sorta noticed how Mr. Fitz always looks at her - like sometimes he’s standing at the window watching her on the playground. And she doesn’t seem to like him very much, which is weird because he’s the best teacher ever."

Jordan gave Alyson a long appraising look.

"You mean, you think . . ." Cindy started jumping up and down with excitement.

"Do you think he said something that hurt her feelings when she first came to the school and now she hates him?" asked Alicia, catching on.

"I still don’t know what you guys are talking about," said Rita.

"Mr. Fitz and Bella are just like Darcy and Elizabeth!" said Alyson smugly.

"You think Mr. Fitz is like Darcy?" asked Jordan accusingly.

"Well you think Bella is like Elizabeth," she answered, blushing. "You said so yourself."

"When?" Jordan’s tone was belligerent but he had the decency to look a little conscious.

"You made Lizzie a shortstop in your story, and you know that’s the position Bella played. You told me."

"Why couldn’t Mr Fitz be the colonel?" asked Lise, colouring a little.

"Because he doesn’t like Cassandra," said Sofie, giggling. It was her turn to be stared at.

"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Alicia.

"Well, in Lise’s story, Colonel Fitzwilliam likes Caroline."

"The point is," said Alyson, afraid that her main idea would get lost with all the various speculations of who could be who, "we need to do something to get them together and prevent Hunsford."

"Alyson, this is real life, not some fanfic story," said Jordan.

"I think it’s a great idea," said Cindy.

"Arrr," said Adam as he chewed on a stem of grass.

"For once I agree with Adam," said Rita.

"How do you know what kind of ‘arrr’ that was? It can mean almost anything." Adam gave her a smug grin and she pushed him over onto the grass.

After a five-minute bout of pushing and rolling about on the grass that nobody was exempt from, Alyson outlined some of her ideas and they all listened, even Jordan.

That afternoon Bella pulled the sweater out of her pack as soon as she got home. With it came that distinctly warm and masculine scent that had smelled so good when she was wearing it the night before. Without thinking, she lifted it to her face and inhaled deeply. As she stood there with her cheek nestled against the soft, brown wool, she became aware of just what she was doing and she almost dropped it. It was D Jag’s sweater and that must be his smell. He would have been the last one to wear it. She felt sudden revulsion and crammed it far in the back of one of her shelves. It could stay there until the lake froze over! She wasn’t going to touch it again. It was insidious.

Saturday she was out by the lake painting once again. She didn’t see Daisy running through the trails or sense anybody staring at her from a distance. Without such distractions she should have been able to concentrate on the scene before her - but she couldn’t. She threw down her brush in exasperation, folded up her easel and dumped the water in a hole.

The wind was beginning to whip the water furiously now. Heavy drops of rain shattered the water’s surface even more. Bella stared at it – memorising the colour, the texture, the very feel of the storm. Then she hefted her pack and caught up her canvas. The painting was large and unwieldy, making the going awkward as she clambered through the underbrush to the road. The rain was pelting down in earnest. Bella was glad that the wind had subsided somewhat so that her painting would not be wrenched from her hands, bucking like some sail upon the high seas. The sky was torn with bright, white light and thunder roiled at almost the same instant. She turned her canvas inward and stepped from the shelter of the trees.

She arrived at the cabin, her hair plastered to her head, water streaming down her face, her feet leaving great puddles on the porch. She passed her painting in to June and then stripped down in the vestibule, wrapping herself in the towel that June quickly threw to her. In minutes she was soaking in a hot tub, listening to the rain pound down upon the cabin roof and watching the light show that was taking place outside her window.

Even after her bath she was still restless, as if charged by those lightening bolts, with an overflow of energy building and needing a release. She set up the canvas in the living room. The essence of the morning’s scene was still there; wind and rain had not managed to obliterate it. She got out her paints and brushes and filled her water jar. Then she stood and stared at the picture, seemingly for hours, bringing back that scene of battered water, the feel of being submerged in the rain, the icy cold that had permeated her body. She attacked her canvas with dark tones, calling forth not only the storm, but the shadows of the woods and the eyes of the watcher who wasn’t there. When she was done she threw herself back on the couch, exhausted.

June had driven through the rain for take-out, and slipped back into the house soundlessly so as not to disturb Bella.

"I smell pizza! June you really are an angel – what would I do without you?"

"Run yourself ragged and starve," she said with a grin. "Can I take a look at the painting?"

"Yeah. It’s done."

June walked around the canvas and joined Bella on the couch. She stared at it in near shock. After a few minutes she said, "That is so striking. Almost frightening. It’s filled with foreboding and yet there is something wonderful in the intensity. Like it will not be overpowered no matter what the elements throw at it." She lapsed into silence.

"I never knew you could be so profound," teased Bella as she went to get them each some pizza. "I’ll have to get you to write my reviews"

Sunday Bella slept late. She awoke to bright sunshine streaming through her window. She opened it and poked her head out. Moisture was evaporating quickly from a clean and shiny world. The greens were greener, the soil richer looking, and the loamy smell of wet dirt intoxicating. Bella went for a walk and then sat with June and Chance and watched the Jays game on the little TV in the cabin. Wells was pitching for the Yankees. Four doubles were hit off him in a row during the fourth before he finally got the hook. Toronto completed a four game sweep of New York – first ever at Yankee stadium in Blue Jays’ history. Chance was beside himself with glee.

The next day he wasn’t quite as happy. His hero, Rocket Roger Clemens, was going against the Bo-Sox for his 300^th career win. It was a grudge match of sorts because Clemens had been a part of the Boston organisation for years earlier in his career. And the Yankees, his current team, had just dumped four straight. But things did not go well – after walking a run in, and letting another in on a wild pitch, Clemens left the game in disgust, tossing whatever he could lay his hands on in the dugout, and heading straight for the locker room. Chance had been almost ready to do the same. He switched off his TV, refusing to watch the rest of the game and sulking until he succumbed to June’s sweet smiles and tender embraces.

"I could never stay in a bad mood with you around," he sighed into her hair. June laughed softly and Bella felt it was high time she left the room.

She walked out onto Chance’s balcony and gazed at the lake. She wasn’t really even seeing it, though. She was thinking back to earlier in the day when she had almost bumped into D Jag in the hall after school.

"How was your trip?" She could hardly not say anything, and that seemed safe enough.

"Excellent. I think they are going to follow our model." He appeared very pleased.

"That’s great." She wondered how she would be able to walk away from him as he was standing right in her path.

"And how’ve you been?" He still had the smile of pleasure in his eyes as he regarded her.

"I . . . um . . . your class gave the substitute a hard time."

"Did they give you a hard time?"

"No, I can handle them." There was challenge in her eyes as she met his.

"That’s what I thought."

He seemed inclined to linger, and before Bella could think of an excuse to go, said, "You didn’t give me a chance to say goodnight." He looked at her intently.

Bella was taken completely off guard and didn’t know what to say. She wished herself anyplace but in that deserted hall talking to him. She prayed for a reprieve, and as if in answer, Carla came hurrying along with some paperwork that he needed to explain to her, making it possible for Bella to escape.

The whole encounter had flustered her and she was still wondering why. She shook her head. Here she was squandering a perfectly beautiful view on trying to understand the way that man’s mind worked. Could she really believe all that Phil Collins had told her? And yet she could not forget what D had said that first day when Chance had hired her, or how he had tried to convince him to give June up. Were those the actions of a nice guy? And he could be so sullen, so moody, and so downright unnerving when he stood in the shadows and stared, or suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She was clearly wasting her time. There was a lake of silver water still holding the last few flames of the setting sun, and she should be enjoying it while it lasted.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"I think that’s totally stupid idea!"

"What’s a stupid idea, Adam?" asked Bella, coming up from behind.

All the kids jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Er . . ." managed Adam as he turned to face her.

"He doesn’t like my new story," said Cindy quickly. "He thinks Dr. Bailey should be a vet specialising in sheep and not an entomologist."

Adam stared at her open mouthed while the others all tittered.

"Who is Dr. Bailey?"

"He’s the guy I’ve invented for Georgie in my latest story."

"I’ve got to go to rehearsals," said Adam. "Just remember I’m not going to be a part of it."

As Adam ran off Bella looked after him, wondering what he was talking about. Was he collaborating on a story with Cindy? His outburst didn’t really make any sense. Alyson came up beside her and took her arm.

"He always gets an attack of nerves close to a performance," she confided. "And doing Les Mis is such a big deal."

"Yeah, we are the first school in Canada to be allowed to do the musical," piped in Cindy, "which is amazing for an elementary school."

"But this is such a good school, don’t you think, Bella?" said Alyson.

Bella barely had time to agree when Alicia joined it. "You know the school was all Mr. Fitz’ idea. If it wasn’t for him it wouldn’t even exist."

"Or if it did it wouldn’t be anywhere near as good," said Rita.

"And he’s the best teacher," said Cindy.

Bella sat down at one of the picnic tables with the girls. "You know, you don’t need to sell him to me. I know he’s a good teacher," she said.

"He’s more than just a good teacher," said Alyson, taking a few strands of Bella’s hair and starting to braid them. "I know sometimes he’s really reserved and quiet, but he’s got a great sense of humour when you get to know him, and he’s so smart."

"And if he ever said anything to hurt someone’s feelings, it was probably by accident," said Cindy as she began plaiting a braid on the other side of Bella’s head.

"And he is so generous, look how he bought all that baseball equipment they are playing with," said Alicia, motioning to the diamond.

Rita sat on top of the table and started braiding the back of Bella’s hair. "He paid for the music studio and the hot lunch program."

"And he’s pretty good looking for, like, a man," said Sofie, blushing.

Bella tried to turn her head to look at the girls, but it was difficult with most of their hands in her hair. That they were up to something was obvious. This wasn’t the first time in the last few days that they had been spouting D Jag’s praises. She wondered what had brought it on. She thought she had kept her animosity towards him hidden, but now she was not so sure. They must have picked up on something. Cindy’s remark was very telling. She sighed. Everything the girls were saying was true; she had even noticed his sly sense of humour. But there were things about him which she knew that they didn’t. Things that couldn’t help but colour her opinion of him. It didn’t bear thinking about; there was too much contradictory information. "Are you girls almost done? I’ve got to get over to the baseball diamond – it looks like there’s a problem."

"Almost done," said Rita. "Just start walking while we follow you and finish off these last few braids. Does anyone have another elastic?"

"I do," said Alicia, digging into her shorts pocket.

"This is rather awkward," said Bella, as she walked with her hairdressers in tow. "Tell me – how bad does it look?"

"Bella!" cried Alyson. "How could you doubt us? It looks great – you’d pay a bundle for this at a salon."

Bella finally managed to get detached from the girls and deal with the problem the baseball players were having. Until recently there had been no complaints since the time the new equipment was bought. After his fit of anger when he had thrown the ball at the school, Jordan had done his best to see that everyone played fairly, but now that rehearsals were keeping him busy at lunchtime things were beginning to deteriorate. When the bell rang Bella rushed in, relieved to get away from all the petty squabbles.

The day continued to be busy as Maddy’s class was hurrying to complete work for the art show that was to run concurrently with the performance of the musical. There was only a week left and tempers were running high all over the school. Combined with the hot weather that was settling in on this last week of May, all the extra stress of the nearing deadlines was cause for more than one headache. Chance had jokingly announced that he was having Tylenol dispensers installed in the staff room. At least it was Thursday – the week was almost done.

During writing club the girls continually tried to involve their teacher in the discussions. He reacted very good-naturedly and even shrugged and winked at Bella, showing her that he found their behaviour a mite unusual as well. She had smiled in response and then caught Rita and Alyson elbowing each other and smirking. She decided the best thing to do was ignore them and instead began to lay out her plans for a presentation of their stories to go along with the art show. At four thirty and with all her nerves frazzled, Bella dragged herself into Carla’s office. Sitting on Carla’s desk was a very relaxed and debonair looking Colin Fitzwilliam.

"I told you we would meet again," he said, smiling broadly.

It was at that moment that Bella remembered her hair. She had no idea what the girls had done to it, but that it should actually look anything but wild was highly unlikely. Her hand went up to it instinctively.

"Your hair looks charming," he laughed.

"I must look like Medusa"

"We haven’t turned to stone yet," said Carla dryly, "but it is quite imaginative. Who’s your stylist?" She grinned.

"The girls very kindly did this to me at lunchtime. I’d forgotten all about it," said Bella, frantically trying to unravel one of the many braids.

"I thought you might like to go for coffee or something, so I came by," said Colin with an engaging smile.

Bella looked over at Carla.

"Don’t look at me," said Carla. "Colin is talking to you. Anyway, I’ll be lucky if I’m outta here in an hour, so if you would say yes to the man and get him off my desk and out of my office, I would really appreciate it."

"Okay," she said, smiling back at Colin, "but I’ve got to tell June and get these braids out first."

"I’ll tell June," said Carla. "Just go already."

"And I’ll be more than happy to help you take the braids out," offered Colin.

"They look that bad, eh?" said Bella with a smirk.

"That wasn’t what I meant at all," said Colin hopping off the desk and taking her arm to lead her out of the office. "Let’s get out of here before the she-dragon breathes fire on us."

Carla’s eraser just narrowly missed Colin’s head as he went out the door. They sat on the front steps of the school, and Colin, true to his word, began undoing the braids in the back while Bella worked on the front. She felt a little self conscious to have a man she barely knew sitting so close to her with his hands in her hair, but his lively chatter soon dispelled the feeling. A few minutes later the door opened and Bella turned her head to see D Jag come out onto the school porch and stop still in his tracks. She thought she saw a flicker of anger cross his face to be replaced by a cool, closed in look.

"Have you taken up a new profession, Colin?"

Colin turned his laughing face to his cousin. "I’m just helping Bella fix her hair."

"I thought it looked just fine with the braids in it." He stared steadily at Bella for a few moments, his eyes meeting hers in a way she found increasingly unnerving.

"So did I, but we are going into town and she was afraid of turning people into stone."

"Have a good time," said D curtly, and he walked off towards his car.

"What’s got into him?" asked Colin.

"He’s always like that," said Bella as she watched the Jag slowly creep out of the parking lot.

"Is he?" Colin’s voice was thoughtful. "Here I was afraid he was going to insist on joining us and I wouldn’t have you all to myself. Do you think he’s upset because you’re going out with me?"

"Why should he be?" asked Bella. "Does he care who you go out with?"

"No, but I thought he might care who you went out with."

Bella coloured. "Of course not."

"But . . . when I first met you, you were out on a date with him."

"It wasn’t a date."

"I see. So you’re not his girlfriend?"

Bella sputtered. "Far from it!"

"Okay, sorry. That wasn’t the impression he . . . I guess I put two and two together wrong again. I was never any good at math. Anyway, I’m glad to hear it."

There was an awkward pause, as Bella couldn’t think of anything to say after this comment. It wasn’t long before the last of the braids was out and Bella shook her hair free and ran her fingers through it.

"It looks even better now," said Colin, pulling her up from the stairs. "Let’s go."

He led her to a bright red Mustang convertible and opened the door for her. The top was down so she had to twist her hair into a rope and hold it or it would have ended up in a worse tangle than it was before. They went to The Lakehouse and had tea on the terrace rather than coffee. Bella found herself talking with Colin as comfortably as if she had known him all her life. They ended up having pizza and walking on the beach until the sun began to fall into the trees, and then Colin drove Bella back to her cabin and set a date to pick her up from school again the following week.

"So did that rate as a date?" asked June as she looked pointedly at her watch upon Bella’s entrance.

"No, but when he picks me up from school next Monday it will," said Bella smugly.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," said June.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they’re cousins."

"Just because they’re cousins doesn’t mean they’re at all alike," said Bella firmly.

"That’s not what I meant. You don’t want to do something that will hurt their friendship."

"How . . . look, I never went out with the Jag man. Contrary to popular belief there is nothing between us. We don’t even like each other."

"I wish you wouldn’t call Fitz that," said June, shaking her head.

"I can promise you I’ll never call him Fitz," said Bella.

The weekend passed by quickly. Bella spent most of Saturday at the school with Maddy, putting together frames and cutting mats for the art show. Sunday she was down by the creek painting again, far from the distractions of tourists and silent watchers and dogs. She didn’t give too much thought to the cousins of silent watchers either. She just immersed herself in her surroundings, the young alders leaning out over the water, the scattered boulders warming in the sun, the wedge of bright sky flaring upward. She allowed herself to explore the negative space; all the shapes created between the branches, the rocks, and the sky.

Monday, Colin was at the school at three sharp, sitting on Carla’s desk again. When Bella arrived at the office it appeared that they were speaking quite seriously together, but they turned and smiled lightly as she entered and shared some jokes before she and Colin left.

On the way out they passed by a group of Bella’s girls, who all called and waved goodbye to her. When Bella was out of earshot, Alyson groaned.

"Now we’re in for it!"

"What do you mean?" asked Rita.

"Don’t you know who that was with Bella?" asked Alicia. Rita looked blank.

"The Colonel!" Cindy said it in an ominous stage whisper.

"That’s Mr. Fitz’ cousin, Colin Fitzwilliam," elucidated Alyson.

"And I hear he’s a real heartbreaker," said Sarah.

"I don’t care if Adam thinks what we are doing is dumb," said Cindy. "I say we’re going to have to step it up."

"Exactly," said Heather. "Who needs subtle? It’s time we hit her over the head with a hammer."

Colin’s Mustang had its top down again, but this time Bella was ready for it, her hair tightly pulled back into a thick ponytail.

"Is there something up with you and Carla?" asked Bella as Colin exited the parking lot.

"She was just pretending she was my mother," said Colin, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "I got a big lecture. She said she would kill me if I hurt you."

"Good thing she’s already warned me about you," said Bella with a laugh. "Your chances are about nil!"

"I know, that’s why I like being with you."

"So you feel safe with me do you?" Bella teased.

"You know, there was a time when I thought it was fun having girls falling all over themselves to be with me, but I’m over that now and she just can’t see it." Colin was suddenly serious.

"So tell her."

"It’s not that easy. You don’t know what I did to her." Colin shook his head as if to dispel the memory. "Want to go for a drive?" He flashed her a grin and she knew the confidences were at an end.

They drove high into the mountains up logging roads that Bella would never have expected him to take the Mustang on. He drove quickly but with great care. They didn’t talk; he had a Blue Rodeo CD jacked on the stereo. Country wasn’t something Bella usually listened to, but it went with the sun and the dust and the wind. They arrived at a plateau and Colin parked.

"C’mon," he said, pulling her up out of her seat. "You’ve never been up here, have you?"

"No," said Bella as he jumped her over the door. They both laughed as he ran with her over to the edge of the escarpment where the mountain fell away at their feet.

"Voila!"

The view was magnificent. The lake spread out far below them, glinting in the sun. Bella had her first clear view of the far side of the lake with the cabins of the resort dotting the shoreline. The buildings themselves were nestled in amongst the trees, their log structure and peaked roofs partially hidden, but they had large decks open to the lake and little docks leading down into the water. The main lodge, which Bella had only seen as a dot from the distance or the dark bulk of a shadow with light spilling out as it had been the night of the stargazing, was a rambling log structure that blended harmoniously into its setting. She had never seen a development that fit so well into its natural surroundings.

"It’s amazing. No wonder you spend so much of your time there."

Colin chuckled. "I’m always there because my slave driver of a cousin makes me work incessantly. I was lucky to get this afternoon off!" This was said lightly and not at all seriously, and Bella knew it was not really the case.

"I heard you were a bit of a slacker."

"Who told you? I was hoping to fool at least one person! You were right the first time – I just love it here. Especially in this beautiful sunny weather. In the winter I’m outta here and down in Maui!"

After a walk in the woods they drove down to the lake, got fish and chips from the take out and ate them by the water’s edge. When Colin dropped Bella off he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for the fun afternoon. I don’t know if I’ll be at Chance’s tomorrow for the game, but if not I’ll see you Friday at the play."

Bella walked to her door in contentment. She didn’t know when she had had a more enjoyable and relaxed time out with a guy. Never, probably. The only time that she had felt the least bit uneasy was when they had been up on the mountain looking down at the lake and, turning, their eyes had met. His blue eyes held nothing but friendliness but somehow they triggered a thought of a pair of green eyes and the very different way they made her feel. She banished the thought from her mind as she had done then.

Tuesday, the girls in the writing club seemed really restless. The agenda for the meeting was to finish designing the covers for their stories so Bella could print them all up for the display, but they kept talking on and on about character development, and comparing characters to real people, especially Mr. Fitz. It was as if all the girls had simultaneously developed a crush on the man.

"You know that thing Darcy said about harbouring resentment?" said Alicia. "I think he was misjudging himself. Of course his good opinion of Wickham was lost forever – but that doesn’t mean he was unforgiving. That just means Wickham didn’t deserve forgiveness. Mr. Fitz would never hold anything against anyone either. Remember when Tyler cheated on the test that time? The make up test Mr. Fitz gave him he did in the library by himself with his textbook on the desk, and Mr. Fitz told him he could be unsupervised and he knew he wouldn’t look in the book. And he didn’t either."

"That’s because Mr. Fitz doesn’t have any shadows in his character," said Heather.

"Can you girls get back on track?" said Bella in exasperation. "This isn’t some kind of competition between Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitz, we are trying to get these covers done. Now, what do you think of using some of these original illustrations, or drawing our own from them?"

When four thirty arrived and the covers were pretty much decided upon, Alyson approached Bella.

"I’m doing a survey. Which of these songs do you like the best?" She handed Bella a short list.

"Is this for class?"

"Not really," said Alyson. "Surveys are just fun. Look, all the rest of the club has done it." She pointed to a tally on the side of the sheet.

"Except for Adam," pouted Cindy.

"This is an interesting assortment of tunes, especially for you girls. Don’t you listen to Britney Spears and NSync?"

"Not really," said Sarah. "We have very eclectic tastes."

"When I was your age, I didn’t even know eclectic was a word. Okay – let’s see. Behind Blue Eyes, The Who; Under The Bridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers; Stairway to Heaven, Led Zeppelin; Summer Song, Joe Satriani; Samba Pa Ti, Santana; Ants Marching, Dave Matthews Band; Little Wing, Jimi Hendrix. These are really good songs. Do you actually know them all?"

"Sure. They are all downloaded so we could listen to them," said Cindy.

"But we figured you wouldn’t need to hear them," said Alicia. "If you want we can play . . ."

"That’s okay," said Bella. "I’m pretty familiar with most of them. It’s a really difficult choice, but I think I’ll go with Samba Pa Ti."

Alyson quickly wrote it down.

"So what’s the verdict?" asked Bella.

"What?" All the girls looked at her, slightly mystified.

"Which song won?"

"Oh! Right," said Alyson, doing a quick calculation. "Stairway to Heaven."

Bella laughed as she turned the lights out and waited for all the girls to leave the room before she closed the door. She gave little more thought to the survey as she joined June for a ride to Chance’s. It was the first day of inter-league play between the Jays and the Cards, and they were playing in St. Louis. That meant no DH – the pitchers had to bat, a definite advantage for the national league team.

It was the same group that had met before, for the A’s and Rangers game. Phil Collins was spouting slightly skewed baseball trivia, Cassandra was painting her toenails with flaming enamel, and Carla was looking a little subdued. Chance and June were oblivious to everyone around them, including the game. D arrived just as the third inning was starting, and he came without his cousin. Bella was tempted to ask him if Colin was going to make it, but she decided against it. She could think of only one reason for Carla’s moodiness and she didn’t want to feed it by appearing interested in Colin’s whereabouts. She had earlier tried to tell Carla that they were only friends but the stubborn girl hadn’t been convinced.

The game started out well for the Jays. Escobar was setting the Cards down in order, pitching well for a guy who was fighting to reclaim his position as a starter. He even walked away from the plate with a rueful smile on his face when he had been struck out looking on a breaking ball that he backed away from only to have it cross the plate in the strike zone. In the fifth inning, the Cardinals had figured him out and began using him for batting practice. The game ended with St. Louis scoring in double figures as compared to Toronto’s meagre five runs. The highlight in the game for Bella was when Frank Catalanotto popped one into the seats behind first base and an usher caught the ball barehanded. She waved happily for the camera and then gave the ball to a small boy a few rows away from her, bringing the biggest smile onto his face.

"Why didn’t she keep the ball?" asked Cassandra. "The kid’s probably going to just lose it anyway."

D’s eyes met Bella’s with a knowing glance. "I guess making kids happy isn’t important to you, eh Cassandra?"

"But she could get that ball signed and it would be worth something," said Cassandra.

"It would probably mean a lot more to the boy than just money," said D.

"It’s hardly like Catalanotto is a big name player," said Phil Collins. "Now if McGuire had hit that ball, then it would be worth something."

"Especially seeing as he doesn’t play any more," said Bella. D caught her eye once more and smiled his crooked smile. She turned back to the TV but not before she felt that uncomfortable fluttering feeling high in her chest.

The following day the school was a hive of activity. Rehearsals were going on most of the day. Bella managed to peek in and watch Adam as Gavroche sing Little People and Jordan as Enjolras sing Back at the Barricade. It was amazing how well the production was coming together. In two short days it would be opening night.

After school, Bella was making out labels for the art show when Cindy and Alyson came to see her.

"Maddy wants to see you in the music room," they said. They looked flushed with suppressed excitement. "We’ll do that for you."

"Okay, here’s the list of titles – I won’t be long."

"Take your time," said Alyson. "We’ve got it all under control."

When Bella arrived at the music room she couldn’t see Maddy anywhere. The only people there were D Jag and Jordan in the sound room. Jordan waved at her through the window and said something to Mr. Jag. The next minute his head peeked out the door and he beckoned to Bella.

"Maddy had to go, but she wanted you to wait for her here. She’ll be back soon."

"Why don’t I just go away and come back again. I’m interrupting your lesson."

"No!" said Jordan a little more loudly than he meant to. "I don’t mind if you stay, really. Sit right here and you won’t be in the way at all."

He motioned to a seat that was a little closer than Bella would have chosen, but she sat in it to please him. He went back into the sound room leaving the door wide open. Bella had a perfect view straight in. She could see Jordan bending over his electric guitar, and D sitting facing her, his gold-tone Les Paul resting on his knees. He gave her a glance that was filled with interest and then resumed the lesson.

She watched, her attention caught, as he went over each riff again and again with utmost patience. As Jordan followed the notes, he showed him how to bend the strings just so to elongate the sound and give it that soulful wail. As the riffs became more accurate, he had Jordan run them together and suddenly Bella realised what song was being taught. Samba Pa Ti. Was it just some weird coincidence or . . . Bella didn’t finish the thought. She was captured by the look on D’s face as he watched Jordan put all he had learned together, a little slow and stumbling in parts, but recognisable. It was an expression of pride - the kind a parent gets watching a child excel, mixed with caring and pleasure. It softened all the lines in his face – made him look younger, more vulnerable, and very appealing.

After Jordan reached a certain spot in the guitar line, he broke off and they began again from the beginning, playing it through together. Bella had forgotten why she was even there watching the lesson. She had never seen anything like it – the silent communication - the bond that seemed to exist between teacher and student. She noticed Jordan say something to D quietly, almost pleading, and then the man nodded and shifted in his seat, adjusting his guitar. He played the song alone, all out. The notes came through, hauntingly sweet and clear, with such fluidity that as he twisted the strings to get the full feeling out of them, Bella felt that same sensation deep inside her as all the emotion the tune provoked intertwined with a deeper longing that was buried within.

He looked up and their eyes met again and Bella wondered how anything that Phil Collins had ever said to her about him could possibly be true. She smiled at him tentatively and then turned away, overcome by the confusion in her mind.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

For a while there on Friday it didn’t seem like anything was going to come together. Cues were missed, the curtain stuck, and the sound system was shorting out. Bella had problems of her own, too. She came in early to set up the art show and found that all the display screens had not yet been assembled in the library. She needed someone who was handy with a screwdriver to help her. The big panels that should have been in place in front of the bookshelves were awkward and unwieldy for her to handle alone. To make matters worse, all her grade 7 assistants seemed to have vanished. She was struggling to hold the panel in place and use the screwdriver at the same time when she felt its weight suddenly disappear.

"It looks like you could use some help," came a familiar deep voice.

"No! You really think so?" Bella wiped her forehead and then attacked the screw. "Do you have any idea where all my trusty assistants are?"

"I think they’re in the gym setting up chairs. Why wasn’t this all prepared for you?"

"You tell me," said Bella, still irritated. It was not only the fact that the room wasn’t ready for her that rankled, it was also that he had been the one to find her struggling ineffectually. She had not yet come to any clear decision about what to think of him. When he was so matter of factly helpful it confused her all the more.

"Phil Collins was supposed to assemble this last night. Were you going to get some help or were you just going to put your back out trying to do this on your own?"

"I could have done it," she muttered almost inaudibly.

"If we do it together, it’ll be done in half the time." He smiled and her bad temper dissipated.

"Sorry for being rude."

"You should have seen how cranky I was half an hour ago. Let me try that." He held his hand out for the screwdriver and she held the panel steady while he deftly sunk the screw. Working together, they had all the display screens put together and in place within an hour.

"Thanks," she said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. "You really rescued me, but isn’t there something you were supposed to be doing?"

"I was looking for Chance about a problem . . . and someone said to try here. You haven’t seen him, I suppose?"

"No."

"Then I really should be going." He hesitated and was about to speak again, and then appeared to change his mind. Bella waited, a questioning look on her face. "No – um . . . I’ll see you later."

He looked almost comically flustered, and Bella found herself grinning as he left the room. If she had given it some thought she couldn’t have said why, but she immediately began hanging the pictures and soon her mind was full of nothing else. At 4:30, after a hectic day, she and June were back at the cabin for a quick meal, shower, and change before returning to the school at 6:00 for their evening duties. Bella had to supervise the art show until curtain time when she would be free to watch the production.

Before they left for the school Bella surveyed herself in the mirror one last time, as she put little garnet studs in her ears. At her throat was a garnet butterfly suspended from a fine gold chain - along with the earrings a gift from her parents on her nineteenth birthday. Her hair had been loosed from the two fat braids she had worn all day and now cascaded over her shoulders in rippling waves. A new dress from the boutique by the lake draped her curves and ended swirling just below her knees; aubergine velvet with spaghetti straps, unlike anything she had worn in a long time. She felt a little self-conscious and wondered who on earth she was trying to impress, but June had been adamant that she buy and wear the dress tonight.

"You can’t be in jeans all the time," she had said as she dragged Bella into the store a few days before. "You’ll blow the socks off everyone in that dress." And Bella had to admit that June was right. The dress fit her perfectly.

"Just whose socks am I trying to blow off?"

"Katrina Berg’s," said June smugly. "Among others."

Colin was waiting for Bella on the school porch. When he saw her he smiled slowly.

"If I knew you cleaned up so well, I never would have agreed to a platonic friendship," he said as he gave her a hug.

"You didn’t have a choice," said Bella.

They walked into the school together, hand in hand, and were stopped by a bottleneck of people meeting and greeting in the hall. Bella manoeuvred past them on her way down the hall to the library. She noticed D Jag ahead, coming her way, accompanied by an older woman in a black designer gown, a silk shawl draped over one shoulder.

As he came towards her he stopped abruptly, forgetting his companion completely. His eyes were on her strong and hard. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You look so very . . . nice."

"You look pretty nice yourself." Her voice held just a hint of cheekiness. He reddened perceptibly under his tan. Bella reflected that it was a good thing she didn’t like him because in his crisp white shirt and black tailored pants he looked stunning. It wouldn’t do to start falling for someone who worked at the school, especially him, with the attitude she knew he had towards dating a staff member. Anyway he was way out of her league.

Colin came up beside her, smiling affably, and D’s expression changed immediately. He looked austere and unapproachable, but his eyes never left Bella.

The older woman did not appear to appreciate that loss of attention towards herself. She craned her neck up at Colin and asked in a loud voice. "Who is this girl? I don’t think we have met."

"Aunt Katrina," said Colin smoothly, "this is Bella Gardiner. She works at the school."

The lady gave a little sniff from flared nostrils. "Indeed."

"She works in the art department," said D, finally finding his voice. "Bella, this is Katrina Berg."

Bella put out her hand and said, "I’m also the lunch supervisor. It’s good to meet you." Bella had to hold back a laugh at the look on Mrs. Berg’s face. She was visibly taken aback and almost withdrew her hand, but she grudgingly made the briefest possible contact and then turned back to D.

"I can’t lose my spot in the front row."

"It is reserved for you, Aunt Katrina." He appeared embarrassed at his aunt’s rudeness.

"Excuse me, but I should already be in the library," said Bella, more to D than to his aunt who was already stalking off ahead.

D stared after Bella and Colin and only returned his attention to Katrina Berg when she stopped and called to him peremptorily.

"My aunt is a bit of a tartar," said Colin, "to put it in polite terms. Sorry about that."

"The look on her face when she found out she was shaking hands with the lunch supervisor was priceless," said Bella, giggling.

Colin stayed with Bella as she did her shift at the art show and then he led her to the seats he had already set aside for them in the auditorium. The performance was impressive. Bella held her breath through the suicide scene. When Javert climbed the ladder symbolising the bridge, wires were unobtrusively attached to him, and he threw himself off and was slowly lowered amid wavering blue lights: the waters of the river Seine. It was powerfully poignant and she was amazed at the emotion displayed on stage by this young crew of amateur actors. For her it rivalled any top ranked professional production.

After the last curtain call, the audience filed out full of that elated rush of feeling that a satisfying performance brings. Bella found words were inadequate as she smiled and nodded in agreement to all the accolades that were being spouted. Back in the hall they ran into D again who this time was standing and talking distractedly to Cassandra. She was encased in a floor length persimmon tube with a slit up one side that exposed an entire meticulously tanned leg, and she was leaning into him and clutching his arm for dear life. Colin’s eye swept over the group and then he twirled Bella into his arms and kissed her exuberantly right on the lips. She looked up at him, startled and laughing and was about to ask him what brought that on, when D stepped forward and grabbed his cousin’s arm.

"Just what the heck do you think you are doing?" he asked in a low, hard voice, and then he pulled Colin through the front door, leaving Bella standing in the hall with a stunned looking Cassandra.

Bella was beginning to fume inwardly about the Jag Man’s officious behaviour when she looked across the hall and saw Carla standing in the office doorway with an expression of utter desolation on her face. As their eyes met and Bella was just about to rush across the chasm that now stretched between them, Carla turned and walked back into the office, closing the door behind her.

"So you and Colin are an item?" asked Cassandra, bringing Bella’s focus back from the blank surface of the door. "I hope you don’t really expect anything to come from that. He’s such a ladies’ man."

"Colin and I understand each other very well," said Bella. Her tone of voice was not intended to encourage conversation.

"Really? Well I was just trying to help. Don’t say I didn’t warn you." Cassandra smirked at her and tossed back her straight, blunt cut hair with a flick of her head. She looked around for someone more important to talk to and sauntered over to Katrina Berg. "Oh Mrs. Berg! Wasn’t that wonderful? You must be so proud."

Bella wondered what on earth that old bat had to be proud about. She had nothing constructive whatsoever to do with the production of the musical. All she had done was preside over the event. Bella could see what side of the family D Jag took after. Luckily Colin was different, although she wasn’t too happy with him at the moment either. He walked through the door just then with a sheepish look on his face.

"Take me home." Bella didn’t need to say more. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the door and down the steps. They passed by D who was standing leaning against the side of the school, staring out into the distance. Colin opened her door and then got in and fired up his engine. He turned off the music and looked over at her.

"Is it okay if I don’t take you straight home?"

"If it means you’re going to tell me what that was all about – yeah."

They drove out to the lake and parked. Colin let out a huge sigh.

"I’m sorry, that was really stupid."

"What were you trying to do?"

"Kill two birds with one stone, only I think I was aiming at one of the wrong birds."

"I don’t understand what you’re saying." Bella looked at him intently

.

Colin drew his hand back through his hair. "I’m an idiot. This thing between Carla and me is driving me crazy. I just wanted her to realise that she still cares about me."

"You were trying to make her jealous?" Bella had her hands on her hips and looked at him accusingly. "With me? I’m her friend – that was so cruel."

"I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind, after all we both know there’s nothing like that between us. It’s not as if I’d be raising false hopes or anything."

"I meant cruel to her, Colin. Will you tell me what happened between you two? Maybe I can help. You are only making things worse with your bright ideas."

Colin sat and stared at the lake for a long time. "I never had any trouble getting girlfriends. If I blew it with one, there was always another one ready to take her place. I guess that kind of thing’s not too good for the ego. Makes it outrageously overblown. I could always get any girl I wanted. They never meant anything to me – I had a good time and never even thought about their feelings. When I came here Carla was working at the lodge. We had fun together. She told me she wasn’t going to get taken in by a flirt like me, so I swore I’d make her love me. I went after her relentlessly. I gave up all the other girls and constantly told her how much I loved her. Eventually she got taken in by my sincerity and admitted that she loved me. What a conquest. You wouldn’t believe how different it was to be with a girl who actually really cared for me and not my money or the good time I could show her. That was a great summer – I’ve never had a better one." He glanced over at Bella and tried to smile, but his eyes were too full of despair. The result was a bittersweet twist of his features that wrenched her heart. "But I just didn’t get it. I thought I had the best of both worlds – that she loved me and would forgive me anything. She caught me with another girl and I promised I would never do it again . . . but I did. I told you I’m an idiot."

"So she dumped you." Bella said it softly, without rancour.

"She did. She quit her job at the resort. She wouldn’t answer my calls or even speak to me. In the end I got angry. Who did she think she was anyway? I took girls out in town to places where I thought she’d see me with them to show her what she was missing. The next summer when I came back I swore I’d have nothing to do with her and it would be the time of my life. I didn’t lack for girlfriends, but it was the most dismal, empty summer of my existence. When I finally moved here for good to take over the business, I told myself I wouldn’t let the fact that she lived here get to me - that it was crazy to let this one girl get under my skin. But it didn’t matter how much I tried, I could never find that same thing I had with her. It’s been ten years, and I wasted a lot of those years blaming her, when of course it was all my fault. I’ve tried to get back with Carla. She’ll talk and joke with me like we’re old friends, but if I ever try to get close, or even attempt to discuss something more serious, she’ll just look at me and say, ‘You’ll never change so don’t waste my time.’ But, you know, I can’t give up. I have to believe that deep down she still loves me. I just have to."

Bella reached out and took his hand. "If you had seen her face tonight after you kissed me, you’d know that she still feels something – but all you’ve done is hurt her all over again. You really deserve the genius of the year award for that move. You’ve just proved her point."

"But I love her," he whispered. "How can I get her to understand that?"

"No games. You’re going to have to find a way to tell her that she’ll believe."

They both stared at the lengthening reflection of the moon on the still, black water for some time. It seemed hopeless. Colin started up the car again and began to drive slowly back to the cabin.

"So, what about the other bird?" asked Bella suddenly out of the dark.

"What?"

"You said you were trying to kill two birds."

"Like I said, wrong bird. The one I was aiming at was already plucked."

"Are you going to explain that comment?"

"I think I’d better shut up while I’m ahead," said Colin laughing ruefully.

Bella was quiet again, her thoughts going back to the kiss and D Jag’s reaction. "Why does your cousin think he’s in control of everything?"

"What are you . . . oh . . . he was just being my father."

"I don’t think it’s his business who you kiss. Or was he more worried that you were kissing someone in his precious school?" Her anger at his reaction was beginning to resurface.

"No, I don’t think that was it at all."

As he led her up to her door, he jokingly asked her, "So, how was it anyway? Like kissing your brother?"

"I don’t have a brother. I’d have to say it was like kissing my best friend. Pleasant, but no sparks. How was it for you?"

"The same. Does that bother you?"

"It relieves me."

Colin laughed and pulled her close. "Me too. Thanks for listening."

Both of the Saturday performances of Les Mis were flawless. Sunday morning Bella was back at the school taking down the art display. Colin had arranged to pick her up there and take her to the resort for a swim. Phil Collins came into the library when she was just about done.

"I’m here to take the panels down," he said, swinging his tool belt as he prepared to strap it round his waist.

"Thanks for putting them up for me," Bella said with heavy sarcasm.

"I’m sure you found someone to help you."

"Mr. Fitzwilliam did."

"You two were alone in here working together? Haven’t I warned you about him?"

"I don’t know that I believe you," said Bella. "Everybody else has such a high opinion of him."

"That’s because they don’t know what I know." He came closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Latest news I heard, that girl he was stalking and who knows what else up there at that last school of his – she was only in grade 8."

Shivers ran up Bella’s spine. She did not know if it was due to the janitor’s proximity or his words.

"That was a sexy little dress you were wearing the other night."

As Bella turned and ran from the room, she heard him call after her, "Hey, aren’t you going to stay and help me with these?"

She got to the parking lot just as Colin’s Mustang pulled in.

"Can’t wait to get out of this joint, eh?" He was laughing as he leaned over and opened the door for her. When she got in, he noticed she was breathing heavily. "Something wrong?"

"It’s just that mindless jerk, Phil Collins."

"Did he try and make a move on you? Do you want me to go beat some sense into him?"

"Forget it. He didn’t really do anything – just something he said made me sick."

"The pervert."

"Don’t worry about it. Let’s go for that swim." Bella leaned back and smiled, trying to erase the feeling of revulsion that had overcome her in library.

They were driving through town now, and soon were on the road that wound through the hills to the west of the lake on the other side of the lakeshore properties. "So did you talk to Carla?"

Bella could see that Colin was trying not to look too eager, so she sighed right away to show him that she hadn’t been able to make any headway. "I tried to tell her that you were just excited about the play and that we are just friends and the kiss meant nothing." She took a breath. "She said that she’s seen you with loads of girls before and she can tell that it’s different with me."

"Of course it’s different with you! I’m not trying anything!" He punched the dash in frustration.

"It’ll take a bit of time," said Bella. "You just set yourself back the other night."

"It’s been damn near ten years," he muttered.

Bella cast him a look of sympathy as he turned the music up. By the time they arrived at the lodge they were both singing along to Tom Petty, their tempers considerably improved.

Free Falling does it for me every time," said Colin with a grin. "Do you need somewhere to change?"

"No, I ‘m wearing my bathing suit under my clothes, but I did forget my towel in the library."

"I’ve got plenty. I’ll go get you one and I’ll meet you down by the water."

Bella swam and relaxed for most of the afternoon. Colin joined her for part of the time, but he also had work to take care of. Daisy joined Bella at one point but luckily her master didn’t make an appearance. Bella wasn’t ready for a tête-à-tête alone with him on the beach. Phil Collins’ words were still ringing in her ears, doing battle with the impression she had got from D during the guitar lesson. Then there was his comment to Colin after the kiss. Why had he dragged him off and what had he said to him? Colin would not tell her. All she knew was it was uncalled for and overbearing. And yet he had been so nice to her when he’d helped her in the library. She remembered how he’d looked the night of the musical, and she told herself not to think about it.

Colin came by around 6:00 and looked down at her where she sat, absently stroking Daisy’s back. "So that’s where she’s got too! Do you want to come in for a drink and clean up a bit before we go to dinner?"

"Sure." Bella got up, gathered her things, and shook out her towel. Daisy followed close on her heels as they went into the lodge.

"Is this the first time you’ve been in here?" Colin asked as they entered the lobby. "The dining room is over there and just beyond that are the restrooms."

Bella wasn’t listening to a word he was saying. Instead she was staring, transfixed, at a spot above the fireplace. Hanging there for all the world as if it was painted for that very location was her picture of the rock. She turned slowly and found, over a broad green couch, her painting of the canoe through the branches. Her first thought was how well they looked in their surroundings, her second, what on earth were they doing here at the resort?

"The paintings . . ." Bella let it hang as a question in the air. She could say no more.

"Do you like them? I think they are great, but I know nothing about art. D’s always supporting these local artists - giving them sales, helping them get their feet on the ground. He buys up their stuff just to boost their confidence. But in this case . . ."

"In this case I bought these paintings because I wanted them . . . because they speak to me. Because I am inspired when I see them." His eyes were on Bella as he spoke and his voice, which started out hard and tight, ended with a soft gentle tone. Unfortunately it was lost on her; she had stopped listening after the first ten words. All she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears. She was looking at him as if through a tunnel, seeing only his lips move. She had no idea where he had even come from

"When did you get in?" asked Colin. "Bella and I were just going out to dinner. I did find Daisy for you, though. You’ll never guess where she . . ." He trailed off when he realised that neither of them had heard a word he was saying. They were staring at each other with such intensity that the air around them was palpable. All at once Bella turned her head towards Colin, severing the eye contact.

"I – I’ve got a headache. I’m sorry . . . I need to go home." She barely managed to choke out the words.

"Of course. I’ll take you right now." Colin took her hand and nodded at D, who was left standing in the middle of the room, staring after them.

When he finally pulled into Bella’s driveway, he turned to her, breaking the silence between them.

"Those are your paintings, aren’t they?"

"Yes."

"I didn’t know. I guess that much is obvious. Here I am – supposedly your good friend – and I had no idea. I knew you painted, but I never thought - heck – I never realised you were that good . . . after all you work in the school supervising those kids at lunch." He looked at her and put his head on one side, giving her a goofy grin. "I’m just digging myself deeper aren’t I? I’m sorry I’ve been so self involved."

"At least you said you liked them." She looked up, her eyes full of unshed tears, and tried to return his smile.

He took her head in both his hands and leaned over and kissed her forehead. "What I said was a load of rot. He bought them because he likes them – because they are good."

"Thanks. And thanks for taking me to your beach. I’ll see you later." Bella got out of the car before he could come around and open the door for her. They walked to her porch together.

"Take something for that headache, okay?" He looked down at her with concern. "I’ll call you."

"Okay." She turned the handle and went in.

Two hours later Bella was woken by the telephone. It took her a moment to even figure out that she was sleeping on the couch, let alone find the phone. The only thing she could think was the last thing he had said to her was he would call. But why so soon? He must have just got back to the resort.

"Hello." She knew she sounded groggy, but she didn’t care.

"Hiya Bell!"

Bella took a moment to readjust her mindset. It wasn’t who she had been expecting at all. "Layla."

"Guess what? Me’n George are movin’ to Vancouver! I’m finally gettin’ outta this hole!"

Bella held the receiver away from her head. It was difficult to handle the cheery voice. "That’s great Layla."

"I’ll call you when we get a new number – or you could call George’s cell."

"I’ll wait for your number. I don’t want to call George."

"C’mon! Stop ragging on George, will you? We’re still together and you said he would leave me. Told ya he loves me. Hey – guess what? ‘Member that teacher you told me about with the weird name? The one who dissed you so bad? Fitzthingummy or something?"

"Mr. Fitzwilliam." It was a strain to say it. He was the one who had caused her headache – he . . . Layla’s strident voice cut through her thoughts.

"That’s the one! Well, you’ll never believe it, but George says he knows him. Went to a school he taught at before he came here. Says he is a real a . . . jerk. Oh! He wants to talk to you."

"No, Layla. Please. I don’t want to talk to . . ."

"Hey there, Bella baby!"

"George."

"So Mr. Fitz teaches at your school? What a coincidence. Is he as big of a prick as ever?"

"He’s okay."

"Can’t be. He’s a self-righteous bas . . ."

Bella held the phone away from her head. She didn’t want to talk to George at all but she suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to ask him a question – after all, he was there – at about the right time too, as far as she could tell. "George, was there some big scandal at that school back then?"

"What do you know about it?" He sounded a little apprehensive.

Bella’s heart sank. "I heard there was some kind of thing between a teacher and a student. Stalking and, well – I don’t know any of the details."

George was silent for a moment and then he spoke with assurance. "You’ve come to the right place. I know all about it . . . so you were told Mr. Fitz was involved?"

"Yes."

George laughed. It was not a nice sound. "Well don’t that beat all! And I thought the whole thing was swept under the rug."

"Is it true?"

"He was involved all right, Bella baby. Right up to his eyeballs. That stinking son of a . . ."

"And the girl was in grade 8?" Bella could barely speak. Now, when she had almost convinced herself that it wasn’t true, everything Phil Collins had said was being verified.

"Yeah. She was in grade 8, and a real sweet kid too. It was a damn shame."

"Say goodbye to Layla for me George."

Bella blindly hung up the phone. Angry tears were streaming down her face. She heard a car door outside, and laughing voices. She rushed to her room and threw herself on the bed. She couldn’t face June and Chance now. It was a good thing tomorrow was a professional day and there was no school. She didn’t even think she’d be able to deal with the kids, and the last person she wanted to see was him. She couldn’t keep this to herself any longer, but she needed time to think, to figure out whom to go to. He owned this town. She lay on the bed and let her mind run free. All the things that had happened this weekend washed over her: the paintings at the resort, the phone call, the way he had helped her with the panels, the look on his face when he had first seen her Friday night, Collins’ greasy grin as he had told her about the girl. Everything. Why were appearances always so deceptive? Why did nothing ever turn out the way it should?

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Bella got up early. There was really no sense rolling around in bed any longer. She hadn’t been able to sleep. Her sheets and blanket were all sweaty and tied in knots. Her hair was a tangled mess. She couldn’t even get a brush through it so she put it in one big loose braid down her back and pulled on a t-shirt and jeans. She threw a sketchpad and watercolour pencils into her pack and went through to the kitchen to make a lunch. After writing a quick note for June and putting it on the fridge, she let herself out the back door and walked around to June’s car in the driveway. She knew June would not be using it.

The road out to the provincial park was empty. She drove to the day use area and parked right up by the lake. The water was still and clear, reflecting the hazy morning sky. She looked at her watch. Just past seven. Was it really that early? After locking the car, she heaved her pack over her shoulders and headed out onto a trail. She didn’t really care where she went. As far away as possible was all she wanted. Somewhere where nobody was. She could escape from the world, but even though she knew she couldn’t escape her thoughts, she was going to give it her best shot.

The idea of her paintings in his possession, on his walls, made her feel violated. She had thought that people liked them. That she was a success. But it was just him and some twisted obsession. He had looked so intense when he’d said he bought them because he wanted them. Like he always had to have the things that he wanted. Like a grade 8 girl. It made her sick to the stomach how someone who was capable of building up such a strong rapport with children, as she daily witnessed in his dealings with his students, could misuse their trust like that. She felt tears come again and she held them back, trampling along the path uncaring where it might lead her, swatting occasionally at the scrubby underbrush of wild currant and Saskatoon that reached across the path to catch at her legs.

She arrived at a long arm of the lake, skirted it and headed into the forest again. The sun was filmed by high pearly cloud, the day was heavy and muggy, the shade of the trees lent some sweet freshness to the air. Bella let the mindless placing of one foot before the other replace the relentless revolution of thoughts within her brain. She arrived at water again, shook her numbed head, and looked at her watch. 11:30. She had been walking for just over four hours. She was unsure how that had happened or how she had even reached where she was, but the spot was temptingly comfortable. There was a soft stretch of mossy grass under a large pine, and a flat rock that could serve as a table. Bella unpacked her food and then took off her shoes and rolled up her pants. She walked in almost knee deep and filled her empty water bottle from the colder depths of the lake. The water felt good on her tired feet.

Her sandwich and apple disappeared quickly. She sipped the water, looking about her at stretch of lake she had discovered, the trees that rode up to the water’s edge, and the rocks that spilled out from them and down into the cool wet. She would stay here and draw for a few hours before turning back, but first, the lack of sleep was finally overtaking her. She curled up on the grass and put her pack under her head. Her eyes closed and she was soon deeply and dreamlessly asleep.

It was a mosquito that finally woke her, its high-pitched whine circling her ear. She swatted at it ineffectually a few times and then gave up and opened her eyes. There was a crick in her neck and her hip had discovered rocks under the short grass. She sat and stretched, hoping she hadn’t overslept. A glance at her watch showed her that it was one o’clock. Another at the sky showed the same misty, pale grey with no clue about the location of the sun. She thought she had slept longer, but if it was only one there were still a couple of hours left for drawing before she would have to turn around and attempt the four hour hike back to June’s car.

She settled herself on the flat rock with her sketchbook on her knee. She drew the rocks about her, the burled tree roots, and the edges of water, then she took her finger and water from her bottle and pulled and blended the colours, muting the sharp lines and creating new subtly different, almost murky colours on the creamy vellum. The sound of a prow cutting through water and the firm splash of a paddle captured her awareness. She looked up and recognised the canoe immediately. It was the one she had painted before. She recognised the rower too, and with a sinking feeling she realised that she should have known it all along. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to escape trouble. If trouble wants you, it knows how to find you. D Jag – here. She hoped against hope that he wouldn’t see her.

Nobody was granting her wishes today. In a few moments the canoe changed course and Bella knew that she had not gone unnoticed. She was all alone out here in the wilderness and he was the last person she wanted to see. She felt fear grip her. Would he use this occasion to try to satiate his weird obsession? There was nowhere Bella could go to escape him short of running pell-mell into the bush. She uttered a silent prayer and began putting her pencils back in their box. Then she turned towards the water to face the inevitable.

The canoe ground into the shore and D jumped out, wrapping the painter about a large rock. "Hi," he called out as he walked towards her. There was a smile on his face that was so open and warm that she thought for a minute that all her imaginings had been wildly improbable. But she couldn’t forget that he was very good at what he did. He must be for no one else to even suspect him. "How did you get all the way out here?"

She stooped to grab her pack and began putting her things in it. "I walked."

"Alone?"

Bella did not want to admit it, but she had no choice. She was very obviously alone.

"Isn’t it a little late? It should take more than four hours to walk back to the park. Is that where you started from?"

Bella looked at him, her confusion showing on her face. "Yes but I’ve got plenty of time. It’s only . . ." she looked at her watch. "It’s only 1:20. It doesn’t get dark until about 10:00."

D looked at his own watch. "It’s more like 6:00, and it’ll be dark in the woods way before 10:00."

"No – that can’t be," said Bella looking at her watch again. A sudden chill crept up her spine. It had been one o’clock when she had woken up, surely it had taken longer than twenty minutes to draw that picture. She looked at her second hand. It wasn’t moving. She sat down heavily on the rock and put her head in her hands. "My watch has stopped." It all made sense now. Her battery must have been dying all day and the time had never been correct. Not even when she thought it was seven in the morning. The walk had taken longer than four hours. Her sleep had been more than just a short nap. She could never walk back to the car before it got dark. She was trapped.

"You must have been lost in your drawing, not to notice how long you were out."

"I fell asleep. What am I going to do?" She said it out loud, but she wasn’t really saying it to him. Mentally she was wondering if she would be warm enough if she slept in the woods until morning. Temperatures dipped very low at night, even in the summer. And she had to be at work by lunchtime. Then there was June. If Bella didn’t come home, she would have search parties out.

"I’ve got a canoe," said D, coming even closer. "Do you have a car at the park? I can give you a ride there."

"It’s okay, I can walk."

"No you can’t. It’ll get dark too quickly. You’re all alone. You could get lost - I couldn’t take that chance."

"What’s it to you?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes.

"Everything." He said it simply and softly, and then he reached out and pulled her to him. "You are everything that’s important in my life. Don’t you realise that?" His words were strained, almost harsh. His eyes caught her startled gaze and he bent his head towards hers. "Bella," he whispered.

She was too stunned to move. His lips met hers softly, tenderly, and then continued with more urgency as he tightened his hold around her. It was a long, deep, and well-developed kiss. Nothing like Colin’s. She went limp in his arms, her mind lost somewhere on a sea of stars, or cresting waves, or taken on a swirling tempestuous wind. He held her head gently against his chest and rested his chin upon it. "You don’t know how long I have wanted to do that - how difficult it has been to see you every day and hold myself back."

With his words, rational thought returned. Bella struggled in his arms and pushed him away from her. "Don’t touch me!"

He stood where she had pushed him, a bewildered look upon his face. His eyes held hers and she stared back bravely, hoping that she would not lose her resolve. "Bella?"

"Am I some new obsessive desire in your sick and twisted mind? You’ve been staring at me in that brooding way, creeping up, stalking, waiting for a chance like this. Well I may be out here all alone but I’m not going to let you have any satisfaction. I’d die in the woods rather!" She was shaking uncontrollably.

"Did I frighten you? I’m sorry – I thought if I kissed you, you might understand how I feel, discover what you feel . . ."

"I understand how I feel. Sick! Nauseous, disgusted." He took a step closer, holding out his hand.

"Don’t touch me again!"

"I won’t. I promise you."

"Do you think I believe anything you tell me? You practically admitted that you’ve been stalking me."

"I haven’t been stalking you. I said I wanted to kiss you for a long time. That’s true. But it’s not some obsession – I care about you. I’ve been holding back because, well, I don’t think I should be dating someone who works in the school. My aunt is very powerful in this town. I only got the go ahead for this program by the skin of my teeth. She wants a traditional school and she’ll use anything in her power to get what she wants. Any hint of scandal and we’re toast. After you came along, it didn’t take me long to realise that I was in danger of breaking my own cardinal rule. But I don’t care any more. You are more important to me than the school."

Bella ignored everything else that he said and jumped on one point. "You tried to break Chance and June up."

"How do you know about that? No – you don’t need to answer - it doesn’t matter. Yeah, I suggested he quit seeing her. I thought she was just using him and I didn’t want him to get hurt. And I was worried it would affect the program – maybe that’s why I didn’t believe in her – because I didn’t want to. I admit I was wrong. They’re great together." He looked at her, took a breath, and then changed the subject back. "Where did you get this idea that I’m stalking you?"

"I know all about what happened in your other school."

"What?" He was completely at a loss.

"Phil Collins told me all about it. I almost started not believing him and then last night . . . last night I was talking to my sister’s boyfriend, George Wicks, and he told me it was all true. I didn’t want to believe it anymore, but what else could I do? And now you – you . . ."

"George Wicks? You know George Wicks?" D’s face turned white with anger.

"Yes! And now this whole town will hear about you because I’m not going to keep quiet and you’ll never teach again!"

"I think you’d better tell me exactly what you think I’ve done so I know what I’m to defend myself against," he said in a harsh voice that he tried to keep level.

Bella knew that she had made him angry, and that she was alone with him out in the wilderness, but she didn’t care any more. He was going to hear it from her – all of it. "Collins told me about the scandal in that other school you taught at. How a teacher stalked a grade 8 girl. He said something about licentious behaviour too. And he told me that although it was all hushed up, you were the only teacher to leave the school after the incident. Money can really buy immunity, can’t it?"

"So far you have incriminated me on nothing but rumour and innuendo."

"But George backed everything up – and he was there at the time!"

"Yes he was, wasn’t he. I would be interested to know what he had to say." There was a hard glint in D’s eyes. He looked very dangerous.

"He said it was all true – that you were involved in it right up to your eyeballs. He said the girl in grade 8 was a sweet kid, that what happened was a real shame. He’s one of the biggest creeps I know, but at least he had some consideration for a young girl like that. You just took advantage of her! And then you have the nerve to come and teach here, like it was all nothing, and any one of these kids could be your next victim! And you worried about me and my record! So if I am a college drop out! There were reasons for that that you could never understand! So if I never held a full time job before and came from a two-bit town! It was much more dangerous for the school and the precious ‘program’ to have you here than me!" Bella drew the back of her hand across her face, swiping at the tears that were now flowing freely.

"You overheard me that day. I . . ."

Bella cut him off quickly. "You called me a college drop out! Do you know what it’s like to have your parents die in a crash? To have the whole town say your dad drove into the logging truck on purpose because he was a failure? He wasn’t even driving, my mom was. And it was the damn logging truck with the faulty breaks that caused it – that killed my parents. And you expect me to finish my semester when I’m trying to deal with grief like that?"

"I had no idea," he said in a stunned voice. "Bella . . ."

"You had no idea! How can you accuse somebody of something you know nothing about? And then – and then you go and buy my paintings as part of your strange obsessive perversion, so you can have some kind of weird hold over me. And you are engaged . . . to the same person who is selling all my paintings to you. I thought I was selling them to real customers. I thought people who liked them were buying them. I thought I might really be good and have a chance to actually make it. But it was just you. You. Trying to buy me like I was some sleazy hooker. You can’t buy me, you can’t have me, and you are the last person in the world I would ever want to own my paintings." She stood there facing him, heaving for breath, not bothering to wipe away the tears.

He finally turned away from her and looked out over the grey water. "So that’s what you think of me. To you I’m some kind of depraved lunatic and all the time I’ve been stupidly falling in love with you. I guess I can forget that now. Let’s go."

Bella sat on the boulder, her head in her arms. "Just leave me alone, please."

 

"You are going to get into this canoe and I am going to take you to your car. I know you think I’m inhuman, but at least believe me when I say that I’m not all that inhuman that I would leave you stranded out here." He looked at her, his expression dark and unyielding.

"I’m going to walk," Bella said, putting on her pack and getting up.

"If you do, I’m coming with you. Whether we want to be together or not right now we are stuck with each other, so no matter how much you may hate me, you are getting into the canoe."

Bella reluctantly turned and walked toward the canoe. She slipped and stumbled on a loose stone, and D immediately put his hand out to steady her. She shook it off. "I can manage on my own; I don’t need any of your help." She clambered unsteadily into the front of the canoe and sat, facing the water. It was good that one sat facing forward in a canoe because she could not have borne facing him. He pushed the canoe out and boarded in one fluid motion.

At first there was no sound but the dip of the paddle and the rush of the water creaming against the bows as he paddled swiftly, following along the shoreline. Bella was staring straight ahead at one of the most beautiful scenes in existence, but she saw none of it. All that she was aware of was the horrible scenario she had just been a part of. The enormity of all she had said to him weighted down on her. And now she was stuck with him for a couple of hours in a boat when all she felt like doing was drowning herself in the unforgiving water.

"You may not want to hear a single thing I have to say, but I think you owe it to me – and I have you captive so you have no choice. You can cover your ears, but I’ll keep talking." He paused. Bella sat resolute, her hands on her lap. The only indication that she heard him was a slight stiffening of her back. "You just said I shouldn’t accuse you of something when I know nothing about it – I think I could safely say the same to you."

‘What does he think that he can say that will excuse anything he has done?’ she wondered. She sat and waited for his voice to resume. It was a few minutes before he spoke and by the time his low tones reached her again she was sincerely dreading what he had to say.

"It is difficult to know where to start - which accusation to deal with first. The two things, my being upset with Chance for hiring you without checking your credentials and the scandal at my old high school, are related. Inextricably. That might surprise you, but you will understand what I mean when I explain. First, though, I want to apologise with all my heart for hurting you with that comment about being a college drop out. I would never have said that if I had known you were within hearing, even so, I could never have known just what that comment would mean to you." He paused and when he resumed his voice had softened. "I am so sorry about your parents. I wish there were something I could say that would erase the pain I caused you, but there isn’t."

He was quiet again for another minute. Bella wiped her fresh tears away. It was true. How could he have known? But how he was going to link his disgusting behaviour to her lack of credentials she had no idea. She wondered just how inventive his imagination could get. When he began to speak again, she was surprised to hear him launching into his family history, some of which Carla had already given her.

"I think you’ve heard that I have a sister named Tess. My mother died when she was a baby. I was ten at the time. It was hard on me to lose my mother, but I always remembered that I had received ten years of her love and caring that Tess would never get. It made me very devoted to her. My dad died when I was in university, so it was only Tess and I then. I mean, there were Uncle Harry and Aunt Doris, Colin and Hank, and Aunt Katrina and Aimee, but I always felt fully responsible for Tess and didn’t rely on any of them to help out. We lived in Point Grey, but when I graduated I took whatever job was available. The school was in the east-end, a horrendous district really, but I thoughtlessly registered Tess there for grade 8 so that we could be together. That was a big mistake. The kids were rough and unfriendly and she’s sweet and shy. She had no friends, so it’s small wonder that when someone was nice to her, she thought she had found a friend. George Wicks was in grade 12. I think he had already failed twice in his school career." His voice became rough with suppressed anger. "He was good looking and cocky – not the kind of guy I would ever have expected her to be interested in. He had no class at all. They should never even have come into contact, except for one stupid twist of fate. George was as good at buttering up the female teachers as he was the students. He wanted easy credits to pass grade 12, so he registered in peer tutoring. The teacher who ran the class was infatuated with him and didn’t even go to the trouble of checking his background. If she had bothered to check, she would have discovered that he had priors. He’d been up in juvie twice for lewd behaviour and attempted rape. He should never have been allowed to peer tutor at all, especially not a grade 8 class, or have been giving one-on-one sessions with a young girl."

D stopped talking again. His voice had been on the breaking point. Bella had felt all the blood run from her face while he was speaking. There was a tight knot in the pit of her stomach. What he was saying sounded so much more real, so much more like George, so much more like what she should have expected from a man like D. Why had she jumped to such incredible conclusions? Why had she listened to Collins? Just because she had been hurt by what she had overheard D say to Chance? And now it was becoming exceedingly clear that D had good reason to want to check her credentials. Before she had time to think any further with her muddled brain, D resumed talking.

"I walked into one of the meeting rooms after school one day and found him kissing her. She was struggling to get away. Her shirt was torn open. I was just in time. I don’t want to think what would have happened if I had gone to the staff room with the other teachers instead. Tess ran into my arms crying, and I have to admit that I did something that a teacher should never do. I hit him. And then I put my sweater on Tess and took her home. The next day I discovered that I was up for a reprimand. That changed when I told them what really happened, and I pushed for the expulsion of Wicks and the dismissal of the teacher. George was expelled, but they refused to do anything about the teacher who hadn’t checked his credentials. I was furious. My sister couldn’t go back to that school – she had been betrayed, frightened and mortified and was left totally vulnerable. I quit and brought her up here till the end of the semester, and then I registered her in boarding school on Vancouver Island. She had friends there and I should have sent her in the first place, but I was selfish and kept her with me. So, how does that match up with what George Wicks told you?" There was an edge of bitterness to his voice.

Bella tried to say something but couldn’t. Her throat burned. If she opened her mouth she would begin crying. How could she answer that question after all that she had said to him? She looked up at the darkening sky and the lengthening shadows. There was still a good distance to go before they reached the car park. She didn’t know how long she could endure that icy cold she felt emanating from the man behind her. She could not look, but she knew his face must be filled with loathing.

"There are still two more things that I need to address. The first is unimportant, really, but it needs to be said if only to set the record straight. I am not engaged to my cousin, no matter what Collins may have told you or what my aunt wishes. Neither of us desire nor intend to marry each other. I know it won’t matter to you, but I would like you to know that I didn’t kiss you when I was already engaged to someone else. I don’t play around." His voice was frigid. He didn’t sound like someone who would ever kiss anyone, let alone play around. Certainly not someone who would ever kiss her again.

There was an elongated silence and then he said, "You don’t have anything to say? That’s funny – you didn’t have a problem before." Bella cringed, and in the growing dark he must have seen her reaction. "I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. It just feels strange, like I’m talking to myself in the still air. But at least I know you’re listening. I think this next one is the biggest one – at any rate it is the one thing I have actually done that really hurt you. You think I bought all your paintings for some perverse reason and that your sales are meaningless. Didn’t you hear what I said last night? I wanted them. They speak to me. They inspire me. I could have said more, but Colin was there and you weren’t listening anyway. Your paintings are extraordinary – they are amazing – and they tell me so much more about you than you have ever done. If I was an obsessive, selfish weirdo, I may have bought all of them, but I didn’t. I want other people to see them and buy them. I want you to get the recognition you deserve. And you are. I restrained myself and so far have only bought three. All the other sales are legitimate, that is if you consider mine not to be. I think I have just as much right as anyone else to buy your paintings. I will make no promises to never buy another one, and I’m keeping the ones I have. I may be the last person you ever wanted to own them, but in this case the last person bought them first. You will just have to accept that."

The stillness settled in when he stopped talking again. He had nothing more to say, and the next half-hour he spent applying himself with the paddle, his strong, even strokes moving the canoe through the water quickly. The moon had come up and stars were beginning to show themselves where the cloud had dispersed. Bella couldn’t help but think back to that night out in the meadow when he had been involved in showing her the stars and she had been expecting to be jumped at any second. What a complete and abysmal fool she was. The silence stretched tighter than a bowstring. If either of them said anything it would have been painful, like the cut of a knife. The shore neared with each stroke as the canoe jumped forward. Bella readied herself to jump out and as soon as the prow crunched into the gravel she leaped like a startled dear, splashing into the shallows.

"Wait. I’ll walk you to the car." It was like thunder and a whisper at the same time. His voice seemed to reverberate across the open expanse of the shoreline and empty parking lot, hit the trees that surrounded it and echo back. It was eerily ethereal. Unreal.

"I don’t need any help. The car is right there in plain view." Her voice creaked from lack of use and pent-up emotion.

"I’ll stay here and watch until you leave."

Bella rushed up the shore in case he changed his mind. Luckily the keys were in her pocket so she didn’t have to think. After mindlessly trying to open the door she unlocked it and jumped in, throwing her pack on the seat beside her. She shoved her keys into the ignition and cranked it so hard that it stuck on the starter’s grating whine. The sudden noise scared her so much that she turned it off, and then realising what happened she turned the key again, a little more gently this time. She switched on the lights. In their glow she could see the canoe and D sitting in it, impassively waiting for her to go.

Bella backed up, turned, and headed out of the parking lot. Luckily the park gate was still unlocked. She pulled out onto the road and then, knowing that she could no longer be seen or heard from the lake, stopped right in the middle of it, put the car into park, leaned her head forward onto the steering wheel and set free the tears that she had been holding back ever since he had stopped talking. Even as her shoulders heaved and sobs broke forth she wondered at her body’s capacity to produce such a never-ending supply of saline.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When Bella pulled the little car into the driveway, the cabin door flew open and light spilled out onto the small porch. June came running down the steps.

"Bella! Where were you? I was so worried."

Bella was out of the car and in June’s arms before she could say anything else. She held her tightly, needing the feel of June’s warm embrace. The safety and comfort of home.

June stroked her hair and tried to look into her face, which was pressed tightly to June’s shoulder.

"What’s happened? Chance and I got back an hour ago. When you weren’t home we phoned Colin and Carla and neither of them had heard from you. I was getting really worried. We were just about to go out and look for the car."

Bella became aware of the shadowy bulk of Chance’s Jeep Cherokee not far from where she had stopped June’s car. She had just driven blindly in, her only thought that she had reached her destination. She hung back as June started to lead her into the house.

"What’s wrong?"

"I don’t want to see anybody."

"It’s only Chance here, no one else," said June, misunderstanding her reluctance. She kept her arm tightly around Bella and guided her up the stairs. Chance was waiting on the porch.

"Is she okay?" whispered Chance.

"Physically, yes. Something’s happened, but I don’t know what." June’s voice was filled with concern.

Bella knew she had to say something. She spoke before going into the bright lights of the house that would give so much more away. "I went for a walk in the woods. I fell asleep. My watch stopped."

"You walked back to the car in the dark!" June’s voice was filled with shock. "Oh Bella. You could have easily become lost."

"I . . . I didn’t walk. I got a ride in a canoe."

"Someone gave you a ride back to June’s car?" asked Chance. "That’s a relief. You were lucky they found you. Who was out on the lake so late?"

"D." There was something in the way she said his name that caused June and Chance to look at each other.

"Well, I’m glad you’re back safely," said Chance, giving her a hug. "I’d better go now. I’ll call Colin and Carla and let them know there’s nothing to worry about."

June let go of Bella for a moment so she could say goodbye to Chance properly. Bella just slumped down into the porch chair, oblivious to their soft whispers and fleeting kisses. Everything she had experienced that day was swirling about in her brain hauntingly. She couldn’t begin to grapple with it all. Uppermost was the feeling of total loss mingled with the deep dread of knowing that it all had been real and could never go away. As Chance was backing out of the driveway, June put her arm about her again and made to lead her into the house.

"Oh June, I’ve done the most terrible thing," said Bella, breaking down into wracking tearless sobs.

"Nothing can be that bad, honey," whispered June holding her and rubbing her back. "Can you tell me about it? Does it have something to do with Fitz?"

Bella nodded, and allowed June to bring her into the house and settle her on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around her.

"I’ll make you some tea. Are you hungry?"

"I can’t eat," Bella managed to say.

They sat and drank their tea, Bella able to only tell June a fragment of what had passed between her and D. It was all too fresh and too painful to be repeated yet. June did not push for more details, but she said what she could to comfort Bella and attempted to dispel her fears.

"He must know you had based your opinion on lies," said June. "I know he won’t hold what you said against you."

"But what I said was so horrible. I can’t tell you how bad it was. There is no way he will ever forgive me, and I can’t blame him. But how am I going to face anybody tomorrow?"

"What you did isn’t written all over your face. You haven’t turned into some kind of monster, Bella. No one can possibly know anything except you and him – but you will have to talk to Fitz some time."

"I can’t - just seeing him will make me die of shame."

"Well maybe not tomorrow, but soon," said June. "You can’t leave it too long. If you talk to him it will all work out, I know it." She kissed her hair and then pulled her up to stand. "Now you really need to get to sleep."

Bella obediently went through the motions of getting ready for bed. It was all mechanical – she had no interest in cleaning her teeth, washing her face, or brushing her hair. June assisted her, undoing her tangled braid and carefully brushing out all the knots before re-braiding it. She handed Bella the face cream, stood over her like a parent until she rubbed it on, and then led her to her bedroom door.

"Goodnight," she said. "Promise me you won’t go to sleep in your clothes or I’ll come in and put your nightie on for you."

"I promise," said Bella in a dull voice. "Thanks." They hugged and then Bella found herself in her room, alone once more, not really sure how she had come to be there. She lay on the bed and, vaguely remembering June’s strictures, began removing her clothes.

The moonlight falling through her window caught her attention and she crossed over to look at it through the glass, wondering if the silvery light could do anything to wash away her incessant pain. She dropped her clothes where she stood, and wandered to her shelves to find a nightgown. As she moved the clothing about, a faint smell of sandalwood reached her nostrils, sending pangs throughout her system. She was suddenly in D’s arms again with his lips on hers, lost in his kiss. She had responded – she couldn’t have helped but respond.

She had been fighting her attraction to him since the first moment she had seen him, bursting from that trail into the car park. That day she had quickly assessed him as someone who would never, ever, be interested in an ordinary girl like herself. Finding him teaching in the school had been unexpected. Then he had been aloof, distant, and brutally critical of her. It had only served to reinforce her resolve to withstand his allure and gave root to her negative opinion that had formed the building blocks of so much that she wanted to forget. But somehow, surprisingly, contrary to everything she had ever expected, he had become interested. Against his will. He had said that he cared, that she was everything to him, more important even than the school. He had said he was falling in love with her. And his kiss had been something she had never before experienced – could never have imagined. The way she had responded had frightened her to the core, thinking what she did of him. She had pushed him away in anger as much at herself as at him and she had unleashed some sort of demon from her soul – had sealed her own doom. Killed whatever growing feelings of love she had instilled in him. And throughout the experience, from the very first meeting to this disastrous ending, she had been unable to prevent the unthinkable. She had fallen in love with him. Now, when everything was hopeless, she fully realised that. And she knew she deserved all the heartache she had coming to her.

Bella pulled everything from her shelves until she had the sweater in her hands. She held the soft brown wool up to her face and breathed in his scent. It was the closest she would ever come to him again. She turned and walked back to her bed, nightgown forgotten, and crawled in under her tumbled blankets. She nestled her head upon the sweater and closed her eyes, trying to fill her mind with the warm fragrance, eradicate the memories that kept invading.

To you I’m some kind of depraved lunatic and all the time I’ve been stupidly falling in love with you. I guess I can forget that now.

We can both forget that now. She pulled the sweater closer, buried her face in it.

Am I some new obsessive desire in your sick and twisted mind . . . And then you have the nerve to come and teach here, like it was all nothing, and any one of these kids could be your next victim . . . then you go and buy my paintings as part of your strange obsessive perversion . . . . But it was just you. You. Trying to buy me like I was some sleazy hooker.

And there was more – so much more. All her words were coming back to slap her in the face – to be imbedded so deep that she could never escape them. How could she find peace when the only thing that replaced her spiteful words was the image of D sitting and watching her in the car’s headlights, and then turning his canoe and paddling back across the lake, utterly alone, with her terrible treatment of him – her appalling accusations ringing in his ears?

It was the story of his sister and George that hurt the most – especially after what she had said: at least he had some consideration for a young girl like that. You just took advantage of her! As those words of hers reverberated in her head she thought of the truth as she now knew it, of his sister betrayed and almost seduced by the creep. Her young innocent soul violated. And Bella remembered all that George had told her. Every word he had said to her was true. He must be laughing himself silly right now at how he wilfully misled her, just to get back at D. That must have been it. George certainly didn’t care what she thought of him. How could she have possibly believed him?

Sleep was not going to come if she continued this mental flailing. Self-recriminations were futile. They only served to deepen the guilt. She had to get outside of her head to gain some modicum of peace. She thought music might help and turned on her radio. It was an old favourite of hers that was playing, a song that she loved, but the lyrics were not designed to help her. In her present mood they translated themselves as they had never done before.

. . .You were there like a blowtorch burning
I was a key that could use a little turning
So tired that I couldn’t even sleep so many secrets I couldn’t keep
Promised myself I wouldn’t weep one more promise I couldn’t keep
It seems no one can help me now I’m in too deep there’s no way out
This time I have really led myself astray
Runaway train never going back
Wrong way on a one way track . . .

The pain and hopelessness deepened. She held onto the sweater as if it was her only link to reality as she became lost in a sea of emotion. The lyrics penetrated again, haunting her.

. . . Can you help me remember how to smile
Make it somehow all seem worthwhile . . .

Was there something that could get her through this? She had to face tomorrow, and all the subsequent tomorrows to come.

. . . Here I am just drownin’ in the rain
With a ticket for a runaway train . . .*

She couldn’t just cry in the rain – torture herself about the dreadful things she had said to him – end up on a train going nowhere. No matter if happiness was lost to her and life would never be the same – never be what she had dreamed it could be – she had to find a path through this, and the only way to start was to tell D how sorry she was – that is, if she could actually bring herself to meet his eyes again.

She woke at ten the next morning with a dull throbbing headache and a feeling of trepidation that bordered on nausea. The day was grey, listless, and uninviting. She had to force herself to get out of bed.

She took the sweater from her pillow and shook out its creases. She folded it with care and replaced it in the back of her shelves, bringing it up to her face one last time. This morning it hurt too much to even breathe in the faint smell of him that still clung to it. She looked about her room trying to comprehend the mess of scattered clothing, and then set about picking it up, folding it, and putting it back into her shelves. The discarded clothes from yesterday she took to the washing machine on her way to the bathroom.

Her bath did much to ease the aching in her bones and settle the headache to slight throb, but did nothing to soothe the nervous tension she felt within. She forced herself to eat a bowl of cereal and a banana, her first food since the packed lunch out by the lake the day before.

When she arrived at the school, Carla took one look at her and dragged her into the little room with the cubby-holes and timesheets.

"You look terrible. What happened? Chance called me to say you were okay but he didn’t tell me anything."

Bella had been dreading all the questions. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to fool anyone that all was right in her world. "Yesterday was the culmination of the biggest mistake of my life."

"When she called looking for you, June told me you weren’t with Colin. That was my first thought."

"Carla – you know if I was with him it would have been perfectly innocuous. What I did do was go for a walk - I fell asleep, my watch stopped, I was stranded miles from nowhere, and D brought me back in his canoe. End of story."

Carla gave her a long, penetrating gaze. "Okay, I won’t ask. But I have to assume that the biggest mistake of your life was not getting stranded, but something that happened between you and Fitz."

"Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it." Bella took a breath and gave Carla a watery smile. "I’m just not ready – I haven’t even told June the whole story – but there is something I do need to tell you. Forming an opinion of people and then not giving them a chance to explain themselves can be very harmful . . . hurtful. It can screw things up forever. Give Colin a chance. Listen to him."

"How did we suddenly start talking about me and Colin?"

"Look – you once gave me some advice about a certain person that I didn’t listen to. I should have. Do me a favour and don’t act as dumb as me, okay?"

The sincerity in Bella’s voice was almost painful. Carla reached out and pulled her into a hug. "Take care, honey," she whispered.

Bella gave her a little, twisted smile, wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, and hurried out to the playground.

 

"It’s happened!"

"What?" asked Rita, still wondering what was so important that Alyson had made them all run out to the far corner of the field before she would tell them.

"Hunsford."

"Do you really think so?" asked Cindy. "I thought what we were doing was working."

"It was," said Jordan. "You should have seen them looking at each other during my guitar lesson."

"Well, something obviously happened," said Alicia. "I have never known Mr. Fitz to just assign work without any discussion and then sit in his chair and look out the window."

"At nothing, too," said Sarah. "I came up to his desk to ask him a question and I had to repeat myself three times before he heard me. And his answer made no sense."

"He didn’t even get Adam to erase those sheep he drew all over the board," said Heather.

"Maybe he’s just coming around to my way of thinking," said Adam.

"Adam, no one in their right mind wants your stick-sheep scrawled all over the blackboard," said Rita.

"I thought they were sorta cute," said Cindy with a little grin.

"Back to the point of this meeting," said Alyson. "When I saw Mr. Fitz this morning, I thought he was the saddest person I had ever seen, and then I saw Bella and she looked just as bad. My heart is breaking for them. There must be something we can do."

"Your meddling didn’t help before," said Adam. "You know they’re not Lizzie and Darcy, and if they were, it’d be a long time before they could get back together. They’d have to go to Derbyshire, and Lydia would have to run off with Wickham – but there’s no Lydia and no Wickham either."

"I think we can help them," said Alyson. "I’ve got a few plans, if anyone would care to hear them." All the kids huddled closer, even Adam.

 

After school, Bella was determined to talk to D. She had only seen him from a distance once, and he had immediately turned away when she had looked in his direction. Just seeing him standing there had caused such a mixture of sensations, she had almost bolted from the school and left the children unattended. It was one thing to make decisions late in the night when one is falling asleep and trying to invoke hope in a hopeless situation, and another to face the man you have slandered to his face in the worst possible terms in the strong light of day. Especially when the man has kissed you in such an unforgettable way and you have given him reason to hate you with an equal passion.

Her heart beating in her throat, she hesitantly entered his classroom. Only Alicia was there.

"Have you seen Mr. Fitzwilliam?" she asked.

"I think he’s in the sound room," said Alicia helpfully, and when Bella left to continue down the hall, she ran out to join her friends and tell them things were possibly looking up.

The room seemed empty and the lights were dim, but there was music drifting out of the sound room from the partially open door and light showing in the window. Bella edged closer and then froze. He was there, in plain view, sitting on a stool on the other side of the glass with his guitar in his hands, playing little disjointed riffs. It hurt to look at him - he was so beautiful and he was further from her reach than ever before. There was so much more between them than the hard vitreous surface.

He did not look up. Instead he bent over his instrument and began to pull music out of the strings. He played with a tight, deep emotion, his face concentrated inward, and he sang, indistinctly at first, but then with a hollow, empty voice that made the melancholy of the song all that much more difficult for Bella to bear.

. . . Cause I could break like a bird
Or I could swallow the sea
It seems like the daylight is coming
And no one is watching but me . . .

He played using harmonics, making his guitar cry like a steel guitar to reflect the plaintive yearning of the lyrics, and then having it softly echo the resonance of a piano’s notes. The chorus bit into her, as he put the strength of his pain into the familiar words.

. . . And what brings me down now is love
Cause I can never get enough
What brings me down now is love
Cause I can never get enough of love . . .

Bella felt tears sting her eyes. The loss and the hurt were made so real. It was as if she could see inside his soul and know that the damage there was all her own doing. This piece of music had always stirred her emotions but it had never been rendered so evocative as it was now with D playing it, his skin pulled taut over the fine bones of his face, giving him a fragility she had never before discerned.

. . . So I put my head on the ground
And the sky is a wheel
Spinning these days into things that I’ve lost
But you can keep all the years . . .

The tremolo twang of the stretched note ripped through Bella again. What he had lost – no, what they had both lost - was somehow more tangible; never to be reclaimed, but the memory always there to last and haunt them over the years. Every time she would see that huge, round sky she would remember her stupidity. Especially when it was black and thick with stars. How could she even imagine that her silly, futile effort at an apology would ever make any difference? She could never unsay anything, and what she had said – and not only said, but believed about him – was unforgivable. How could they ever overcome that?

. . . What brings me, what brings me down now is love
And I can never get enough, never get enough
No-o, no, no. Never get enough of love**

The last notes trailed out to the ending. He bent his head lower, his eyes closed, thick dark lashes nearly brushing his cheeks. He looked spent. Exhausted. As if he had tried to exorcise all his emotion and had left himself empty, unable even to move. Bella stood still, uncertain of what to do. The experience had been draining for her too and she knew what little courage she had entered the room with had long since deserted her.

He looked up - opened his eyes. Bella could see the vivid green through the glass. It was all she could see. There was nothing in that look but infinite sadness. She couldn’t make the apology. Looking into his eyes had left her completely unbalanced. Talking to him was impossible. She was awash with shame. Breaking the aching contact of their eyes, she turned and ran.

What she didn’t see was the look of desperate longing that followed her from the room.

*Runaway Train ~ Soul Asylum

**Goodnight LA ~ Counting Crows 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

On Wednesday the writing club met in Mr. Fitzwilliam’s room, the day having been changed because of the shortened week. It was difficult for Bella to feel anything like normal, but she knew she had to go through the motions and continue on with her days. The burden of not yet having apologised to D was weighing down upon her. She was certain that the last person he wanted to see was her; that the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of the awful encounter. He probably couldn’t wait until school was over and he would never have to set eyes on her again. But at least if she managed to apologise and he knew she no longer believed the lies, he might not hate her quite so much. Was the apology a selfish act then? Would she be doing it only to look better in his eyes, or to ease his pain? She thought of how deeply she must have hurt him and knew, selfish or not, the apology was imperative. If only she could bring herself to face him without completely shattering.

She hesitated before entering the classroom. Would he be in there or would he have gone already, avoiding her completely? He was seated at his desk in the corner of the room as usual, a stack of books in front of him. Bella quickly glanced over in his direction. He did not look up. He was concentrated down upon something in his hands. Not the students’ work, but a rock that he kept tumbling over and over. She looked away and almost stumbled over a desk. Her cheeks tingled, her heart lurched, and the knot in her stomach twisted tighter than the skin of a drum. She was certain that everything was written plainly over her face, but the kids just called out to her welcomingly and offered her a seat as if nothing was any different than usual.

D was behind her but somehow she sensed that though he must know she was in the room he had not looked up. Was determined not to look up. She tried to ignore the emptiness that yawned up inside of her and began talking with the children.

"I don’t want our club to end for the summer," said Cindy. "Is there any way we can keep it going?"

"If you are all really interested we can probably meet at my house, if it’s all right with your parents and Mr. Bing," said Bella.

"Do you think that would work, Mr. Fitz? Do you think we could do that?" called Alyson across the room.

He looked up, surprised at being addressed. His eyes looked blank. "Pardon?"

"Bella said we could keep having the club over the summer at her house if we were allowed. So do you think we could?" All the children looked over at him. Bella kept her head bent, but listened with all her soul for his words.

"I’m really not the person to ask," he said, "but it was very nice of . . . Bella to offer." He said her name carefully. The sound of it broke in Bella’s ears. It was so different from when she had last heard it - first soft with passion, then sharp with confusion, and later tinged with bitterness and pain. This time it was thin and fragile as glass.

"I think it would be fun to have a campout!" said Rita. "We could get a group campsite and put up a few tents and stay by the lake for a week."

"And we could do art as well as writing," said Sofie.

"And have campfire singalongs," said Heather.

"You could come and play guitar for us, Mr. Fitz," said Sarah excitedly.

He looked over at the sound of his name and it was obvious that he hadn’t been attending to a word they were saying.

"No, really," said Bella hurriedly. "You can’t expect Mr. Fitzwilliam to . . ."

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked. The ache in his voice was like a slap to Bella’s senses. She coloured and looked away.

"We want to camp for a week as a group," said Alyson. "Bella could supervise the girls and you could supervise the boys and you could bring your guitar for the singalongs." She looked at him hopefully.

There was an expression of surprise on his face. The moment stretched endlessly.

Bella turned to him. "I . . . they . . ." She couldn’t formulate a sentence. She couldn’t even think. Looking at him had turned her mind blank.

"I have baseball, so I can’t camp," said Jordan.

"I don’t mind camping by myself with the girls," said Adam with a mischievous grin.

"I’m sure you don’t," said Rita, "but you’re not coming in my tent."

"Or mine," said Cindy quickly.

"I don’t think there would need to be a man along," said Bella quickly, her only thought to get D off the hook as soon as possible because he looked so uncomfortable. "Adam could just come for the day and go home at night. Maybe June could help me."

His face turned hard and emotionless. It was only after the words were out of her mouth and she had seen his reaction to them that she realised how they could easily be misunderstood. Bella longed to cry out, ‘No I didn’t mean I don’t want you there. I’d love for you to be there. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated, like you’d been backed into a corner with no way out.’ But all she could do was send him a pleading look with her eyes.

"Then I could come when there wasn’t a game or practice," said Jordan into the silence that stretched tightly between them

"But you could still join us for a campfire, Mr, Fitz, couldn’t you?" Alyson gave him a soulful look that would break the hardest of hearts.

His face softened and he said, "You let me know when you’re going camping and I’ll try to be there."

Bella felt such relief that it brought tears to her eyes. He was so good to the kids – so good. Unfortunately, that thought sent shame flowing through her again and she turned away, unable to look at anyone for a few minutes. She heard D get up and leave the room and her mind followed him out. Why was he going? Had he had enough of being in the same room as her? Had she hurt him all over again? Would she ever be able to fix this mess she had made?

"We need to figure out when to go camping," said Alicia. "If we all go home and ask our parents for permission, can you organise the rest Bella?"

"My summer is free," said Bella, "so anytime is good for me. I’ll find out when a campsite is available, and I’ll ask Mr. Bing if I can just do it on my own or if it has to be a school project."

By the time the meeting was over, D had already left the school. Another opportunity missed. Bella sighed, sat in Carla’s empty spot at her desk, and laid her head upon her arms. She was still lying there twenty minutes later when June found her.

"It didn’t go well?" asked June, coming quickly to her side.

"I didn’t get a chance to even try to apologise and now he’s gone and I think I’ve made things worse than ever." Bella wiped fresh tears from her eyes.

"What happened?"

Bella related the whole conversation about the writing club going camping, finishing off with her comments that she was certain had offended D and caused him to leave the room, and the school.

"Bella, honey, you are being too hard on yourself," said June taking her hand. "You don’t know why he left the room. Maybe he was planning to go home then anyway."

"He didn’t say goodbye to the kids."

"Did you ever think that maybe he thought he had made you upset? That maybe he should leave because you were uncomfortable to have him in the room?"

"But that’s almost as bad," said Bella. "I have to talk to him. He has to know that’s not true."

"Let’s go home now," said June, pulling Bella to her feet. "Tomorrow is another day. Maybe you could smile at him next time you see him instead of looking so strained. That would relieve some of the tension between you two and make it easier to talk."

‘Smile! Oh June,’ Bella thought, ‘if only it were as simple to solve as that. If only I were capable of smiling in his presence with all that is between us hanging there heavily like smog, choking me.’

"So tell me all about the camping plan. It sounds like a great idea." June gave her enthusiastic support all the way home, and in time Bella had her energies directed and focused onto turning the kid’s spontaneous idea into reality. She needed something to stop from dwelling on the sorrow in his eyes.

The next morning Bella phoned the provincial park to see if she could book a campsite for a week. As luck would have it, she was told that all the sites had been fully booked for the whole summer since March, but a cancellation for the first week in July had just been made the evening before. The site was a hike in, a little more secluded than the rest, and was right on the lake. It sounded perfect. Bella immediately reserved it, promising to bring in a deposit before the end of the day. If the kids weren’t allowed to camp she would just use it herself. She left for school early so as to be able to talk to Chance, her spirits a little higher than they had been in a couple of days.

Chance was very excited about her suggestion. If she hadn’t known differently, she could have sworn he already knew about it, but she had asked June not to mention it. She could only think the kids had been talking. It was decided that the scheme would go through the school/community summer program as a special project so that they would have insurance coverage. All Chance needed was a written proposal from her to pass by the board at the evening’s meeting.

After school, Bella sat at Maddy’s desk in the art room, refining a draft to give to Chance. If she had an assistant, she could set enrolment at ten, and even though it would have to be open to anyone, she would ensure that her kids received application forms ahead of anybody else. She was volunteering her own services to keep the cost to the kids down, but she had to factor in food expenses, her assistant’s salary, and the cost of the campsite. Chance had said he would try to see if he could wangle a partial subsidy, but before that her figures had to be accurate. Math wasn’t her strong suit and she was ready to hurl her calculator across the room when D suddenly walked in.

The very dust of the room became alive with tension as he stopped and looked across the plain of tables and stools to where she sat behind the great bulk of the desk.

"I didn’t know you were . . . the girls said Maddy wanted to see me. She’s not here, is she?" The hollowness of his voice rebounded off the walls – echoed in her ears.

"No." It was no more than a squeak.

"I’m sorry I disturbed you." His words fell like stones from his mouth. He turned and was gone as swiftly as he had come. It was as if Bella had imagined the whole exchange.

"No – please – stay. I need to talk to you," Bella cried to the empty room. She pushed back her chair and ran to the door, knocking down a number of stools in the process. He was already at the far end of the hall, rounding the turn in the corridor towards the outer door. "Please come back." It was a desperate whisper, meant for no one. She cried at her inadequacy. That she hadn’t been able to yell it at the top of her voice and then follow her pleading call down the hall. Instead she sank to the floor and held herself tightly around the knees, fighting back tears. One half-hour later she had the proposal finalised and on Chance’s desk, the only visible sign that she had been crying a slight puffiness about her eyelids.

The following day was sports day and the weather was perfect with variable cloud that would prevent the children and teachers alike from almost passing out with heat stroke during the activities. They had brought back some of the old favourites like the three legged race and the sack race that Bella hadn’t experienced since her own childhood. The culmination of the day was the teachers versus the grade 6 and 7’s tug of war. As the teachers all hurried to take their places, Bella pushed in between Carla and June, afraid to take the only open space available, the spot behind Carla, just in front of D who was the anchor. At the last minute, Carla let go of the rope and ran up to budge in near the front, causing everybody to move back so that Bella was forced closer and closer to D. She could feel his presence so strongly as their bodies almost touched each other. See his strong, long fingered hands beside hers on the rope. Smell the faint whiff of sandalwood from the soap he used.

At first the children had the edge, because of their numbers, but the teachers began to pull in earnest. It was a true rivalry – neither team was prepared to take age into consideration and let the other team win. D dug in his heels and could not be budged and then slowly, slowly, managed to lead his team in drawing the rope back until they had almost dragged the children past the flag. Then it happened. As if on some pre-planned signal, all the children let go and the teachers ended up falling into a heap of flailing arms and legs.

For a moment Bella found herself in D’s arms. The feel of his firm body against hers and the touch of his hands on her bare skin sent shock waves through her. He moved her off him, mumbled something incoherent, and then turned away, getting up quickly. She sat where he had put her, unable to move at all.

Amidst all the shrieks of the teachers and the laughter of the children Bella felt like she was in a private little bubble. The tingle in her arms where his fingers had touched her and the memory of his body against hers reminded her vividly of the only other time she had been in his arms, his mind numbing kiss, and the way he had tenderly held her head to his chest, resting his chin upon her hair. That time she had harshly pushed away, severing the contact. This time he was the one to do it. He had been gentle, but he had managed to remove her and get up in a matter of moments. The speed with which he had extricated himself caused her to burn with hopelessness. He obviously wanted nothing to do with her any more. She was left with the knowledge that her apology must be made as soon as possible before the rift between them became unsurpassable. She looked across the playing fields and watched as he organised the children in garbage clean up. Her world might be shattered, but life still went on – if he could manage it, then so could she. Bella got up and attended to the group of children that she was responsible for.

 

"Hi Colin, have you seen D?" Bella’s question was hurried. She had been all over the school but he was nowhere to be found. When she saw Colin in the office it was still the only thing she could think of. To find D and apologise.

"I don’t see you for nearly a week and that’s all the welcome I get?" He came over and put his arm around her shoulder. "You could at least say that you missed me."

"I missed you," said Bella dutifully. "Do you know where your cousin is? I need to speak to him."

"He just left, but he looked about as harried as you."

"Can I get a ride over to the Lodge?"

"It won’t do you any good, Bella," said Colin, leading her over and sitting her at Carla’s desk. "That’s not where he went. He’s gone to Kamloops to catch a flight to Victoria so that he can be with Tess for her graduation this weekend. He won’t be back till late Sunday night."

Bella looked at Colin in disbelief, and then she slumped in the chair, defeated. "It’s hopeless," she murmured.

"Just what happened between the two of you Monday night?" asked Colin. "I’ve never seen D such a wreck, and if you don’t mind my saying, you look like you’ve been through the wringer." His eyes were warm and his face softened with concern.

"Didn’t he tell you anything?"

"Aside from assuring me that you were fine, which Chance had already told me, I got nothing out of him."

"Well I said some very harsh things that I don’t want to remember, let alone talk about, and now I’m having the heck of a time finding the opportunity to apologise."

"I think it’s a little more complicated than that, isn’t it?"

Bella nodded.

"I was really hoping you two would get together."

Bella looked at him. "So he was your other bird?"

"Yeah, but like I said, I was aiming at the wrong bird. You were the one that needed convincing, not him."

"Well, I’m convinced now, for all the good it’s going to do me," replied Bella with no little bitterness. "I wish I had talked to you before . . . but now it’s too late so let’s just forget about it."

Bella sat pensive for a few moments and then looked back up at Colin who was just standing there, at a loss for something to say. "So what are you doing here? I hope it was Carla you came to see and not me."

"It was both. I wanted to see how you were doing, and I was hoping . . ."

"You weren’t planning to come to watch the game with all of us tonight, were you?"

"Well . . . I had been thinking about it. At least I’d be out with Carla then, in a way."

Bella reached for his hand. "Do you want some really hard-earned advice? Take Carla somewhere you two can be alone. Kidnap her if you have to. Try and talk to her, but if she won’t listen, just kiss her with everything you’ve got."

"I like your style. Do you really think it’ll work?"

"As long as you don’t kiss her the same way you kissed me," she answered with the hint of a smile. She had a different kiss altogether in mind.

"So I see . . . it wasn’t my kiss that inspired this bit of wisdom."

"No, not your kiss at all."

Colin squeezed her hand. "Thanks."

Bella got up and gave him a swift hug and then left the office in search of June and Chance. Tonight’s game was the Yankees versus the Cardinals, and Chance’s favourite pitcher, Rocket Roger Clemens was about to make his third attempt at three hundred career wins. Chance wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Colin waited a few more minutes until Carla returned to her office.

"Well, look who’s turned up like a bad penny!"

"Nice to see you too, Carla." Colin’s grin was almost shy.

"I think you’ll find Bella outside with June and Chance."

"I came to see you, Carla."

She gave him an appraising look. "I’m going to watch the Yankees game over at Chance’s."

"I’ll drive you."

"I’ve got my car here."

"Flat tire."

"I’ve got a flat? I knew I should have replaced that stupid tire."

"Well, maybe not yet, but if I get out to the parking lot quickly enough, you’ll have a flat. Which tire is the one you need to replace?" He pulled out his Swiss army knife.

"Put it away, joker. I can’t believe I almost fell for that."

"But you’ll come with me anyway, won’t you?" His smile was beguiling.

"What would I do about my car?"

"I’ll bring you back for it later. Come on – you wouldn’t want me to be all alone."

"You could take Bella. She doesn’t have a car."

"If I wanted to take Bella, I’d ask her. I want to take you."

"Okay, okay. I’m crazy, but I’ll go with you, if only to make you stop bugging me," said Carla, "but I have to lock up the office first, and make sure there’re no windows open in the school, and set the alarms."

"I’ll go check all the windows," said Colin.

Twenty minutes later they were in the Mustang headed in the direction of Chance’s house.

"You didn’t really need to check all the windows," said Carla, laughing. "Collins was still working. He does the alarms and the windows. I just wanted to see if you’d do it."

"I know – I met him in the gym. I had a little talk with him. I’m still trying to figure out how to get the school board to fire him."

"You and me both. Hey, where are you going? That was the turnoff to Chance’s"

"I know, but I was advised to abduct you. Best advice I’ve had all year. Anyway, you have to admit that the last thing you want to witness is Chance jumping up and down with joy when Clemens gets his three hundredth win."

Carla heaved a big sigh and turned her head towards the open window. "I’m not going to fall for all your lines again. I’m not eighteen anymore."

"Can you give me some credit for having grown up too?"

"You’ll never grow up, Colin. You love the attention too much."

"I haven’t had a girlfriend in two years, Carla. Haven’t you been paying attention?"

"It’s just another line, Colin. Remember, I’ve heard them all."

Colin groaned. "I’m all out of lines, Carla. And I’m all done with chicks. I don’t want anyone but you."

"The moment you met Bella, you were over here so fast. I guess once you realised D was interested you backed down." There was a bitter twinge in her tone that Colin did not miss.

"Bella and I fell instantly in like. There’s nothing I want more than for her to be my cousin."

"That was some kiss for a cousin!"

Colin pulled the car over to the side of the mountain road and turned off the engine. "That kiss was nothing. I’ll show you what a real kiss is." His voice was steady and strong. His eyes held hers with a light in them that she had not seen before. Carla’s mind was crying, ‘Move, move. This is exactly what he did to you before.’ But her body was sending an entirely different message.

His lips met hers and his arms came around her at the same time. She didn’t know quite how it had happened, but he was now in the passenger’s seat and she was in his lap. He had always been a smooth mover, but this was somehow different, more intense, and much better than any of the kisses she remembered from ten years ago. Either he had improved with practice, or everything he had told her was true. After that last thought Carla lost contact with her brain. Reason was thrown to the wind. All that was left was the moment, and it was turning out to be the longest moment in history – and a moment she hoped would never end.

When Colin stopped to catch his breath, he murmured into her lips, "Is that a cousinly kiss?"

"I can hardly tell." Carla pulled him to her again and initiated the next kiss. Her hands were in his hair, stroking his back, holding him closer as they stretched out on the seat. As their lips broke apart again she said, "Why didn’t you ever try that before?"

"I was too damn scared, I guess," he said, stroking her cheek and looking into her eyes with such a look of gentleness and caring. "And I never realised it would work quite so well."

"I was always lost when you kissed me. That’s why I never let you anywhere near me."

A comment like that could not be left unanswered. It was some time before they were even able to breathe again.

"I have been dreaming of this moment for so long, but I never thought it would be so amazingly good."

"You still have all the lines," she said, kissing his nose.

"But they are only for you." He smiled down at her. "Don’t ever doubt that again."

 

Bella was pleased to notice the absence of Carla and Colin at Chance’s. Hopefully they would manage to patch things up. She was having a difficult time concentrating on the game. Cassandra was not even bothering to make comments pertaining to baseball, having no one to impress with her vast knowledge, so instead she was giving out the details of her latest manicure and pedicure complete with all the compliments she had received from the beauticians. Phil Collins was making increasingly elaborate and ridiculous bets with Chance, based on the minutest details of the game. Chance was cheering lustily when Clemens achieved his 4000^th career strikeout, and gave Clemens a standing ovation when he finally left the field and the bullpen took over. June just smiled indulgently. When the win was finally a statistic for the record books, Chance collected his winnings from Collins and had a silly grin on his face that lasted the rest of the evening.

Bella noticed that she really missed being able to look over to D whenever someone else in the room said something particularly foolish, or whenever a good play was executed. She had never before realised the rapport they had shared during the games. She had been too caught up in hating him. She barely paid attention to this game and had no idea which batter had been the 4000^th strikeout victim, or even what the final score was. The fall during the tug of war played over and over in her head. Why had D moved her off him and stood up so quickly? Had her very touch sickened him, had he worried what the kids would say, or did he think it was what she wanted? She remembered her words, ‘Don’t touch me again!’ and his response, ‘I won’t. I promise you.’ Had they really affected him so strongly? She hoped against hope it was that, for to think that he had recoiled from her touch in disgust was too devastating to endure.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

It was late in the evening when Chance finally drove Bella and June home. Bella said goodnight quickly and left the two of them alone to enjoy a more prolonged leave-taking. Out of habit, she checked the phone for messages. There was one for her from Aimee, asking for more paintings. Bella put down the phone and sighed. She hadn’t even looked at a paintbrush in over a week, what with organising the students’ art show and then . . . she shook her head in an attempt to stem the rushing thoughts – the painful spectres that never seemed to recede. Could she paint when there was such hollowness within her? When the images burned on her retina were not ones she wanted to explore?

In the morning she packed up her bag and grabbed a canvas. She wasn’t ready to face the lake, so she headed out the back door and down the trail to the creek. The morning was perfect; birds sang in the trees, a gentle breeze rustled the topmost leaves, colours were bright, the air was warm and full of light. The kind of morning to set one’s soul soaring with delight. But though Bella could see it all in a flat array of colour and shape, she could not feel it with any depth. She was empty and alone in a landscape that she could walk through but not truly enter.

She followed the creek further than she had ever done before until she came to an incline where the sparkling water cast itself over large boulders to a deep pool, white with turbulence, and then, as if it had never known such turmoil, continued softly flowing along a flat and spreading bed of gravel to widen into a still pond, its surface scattered with lily pads, and rushes at its bank. The change was absolute. Bella set up her easel. If there was one thing she longed for it was this sort of serenity. She began squeezing out paint onto her palette, and then she sat and stared at the blank canvas before her.

She started laying down colours, creating an underlay on which to build, to pull the depths of water reflecting sky out of that flat surface. To have it grow – to give it life. She entered that state beyond thought, where form and light have precedence, and then let herself go. Two hours later she was shocked to see on her canvas not the tranquil pond mirroring the lightness of the day, but the lonely stretch of dusk filled water that she had gazed upon that night while D’s words spilled over her. It was forlorn and desolate, and it chilled her heart.

She walked back, more lost than she had been when she started out. At the waterfall she put down her pack and climbed the wet stones almost to its very heart. She immersed herself in the roaring sound as the rushing water cascaded around her. This was her place. She was not ready yet to move to the placid calm of level water. She could not capture peace that easily. She was still caught in a current that had to be fought if she were to survive.

On Sunday she knew she could not avoid the lake. She took a fresh canvas and drove the car to the parking lot in town. As she entered the path that wound its way through the trees she half expected to have Daisy bound out upon her, closely followed by her master but not even the echoes of their passage remained. That had happened months ago, and though Daisy was probably running carefree on the far shore of the lake, D was a world away, just outside Victoria, possibly sleeping from the all-night celebration that she knew high school grad to be. But she could not think of him – it wasn’t safe. She had to go and paint the lake by morning to dispel its midnight image from her mind. Thinking of him would only bring everything back in full force, his voice, his words, the confusion in his face when she pushed him away. Instead she had to force herself to focus on the trees, the rocks, and the sun-warmed water glinting through the branches.

Bella found a spot where the ground was soft with years of layered needles, curved in a flowing hollow between the trees, the rich autumn brown of fallen leaves. Two large rocks broke through the surface, crusted with golden moss, and through the tracery of branches, water shone with light. She knew it should have filled her with the need to translate its essence upon her canvas, and yet she sat, unable to begin. Was it out of fear that she would somehow fill this too with haunted night-time shades?

She wrestled with putting down the bones of the scene, and though she had faithfully placed all the correct elements, the outline of the rocks, the leaning trunks, the swooping branches, she could not give it the life it needed to become real. She was hesitant – tentative in her every stroke. Taking care to keep her colours light and pure, but not knowing how to place them. In the end she gave up and wandered slowly back to the car. She needed to return home and hear to the warm sound of June’s voice. All this solitude was weighing her down.

When Bella arrived at school on Monday she found a substitute in the grade 6/7 classroom.

"Mr. Fitz has taken the debate team to the finals in Clinton," said Alyson.

"Alicia has gone too," said Cindy. "She’s our ace in the hole."

"Do you know when they’ll be back?"

"Not until five," said Rita. "Have you heard anything about the camping trip yet? My mom says I’m allowed to go."

"Me too," said Sofie.

"I haven’t talked to Mr. Bing yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out."

Bella did her rounds despondently, and even though Chance came out to see her, brimming with pleasure at his good news, she found it difficult to respond in kind.

"I was able to get a subsidy, so you can hire an assistant and it will still only cost the kids seventy-five dollars for the week!" He beamed at her.

"That’s wonderful," she said softly, attempting to smile. "I’ll let them know about it right away."

She handed out the application forms after school and desperately tried to keep her focus on the excited discussion, but her thoughts were far away in Clinton in an unknown auditorium, wondering if the Pember Elementary debate team coach was as completely abstracted as herself.

On Tuesday, Carla stopped her in the office. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Sure."

"I just wanted to thank you for your advice. It worked wonders." Carla had a look of happy contentment about her.

"So you finally gave him a chance and listened to him? I told you he was sincere."

"I’m not talking about that advice. I’m talking about the advice you gave Colin!" Carla’s grin spread across her face. "But we did talk afterwards. Quite a while afterwards! I’m so happy – I’m in love all over again. And this time I really believe that he does love me. When he finally told me it was nothing like before. Back then he said it too easily – this time he was almost afraid to tell me."

Bella gave her a hug, and felt some of Carla’s happiness seep inside of herself with the contact.

"And he apologised for everything bad that happened in our past. He said, ‘There was a movie once that said love means never having to say you’re sorry. That’s garbage. You need to know how sorry I am, and how much I regret ever having hurt you like that, and I need to tell you, from the bottom of my heart, or I couldn’t live with myself. I’m sorry - I promise you I will never cheat on you again. I can’t promise to never ever to hurt you, unintentionally, but I hope that we will always be able to talk about it openly and not suffer years of misunderstanding. I couldn’t bear to lose you once more.’ I never knew he was such a romantic guy." Carla wiped a tear from her eye. "And here I am, blubbering like a love struck idiot. You’d better get to work."

"You may be a love struck idiot," said Bella with a smile, "but it looks good on you." She walked out of the office feeling better than she had in what seemed like an eternity, and found herself face to face with D, as he was walking toward the office. They both stopped, just short of bumping into each other, and then Bella raised her eyes to his face. It was impossible to tell by his expression what he was thinking and feeling, but she remembered June’s advice and smiled a tremulous smile.

"Hi." It was all she could manage.

"Hi." His voice sounded just as stilted as hers, but she noticed a change in the light in his eyes. She was beginning to feel lost looking up into them.

"Bella! The boys are running around the classroom. Hurry – they won’t listen to us when we tell them not to!" It was three little girls from the K-1 classroom.

"I have to go," said Bella, her heart pounding high in her chest. She ran after the girls who began filling in all the details of what the boys were up to, but all the time she knew that he had turned and was still standing there in the hall, watching until she disappeared through the classroom door. She had smiled and she had talked to him, and she had seen something more in his eyes than the hardness and pain. She felt little stirrings of hope deep in the vacuum of her soul. Hope that she would finally be able to bring herself to face him and apologise. Hope that they would one day be able to work together without that bitter pain stretching between them – that they might even be able to overcome her accusations and put them behind themselves, and possibly, just possibly, become friends. She could expect no more than that.

Bella was disappointed that after such an encouraging start, for the rest of the day and all of the next they were both so busy she did not see more of him than his distant figure at the end of the hall, although once, while she was out on the playground, she thought she felt his eyes upon her, and turning, saw a shadowy figure move away from the window of his classroom. On Thursday she had quite given up the idea that he would be in the classroom during the writing club, but when she walked through the door he was there, sitting at his desk, playing with the rock in his hands. He even looked up and she smiled tentatively to him as she joined the children in their circle of desks. There was a flickering on his face that warmed it slightly and he kept his eyes on her until she was seated.

Thoughts bounced around for space in Bella’s mind, making it difficult for her to attend to the disjointed discussion going on around her. Could they both somehow stay in the classroom after the children left? Would she be able to find the words to tell him how terrible she felt? Were there words that could possibly make up for thinking him a pervert? With each thought she found it even more impossible to look in his direction as the enormity of what she had said to him came ringing back in on her. It was impossible. How could she imagine that he would ever want to be friends with her even after she apologised?

From the corner of her eye she noticed Sofie get up and go over to D’s desk. She was suddenly caught by the novelty of Sofie approaching her teacher.

"Is that a special rock?"

D looked up at her, surprised. He had been so intent on passing the stone back and forth in his hands that he hadn’t noticed her approach the desk.

"Pardon me?"

Sofie looked down, blushing, and then regained her courage. "I asked you about the rock, Mr. Fitz. Is it special? Where did you get it?"

D appeared to think for a moment. "No, I guess it’s not really special. It’s just an ordinary beach stone. I found it when I was out on the lake . . . on the last pro-d day." He shot a swift glance over in Bella’s direction. Their eyes met for one painful moment and then they both looked away.

"Can I see it?" Sofie held out her hand. "I like rocks."

D passed it to her and watched her intently as she rubbed it between her fingers.

"It’s smooth."

"I’ve had it in my pocket. I’ve been touching it a lot," he admitted.

"Sort of like a worry stone?" Sofie asked.

"I guess you could say that." He put out his hand and she gave it back to him.

"It’s nice," she said. "Thanks." She looked into his eyes at that moment and all her shyness seemed to come back to her. She returned to her desk quickly, her head bent and her cheeks flaming. When she sat down, Alyson put her arm around her and whispered in her ear. D watched her go and then looked across at Bella quizzically. She shrugged and then they both seemed to remember the gulf that existed between them and they turned their heads back to what they had been doing before.

Bella came to notice that aside from the discussion about the latest chapters in their stories, there seemed to be a strange sort of undercurrent going on between the kids. There were occasional whisperings back and forth that Bella found quite mystifying.

"It’s too risky," whispered Jordan.

"It’s too obvious," whispered Alicia. "He’ll figure out what we’re . . ."

"This calls for drastic action." Cindy looked over at Bella and then lowered her voice as she continued.

"I’m going to write a story where Mrs. Bennet has another baby," said Rita loudly. "And it’ll be a boy and then Mr. Collins has a fit."

"You should make him die," said Lise. "He could choke on his food. Have you ever seen how disgusting it is the way he stuffs his face?"

"He’ll just think we’re being silly kids." Sarah’s voice was barely audible, but Adam was a bit louder.

"He already does and who can blame him."

"And then Charlotte would be free to marry the colonel, and not Caroline, like you want," said Rita smugly.

"I don’t care who he marries in your stories," said Lise. "In my stories Caroline is the one he likes."

"Well, I’m doing it, whatever you say," said Alyson, standing with determination and almost knocking her chair down. She walked up to D’s desk.

"Mr. Fitz, I’m doing a survey," she said.

He looked up at her. "Is this a school project? I don’t remember assigning it." There was a hint of humour in his tone.

"No. Um – I just like to do surveys now and then. Um – okay, number one - do you think pride is a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Hmm. This sounds like quite a serious survey, Alyson. I think a person should take pride in their work and accomplishments, but not to the point where they think who they are makes them better than other people. There is a fine line between pride and vanity."

"Good answer," said Alyson, scribbling furiously on the pad in her hands. "Number two – do you take offence when people do foolish or bad things?"

"Have you kids done something that you don’t want to tell me about?"

"No," said Alyson hurriedly. "It’s just my survey. Okay – let’s go on to the next question instead. Number three - is your good opinion, once lost, lost forever?"

D gave Alyson an appraising look. He smiled at her softly and said, "I understand." It was light and warm and appreciative. Bella, who had been paying close attention to the conversation, lifted her head, caught by the sound in his voice. He looked over at her and held her eyes in a long, steady gaze. "No Alyson. Implacable resentment is not my style." He continued to hold Bella’s eyes until she turned away, blushing in confusion. It was obvious they had just been set up.

Bella thought back to all sorts of other occurrences that had not seemed to make sense at the time. Back to that other survey that Alyson had given her. The kids had been doing it for a long time, she realised. Even they had seen what she had missed – had been smarter than her – and this last week and a half she must have been totally transparent to them.

"All right, Miss Emma Woodhouse, you can go back to your desk now," said D. "I think you’ve played your last card. All of you," he added gently, looking at the group. He got up and quietly walked out of the room.

Bella continued to sit, looking at her hands, trying to organise her thoughts. She knew now that even though she had slandered him so badly to his face, he would listen to her when she apologised. It was hard for her to believe that he could take it all so calmly – treat her with so much kindness. She didn’t deserve it. And the kids, though she knew they could have no idea of what actually had passed between her and D, seemed surprisingly cognisant of their situation. They must be able to read her like a book. She felt all her embarrassment rise again at the fact that things she thought were private were really so out in the open. She understood why D had left the room this time. It was not in anger or disgust. It was like he was telling her that though he was willing to listen to her apology, this was not the time or the place. No. She couldn’t apologise at school. She would have to find some other place to do it, and it was totally up to her.

When Alyson returned to the group she sat down and whispered to Jordan, "That may have been my last card, but it was an ace."

"Yeah, but now they know," he whispered back. "Don’t you feel a little foolish?"

"It was worth it," she said with a smug look at the rest of them.

Bella roused herself from her thoughts long enough to tell the kids that she didn’t think they were going to get anything constructive accomplished anymore so they might as well call it a day. She didn’t mention anything else, and for that more than one of the kids was supremely grateful.

Friday was the last hot lunch day of the school year, and Chance had given his cousin strict orders for pizza, which he was sure she would have difficulty messing up. Aside from one of them having anchovies, sun dried tomatoes and feta cheese, there was nothing to complain about.

Cassandra was sporting a little tangerine sundress that could have passed for one of Venus Williams’ tennis outfits, only she didn’t fill it out in the same way at all. When D came down the hall, she sidled up to him and batted her eyelashes.

"How was the pizza?"

"One slice I had was so salty, I had to drink two bottles of Snapple."

It wasn’t quite the reaction she had hoped for, but she tried again.

"Has darling Tess come yet? I can’t wait to see her. I was so sorry not to be able to make it to her graduation."

"Did she invite you?" he asked, with more interest than he had earlier shown.

Cassandra chose to ignore the question. "Is she coming tonight? I’ll go with you to Kamloops to pick her up, then she and I can share our secrets all the way home. You know – girl talk."

"I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I picked her up last night." He didn’t appear disappointed in the least.

"She must be so happy to be finished her exams. I’ll come over tonight and take her for a girls’ night out."

"We already have plans, but I’ll tell you what - I’ll get her to call you."

Bella was standing in the office all this time, ostensibly writing out her time sheet. Every so often something that Cassandra said made her smirk, despite herself. She was impressed with D’s tact and patience in dealing with her. Everything he did impressed her now and she wondered how she could have overlooked all his positive attributes for so long. The lies Collins had told her only seemed ludicrous to her now.

D finally extricated himself from Cassandra’s grasp, and as he walked past Bella to get to Chance’s office, he whispered, "Don’t eat the anchovy pizza."

Bella looked after him, her cheeks burning, her blood suddenly pumping ferociously through her veins and she wondered how she could ever cope when a simple comment from him like that sent her senses reeling. She picked up her plate, unobtrusively slipped one slice of pizza into the garbage, and walked down the hall to the art room.

It took Carla fifteen minutes to find the partially completed timesheet where it had fallen on the floor, half under her desk. She did what she considered a reasonable imitation of Bella’s signature, and a much more confident one of Chance’s, and slipped it into the courier bag for pick up.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

This time, Aimee caught Bella just as she got in.

"I have none of your paintings left," she said, her voice sounding urgent and crisp through the phone line. "Customers are asking for your work. I told you that summer is prime time – don’t you have anything for me?"

Bella was reluctant about the two pieces she had, that haunting picture of the lake and the watercolour that she hadn’t even looked at since that disastrous Monday. She had thrown her sketchbook into a corner of her room and it was lying there still. She was afraid to open it. Then there was the unfinished picture she had started last Sunday. Maybe she could go out in the morning and doctor it up. "I think I can bring something in tomorrow."

"Please. You really should consider quitting that job at the school. It appears to take up too much of your time. You know I want you to do a show this August. That’s fifteen to twenty paintings."

"There’s less than a week left of school," said Bella. "I’ll have all of July to paint, but I can’t promise twenty paintings."

"Well, do what you can. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

"I’ll be in at the end of the day, before you close."

Bella put down the phone and threw herself on the couch. The last thing she needed was to feel like she was under pressure to produce. Art didn’t work that way - not for her at least. And anyway, she had more important things to consider. She had to figure out how she would find D alone somewhere to apologise.

An hour later, frustrated beyond belief, and wanting respite from the memories that wouldn’t leave her, she decided to face the painting issue first. She went into her bedroom and turned the canvases around from where she had them faced against the wall. The one filled her with so much sadness just looking at it; she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to buy it. Would it strike a disinterested observer in the same way? Bella wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t lay herself open quite like that. This painting came from a place she wouldn’t take anyone. She turned it back to the wall again.

The other painting was different. It was dead as dust and bones, but all it needed was to be built upon – given flesh and heart and light. She should be able to do that. She put it beside her easel to take to the lake in the morning. Now all that was left was opening the sketchbook in the corner. When she had used the watercolour pencils out on that far arm of the lake to draw whatever was emblazoned on that page, she had been in a confused and troubled state. She knew now that her mind had been warring with her soul, that her disappointment had rivalled her disgust. She dimly remembered blurring the colours together and then seeing the prow of the canoe. Further than that she did not want to think.

The book felt cold in her hands. She flipped past rough sketches until she came to the one page that was fully coloured in a murky meld of tones that almost made her throw it back into the corner. But instead she forced herself to study it, and then she realised that she could reclaim it. She could lift all the darkness and disgust from the paper and put warmth into the stones, vibrancy into the tree roots, and light into the water. She could remove all her misconceptions about the man that crowded in on the picture, clouding it, and add what she now knew – his sensitivity, kindness, gentleness. The beauty of his soul.

She took the book and her watercolour pencils to the kitchen table, filled a jar with water, and grabbed some paper towels. She gently began to wet the picture and lift little pockets of dingy colour. The paper was heavy and of high quality, and stood up well to the treatment without buckling or abrading. Little by little she brought white back into the picture, added touches of cadmium yellow and viridian, hints of violet, gentle drifts of cerulean blue, soft patches of rich, warm umber.

She was finishing up when June arrived home.

"When did you paint that?" asked June. "It’s simply beautiful."

"You should have seen it two hours ago."

"Did you do it out of your head?"

"I did it the other day . . . when I lost myself out on the lake. I just fixed it. I took out all the confused feelings that were in my head then and replaced them with the truth."

Saturday dawned clear and bright. Bella had a quick breakfast and drove to the lake with her unfinished canvas. The light was similar to that on the previous Sunday, so all she had to do was find the same spot and go for it. After her success at reclaiming the watercolour the night before, she was feeling very optimistic about this painting too. It was as if she had exorcised one of her demons.

She wound her way off the path, ducking branches and circling trunks, and as she neared the little hollow between the trees she heard music drift towards her, the warm notes of acoustic guitar. Her heart leapt up, but then she heard, mingled with the music, soft, feminine singing. Through the crossing branches she could see a girl sitting on a rock, playing a six string. Bella walked carefully through the trees so as not to disturb her.

I wonder bout his insides . . . It’s like his thoughts are too big for his size.
He’s been taken . . . where? I don’t know . . . off he goes
With his perfectly . . . unkept hope . . . there he goes . . .
And now I rub my eyes . . . for he has returned
Seems my preconceptions are what should have been burned . . .
For he still smiles . . . and he’s still strong . . .

She sang in a clear and mellow voice that blended with the rhythm. Bella took a step closer and the girl looked up. The broken notes of her song hung in the air. Her soft, brown curls feathered about her face and gently brushed her shoulders. She regarded Bella with startled green eyes that showed a hint of fear. The eyes decided it for her. They were almost the same green, but so much more vulnerable. Bella came through the branches and stood by the edge of the tiny glade.

"You are D’s sister, aren’t you?" Her voice held subtle warmth.

"Yes, I’m Tess," she answered shyly.

"I’m Bella. I’m sorry I disturbed you. I know I don’t like it when people come up and watch me paint. Is it the same for you?"

"I don’t like people to hear me . . . I get nervous."

"I’m glad I got to hear you - you play so wonderfully – like your brother."

"No. He is so much better than I am."

"You have a light tough and such a feel for the music. I love that song you were singing. I’d like to sing it with you sometime, only I’m not very good at all."

"Oh no, you must be."

"I’m not, and I never sing in front of anybody if I can help it." Bella remembered the day that D had come upon her when she was singing along to Counting Crows while she was tidying up the art room.

"Did you come out here to paint?" asked Tess, indicating the canvas under Bella’s arm.

"Yes, you can look at it if you like." She moved fully into the clearing and turned the painting to Tess. "I started it last Sunday, but . . . well – you know how it is. Sometimes my mood doesn’t co-operate. I don’t think the creative urge was there."

"It’s good," Tess said, after studying it for a moment. She looked about herself. "Is it this place right here?"

"Yes. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Oh, no. I’ll leave so you can have your spot," said Tess, getting to her feet.

"Stay, please. I would love it if you would play while I paint – that is if you don’t mind. Usually when I paint outdoors the only music I have is in my head."

"But I’ll be in your way."

"You’ll be part of my picture," said Bella, smiling.

"Really? Would you want me in your painting?"

"Why not? Your music will really set the mood for the picture. I’ve been watching you sit and play here. You belong. I think that is what’s missing in the composition – a central focus."

"Okay, but what if I move?"

"You don’t have to pose. Just be yourself and play the guitar, whatever is natural. Pretend I’m not even here."

"I don’t know if I can do that."

Bella put up her easel and spoke quietly to Tess all the while, to set her at her ease. Then she began to lay out her paints as Tess picked up her guitar and tentatively continued playing the same song. She sang through the lyrics much softer this time around, only feeling comfortable enough near the end for Bella to actually hear them.

And now he’s home and we’re laughing . . .
Like we always did . . . my same old . . . same old friend . . .

Bella joined in softly as she mixed her paints and began touching them to the canvas.

Until a quarter to ten . . . I saw the strain creep in . . .
He seems distracted and I know just what’d going to happen next . . .
Before his first step . . . He is off again . . . *

Tess played on lightly and lyrically while Bella painted, humming along and occasionally singing odd snatches when she knew the words. She was in that half aware state where outside influences barely registered. The music had become the essence of the painting process as she explored the gentle fragility of filtering light as it mingled with the airy notes. For her, Tess was just as much a part of the scene as the rock and the moss and the soft, fragrant earth.

After some time Tess put down her guitar and came around behind Bella to see how she was progressing.

"Do you know something? Your painting really reminds me of one I noticed at the lodge. I mean – it’s not the same, or anything, but there is something about the feel of it."

"There are two of my paintings in the lobby," said Bella self-consciously.

"Oh . . . you are the artist." Tess suddenly became shy again. "And you just painted me – oh my!"

"Tess, I’m the same person I was a moment ago, singing off key with you. At least – I was singing off key – you have perfect pitch."

"You sang very well."

Bella smiled at Tess, shaking her head. The girl had the kindness of her brother, layered with sweetness and a hint of loneliness. Bella reflected that besides her brother and cousins, she probably didn’t have many close friends in town, after all, she had been going to boarding school for almost five years. She hardly supposed Tess was any more taken with Cassandra than D was. What she needed was to be drawn out of herself, and Bella knew just the people to do it.

"What are your plans for the summer?"

"I was hoping Colin would let me work at the lodge but he said I should have a good time till I lock myself away with books again in September. I’ll hang out with Dar . . . D a lot."

"Where are you going to university?"

"UVic. I’m going to take general studies – I’m not really sure what I want to do. I thought of being a teacher, but I’m too shy. I really do like kids, though. Maybe I could teach kindergarten."

"I have an idea. How would you like a job for a week? I’m taking ten grade 6’s and 7’s camping, and I need an assistant. They are really great kids – my creative writing group. We’re going to write, paint, swim, and just plain have fun. The pay isn’t much, but you would get about $400.00."

"But . . . you hardly know me. You must already have someone that you want to help you."

"No, I don’t. I was thinking of my friend June at first, but she is going to visit her family that week. I may have just met you, but I do know a little about you. I work at the same school as your brother."

"Yes, you said you know him."

Bella blushed. "A bit. I’m only the lunch supervisor and the art TA," she said quickly to hide her embarrassment. She didn’t want Tess to know about the strained relationship between herself and D, at least not yet – not before she had her consent. Bella had no idea what D would tell Tess about her, but she was sure that he wouldn’t mind if she came on the camping trip. She sincerely hoped not, at any rate.

Tess considered for quite a while and then began tentatively. "I think . . . I’d like to, but . . . I don’t want the money." She took a deep breath. "Could you pay me with this painting?" It came out all in a rush, and then Tess looked down at her feet.

"Well, Aimee has been bugging me for more paintings, but . . ."

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked."

"It’s okay, Tess. I would love for you to have it. I will paint another one tomorrow to keep Aimee happy. It’s going to be wonderful having you as an assistant."

Tess smiled shyly. They talked for a few more minutes, Bella giving details about the camping trip, and then Tess packed up her guitar. "I promised to drop in on Aimee and then I have to go over to Aunt Kat’s." She grimaced. "I’ll see you later."

Bella painted for about an hour more, just adding little touches here and there, contemplating, assessing, and adding a few more. The painting was warm and light and filled her with hope. As she packed up, she noticed that the weather was changing. Clouds were darkening the sky, and the air had almost instantly cooled. She ran to June’s car as little drops of rain began to pelt down, and quickly stowed the canvas inside. Bella reached for her sketchbook, and hurried with it across the parking lot to The Lakehouse. Aimee was not thrilled with only getting one watercolour, but she professionally went about choosing a matt and frame for it that met both her and Bella’s approval.

After supper Bella nervously wandered about the cabin. Once she had invited Tess to be her assistant, she realised that tonight had to be the night. She couldn’t make overtures to his sister without settling things with D first. She looked in the mirror – her eyes stared back at her hollowly, dark circles still visible underneath them. Her hair was wildly flying in all directions, full of tangles.

Bella washed her face, smoothed on cream, and tamed her hair, but she still felt that she needed something to give her the strength to get through what was sure to be an emotional ordeal. She rubbed her arms. They were prickled with goosebumps. She knew that in her nervousness she would soon be shaking uncontrollably if she didn’t have something to keep her warm. She went into her room and opened the closet. The first thing that assailed her nostrils was the lingering scent of sandalwood, filling her heart with such longing she felt that it would burst.

She pulled the sweater from deep within the shelves, and grasped it close to her. The next thing she knew it was over her head and falling softly about her hips. Warming her, comforting her, bringing him closer. She didn’t know what D would think seeing her wear it, but she could no more take it off than will herself to stop breathing. She smoothed her hair, grabbed up June’s keys, and was out the door before indecision could attack her again.

She walked into the lobby of the lodge with more confidence than she was actually feeling. Colin was at the reception desk and looked up. His surprise at seeing her was evident.

"Is he here, Colin?" Her apprehension rose to show in her face.

"He’s in his room. Do you want me to get him?"

"No, this is something that has to be between him and I – no one else."

"Follow me then." He led her along a hall, through a private sitting room, and pointed down another hall. "It’s the open door on the left," he said in an under-voice, and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her an encouraging squeeze.

She walked down the corridor, slowly, hesitantly. Her feet made no sound on the thick carpeting. It seemed as if time was stopping and she would never arrive at the door, but when she did it was as if it had all happened too fast. She had to face him now. Was she ready? Would she ever be?

Bella stopped inside the doorway. D was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to her, staring at the wall over his headboard. She barely noticed him as her eyes were involuntarily drawn there, and once drawn, held locked. He had told her that he had bought three paintings and this was the third. It was the storm. Trees tilted wildly towards pewter water that rippled with dark intensity. The sky was a fury of angry clouds and bright gashes. You could almost hear the rain shattering upon the lake, and shadows rose up in the far reaches of the woods, ominous with things unseen.

The wildness of the painting – the strength it portrayed – bolstered her faltering courage. She opened her mouth to say his name - capture his attention.

"D."

He turned slowly. His look took all of her in and almost stopped her heart. There was no appearance of surprise, only deep, dark pain. "I used to always try and figure out just what you were thinking of when you painted this. Now I look at it and think that it must have been me – and that’s something I don’t want to see – the way you were thinking of me – but for some reason I can’t stop looking at it." His voice came flat and hard, impenetrable like wall. Bella’s insides froze. She tried to move, to speak, though without knowing what she was about to say, but she couldn’t do either. He wiped his hand across is face and then said in a softened voice. "It really is you. I thought you were a vision I had conjured up . . . I’m sorry – I’ve been torturing myself – I didn’t mean . . ."

Bella suddenly came to life. "Don’t say you’re sorry . . . you have no reason . . . I’m the one . . . I’m." She stopped and began again. "Listen – when I painted that, I was caught in a storm. It was the weekend you were in Vancouver. I know this will sound strange to you, given all that I said . . . but – I think on some subconscious level I was missing you. I was filled with so much confusion and so conflicted." She thought about her reaction to the sweater, how she had held it up to her face and breathed him in without realising it and then angrily stuffed it into the far recesses of her closet. "Even though I thought you were bad, part of me always wanted you to be good."

She took a few steps into the room and when he opened his mouth to say something, she held up her hand. Her voice shook. "No. I need to do this now, before I lose my courage. I’m sorry for hurting you – for all that I said . . . and thought about you. I can’t think of it without being filled with shame . . . I have no excuses. I believed the worst lies about you just because . . . just because I was offended. I wouldn’t listen to June. I ignored everything wonderful about you that was so obvious, and I chose to accept the word of two of the slimiest . . . it is unforgivable . . . but I just want you to know that I regret ever saying – ever thinking any of it . . . ever . . ." She turned to go, tears streaming down her face, unheeded.

"Bella, wait." He was suddenly beside her. "I can’t lie and say it didn’t hurt – still doesn’t hurt – but I know you think differently now. Let’s put it behind us and start over."

"How can you want anything to do with me anymore? How can you forgive me for what I’ve done?"

He reached out and took her chin in his hand, lifted her face to look at him, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his other hand. "How could I not forgive you? I’m not blameless in this either. I said some thoughtless, hurtful things. I watched you . . . I wasn’t open with you. I can understand how my actions could have been misinterpreted. Thank you for what you said about the painting. It makes me feel better . . . now please, don’t cry."

Being treated with so much kindness and told not to cry made Bella feel more like crying than ever. Her eyes filled, blinding her. She couldn’t speak for fear of breaking down.

"I really like your sweater," he said softly, his head close to her ear.

"Oh! Your sweater – I almost forgot. Here, I’ll take it off." She started to pull her arms out of the sleeves.

D put out his hand to stop her. "Seeing you wear it told me something I know you can’t bring yourself to say. I think it warmed me as much as the sweater is warming you. Besides, I like the way it looks on you. Keep it on or I’ll just have to lend you another one." He ran his hand from her shoulder down her arm. Slowly. His eyes were filled with light. He was just reaching to put his other arm around her, just bending his head closer to hers, when running steps were heard and someone burst excitedly into the room.

Bella was out of her trance and had jumped two feet back by the time the person spoke.

"Dar – oops D . . . I didn’t know anyone was here with you . . . oh! Bella. Hi!"

Tess came to a stop, flushed not only from excitement but also from sudden embarrassment.

"You two know each other?" asked D, looking from one to the other.

"Yes, we met this morning," said Bella, attempting to slow her breathing and regain composure.

"Bella was painting and I was playing guitar – she told me she knew you a bit – I guess that was an understatement." Tess looked up at her brother and then across to Bella, her curiosity evident, but neither enlightened her. "I just got back from Aunt Kat’s and what I really came here for was to tell you about meeting Bella this morning. Has she told you about her offer yet?"

"Offer?"

"I asked Tess if she could be my assistant for the campout."

"And she painted me in a painting that she’s going to give me if I do it. Isn’t that great?"

"You must have had some meeting," said D, smiling. "Just one morning and she’s both painted you and offered you a job. What else?"

"I played for her and we sang together."

D turned to Bella and raised an eyebrow, "Really? And here I was stuck in a business meeting with Colin."

Bella smiled and then looked down. It was difficult to be natural. She felt a lot happier, but she had just made it through a very emotional scene, and D was still affecting her in an extremely disturbing way. Had he been about to kiss her again, or was that her imagination? She couldn’t really think why he would want to, even though she had apologised – there was still an ocean of things between them. One of which was her inability to act rationally when she was near him. She was going to have to do something about that if her new friendship with his sister was going to throw them together during the summer.

"I’d better be going," said Bella when Tess had finished giving D the details of their morning together in the woods.

"Please, stay." D gave her a look that sent a twinge tingling high in her chest. Her throat felt dry, but it was hard to swallow.

"I’m sorry – I interrupted you. I’ll go," said Tess.

"No," Bella forced herself to say. "You haven’t seen your brother all day, and I really do need to go. Aimee will be upset if I don’t have another painting for her tomorrow. I have to get some sleep."

They both walked her out to June’s car, and as D held the door open for Bella he said in a low voice, "Thanks for giving Tess the job, and the painting, and – well – everything. I’ll see you."

Bella turned the car and drove along the winding road. ‘I’ll see you.’ On top of all that had taken place that evening those three simple words set her heart singing. He still wanted to see her.

*Off He Goes ~ Pearl Jam

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Bella held her face up to the early morning sun. It was only 7:30 and it was already radiating such warmth that she knew it was going to be an extremely hot day. Even though her bed had been cosy and her thoughts untroubled, she had been able to sleep no longer and risen with a restlessness to be out and gone. Adjusting her backpack, Bella continued along the trail to the creek. She followed it down past the waterfall to the open valley where it fed the pond, which spread out to catch the sun, as flat and serene as on the other occasion, when she had painted the dark lake instead. She was not going to let the phantom of the midnight lake take over again. This time only the pond would be in her picture.

Not that the memories were not still alive and painful, but with the apology they had lost their edge. They were no longer all pervading. And it wasn’t only the apology – it was D himself. His forgiveness, his soft smile, the way his eyes had warmed and shed their hurt, and most particularly, the promise of friendship to come.

The happiness she had gained diminished slightly as she thought of all that still lay between them, would probably always lie between them. But at least their relationship was on a better footing now, and with all the hope and optimism she could muster, Bella had to concede it was very possible that they could be friends, good friends. She just needed to keep her feelings under control. She loved D more than a good friend should – but there was no changing that; there wasn’t anything to do but keep it to herself and not let him see it. She wanted nothing to destroy their tenuous friendship.

The more she thought about it, the more she had to admit that she had been wrong in thinking he was about to kiss her last night before Tess had interrupted. She now realised it was only her own desire talking – her intense wish for a repeat of that kiss she had experienced. When she was close to him, with his hand touching her arm as it had, all she could think of was the feel of his lips, the warmth of his mouth – not the confusion leading up to it, or the confrontation after, but the moment that she had fallen into so easily. The initial softness of his lips, the feel of his arms about her, and then . . . it was foolish to dwell on it – to even allow herself to think about it. She wanted his friendship and if she craved his every touch she would just be imposing another barrier. She had to hold tight to her love in some secret place deep inside - cherish it, but not feed it with impossibilities.

He had been about to hold her – give her comfort and nothing more – and she had to keep reminding herself of that. She could not allow herself to be devastated by his simple kindnesses. She had to face him, speak coherently, and keep her emotions in check – and then they could become friends. But oh - it was so moving, so exhilarating to hear his voice warm and soft in her ear and to see his eyes fill up with light. He could not know what he did to her – should not know. It was better unrevealed.

With that thought she began to paint – laying down a darker undercoat, and bringing in colour and movement. Her musings slipped into the background superseded by the delicate flush of light upon the water and the clean depths beneath it. The pond took shape, and then the lily pads, still raised up, slightly folded, curved towards the sun. The alders that surrounded the water and lifted their smoky-green leaves to the sky. Dragonflies droned over, resplendent in their brilliant blue, gliding across the expanse of water from clump of rushes to leaf to stem. Small fish broke the surface, rising to the low flying insects that skimmed the top of the water, and she caught those with brush and paint too. The world she entered left no room for contemplation or deliberation -–it was a spontaneous reaction to the stimuli around her that formed the picture on her canvas. And in it she showed a fresh, young world; a new beginning, airy, light, and full of hope – the midnight shadow banished to the depths of the pond, escaping only in discreet patches surrounded by the warm, spreading light.

Bella stopped to eat and lay back in the shade of a young pine. The sun was now full and hot, the leathery circles of leaves were flat and flaccid upon the water. But she had caught the essence of the breaking day, so it no longer mattered. The picture before her was tranquil, but with hints of contained vigour. Not the sleepy, silent surface she now saw. Her paints were drying quickly upon her palette. She packed up. What little touches needed to be added she could do in the cool of her cabin, and then bring it to Aimee before 6:00.

She stopped again at the waterfall, pulled off her shoes and socks and walked into one of the pools beside the torrent. The water was icy – livening her heat-dulled senses. She sat on an up-thrust rock as the creek eddied and swirled around her, stretching her arms to the shattering water, taking strength from it. The course that lay ahead of her was still far from easy.

The first time she saw D on Monday, she felt that old tightening of dread deep inside, but he smiled and it melted leaving her vulnerable and shy, and for all her intentions to the contrary, she found herself foolishly unable to speak coherently. He accepted her stumbling words with another smile.

"Hi . . . how are . . . did you . . ." He had just as much difficulty forming a complete sentence as herself. After a few more attempts on both their parts, which left Bella blushing furiously, D recovered first.

"We’re having a bit of trouble with the English language today." He grinned sheepishly.

Bella felt her heart turn over yet again with his look "Yes," was all she managed. She was going to have to come up with something better than that.

"Perhaps we should speak Chinese."

"Mandarin or Cantonese?"

D laughed. "Have a good shift." He touched her arm lightly as he left the classroom. It was fleeting, but it tingled upon her bare flesh and the memory of it stayed in that very spot long into the day.

Bella looked around and noticed everyone’s eyes were on her. Alyson was smiling smugly and Cindy was giving her a high-five.

"What are you two so chipper about?" she asked to hide her embarrassment. It was silly to assume they had all been listening to her awkward conversation with their teacher, but she couldn’t help it.

"Three more days of school," said Cindy evasively.

"Two," said Alyson. "You can’t count today."

"And we don’t have to do any real work," cut in Alicia. "We all know they’ve written the report cards already."

"They’re done?" asked Rita. "Then why am I madly trying to finish . . ."

"Don’t listen to Alicia," said Sarah. "You can still bring your socials mark up if you do the extra project so you can make the honour roll."

"Whew!"

Tuesday was the last writing club meeting before the end of school, and it really only consisted of finalising plans for the campout that was to begin the following Monday. When Bella had gone into the office that morning, Carla had handed her the registration list.

"We’ve got your entire writing group, including the boys, signed up," she said.

"Even though they can’t stay overnight? But what about Jordan? I thought he had baseball."

"He has a tournament this weekend, but he only has practices next week so his mom will drive him back and forth."

"And she’s going to pick him up for the night and bring him back in the morning too? What a good mom!" Bella scanned the list in her hand. "But you’ve got eleven kids registered – how’d that happen?"

"Well, the boys are only going to be there part time so Chance let another girl register. She was really eager."

"Tamsin? Who’s she? She doesn’t go to this school."

"No, she home schools. She came in the other day with her father to register for a summer program, and when she found out about the writing group it was all she wanted to do."

When Bella told the other girls about Tamsin, they were quite excited. They were all certain it must be the same Tamsin that had stories posted on line. Lise even remembered having met her the previous summer in a gourmet cooking class she had taken. But the thing that excited the kids the most was that Mr. Fitz’ sister was to be the other counsellor. They were all eager to meet her and pelted Bella and D with questions about her.

D was in his usual spot, sitting at his desk finalising report cards with all the last minute marks. Neither he nor Bella had had an opportunity to talk together for more than a moment or two since Saturday, but there was no longer a barrier of pain between them and it showed. They were continually sending each other tentative glances and shy smiles. At times D put down his pen altogether and gave up the pretence of actually attending to the work on his desk. He was easily drawn into all the planning and conversations by his enterprising young students, who seemed not to have given up their hidden agenda as they had promised they would. If either Bella or D noticed their sly glances and sneaky smiles, neither of them alluded to it.

On Wednesday morning there were no classes. Classrooms were organised for the summer and desks were cleaned out. Bella arrived at 9:00 to help set the art equipment room to rights with her trusty assistants, Alyson and Cindy. At 10:00 was the year-end assembly with the awards ceremonies and grade 7 graduation. Bella felt tears come to her eyes as all her favourite kids said their last goodbyes to the school and received their diplomas. She was filled with pride that every one of her writing group had made the honour roll, and a number of them had won other awards too. Rita won the computer tech award – she had been the trouble-shooter for the computer lab, keeping everything running smoothly. Cindy was presented an award for editing the school newspaper and Alicia received an award for leading the debate team to the district championship. Jordan won the athlete of the year award, Alyson the citizenship award, and Sarah the academic award, with over a 90% average in every subject.

Most of the students went home with their parents after the assembly, but all the grade 7’s and some of the younger students stayed for a hot dog lunch followed by the first annual grade 7’s against the teachers baseball game. It was the quietest lunch Bella had yet to supervise with most of the teachers eating outside at the picnic tables and the children planning strategies for the game. The kids all begged Bella to join their team and she agreed amid calls of ‘traitor’ from June and Chance. She was to play shortstop, with Jordan pitching. D was to be the pitcher for the other team. The kids won the coin toss and chose to be home team, then ran out for a quick infield to be ready to face the teachers.

Cassandra arrived, dressed in a salmon mini skirt and spike-heeled sandals. She was arguing with Chance because he had provided lunch without her catering. "I would have served ball park franks with fried onions and all the other trimmings, just like at a major league game," she insisted. "Why wasn’t I told we were playing baseball? I’ll play second base."

"Dressed like that?" said Chance. "I can just see you diving for a ball."

"These are just little kids we are playing, Chance. How hard could it be?"

"You might break a nail. Why don’t you help Adam keep score?"

"As long as I’m official scorekeeper," she said, tossing her head.

"If you get to do something, I should too," said Colin as he ambled over. "I ought to get some kind of reward for driving you here."

"Well we lost Bella to the kids so we could use you," said Chance. "If you take first, Phil can go out into right field, and Maddy can come in and be our coach."

"Right field?" Phil was not impressed.

"We need someone solid out there," said Maddy, winking at Chance. "We’re relying on you."

June was leadoff batter and Jordan struck her out with his curveball. Chance tried to bunt his way on but was thrown out by Alyson. Carla hit one up the third base line and got a single. D was hitting cleanup. He took the first pitch and Carla stole second; Tyler’s throw was wide – Bella was able to snag it but was too late with the tag. D unloaded on the next pitch with a line drive straight into Bella’s glove. She just stood there holding it out, looking dumbfounded.

As they walked in, Jordan told Bella, "Good catch."

"Lucky catch, you mean."

"It could have been trouble. Next time he’s getting nothing. High and inside for the rest of the game."

Alyson was up first for the kids. D threw her two fastballs for strikes and then set her up with an off-speed pitch that had her swinging early. Rita popped out to June at second. Bella was number three batter. She set her feet in the box and then made to stare down the pitcher. That was not only her undoing but also his. As she looked at him she almost forgot there was a baseball game going on and the ball sailed past harmlessly, low and outside. D didn’t take his eyes off her. The next pitch was in the dirt.

Chance went up to the mound to talk to his pitcher who wasn’t paying any attention to his signals. Bella saw D scuff the rubber with his shoe and shrug his shoulders. Chance walked back to home plate laughing and gave Bella a wink. He got into his crouch as she resumed position. The third pitch whipped past in on her waist and she didn’t even flinch. She was too busy thinking how good he looked up there on the mound. Eric Davis, the umpire, called 3 and 0. All her team-mates were yelling at her not to swing at the next pitch, and D finally managed to get it into the zone.

"Okay. Two more like that, big guy," yelled Chance. "I don’t think she’s swinging."

The next pitch came straight for Bella and she ducked out of the way at the last minute. Unfortunately it hit her bat, bringing the count full.

Bella shook her head and tried to regroup. She was at a full count and she had barely been aware of any of the pitches. She planted her left foot and then set her right foot in position. She bent her knees and brought her bat back, and faced the pitcher again. But it was not just any pitcher – it was D. ‘I can’t let him get to me again,’ she thought as she stared at him as if through a tunnel. She was sure she could see the green of his eyes all the way from home plate. D nodded to Chance and then threw from the stretch position. The ball blew by her before she had time to react, straight across the plate, ¼ inch below her kneecap.

"Ball 4," yelled Eric Davis.

Chance turned to him. "It was perfect – right on her knees." Next time he was up to bat he paid for that remark.

Bella had to be told to take her base three times before she tossed her bat to the backstop and jogged to first.

"So who was psyching whom out?" asked Colin, chuckling.

"I’m not exactly sure," said Bella bemusedly.

When Jordan came up to bat, D overcompensated for all the poor pitches he had thrown to Bella and put the ball right in his sweet spot. There were two outs so Bella, aware again, ran with the hit. Collins dove after it ineffectually and Carla had to run into deep right to retrieve the ball while Phil floundered on the ground. Bella beat the throw to the plate for the first of the kids’ runs. Jordan got caught in a run down between 3^rd and home and ended up being tagged out by D.

The game had become serious. Children and parents were taking sides and cheering madly as the score stayed close from inning to inning. Cassandra was getting restless. Adam had refused to give up the scorebook and pencil. She watched him over his shoulder.

"Didn’t that batter just go out?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn’t you put an X on the box instead of a 4-3? That’s not even the score."

"That’s how he went out. Second threw him out at first. Do you really know how to keep score?" Adam looked at her scornfully.

"Of course I do. Look, that kid just struck out. Pay attention."

"I’ve already got it written down."

"That’s just a K. Aren’t you supposed to put an X in the box?"

"No," said Adam shortly. Then he turned to the game and ignored the rest of Cassandra’s comments.

By the top of the 9^th, the score was tied 3-3. Neither D nor Bella had a hit in the game. Jordan gave him nothing to swing at, but he wanted to hit. The result was he popped out twice; both times Bella fielded the ball. Bella struck out her next at bat, swinging at a ball in the dirt, and then hit a come-backer to the pitcher which D leisurely threw to first for the out.

In the 9^th, D was more patient and got on on a walk. He stole second, knocking the ball right out of Bella’s glove as he slid in. Tyler’s throw had been right on the money. Bella fell over onto her butt with the impact. D stood up and held his hand out to grab hers, pulling her up to her feet.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you did I? How’s your hand?"

Bella looked up into his concerned eyes. He was so close. "I’m fine." She smiled rather shakily, but he insisted she take her glove off so he could see for himself. He turned her hand gently in his own.

"You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?"

"I’m sure." She put her glove back on and then caught the ball as Rita threw it in from centre. "See – good working order."

D still stood there right beside her, looking down at her, smiling softly.

"You didn’t call time, your foot’s not on the bag, and I have the ball," Bella whispered, but she made no move to tag him.

"Thanks," he said, reaching out with his foot to make contact with second base.

"Is everything okay?" called Jordan.

"Sure," said Bella, recollecting herself. She threw the ball to him and resumed her position at short, but that didn’t mean that she was no longer distracted by the base runner only a few feet away.

Phil Collins struck out to end the inning, leaving D stranded at 3^rd.

Bella came up to bat in the bottom of the 9^th with 2 out. By this time she was a little more accustomed to staring to the mound at D and she gave him a wink as he was in his windup. The ball sailed over her head. The next pitch blew by her so fast she was just swinging at the wind it left behind. On the third pitch, she squared to bunt but popped it foul. Just as D was in his windup for the forth pitch, she called time and stepped out of the batters’ box. The ploy didn’t work. When she was set up again the pitch that came was nasty and she just managed to foul it off.

The kids began to chant, "We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher." Bella grinned at D as she faced him. He grinned back with confidence. She was expecting his fastball, but he threw his changeup and she just managed to hold up on her swing – 2 and 2 the count. On the next pitch, Bella surprised everybody by squaring to bunt at the last minute and dropping a slow trickler up the first base line that just stopped short of going foul. She was at the bag before Colin even fielded the ball.

When Colin joined her at first, he said, "Looks like you won that battle. You’ve got our pitcher good and rattled."

Unfortunately, she didn’t have him as rattled as they both had thought. A few moments later, after she took to big of a lead off, she was picked off at first.

"That’s a full nine innings and I’m calling the game," yelled Eric Davis. "The first annual Pember Elementary baseball extravaganza ends in a tie."

There was some cheering and some booing, but for the most part everyone was happy with the outcome of the game. Both teams congratulated each other and as they left the field, D caught up with Bella and walked alongside her.

She looked up at him. "You play to win, don’t you?"

"I wasn’t the only one playing to win." D smiled at her. "I’ve got to dismiss my class – could you stick around?"

"I’m not going anywhere," said Bella, feeling breathless suddenly despite all her resolutions to stay calm and collected. "I’ve got to wait for June anyway. She’s my ride."

"Wait for me instead, I’ll drive you." His voice was soft and earnest.

"Okay." Bella’s heart was beating in her throat. She was unable to look up at him.

"Oh D!" called Cassandra, trying to walk gracefully over to them as her heels sank in the soft field. "Colin is taking Carla home and I’m stuck for a ride."

"I’m busy, but I’m sure you could get a ride from Chance," said D, walking quickly towards the school. "Or even Phil," he added wickedly. He looked over at Bella. "I’ll see you later." It was said firmly, with a light smile.

Cassandra looked from one to the other suspiciously and then removed her sandals and stalked off the field, calling out to Chance to wait up as she went.

Bella was besieged by the girls who were tearfully hugging each other even though they would all be together again in a few days. This was their last day at Pember Elementary and they had become very emotional. It was even affecting Jordan who came over to Bella and very nearly hugged her too.

"Great game," he said gruffly. "You’re an awesome shortstop."

"And you’re quite a pitcher, buddy," she said, giving his arm a soft punch.

Jordan smiled broadly and his cheeks turned pink.

Alyson looked toward heaven despairingly.

"Wait till you say goodbye to Mr. Fitz," whispered Jordan. It was Alyson’s turn to blush.

Bella went to see if Maddy needed any help, but was told to take it easy, so she sat on the front steps to wait for D. Colin soon joined her.

"You waiting around too?"

"Yeah."

"So, things seem to be going better between you and my cousin," he said.

"Now that I’ve finally apologised we can almost act like ordinary people around each other."

"Yeah – very ordinary people who aren’t interested in each other at all." Colin smirked.

"Well, at least now we have a chance of becoming friends."

"Friends is it?"

"Why not?" She faced him accusingly.

"Have you seen the way the guy is acting today? I’ve never seen him more distracted. He couldn’t even pitch to you. He could always stare down anyone who came up to the plate – the biggest, meanest sluggers you ever saw."

"So you think I still bother him . . . that he’s having a hard time . . . putting up with me?"

"I’m thinking just the opposite, silly girl." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I don’t think he wants to be ‘just friends’ any more than you do."

"What are you talking about?" She blushed.

"Well you as good as told me how you feel about him and he as good as . . ."

"You said he didn’t say anything."

"He doesn’t have to say anything. I can tell by the way he’s acting. He’s really shaken up."

Bella looked at him doubtfully.

"Okay, I’ll stay out of it, after all, when I meddled before I messed things up good."

Bella wondered what he was referring to, but she did not want to enquire any further. If it was the time he kissed her – hadn’t that only affected him and Carla? She sat uncomfortably for a moment and then changed the subject. "How’re you and Carla doing?"

"Did you know she’ll be working at the resort for the summer?" Colin grinned. "And I’ve got something even better to tell you . . . I offered her a permanent position and she accepted."

"You mean she’s leaving the school to work at the resort year ‘round?"

"No, a permanent position in my life." He was beaming now.

"Oh Colin!" Bella said, putting her arms around him and giving him a warm hug.

"I thought you promised not to chase after the ladies any more," said Carla who had just come out onto the porch.

Bella stood up and ran over to her and hugged her fiercely. "I’m so happy for you two."

"Well, no one else was hanging around waiting to propose, and I want to have kids before I’m past my prime," said Carla with a wink.

Carla and Colin left soon after that, but D didn’t keep Bella waiting much longer.

"I told June you were coming with me," he said as he met her on the stairs.

Bella was stunned for a moment. She hadn’t even thought of telling June. She really wasn’t thinking straight any more.

"Thanks."

They walked out to his green Jag which was parked in the shade with the windows down. He opened the door for her and she slid into the car. The smell of the warm leather interior was even more pleasing than she remembered. She sighed and leaned her arm out the window. When he got into the drivers’ seat, she smiled a little self-consciously and looked out the window. He drove from the parking lot onto the street before he said anything.

"So what are your plans until the camping trip?" he asked casually.

"I need to get out and paint. Aimee wants me to do a show in August and I have nothing."

"I’ll keep Daisy on the other side of the lake so she doesn’t disturb you, then."

"Daisy wouldn’t disturb me."

"That’s nice to know." He smiled and leaned back comfortably as he drove. "I still have to come to school tomorrow, for meetings and such."

Bella nodded. She wasn’t sure what he was suggesting, if anything, and she didn’t know what to say.

They drove on in silence, and when D pulled into her driveway, he turned to her. "Tess was hoping you’d join us for supper one night . . . how about Friday?"

"Um, yes . . . I’d like to see her too. Friday would be good."

"Then I’ll pick you up about 6:00?"

"Sure."

"Wonderful." He got out and came around to open her door.

Bella could only sit and watch him as he walked in front of the car. Had he just asked her out . . . or had Tess? She took his proffered hand and let him pull her out of the car. It was strong and warm and she didn’t want him to let go. They walked up the stairs together hand in hand and then he stopped by her door and looked down at her. "Friday," he said softly, and then he gave her hand a squeeze and let it go.

She stood without moving as he walked down the steps and got back into the car. She raised her hand in a little wave as he backed out of her drive, and watched the spot where her driveway met the road long after he had gone.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

As Bella walked past the school on her way to the lake, she noticed the green Jag in the parking lot, between Chance’s Jeep and June’s little car. She wished she had a reason to stop by and take part in the meeting and she knew it was only because she would like to see D. Hear his voice. Feel the warmth of his slow smile. Nothing to do with any ideas she might have regarding school matters. She really had no excuse to attend, though. Her temporary job as art room TA was over. In September the real TA would be back – her broken leg mended. She was only a lunch hour supervisory aide now, and they didn’t attend staff meetings. She sighed and hoisted the large canvas she was carrying under her arm. She needed to get out and paint, and that was just what she was going to do.

Four hours later she sat back and gazed at her picture. It was going well. The tourists who ventured off the trail to observe her had been very respectful and her mood had held through the most important part of painting, that of capturing the essence of what she was seeing and how it made her feel onto the flat surface. Bringing depth and colour to an empty plane. But all the while she had been hoping to be disturbed by a spotted whirlwind, even though she knew that it couldn’t possibly happen. She looked at her watch – it was 2:00 – not a chance of seeing Daisy, or him, yet. She sighed; it just didn’t do to think of D every moment. She studied her picture in an attempt to become immersed once again – mixed a clear, jade green and then hovered with her brush over her canvas until she realised that it was the very colour of his eyes.

When she was disturbed it was a soft, wet touch on her arm nearly two hours later. She turned in surprise to be greeted by quizzical dark eyes and a madly wagging tale.

"How did you manage to sneak up on me, sweetie?" she asked as she patted Daisy’s head, and then she looked around for the inevitable companion. He was leaning on a tree not far from her, the filtering sunlight glinting in his dark hair. A smile slowly spread across his face, warming the intent expression of his eyes. Bella felt all her senses sharpen. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins, hear the light scuffle of Daisy’s feet on the soft forest floor, and see all the little dust motes that floated in the shafts of light that shot through the branches between herself and D. He had come. She prayed she wasn’t smiling like an idiot.

He leisurely walked towards her. "I hope you don’t think I snuck up on you too," he said apologetically. "You were very engrossed in your painting. We tried to be noisy, I assure you."

He sat down on the rock beside her. He was so very close it was almost overwhelming. Bella breathed in the scent of him, felt her skin tingle at the thought of his leg almost touching hers, and once again her speech was incapacitated.

"You have this way of bathing everything in a warm light – those tree trunks – the bark is glowing – and the shimmering sections of lake that appear between the branches. How do you do it? I am always amazed at your paintings."

Bella looked up at him as he spoke, and then turned away, afraid that he would see her heart in her eyes. "Thanks." It came out as a whisper.

"Sometimes I think you sell yourself short. Do you even know how good you are?" He turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes lowered on her hands. "I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be bothering you while you are working. We’ll leave."

Daisy had her head resting on Bella’s lap and was looking up at her with adoration as she stroked her ear. "Please don’t go. I’m glad you came." Bella lifted her head and bravely smiled up at him. "I’m just a little shy about handling praise." ‘Especially praise from you.’

"You shouldn’t be – you deserve it."

"See, there you go again," she said, blushing.

"Okay. I promise to sit and watch you paint and never say how much I like it . . . at least I’ll try."

"Would you like me to tell you all about how wonderfully you play guitar and how amazing your voice is when you sing?" asked Bella in an attempt to prove her point that left her blushing all the more when she realised what she had just said.

"Please do. I love to have my ego stroked."

"You do not." Bella laughed and all at once lost her shyness.

D stayed for about half an hour during which time Bella barely painted at all. They talked about Daisy, and the trees to be found in the woods, and other inconsequential things, and then he left with the promise to see her at 6:00 the next day, and a fleeting touch of his finger upon her cheek. She had to scrape dried paint off her palette and lay out fresh. She sat and stared at her canvas, wrapped in a soft cloak of happiness, and then began to transfer that feeling of comfort to her picture with little touches of colour.

The next day she spent the morning painting down by the creek, but was back at the cabin to eat lunch with June.

"I haven’t seen my parents since Christmas." June was filled with nervous excitement. "I do hope they like Chance."

"How could they help it?" Bella laughed.

"I’ve never introduced anyone to them that I cared so much about, or brought a man home to stay for a week."

"He will have them eating out of his hand in five minutes," said Bella.

A reflective smile graced June’s face. Her eyes were filled with light. "You’re right. How could anyone not love him? If only my mom doesn’t drive him crazy and scare him off."

"You think Chance will mind her falling over backwards to cook his favourite meals and see to his every wish?"

"She can be a little overwhelming."

"Your dad will keep her in line. Anyway, Chance is so laid back and he would put up with anything to spend a week with you - I think the only problem you’ll have is convincing him to leave."

Soon the man himself was at the doorstep, in a hurry to load up June’s bags and head off to Vancouver.

"Everything should be all set for your campout, Bella," he said as he kissed her cheek. "If you have any problems, just get a hold of Carla."

"I’ve got all the tents, and I’m going with Tess to buy the food on Sunday. I think we’ve got everything under control."

"I have complete confidence in you," he said as he slammed his door and started the engine.

Bella ran to the passenger side of the Jeep and gave June a final hug through the open window. "Have fun!" She waved until she could no longer see them and then went back into the cabin. She had four hours to go until D picked her up.

There was one important thing Bella needed to get done before going out to dinner. She went to her room and grabbed the two finished canvases that were propped against the wall, the one she had just finished the day before, and the one of Tess. The first was for Aimee, the other she was getting framed. An hour later she was back after waiting while the framer had quickly put a frame together. Aimee had only consented to the rush order when she found out it was for her cousin.

Bella slipped D’s Counting Crows Storytellers CD into the player and turned the sound way up, and went to run a bath. She washed her hair and then had a half-hour soak in fragrant honeysuckle bath oil. Towel drying her hair took a long time, and when she was done, it still hung in damp wavy tendrils. She pulled on a pair of burgundy jeans and a dark green silk top and then sat in the living room, fluffing her hair to completely dry it. For all her dawdling she was still ready almost an hour early. The CD was on continuous play, and the songs were repeating for the third time. She sat on the couch and closed her eyes.

Waiting for you
All my sins . . .
I said that I would pay for them if I could
come back to you
All my innocence is wasted on the dead
and dreaming
Every night these silhouettes appear
above my head
Little angels of the silences that climb
into my bed and whisper . . .*

The normally driving rock song on this arrangement was sweet and tender, and brought tears to her eyes. Had she paid for her sins? Were they gone, floating off on a light breeze just as this song ended and the new one began?

All of the sudden she disappears
just yesterday she was here
somebody tell me if I am sleeping
someone should be with me here
(cause I don’t wanna be alone)

And she didn’t want to be alone. But could she dream, or were all her dreams futile?

I wanna be the light that burns out your eyes
‘cause I know there’s little things about me
that would sing in the silence . . .

Her mind drifted as the song played on, melancholy and haunting, but in some way the powerfully painful images helped fill her with hope. There was no rejection – someone was home, and more than that, reaching out his hand, saving her.

I wanna be the last thing that you hear when you’re falling asleep**

The knock on the door woke her, and for some reason a thought echoed in her head, ‘And the first thing you see when you wake up.’ Suddenly she realised that D was here to pick her up and she had been dozing on the couch. She smoothed her shirt, shook her hair back, and got up to open the door.

"Hi. I hope I’m not early. Are you ready?"

"Um, yes, just a minute – come in."

She held the door open for him and then excused herself and slipped down the hall to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror didn’t look too terrible. She tidied her hair and splashed cold water on her face, and after drying off on a towel decided she was ready to face him.

"Sorry about that," she said as she returned to the living room. "I sort of fell asleep on the couch. I’m ready now."

He smiled, put his hand out towards her and then let it fall. "You look great."

Bella felt she was going to lose control of her senses again. A little compliment like that shouldn’t affect her so much. He held the door open for her and she was about to go through when she remembered the painting.

"Just a minute." She went into her room and came out with a large rectangle wrapped in brown paper. "For Tess," she said.

D held his hand out for it. "May I?"

He followed her out to the car and asked her to wait as he put it in the back seat, then he went around and opened the passenger door for her. As they drove off, Bella was still feeling a little awkward.

"Chance and I had our last meeting this morning, and now I don’t have to think about school until the end of August," he said conversationally.

"What are you planning to do for the summer? Go away?"

He smiled at her and shook his head. "I couldn’t go away," he said softly, and then he continued in a louder voice. "I’ll be busy at the lodge quite a bit and I want to spend as much time as possible with Tess. And . . ." He let his voice trail off and smiled at her, his eyes shining in such a way that caused the hope that Bella had felt earlier to unfurl and send out tender leaves opening like butterfly wings. She smiled tentatively and he absently reached out and placed his right hand upon hers as he held the wheel with his left. It stayed there until he had to use his turn signal. They were both quiet on the ride to the lodge, but the initial flustered feeling that Bella had experienced had dissipated.

Tess ran out to the car to meet Bella, followed closely by Daisy. She was thrilled to be presented with the painting and couldn’t wait to drag them both inside to open it. They went straight in to their private sitting room and then Tess could hold back no longer. Ripping the paper off the picture with a gasp of pleasure, she placed it on a side table to lean against the wall and stood back.

"Don’t say anything nice about it – she doesn’t like that," said D with a smug look at Bella.

"I’ll say whatever I like!" said Tess. "Oh Bella, it’s beautiful! Thank you so much."

Bella smiled and accepted a hug from Tess with pleasure.

"It is beautiful," said D. "Do I get a hug now too?" When Tess turned to hug her brother he winked as he took her in his arms. "I didn’t mean you."

Bella blushed and Tess looked from one to the other. "I was wondering what I deserved a hug for," she said to D.

"You always deserve a hug," he said, and he let the moment pass. "So where are you going to hang it?"

"In my room, of course, and then I’ll take it to university with me to hang in my res."

"I think it would look perfect in here."

"You would. Bella, I’m sorry, my brother is being a terrible host – would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, please."

"I picked up some soft cider for tonight," said D. "Would you like raspberry or apple?"

"Raspberry, thanks."

Tess sat with Bella on the couch, and when D left the room her shyness returned, causing Bella to lose hers completely in an effort to set Tess at ease again. By the time D returned with their drinks they were chatting comfortably about the campout.

"I can drive you both to Clinton on Sunday to do your grocery shopping," he offered as he sat in an armchair.

"We’re capable of going on our own," said Tess. She turned to Bella. "Sometimes he is so overprotective." She giggled.

"I’m not being overprotective. You two are both going to be at camp for a week – it’s just an excuse for us to spend more time together."

Tess looked at Bella, waiting for her response.

"Thanks. I’d like that."

"What if we go about 2:00, and then stay for supper, my treat?"

"Okay, but I was planning on stretching canvases in the evening, so I’ll have to pass on the supper."

"I know you are perfectly capable of stretching canvases on your own, but I’d like to help, so how about we pick up a pizza and finish off the day at your place?" He smiled at her disarmingly.

Bella quietly agreed and Tess just sat and watched them both with interest.

Dinner was delicious. Bella and Tess sat side-by-side and D sat opposite them, encouraging their conversation, and alternately watching them with a pleased look or teasing them. Once they had finished eating, they stayed at the dinner table and spent a long time talking. Tess was eager to hear of Bella’s experiences at college and compare them with D’s UBC tales and her own expectations of what university would be like. She was a little nervous of this next great step in her life, and it showed. Finally they cleared away all the dinner things together and loaded the dishwasher.

"You don’t need to do anything," said Tess to Bella. "You’re a guest."

"I promise to let you clean up after our pizza at my place on Sunday," said Bella.

"Are either of you up for a walk?" asked D as he finished putting the leftovers in the fridge.

"You two go ahead," said Tess. "I’m feeling a bit tired."

D looked at Bella. "I’d like to go for a walk . . . but you still have to drive me home and . . . I don’t want to keep you too late."

"We’ll go for a little walk and then I’ll drive you home," he said. He looked at his sister. "You okay with that, Tess?"

"Yes. Goodnight Bella – it was fun – see you on Sunday. Goodnight D – D."

"D-D?" teased her brother, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

As they left the house, D took Bella’s hand and led her down to the lake. They walked out onto the dock.

"I’ve been coming here all of my life, and I’ve lived here for the last four years, but I never tire of it. The lake is always so serene in the evenings. There’s one thing I thank my aunt for, and that’s the ban on powerboats that she instituted when she was mayor years back. It brings a quieter, more reflective type of tourist."

It was 10:00 at night, but the sky was still as pale a blue as in the day, only with none of the daytime brightness. Close by, black trees rose up as silhouettes, their fern like branches patterning the sky and water. Stars were beginning to prick through. The velvet water lapped softly against the dock. Bella absorbed the peace, her hand, warm and comfortable in D’s own. All her awareness was attuned to the feeling of his skin upon hers, the way his arm rubbed her shoulder, the rich tone of his voice in the still night air.

He raised his other hand to the sky. "Look – the summer triangle. Vega, Deneb, Altair." He pointed to each star in turn.

Bella shivered. Not with cold, it was a mild evening, but from the memory of his voice in the meadow as he pointed out the different stars of spring. She was filled with longing for more than the touch of his hand.

"You’re cold," he said, letting go of her hand and placing his arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer to him. "Is that better?"

Bella nodded. She couldn’t trust herself to speak. Slowly they walked from the dock, along a stretch of beach, and back up to the car without saying any more.

"I’d better get you home," D said finally, his voice husky. He opened the door for her and she felt all the emptiness of the loss of his arm and the warmth of his body by her side.

On the drive home, cello music filled the car once again, deep with meaning, as if the bow was being stroked across the strings of Bella’s heart. She yearned for the contact again, but this time his hand did not find its way to hers. As he walked her up the stairs to her porch, they looked for a long time into each other’s eyes. D reached out and lightly ran his hand down an errant strand of Bella’s hair to its full length and then took it, and tucking it behind her ear.

"Your hair is so long."

There was nothing to say. Bella wanted to reach out and touch his hair too.

He put his hand lightly to her chin, tilted it up and looked at her lips. "Goodnight." The word was like a caress. He let go, ran his hand along the length of her hair again, and was gone.

"Goodnight," Bella whispered into the darkness.

During the trip to Clinton and the pizza, canvas-stretching party, Bella experienced the same comfortable camaraderie in her relationship with D, which included an always-present hint of something more. She and Tess had become much closer and all the vestiges of shyness between them had fallen far away. They had both stayed quite late and said a warm goodbye at the door together, with promises of seeing each other at the campsite early in the morning. All the equipment and supplies were already packed in June’s little car with the help of her two friends. There was nothing left to do but go to sleep.

At 8:00 in the morning, D and Tess met Bella at the path to the campsite. It was a walk-in by the water, at the spot where the creek that ran behind Bella’s cabin exited from the lake. All the gear had to be carried down the long path. It took a few trips before everything was stashed on the picnic tables and all the food was put into the large food safe. A load of wood had already been deposited beside the fire pit by one of the park attendants.

The campsite couldn’t have been more perfect. Tent pads were spotted amongst the trees, not too far from each other, but far enough for privacy. Two large picnic tables were in the shade of large pines, with a wide-open space where the fire pit sat. Through the descending branches of the trees the jade waters of the lake sparkled in the morning sun.

                 


Bella would have liked to have sat down and painted the scene right at that moment, but she had to return to the main gate with Tess to meet all of the kids. She was disappointed that D left immediately, even though he did promise to come in the evening for the sing along. As the girls arrived there were cheerful greetings and hugs all around. Alyson and Cindy were soon filling Tess in on the details of the history of the writing club, along with plot lines for some of their stories. Sofie hung back a little bit, but her eyes were eagerly taking everything in.

When Tamsin arrived, Bella welcomed the pretty, dark-haired girl and introduced her to the group. The boys were the last to arrive. They only had small daypacks to carry and teased the girls who had to make the short hike with fully loaded backpacks and sleeping bags. Bella was interested to observe that when they arrived at the campsite, Jordan and Adam were both carrying sleeping bags, and Alyson and Cindy were not.

The first job of the morning was to set up the two large tents and the small supply tent, and then stow all the belongings. Cindy, Alyson, Rita, and Heather were sharing with Tess. Bella had Lise, Sofie, Tamsin, Alicia, and Sarah, and a slightly larger tent. Jordan and Adam grumbled half-heartedly about not being able to have a tent of their own, as they helped cram the art supplies into the small tent.

"We could always stow away in here," said Adam slyly.

A line was set up between two trees for hanging wet bathing suits and towels, and then volunteers went off to the water pump to fill the big five-gallon water jugs. It took quite a bit of time for them to return and when they did, it was immediately apparent why. Alyson, Cindy, Sarah, Lise, Jordan and Adam were all drenched. The water pump had been just too tempting.

"Don’t look at me," said Adam quickly. "It was Lise who started it."

"I just wanted to see if we could turn the pump into a shower," said Lise. "I don’t want to go a week without a shower."

"You’ll be in the lake everyday!" said Adam, as if all that bathing would preclude the need for a shower.

"There are showers at the main campsite," said Bella. "And we can use them when we need to. Otherwise, though, we are staying right here. No wandering off without permission."

It was decided to keep two of the water jugs in the swiftly moving creek to keep the water cool and place the other on the picnic table that was in the deepest shade. Then there was just enough time for a swim before lunch.

"If only I was wearing my swimsuit for the water-fight," said Alyson as she hung up her wet clothes.

"They’ll dry in no time," said Tess.

They were swimming for about twenty minutes when Sarah was suddenly heard to call, "Ship ahoy!" Sure enough, a canoe was slipping through the water heading directly towards their campsite. Bella held her breath. She knew that canoe very well. Almost too well. Soon it was close enough for the others to recognise.

"Mr Fitz!" they all called, waving and jumping up and down in the water. Lise swam out to greet him and then followed him in like a dolphin in some Mediterranean cove.

He landed the canoe on the beach as the children crowded around.

"Here, catch," he called out to Jordan and threw him a pack. Next he threw one to Adam and began unloading all sorts of other gear into the girls’ eager hands.

"What’s going on?" asked Bella.

"Surprise!" yelled Jordan and Adam.

"I’m going to be camping with the boys, if that’s all right with you," D said to an amazed Bella. "I’ve arranged it with Chance and their parents. Jordan and Adam wanted to keep it a surprise." He gave her a look that reminded her of Daisy’s expectant expression.

"It’s the best surprise ever!" shouted the girls in unison.

Bella could only nod her agreement, but the smile that was on her face seemed to be more than enough to convince D that he was welcome. He threw the canoe’s painter around a tree and hoisted the tent to his shoulder, calling the boys to help him set it up.

*Angels of the Silences ~ Counting Crows

**Catapult ~ Counting Crows

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

After lunch, even though it was tempting just to lie in the shade and nap, everyone broke up into groups, except for Jordan who left for his baseball practice, not to return until 6:00. Bella took Heather, Sarah, Sofie and Rita to paint down by the spot where the creek spilled from the lake. Tess set up at a picnic table to work on stories with Alyson, Cindy, Tamsin, and Adam, and D went out in the canoe with Alicia and Lise.

The group of would-be artists studied the scene before them, and Bella discussed the types of things to look for in choosing what to include in their paintings and what to leave out. While they were planning their compositions, Sarah appeared to be somewhat distracted, studying the stems and leaves of small plants and looking under rocks. She finally admitted to be searching for snails, and Bella was left with the distinct impression that it wasn’t with the intent to paint them. When the girls had their paintings well in hand, Bella began to work on her own. She had only allowed herself small canvases for this endeavour so that she would be able to devote as much time as possible to her students, but they learned equally from watching her paint as they did from her instruction.

Tess found that her group of writers was almost as eager to talk to her as they were to write. Alyson kept asking questions that were ostensibly about the story she was writing, but somehow always ended with Tess telling her about life at boarding school.

"I really can’t tell you about campus living," she said. "I have yet to experience it."

"But boarding school must be similar to a campus residence," insisted Alyson.

"You don’t have any of the independence you have in university at a high school, Alyson. We had very strict rules and curfews."

"But you weren’t living with your family, so there is a similarity . . ."

Cindy took the opportunity to talk to Tamsin about her story which she had been reading online. "I thought your idea that Jane and Elizabeth were kidnapped by Mrs. Bennet to replace her own girls who died was so cool. I had no idea you were only our age."

"I’ve been reading all your stories too," said Tamsin, "but I never thought I’d meet you here."

Adam just grunted at them to be quiet. "How’s a man expected to write with your infernal nattering?"

Cindy leaned over his shoulder. "Sheep and Sensibility?" she asked, reading the title from his page.

He hunched over his work to cover his page. "Yer don’t get to see ‘til I’m done!"

"Mr. Fitz let Lise and me paddle all the way back!" yelled Alicia in excitement as she ran up from the lake. She tossed her lifejacket under a tree. "He said we would all probably be able to go for a swim now, right?" She turned to D and Lise who were just coming up from beaching the canoe.

"If it’s okay with our intrepid leader," said D.

"I think it’s okay with us," said Tess, looking at the eager faces of her charges, "but Bella and her crew are still down by the creek."

"I’ll go and see if they want to join us," said D. "The rest of you may as well put your stuff away and go in. Alicia – don’t forget to put that lifejacket in the supply tent."

Bella felt a familiar sensation and turned to look over her shoulder. He was standing just three paces off, his eyes intent upon her. His face warmed as a slow smile crept across it, bringing out an answering smile from her in response.

"I’ve come to see if the artists want to swim. Everyone else is going in."

"If you mark your spots with some rocks, we can come back to finish tomorrow," said Bella.

"Your painting looks . . . done," D shot at her with a teasing smile. He came up close behind her and leaned forward. "In other words I like it," he whispered, "but I know I’m not allowed to say."

"I didn’t mean that," said Bella, bending over to put her paints away. "At least I didn’t say you couldn’t . . ." She stopped, flustered. "It’s just that . . ."

"I know," he said, smiling down at her. "But I just can’t help myself. I love how you paint and I’m always going to tell you about it."

"Thanks." Her cheeks reddened, more from her own embarrassment at her discomposure than what he had said. His words filled her with elation. She looked over at the kids who, rather than fold their easels up, were watching with avid interest.

D took her easel, and then, pretending that the girls were complaining about it, took theirs too, just to be fair. Sarah nudged Sofie and then they ran off ahead with Heather and Rita, leaving D and Bella to trail behind.

"They’re at it again," said D, but he didn’t appear upset about it at all.

By the time they reached the campsite, everyone else was in the water. Bella pulled off the t-shirt that she was wearing over her swimsuit and ran down to the water, turning to watch D as he joined her. It was the first time she had seen him without a shirt. His body was lithe and nicely tanned, and his swimming shorts sat on his hips in just such a way that she felt she had to turn her head to avoid staring. When he came into the water beside her she was incredibly conscious of him.

"What’s the matter?" he asked.

"You look good." She met his eyes and then lowered hers quickly.

"So do you," he said. "But I don’t see that as a problem." He flashed her a smile.

"We’d better join the kids."

"You’re right." He dove under and came up in their midst, starting a huge water fight.

Bella stood on the sidelines for a few minutes admiring everything about him, the way his hair curled when wet, the droplets of water sparkling on his back, and the way he could suddenly be so irresistibly carefree, until the girls dragged her into the fight too. They spent no more time alone in the water, or while dinner was being prepared and served, but she felt his eyes upon her almost as much as her eyes were drawn to him.

When everything was cleaned up, they built a roaring fire while a commando unit went into the bush to cut sturdy willow stems for roasting marshmallows. Large blocks from the woodpile were dragged in a circle about the fire.

"Anybody know any good campfire songs?" asked Alyson.

There were a lot of suggestions flying through the air in a jumble of excited voices until Bella held up her hand to quiet them down. "We can take turns, going around the campfire in order, and we’ll start with Alyson because it was her idea."

"Does everyone know The Cat Came Back?" Alyson looked around at the circle of nodding heads, and then started to sing as they all joined in.

Old Mr. Johnson had troubles of his own
He had a yellow cat that wouldn't leave his home
He tried and he tried to give that cat away

He gave it to a man going far, far away
But the cat came back, the very next day, oh
The cat came back he thought it was a goner but
The cat came back, it just wouldn't stay away
oh no no no no no no NO NO NO NO oh no no no no no

They went through all the verses with much laughter as people began to invent alternate ways of getting rid of the stubborn old cat.

Sofie’s choice was next and soon the mood became much more mellow as they all joined in to sing Land of The Silver Birch

Land of the silver birch, home of the beaver
where still the mighty moose wanders at will
blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more
Boom didi boom boom
Boom didi boom boom
Boo-oo-oom

Cindy got them all rollicking again with I’m a Nut

I'm a Nut I'm a little acorn brown
lying on the cold, cold ground.
Somebody came and stepped on me,
That is why I’m cracked you see
I'm a nut, in a rut, and I'm crazy...

 

Called myself upon the phone,
just to see if I was home.
Asked myself out on a date,

better be ready by half past eight!
I'm a nut, in a rut, and I'm crazy...

Rita suggested There was an old Woman who Swallowed a fly and the boys decided it was a perfect song to sing in funny voices which had everybody cracking up so hard that they barely made it to the end.

There was and old lady who swallowed a horse.
She died, of course.

Singing and eating marshmallows caused some difficulties as forgotten marshmallows flamed like torches, or voices were muffled as the singers couldn’t resist the sweet, melting treats.

They took a little break from singing to concentrate on the true art of marshmallow cooking, slowly, layer by layer, over the red coals, and then, when the supply was exhausted, built the fire up to a blaze again.

Alicia had her turn and suggested Goin’ on a Bear Hunt, which had the kids up, stalking around the fire, and giggling so hard they could barely sing. Next it was Adam who suggested The Song that Doesn’t End.

"Trust him to choose a song from Lambchop," said Jordan.

"So," said Adam. "It’s better than Take Me Out to The Ballgame."

"I wasn’t going to choose that. I was going to say The Ants Came Marching One by One."

Everybody groaned. "That’s just as bad," said Heather. "I’m ready for some real music – I know there’re a couple of guitars here."

D and Tess brought out their guitars and the next hour was spent singing old favourites like Brown Eyed Girl, Bobby McGee, and Carolina on My Mind. As the songs became mellower and mellower, the kids began drifting off to their tents until it was only Bella with Alyson snuggled against her, and the two guitarists. Tess and D slipped into a Neil Young song from the Harvest Moon album. Their voices melded together beautifully in the shadows across the fire from Bella. She sat and listened as Alyson’s breathing took on the gentle rhythm of sleep. Sparks darted up from the fire, dancing through the dark to disappear, only to be followed by more, on varying eccentric flight paths. Bella felt she could watch them all night as the sweet music carried through the dark.

On the roller coaster ride
That my emotions have taken me on
I heard a new born baby cry
Through the night
I heard a perfect echo die
Into an anonymous wall of digital sound
Somewhere deep inside
Of my soul
A natural beauty should be
Preserved like a monument to nature
Don’t judge yourself too harsh my love
Or someday you may find yourself endangered
A natural beauty should be
Preserved like a monument to nature*

When the song ended, D put his guitar down and came over to pick up the sleeping Alyson and carry her to her tent.

"I think I’ll turn in too, now," said Tess.

"Thanks for that song - it was beautiful." Bella stayed where she was, watching the dying fire and soon she was joined by D, who recovered his guitar and sat on a chunk of firewood beside her.

He trailed his fingers over the strings. "First day down and six more to go. I think it’s safe to say it was a success."

Bella sighed a comfortable, pleased sigh. "Yes."

"You are wonderful for organising this for the kids."

"You are wonderful for making it possible for Adam and Jordan to stay overnight."

"I have to admit that my participation isn’t exactly disinterested."

"Of course – you want to spend more time with Tess now that she’s finally home."

"Yeah – that’s it." D put his guitar in the case. "I don’t think I should leave those two boys alone any longer, and I think you should get some sleep too. Long day tomorrow." He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Goodnight," he whispered. "Don’t worry about the fire – it’s done."

"Goodnight, and thanks for everything." Bella’s warm smile lit her eyes even in the dim light. D hesitated and then he picked up his guitar and stood.

"I’d really better go. Don’t stay up long, okay?"

"Okay." After he left Bella sat and stared at the lake, its smooth surface glimmering through the black trees. Could it be that he joined the campout because he wanted to be with her? Why did she have to suggest it was because of his sister? Nervousness? Would he have stayed longer if she had not said that? And when he had reached out to touch her hair – she knew she wanted more than that. She had longed for him to take her face in his hands and kiss her. But she had to admit it would have been the wrong time and the wrong place. The kiss would have been no simple kiss – she was sure of that, at least.

The days followed one another in the same pattern: morning activities, swimming, lunch, canoe rides, hikes, painting and writing workshops. Then meals were organised, eaten, and cleared up. The fire was lit and the night-time fun began. They went from camp songs to ghost stories and back again. They ended every evening off with guitar music, then Bella and D found themselves talking in front glowing embers for at least half an hour after the others had gone to bed. Once or twice they were disturbed by tiptoeing feet and excited shrieks when raids were mounted from one tent to another, but for the most part everyone was so tired that there was little more than a bit of giggling before they drifted off to sleep.

On Thursday evening Bella and D were talking about the creek that flowed past the campsite.

"Did you know it’s the same one that runs through the valley behind the cabin? I’ve gone to paint there a number of times."

"Now I know why Daisy and I have tramped through the woods by the lake so many times without seeing you."

Bella smiled. It was comforting to think that he chose that walk because she might be there, but she knew it was a favourite of his before she had even met him. It was coming out of that trail that she had first seen him. "There’s a waterfall there that I’d like to go and paint."

"Do you like waterfalls?"

"I love the rocks - how the water shapes them - and I love the crash of the water, the power, the noise, the spray like mist, and the varying patterns as the water spills over and then falls into itself."

"I’d like to see all that through your eyes," he said meditatively. "When do you want to paint the picture?"

"Now – but I’ll settle for next week when the campout is over."

"You shouldn’t have to settle for anything," he said softly, so softly that she wasn’t sure if she had heard him right.

The next morning after breakfast D came over and sat beside Bella, leaning back against the picnic table.

"How would you like to go paint a waterfall today?"

"You know I’d love to – but it’s too long of a trek with all that gear– by the time we got there we’d have about half an hour to paint before we’d need to turn around and come back."

"I’m not talking about that waterfall. There’s a much better one on Pember Creek, not far from the resort. I could take you there this morning. We could pack a lunch."

"How would we all get there?"

"I’m just talking about you and me. We’d go in the canoe."

"But – that’s impossible. We can’t leave Tess alone with eleven active kids."

"What would you say if I told you Carla is on her way to fill in for us?"

"I . . . how . . . she’s not really . . . is she?"

"Yes."

"How could you have arranged this beforehand? You didn’t know until last night that I wanted to . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"Cell phone," he said, laughing. "I couldn’t leave the resort for a week without remaining in contact. Will you come?"

"Do any of the kids want to come with us?" asked Bella.

"No." His voice was definite.

Bella looked around at all the girls who had been unobtrusively listening to the conversation.

"I want to hang out with Miss Leukes," said Sarah. The ‘no’ was unanimous.

"I guess I’d better pack us a lunch," said Bella.

"What do you think Tess has been doing while I’ve been sitting here convincing you?" His smile was so smug that Bella couldn’t help but give him a little shove.

"You are so . . . so . . . incorrigible."

"Aren’t I just, Miss Austen?"

The girls were giggling so much that Bella fixed them with a dirty look. "Are all the dishes done yet?" They moved away to finish their task, but the giggling didn’t abate.

Bella went to collect her paints, sketchbook, canvas, and easel while D carried the picnic lunch and a blanket down to the canoe. When she arrived at the water he took her things and stowed them. She eyed the canoe warily. The last time they were out in it together – no – she wouldn’t think about that. A shiver went through her.

D gave her a sympathetic look. "The circumstances are completely different. The sun is shining, you’ll be wearing a lifejacket, and . . . I think you know who I am now."

Bella looked up at him and tried to smile reassuringly. "I do – it’s just that I can’t help remembering that awful night."

"Don’t give it a thought." His voice was soft. "I don’t."

Carla arrived and all the kids ran down to the water to see Bella and D off.

"Take your time," shouted Cindy. "You’ve got all day."

"Yeah, don’t hurry back," called Alicia.

Bella sat in the front of the canoe and let the sun warm her back, so different from the cold she had felt emanating from behind the other time.

"Are you okay?" D asked.

"I’m fine," she said. ‘More than fine.’ She felt anticipation run through her body, and she hoped he was feeling the same way about their day together. All she could think about was that he not only wanted to be with her but he had organised this whole outing because of a simple wish expressed the night before. He wanted to please her. She smiled and no dark thoughts intruded all the way across the lake.

When they arrived at the mouth of the creek, it was a twenty minute hike through wild bush along narrow deer-trails until the sound of the rushing falls met them, and then another five minutes before they broke through the trees and saw the creek cascading over a steep rock escarpment. It fell first to one turbulent pool and then another, white where the water crashed among the rocks, darkening to a deep green in the pool that formed at the base and flowed smoothly toward the eddying rapids as it continued downhill to the lake. Bella held her breath. This was a waterfall!

They went out on the rocks as close to the tumbling water as they could safely get. The sound was deafening. The fine spray was refreshing after the scramble through the woods encumbered by their packs. D took Bella’s hand and led her back to a broad slab of rock on the bank.

"Let’s eat first." He spread the blanket and then motioned for Bella to sit beside him as he set out the food.

"This is amazing," said Bella, looking back at the rushing water. "Thanks for bringing me."

"I thought you might like it." He took a bite from his sandwich. "It’s one of my favourite places."

She smiled at him and they just sat and looked at one another for a few minutes, lost in the warmth of each other’s eyes.

After lunch, Bella took up her sketchbook and began to draw views of the waterfall from different vantage points as D sat on the rock, watching her as much as he was watching the water. A while later, when she came to trade her pad of paper for canvas and easel, she looked at him apologetically.

"Isn’t this sort of boring for you?"

"Not at all."

"I’ll try not to take too long."

"I brought you here to paint, so take all the time you want. If I get bored I can go for a stroll or read a book, but I don’t think I’ll get bored."

Bella settled herself in the spot she had chosen and glanced back at D. He was sitting on the rock looking comfortable and contented. She smiled and he flashed her a smile in return that was so devastating she almost forgot about the colour of the smooth, wet rocks, the white rush of the water, and the emerald depths at her feet. She took a breath, narrowed her eyes, and slowly entered that world of shape and shadow, depth and light. When she emerged, she was applying little touches of colour here and there to the raging water now alive on her canvas. He came up from behind and stood beside her.

"Incredible."

She blushed and smiled at him happily.

"Not just your painting, but where you go when you paint it. The whole process from flat canvas to . . . life. You go beyond what a thing looks like to the way it makes you feel. There are little pieces of you all over that canvas and they call out to me. I’m drawn to them."

"You’re doing it again." She couldn’t take her eyes away from his. She understood exactly what he was saying. It was just how she felt when he played guitar, and when his voice joined the silver notes of music.

"I know. Do you want to get as close in to the waterfall as possible while this dries a little more?"

"Yes," she said simply, and he pulled her up to join him.

They went hand in hand out on the rocks. He led the way to a spot where they were almost inside the heart of the torrent. Bella felt more than light mist – the spray was almost splash up this close. The sound of the water was music of a different kind. Bella looked up with a face full of joy and unexpectedly he leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Mainly to hide her embarrassment, she said, "What was that all about?" in a shaky little voice. She was filled with the image of him kissing her lips.

"Exuberance. It made me feel good to see you so happy. Sorry about that."

"There’s nothing to feel sorry about," said Bella, trying to regain her voice and her composure.

"Good," he said, drawing her closer to him, "because I’m glad I did it." He ran his other hand down her back, looked deep onto her eyes, and added regretfully, "It’s getting late. We’d better pack our things and go."

"Yes." But neither of them made a move.

"C’mon. You’re getting soaked and so am I." He led her along the rocks and back to the flat slab. As they got their things together she picked up her sketchbook and a loose sheet of paper dropped out. D picked it up.

He looked at her and she could almost swear he was blushing. It was a picture of him sitting on the rock. "When did you draw this?"

"I wasn’t only looking at rocks and water, you know."

"But I was watching you the whole time."

She reached for it, but he held it out of her grasp. "Give it."

His eyes twinkled as he still held it too high for her to reach. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Put it back in my sketchbook." It was her turn to blush.

"And then?"

"If you keep acting that way, I’ll probably rip it up."

"No you won’t," he said, handing it to her. She tried to meet his look of satisfaction with a challenging one, but broke off into laughter instead.

By the time they had paddled back to the campsite the light was dimming.

"You’re lucky we saved you supper," said Carla with a smirk. "Whatever were you two up to that took so-o-o long?"

"Painting waterfalls!" Bella gave her a quelling look, but she just snickered.

"We do have a painting to prove it," said D with a laugh.

"Work of a minute," said Carla glancing at it. "You expect me to buy that excuse?"

"It’s fantastic," said Tess, taking it from her brother’s hands to study it and effectively putting Carla’s teasing to an end.

Saturday evening was the last campfire and it went late into the night. No one was looking forward to striking camp the next day and saying good bye, even though they would be staying until almost suppertime. They sang songs and shared stories about all the fun they had and the crazy things they had done, especially when Carla had been attending them.

"When the cat’s away, the mice will play," said Rita.

"Arrr," agreed Adam.

After the kids had finally all straggled to their tents, D moved closer to Bella and continued playing.

You’re in the back seat laying down
The windows wrap around
To sound of the travel and the engine
All you hear is time stand still in travel
And feel such peace and absolute
The stillness still that doesn’t end
But slowly drifts into sleep
The stars are the greatest thing you’ve ever seen
And they’re there for you
For you alone you are the everything

He sang softly, his rich voice tender. The guitar trickled behind, sweet and sharp. He used it like a mandolin, playing with the high strings.

But I’m in this kitchen
Everything is beautiful
And she is so beautiful
She is so young and old
I look at her and I see the beauty
Of the light of music
The voices talking somewhere in the house
Late spring and you’re drifting off to sleep

The music echoed in the trees, trailed through the shadows, and reached the children still awake in their tents. Alyson and Cindy silently tiptoed from theirs, followed by Rita and Sarah. They sat at the edge of the woods and were joined by Sofie and Alicia.

And feel such peace and absolute
The stillness still that doesn’t end
But slowly drifts into sleep
The greatest thing you’ve ever seen
And they’re there for you
For you alone you are the everything
For you alone you are the everything**

D repeated the last verse, and let the soft tones of guitar fade off into the night.

"How did you know I love that song?" Bella whispered.

"You have to remember that I know you. You show me yourself in your pictures. The song is about you."

"Are you sure it’s not about you?"

The girls got up as silently as they had come, and slipped back through the dark trees to their tents. Snuggled up in their sleeping bags, they were all soon asleep, with happy smiles playing on their faces and sweet dreams in their heads. Not long after, Bella and D followed, and the night was left to the hum of the crickets and the rhythmic croaking of distant frogs.

Carla came the next day to drive Tess home – there was too much of a load for her to join her brother in his canoe. D stayed with Bella until the last of the children were picked up. Neither of them was ready to leave, though both the car and canoe were packed up. They would be heading in opposite directions, and after a week in each other’s company they weren’t ready for it to end.

They talked casually in the deserted parking lot, sitting on the hood of June’s little car. Shadows lengthened and everything was burnished by the golden glow of the evening sun.

"I’m glad that Colin and Carla finally set things straight between them."

"Do you know that he never told me what he was going through – his own cousin – but I suspected. When he kissed you, though, that threw me."

"It was a dumb move, and he paid for it."

"You were in his confidence, weren’t you? That’s another thing that had me worried, how close you two became so quickly when I was having a heck of a time getting you to notice I existed. Did he ever tell you what we talked about that time I blasted him for kissing you?"

"He just said you were being his father. I imagined you were telling him you didn’t like that kind of thing going on in your school and that he should conduct his affairs more privately."

"You did, eh?" He gave her a long look.

Bella knew what he was thinking and blushed. Yes, she had been so wrong about him then – would she ever be able to live it down completely? But he said nothing more regarding it and in a moment continued.

"I told him you were not going to be his next victim. That you were worth more than some casual fling. He asked me if I was interested in you for myself, and I said, ‘Yes – seriously - so leave her alone.’ Then he said, ‘If you keep acting the way you’re acting, how is she ever supposed to know? Do something.’ I said, ‘You’re a good one to take advice from.’ Then I walked away from him . . . but I think that’s what prompted me to act the way I did when I saw you out on the lake."

"Kiss me, you mean." Her voice wavered when she said the word ‘kiss’.

"Yeah – and look what good that did." D shook his head ruefully.

Bella looked at him steadily. "I’m glad you did that. If you hadn’t, I’d have made a complete idiot of myself in front of the whole town. I would have publicly slandered you. As it is, I only did it to your face, which was terrible, but think of how much worse it could have been. I would have hurt you so much more than I already did."

"Don’t let that haunt you," he said, reaching for her hand. "It’s in the past. Over. Finished."

"But, you just brought it up." She didn’t say it accusingly – it was a statement, nothing more.

"No, I was just blaming myself for not talking to you instead, rather than coming on so strong. No wonder you thought I was stalking you with me practically attacking you like that."

"That was some kiss," said Bella quietly. "Even the way I thought about you, I wasn’t immune."

"I noticed . . . that’s what confused me all the more when you pushed me away." He hesitated. "But I can kiss much better than that."

"Can you?" Bella whispered, bringing her face in close to his.

"Yes." It came out as a sigh, full of hope and desire. His arm slid around her, but his eyes didn’t leave hers, their gaze soft and tender. He ran his finger from her cheekbone down the curve of her cheek. The green of his eyes flickered and he lowered his lips, kissing her at first gently, his mouth warm on hers, and then deeply. The kiss was slow and deliberate, lingering, tasting, feeling.

She slipped her arms around him, caressed his back, and met his kisses with all her pent-up longing. Then she clung to him speechless, breathless, barely capable of thought, as he repeated her name over and over and planted tiny kisses upon her hair, her eyelids, her cheeks, until she tilted her head up again, searching for his mouth.

*Natural Beauty ~ Neil Young

**You Are The Everything ~ REM

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Bella woke the next morning with a smile on her lips. The glow within her could not be repressed. As she dressed she sang softly to herself, and then went to the kitchen to find some breakfast solely out of habit; she felt too content and too complete to be aware of mere hunger. June was sitting at the table, looking at her with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

"You came in late; I waited up for you till midnight. Did the camp go well?"

"Yes, very. How was your trip?"

"Eventful. There is something I need to talk to you about. I hope I’m not letting you down."

"How could you ever let me down, sweetie?" asked Bella, pouring herself a glass of juice.

"I’m sort of leaving you in the lurch. Will you be able to handle the rent of the cabin on your own?"

"You’re moving in with Chance?"

"That’s the way it works when you’re married." She held out her left hand. Not only was there an elegant engagement ring that Bella had never seen before, but there was also a delicate gold band.

"You’re married!" Bella almost spilled her juice and June’s tea as she lunged across the table to hug her. "And without me there!"

"I’m sorry," said June, "but one thing led to another. I mean, once we both admitted that we love each other it seemed only natural to get married and – well – we couldn’t wait. His parents flew up and we were married on Saturday. Mom and dad were thrilled." June looked into Bella’s eyes and smiled anxiously. "You know how I don’t like big productions. The idea of an elaborate wedding freaked me out."

"Don’t be sorry, I was only teasing. How wonderful that both your parents were there. Oh! I’m so happy for you!"

"Can Chance come out now?" asked June with a grin. "We didn’t want to shock you too much this morning, but we’ve only been married for two days so you could hardly expect him to go home alone."

"I’m surprised you waited up for me till midnight, in that case." Bella enjoyed a good laugh as Chance came tiptoeing sheepishly out of the bedroom. She threw her arms around him and hugged him. "You are one lucky guy!"

"I’m well aware of it," he said, as he sat down in a chair and pulled June from hers to sit on his lap.

"Will you be all right here on your own?" asked June with concern. "You don’t have the TA job, so you’ll be making a lot less money."

"I’ve actually got quite a bit saved, because of the paintings, and if the art show next month goes as well as Aimee expects it to, I won’t have any worries."

"If anything comes up at the school, you know you’re the first person I would hire," said Chance.

"May I remind you I don’t have a teaching degree?" said Bella, laughing at the earnest look on Chance’s face. "I’ll be fine, honest."

"Who cares about degrees?" said Chance recklessly. "How did the campout go?"

"It was perfect. There were no problems, no accidents, the kids were great . . ."

"How was your surprise addition?"

Bella blushed. "He was very . . . helpful."

"You got along okay?" Chance wasn’t letting it go. He wanted more information.

"We muddled through," said Bella, grinning.

"I imagine that’s why you were so late last night."

"It’s possible." Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Well it’s about time!" Chance sat there grinning at her for a few moments. "So we’re not going to get any details?"

"Why don’t you ask D?"

"Like he would tell me. I guess I’ll just have to settle for knowing that you’ve finally put him out of his misery."

"Bella will tell me all later," said June knowingly. "I might leak some of it to you if you’re good."

"You know I’m good," said Chance, kissing her fondly.

Chance and June left shortly after that, saying something about organising things and returning with boxes, but Bella was sure she wasn’t going to see them back for a long while.

Bella spent her morning unpacking June’s car lazily as she dwelt upon the events of the last week, especially the evening she and D had shared the night before. They had walked back to the campsite arm in arm and wandered along the tiny stretch of beach talking about nothing and everything, and losing themselves in each other’s kisses. The evening had lasted forever but been over too soon. Although she wanted to push his canoe off for him and stand and watch as he drifted off into the darkness, D insisted on seeing her to the car and sending her on her way with a kiss that made it all the more difficult to leave him standing there and drive away.

The phone rang and Bella rushed to it eagerly. So certain that it was going to be his voice she heard on the other end of the line, she almost hung it up in disappointment when Layla’s anxious tones greeted her. It took another few moments for her to realise that her sister was in distress.

"Layla! Hold on – speak clearly – I can’t make out what you’re saying."

"You were right – he dumped me – I need . . . oh please, Bell, take me away from this hole." Her voice was slurred, and very weak.

"Where are you?" Bella scrabbled around for a pen and notepad.

"In Vancouver . . . in a room . . . he’s been gone so long . . . I need . . ."

"What room? Come on, Layla, get it together. How can I help you of I don’t know where to find you?"

"You warned me – I shoulda listened. He’s a no good loser. He left me – he left me." She broke off, sobbing.

"Please tell me where you are."

"In a room . . . a hotel . . . I miss him. Make him come back. I need . . ."

"What hotel? Please, Layla, concentrate. I’ll get there as soon as I can, but I need to know the name of the hotel, and the address."

"Gastown – it’s in Gastown. It’s a stinkin’ slum! An’ he left me all alone an’ he took . . . and all the guys are so ugly an’ their teeth are rotten an’ he wanted me to . . . but now they’re all gone and I don’t have nothin’." Her voice rose and faded, sometimes shrill, sometimes indistinct.

"Layla! The – name – of - the – hotel."

"Um – is that you Bell? Did you call me? How did you know I need you?"

"Just please tell me the name of the hotel!" Bella yelled.

"You don’t need to shout. I’m really trying – trying to remember. Um . . . Tra . . . Travellers – or something like that. It smells – it really stinks. I’m all alone. I don’t got no money . . . I want George . . . I need . . . I really need a fix . . ." Her voice trailed off completely.

"Layla! What do you mean you need a fix? Layla!" Bella could hear nothing on the other end of the line. "Layla! I’m coming. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll be there!"

"Okay, Bell. Okay. I’ll wait . . . make him come back."

"Promise me you won’t leave the room."

"I promise." There was a click and the line went dead.

Bella stood staring at the phone for a stunned moment and then grabbed the directory. She dialled quickly and listened to the ringing with impatience.

"Hi – I need to know when the next Vancouver bus leaves Pember Lake. How much is it? Okay, thanks."

She hung up the phone. Half an hour. She had to throw some things in her bag and leave a note for June telling her where she’d gone, and where to find her car. And she needed to get a message to D. She tried to blot out how much she wanted him right now and concentrated on scribbling the note to June. Let D know where I’ve gone, she scrawled. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call, she ended off, then she dashed her hand across her eyes and rushed to her room. Damn Layla! It was all over now. She had to keep him out of this. Anyway – what would he think of her now with a junkie for a sister? And George Wicks on the sidelines? She slammed the door and ran out to the car, tossing her pack on the seat beside her.

She was at the bus stop with ten minutes to spare. She locked June’s car and hid the keys underneath the bumper where she’d told June to look. She stood on the side of the street and shut her eyes, trying to will away the pain that was threatening to overtake her. Trying to stop every instinct that was crying out for her to run to D. Trying not to think of his strong arms, his warm smile, the touch of his lips on hers. Trying to keep her thoughts on Layla – where they should be. Stupid, stupid Layla.

She didn’t hear the car when it pulled up to the curb beside her.

"Bella." She wanted him so much she was hearing his voice. She kept her eyes closed and held her arms tightly about herself, willing the image of Layla in distress to fill her mind instead of his slow, soft smile.

"Bella, what are you doing?"

The tone of his voice had changed – it was now puzzled and edged with concern. This wasn’t her imagination – it was real. She opened her eyes to see the Jag in front of her, and D leaning across the passenger seat, looking like someone had just hit him. Her heart lurched. She wasn’t going to be able to face him and do this.

"I’m catching the bus."

The look in his eyes cut into her. She had seen that look before and she had hoped never to see it again. And both times she had put it there.

"You’re running away from me? You have regrets about yesterday?" His voice was brittle with pain. It spurred Bella forward to lean against the side of his car.

"No! Never!" I could never regret yesterday. "My sister’s in trouble and I’m going to her."

"Get in. I think we need to talk."

Bella opened the door and passed her backpack to D who threw it into the back seat. When she was sitting he gave her a long look .

"Close the door." His flatness of expression frightened her.

"But my bus is coming in five minutes." Bella closed it just the same.

D put the car into gear and pulled onto the road.

"What are you doing? I’ll miss my bus." Bella looked around frantically.

D ignored what she said. "So you were going to leave town without telling me." His voice was flat and bruised.

"I left a note for June to tell you where I’d gone."

"Well that makes it a whole heck of a lot better," he said as he turned the car savagely and sped along the road.

"I need to catch that bus. I promised my sister I’d be there as soon as possible. She’s . . . she’s . . ."

"Yes, what is up with your sister that’s more important than us?" The bitterness in his voice was perfectly justified, but it tore at her, bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

"I . . . I can’t tell you," said Bella putting her face in her hands.

D pulled over and stopped. "Look, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything." His voice had softened. He reached over and urged her head up out of her hands until their eyes met. "Don’t turn away. It’s something she did, not you. Even if it’s murder, I don’t care."

"She . . . she’s in a hotel in Gastown. She says Wicks left her . . . but from what she said it sounded like he’d been expecting her to put out for other guys, and . . . she said she needs a fix. I didn’t have any idea she was doing heroin – how could I have let that happen to my own sister? Sure – I made a good life for myself, but I was happy to let her stay back there and live with George, and I knew what he was."

"I don’t think you were happy about that. If I know you, you begged her to leave."

"Yes, but when I asked her to come with me, I just accepted it when she refused. I should have made her come, or stayed and watched out for her."

"If you’d done that I’d never have met you, so you’ll never get me to agree it was a better idea."

Bella smiled wanly. "But since I’ve been here I should have tried harder to get her to come. I should have sent her the bus fare."

"So George could spend it? You can’t live her life for her, Bella. She wouldn’t have come - the only reason she’s called you now is because George walked out on her. So, tell me, why were you trying to keep all this from me? Don’t you trust me?" She heard all the hurt resurface in his voice again.

Bella looked directly into his eyes, braving the pain. "I know what the school means to you. I didn’t want to involve you in a scandal that your aunt could use against you."

"Don’t you remember what I said to you that night? You are more important to me than the school. How long will it take for me to get through to you? You are my everything. I love you, Bella."

All she could see were his eyes. The pain had faded and they were filling with warmth. The green was so intense she could barely breathe. This time when he kissed her it was raw, passionate, and urgent. "Don’t ever try to leave me like that again."

"I wasn’t leaving you – I was . . ."

"Sacrificing yourself. Did you ever stop to think how it would make me feel?"

Did she? No – that was the one thing she had managed to avoid completely. "I didn’t think at all – it hurt too much. I just wanted to . . . protect you. I do trust you. Please, never think that I don’t. This is all so new for me; I didn’t know how to react. I wanted to run to you, and have you hold me in your arms and tell me everything would be all right. I didn’t ever stop wanting you." She looked up at him and stroked his cheek. "I’ve never needed anyone like I needed you today."

He resumed driving and she sat as close to him as possible with his arm around her providing the strength and comfort she had longed for. She was overwhelmed. He had said it, and she knew he never said anything important lightly. He loved her. Loved her. Her heart began to sing once again as it had all morning. Suddenly she plummeted right back down to earth. Layla!

"I’ll have missed my bus!"

"Do you think I was ever going to let you take that bus?"

"But then how am I going to help Layla? Do you know what part of town she’s in? I was down there before I came here. It scared the living daylights out of me."

"I know what that part of town is like. I would never let you go there alone."

"So what are we doing? She needs me."

"Don’t worry, Bella. Right now we’re going back to my place. I’ll pack some stuff and make a few calls and then we can go find her together. I’ll get you there long before the bus ever could." He tightened his arm around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing in his fresh smell, tinged with the faint scent of sandalwood that sent a stirring deep within her soul.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

When D discovered Bella hadn’t eaten any lunch, he ordered them each a sandwich and then made his phone calls. They were ready to leave at 2:30, and even with a stop in Chilliwack for a burger, they were driving west on East Hastings by 7:30, a full two hours earlier than the bus would have got Bella there.

She was beginning to feel very tense. What if Layla had given her the wrong hotel name? At least she knew it was a real hotel, because D had managed to find an address for it – but what if Layla wasn’t there any longer? D squeezed her hand reassuringly. It was as if he knew what she was thinking.

"We turn right here on Abbott and then right again on Cordova. It should be just down the block on the left."

When Bella saw the hotel it looked worse than she had ever imagined. The exterior was covered in grime, and the big T was burned out on the sign. One or two of the upper windows were boarded over. D found a meter in the next block and parked. He took her hand and they crossed the road and headed down the dingy sidewalk, ignoring the panhandlers that leaned up against the buildings apathetically, hoping only for a loonie or two to make up the price of a drink. When they reached the hotel, Bella was almost bowled over by the stench of stale beer that emanated from the ground floor pub. D pulled her closer to him protectively and they walked into the dimly lit lobby together.

"You two wanna room?" The man behind the desk looked up from his newspaper with a suggestive gleam in his eyes.

"Do you have a George Wicks staying here, or maybe a Layla Gardiner?"

The man scratched his belly, which was thinly covered by a stretched-out undershirt. "Well, maybe I do an’ maybe I don’t. Who wantsta know?"

"We do," said D forcefully.

"I’ll hav’ta look in the book, won’t I?" He leaned over and made a show of looking through a battered ledger. "There’s a George an’ Layla in 309." It was obvious he had already known the room number. "Haven’t seen George in a coupl’a days, but maybe Layla’s around. I woulda noticed if she walked past me." That look was back in his eyes. "Elevator’s broken but there’s stairs at the enda the hall." He pointed into the looming darkness.

Bella was shaking by the time they’d reached the door to the stairs. D stopped and held her close. "And you wanted to come here alone?" He stroked her hair. "We’ll get her out of here as fast as we can."

"Thanks for doing this." Bella looked up at him. "I’m okay now. Let’s go find her."

When Bella reached out to knock on 309, the door creaked open. "Layla? Layla, I’m finally here." Bella pushed the door wide and walked inside.

A bare 40-watt bulb hung from the ceiling. There was a sink in one corner, a greasy couch against the wall, and a bed on the other side of the room. It was empty. The whole room was empty aside from the clothes all over the floor and the bottles and cigarette ends on the stained coffee table.

"She’s not here."

"We’ll find her." D’s voice was grim.

"You guys lookin’ for somebody?"

A woman stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from her lips.

"My sister Layla," said Bella eagerly. "Have you seen her?"

"She’s probably hookin’ out on Main Street or shootin’ up in Blood Alley. She went out about half an hour ago. She wasn’t lookin’ too good. Strung out, if you know what I mean. I aint seen George either, if you’re wonderin’, but I know he came back for a bit."

"Where’s this alley?" D cut in.

She made a backwards motion with her head. "Just go out the fire exit. Hey, you guys couldn’t lend me a couple bucks could ya? I was thinkin’ of gettin’ some supper."

"No, but we could bring you something to eat after we find Layla."

"Don’t bother – they got peanuts at the bar." She turned and walked away rather unsteadily.

"Come on," said D, grabbing Bella’s hand tightly in his and leading her out the door.

"I’ll be glad when we get outside again. The air in here is so stale and it reeks."

But when they walked out into the alley, the air was no better. The odour of stale beer and urine mingled with the stench of garbage from the dumpster. Sitting against the wall amid garbage that had spilled out were three men. It was a full minute before Bella recognised one of them as George. The five days’ growth on his face couldn’t hide the hollowness of his cheeks. He was inhaling deeply on a joint. The sleeve of his left arm was rolled up, and a length of tubing was loosely wrapped around his arm, the ends dangling. On his lap was a syringe. He looked up and noticed the two of them standing there. He held his hand out.

"Toke?" he offered, almost choking on the smoke that was still unreleased from his lungs.

"Not on your life, George."

"No! It can’t be! Mr. Fitz – you out slummin’ tonight? I got a ripe one I can trade you for . . ." He blinked up a few times at D’s companion and his smile broadened. "Wait a second – Bella baby – fancy meeting you here." He turned back to D. "We got a deal? Compare sisters?"

"Just shut your foul mouth up."

"What you gonna do? Deck me again? Say . . . how is that sweet sister of yours anyway?"

"Don’t tempt me Wicks." Anger burned in D’s eyes, but he fought for control. "You are too damn pitiful for me to waste my time on."

"Where’s Layla?" Bella took a step towards George. "Where’s my sister you stinking excuse for a . . ."

"So I guess you know the truth now," he said as he began tightening the tubing on his arm. The other two men just sat and watched in amusement. "It was sure fun stringin’ you along – I really had you goin’ there. I was ready to burst out laughing the whole time! You really suspected this stuffed shirt?" he said, pointing at D. "It was too damn funny."

"I’ve already told you to shut up once." Bella could feel the ice in D’s voice. She leaned closer and held on to him tightly. Her touch relaxed the rigidity of his body and he continued in a level tone. "There is only one thing we want to hear out of you – and that is the whereabouts of Bella’s sister."

"How the hell should I know?" he said as he prepared his needle. "She’s a useless piece of trash anyway – you’re welcome to her." He found a vein in his left arm and stuck the needle in. He leaned back as the drug flowed into his system and his eyes glazed over.

"Where is she!" cried Bella, as he slumped over on his side, his head coming to rest between a greasy sandwich wrapper and a pool of sour smelling fluid.

"Your not gettin’ nothin’ more outta him for a while," jeered one of his companions. The other just ignored D and Bella, and reached across George to retrieve the tubing and the hypodermic.

"Do you know where she is?" asked Bella frantically.

"If you’re talkin’ about that broad he’s shacked up with, the b**ch is turnin’ tricks up on Main. He just sent her over there."

"What should we do about George?" asked Bella as D put his arm tightly around her shoulders and turned her to walk out of the alley.

"Leave him to rot in his own filth. What he’s doing to himself is worse than anything either of us could do to him."

"What he said . . ."

"I don’t care about anything he said. He was just trying to get a rise out of us."

They walked the few blocks to Hastings and Main in silence. Bella remembered how much it had scared her to be there at 11:00 in the morning – it was now almost 9:00 p.m. and the scene was much, much worse. She was thankful that she had D with her to hold her and keep her strong. How could she have coped without him? She could never have faced George by herself in that alley. The thought of what might have happened chilled her. She shivered and D rubbed her arm.

"Are you cold, love?" he asked gently.

"No."

"Don’t worry – we’ll find her and get her out of here."

At the corner there were all sorts of people milling around, but Bella couldn’t see Layla anywhere. A police officer was doing his rounds, stopping every so often to share a few words with someone. Bella and D approached him.

"Hi. I wonder if you could help us. We’re looking for my sister."

"Runaway?"

"Not really. She’s living here with her boyfriend and he’s got her working the street to pay for his habit."

"You’re describing every second girl out here."

"Is there anything we can do about it, legally, I mean? Could we lay charges against him?"

"Sorry – you’d find it hard to get anything to stick, especially if your sister’s not a minor. The best thing you can do for her is find her and take her home."

"Couldn’t you arrest him for heroin?"

"If he was dealing. Look – the jails are choked with pushers and users. We could sweep all this trash off the streets tonight and they’d be out in the morning. We make dozens of arrests for soliciting, possession, and dealing every night. We put the minors in group homes but they just come back. Arrests aren’t going to fix this problem – it’s endemic. All these people are a symptom – the real problem is far bigger and more widespread than this. Really – my job mainly involves preventing these people from killing each other or themselves. There are only three ways out of here - rehab, religion, or body bag – and the only one that’s guaranteed 100% is the body bag. Your sister’s lucky to have you. I hope you find her."

Bella looked at D, despair clearly in her eyes. He held her tightly and whispered soothingly in her ear. An old wine-o sidled up to them and tapped D on the shoulder.

"I heard what you was talkin’ about. If you go a block down Hastings, there’s hookers outside that hotel."

"Thanks."

D led the way. Three girls were standing by the curb. The heavy makeup, shortness of their skirts, and stance signalled their occupation. Bella approached them to ask about Layla as D stepped back so they wouldn’t mistake him for a prospective customer. He was peering in a window when a girl came up and touched him on his arm.

"Lookin’ for some action?"

Bella turned away in time to see the skinny girl proposition D.

"Layla!"

She looked around. "Bell! What’re you doin’ here?"

"You called me! I’ve come to take you away."

"Well just a minute – I just gotta go somewhere with this cute guy for a little while. Wait for me, huh?"

Bella grabbed her arm. "He’s not a John, Layla - he’s with me. Let’s go somewhere we can talk."

"But – I gotta get enough money. George only gave me a little fix – he promised me more if I delivered." She tried to shake loose from Bella’s grip.

"You aren’t getting anything more from George," said D taking her other arm and helping Bella steer her past staring pedestrians.

"Help! Rape! I’m being kidnapped," cried Layla as they passed a police officer. It was the same one Bella and D had spoken with earlier.

"Good luck," he called after them.

Layla calmed down and walked with them the few blocks to the car.

"Nice!" she said appreciatively.

D unlocked the car and opened the passenger door, but suddenly Layla balked and pulled away.

"You can’t make me go with you."

"Layla, please, honey – you wanted me to get you."

"I changed my mind."

"I can’t leave you here."

"You’re not my mother, Bell. I don’t have to do what you say. I’m stayin’ with George." She crossed her arms over her skinny chest that was barely covered by her tiny red tank top.

"George is passed out in the alley, lying in a pool of urine," said D. "Bella has been worried sick about you. We drove for five hours straight, and then have been walking through the most disgusting part of town looking for you for the past two hours. You will get in the car if I have to put you in there myself."

She gave him a dirty look. "And I thought you were hot!"

"He is," said Bella. "Now get in."

"I need my clothes. I can’t go without clothes."

D locked the car up again and they went back to the hotel room. Layla rummaged about the apartment, looking under the bed and through all the drawers. Finally she picked up handfuls of the scattered clothing and filled a black garbage bag. "Okay, I’m ready." At the bottom of the stairs she hesitated. "I wanna say goodbye to George."

"No," said Bella firmly. "George is out of your life forever."

"But I need . . ."

"Layla – we’ll get you through this honey. No more fixes."

As they walked the crying Layla past the man at the desk he stopped them.

"She chekin’ out? I need to be paid for two weeks."

"Get the money from George," said D brushing past him.

When they were finally in the car, Bella in the back seat holding on to a near hysterical Layla, D looked back at her and said, "Now what?"

"We take her home?"

"No, Bella. You can’t handle her. She needs professional help. Anyway – it wouldn’t be fair for you to have to put up with her. We’ll have to take her to a hospital or something."

"I know. In my backpack – the front pocket – there’s this business card."

D went to the trunk and was back in a moment with the card. "It’s for a church."

"Yeah. I got that from the bus driver, Murray Bowen. He said that if I was in this part of town and needed help to call that number."

"Well, it’s worth a try," said D. He smiled at Bella reassuringly and took out his cell phone. "I’ll just go outside to call – it’s quieter there."

Bella spent the duration of D’s call alternating between comforting Layla and trying to stop her from getting out of the car.

When he got back in he said, "I’ve got an address. It’s over by the Sky Train station near the Science Centre. We’ll be there within ten minutes. Can you hang on?"

"I’ll have to, won’t I?" Bella smiled to show him not only that she was okay, but also how much she appreciated his help.

At the church office they were given juice and cookies, and they were told a caseworker was on the way. A very motherly woman sat and talked with Bella and Layla while D met with the pastor.

"Don’t worry," said the lady. "We have a wonderful program. Your sister will be in the best of hands."

An hour later everything was finalised. Bella gave Layla a last hug before the caseworker took her to the rehab centre.

"The only thing left to figure out how I’m going to pay for this," said Bella. "I don’t have a charge card, but can we organise direct payments from my account?"

"Don’t worry about that – it’s all been taken care of." The pastor smiled at Bella.

"You didn’t pay for it, did you?" Bella turned to D accusingly. "I can’t let you do that."

"I didn’t pay for it directly," said D. "I gave them a donation to their program. Layla is getting a subsidy."

"That’s the same thing."

"No it’s not. Sure I organised Layla’s subsidy to give you a break, but after what I’ve seen this evening I wanted to do something to help people get off the streets. We can’t just wait around for them to kill themselves."

Bella could do nothing but hug him. Words didn’t exist to express what she felt. They said goodbye to the pastor and returned to the car.

"What time is it?" asked Bella sleepily.

"11:15."

"You must be so tired after doing all the driving, and all the searching, and Layla’s fuss, and organising it all so well. Thank you for everything. What would I have done without you?" She gave him a soft, lingering kiss.

"You would have managed – don’t doubt yourself. You’re one of the strongest people I know." He started the engine and put the car in gear.

"Where are we going?" Bella rested her head against his shoulder and he brought his arm around her. "You’re so good at driving with one hand."

He kissed the top of her head. "I like having you close to me."

"You didn’t answer my question."

"Sorry, you got me side-tracked. I don’t have a house in Vancouver anymore, but I have a suite at my uncle’s – we’re going there."

"Isn’t he going to wonder at you coming late at night with a girl . . ." She stopped in embarrassment, unable to finish the thought, then she persevered so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. "I mean, like suddenly – out of nowhere."

"He knows we’re coming. I phoned him before we left home – the place is all prepared for us."

"Oh!" Bella was suddenly feeling very shy. She didn’t think she was ready for this.

"You’re getting Tess’s room," said D, laughing at her.

Bella relaxed back against him. "Don’t laugh at me," she said softly in a pleased voice.

His only answer was to kiss her hair again and keep driving. They passed darkened shops, half-lit office buildings, and apartment towers. The city landscape changed. They entered residential streets and the homes became increasingly bigger, the gardens more lush.

"What’s bothering you, love?" he asked as Bella sighed.

"I’m thinking of George. I know it’s stupid to waste thought on him, but I can’t help it. He used to be a little boy – like any of the little boys at the school. How does an innocent child turn into someone as callous and unfeeling as him – such a user?"

"That is what is so amazing about you, Bella. Even after all he’s done, you still have the capacity to feel compassion for the boy he used to be."

"So do you. Even though I know you felt like kicking the daylights out of him . . ."

"I left him to rot in a gutter? Very compassionate of me. What good would it have served if I had beat him up? He is the only one who would have been gratified if I’d done it."

"I know, but lots of guys wouldn’t see it that way. I love your integrity."

"Perhaps we should form a mutual appreciation society."

Bella laughed, and he turned up a long winding drive, parking in front of a lit entranceway. She could see landscaped beds and tall trees looming out of the darkness.

"Where’s the suite?" she asked.

"This is the suite," he said. "The main house is over there." He gestured off into the shadows to where the driveway continued on, up the slope.

Bella started to open her door.

"Wait," said D, pulling her into his arms. "There’s something I want to do that’s safer done out here." He began kissing her as he had the night before, when they were sitting on the hood of June’s car. To Bella it was hard to believe only a little more than twenty-four hours had passed since then. It seemed like this day had been the longest in history.

Before she completely lost herself in his kisses, she pulled away and asked, "Why is it safer to kiss me in the car?"

"You ask the silliest questions." D lowered his head to hers and kissed her in such a way that made her fully understand his meaning.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Bella snuggled once more into the pillow, pulling the light down comforter up around her neck, and drifting along the tide of some nebulous and alluring dream. Suddenly she sat upright and looked around the room. What time was it? Sunlight was seeping in through the chinks in the blinds. A clock on the bedside table caught her eye. 10:30? As comfortable as the bed was, Bella knew she had to get up. She hoped D had slept in too and wasn’t sitting around waiting for her.

After showering, dressing, and tidying the room, Bella wandered down the hallway toward the kitchen. She could hear voices and when she came around the corner she saw a woman sitting at the table with D. He looked up and gave her a heart-stopping smile, and then got up to meet her.

"Sleep well?" He put his arm around her and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"I’m sorry I slept so late." She smiled shyly. "Have you been up long?"

"Only about an hour. I’d like you to meet my aunt." He slid his fingers down her arm and grasped her hand, leading her to the table. "Bella, this is my aunt, Doris, Colin’s mom. Doris, this is Bella." He said her name with special emphasis.

"It’s so nice to meet you, dear." She held her hand out with a warm smile. "My nephew was telling me about all the trouble you had with your sister yesterday. It sounds to me like you’ve found the right place for her. I hope everything works out."

"Thank you," said Bella. There was something in Doris’ smile and her candid blue eyes that reminded her of Colin. Bella felt instantly at ease with her.

"I’ve brought some fresh picked strawberries and Devon cream, and scones that are right out of the oven, so I hope you’re hungry."

"It all looks delicious."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Is there any herbal tea?"

"I’m just making you some," said D who had moved to the counter.

"How did you know?"

"We’ve been working at the same school for three months." D flashed her a smile.

They sat and ate and chatted together for about twenty minutes.

"Well, I’d better leave you two now," said Doris. "I’ve got more berries to pick and jam to make, and you have long ride ahead of you. It was lovely to meet you, Bella. It’s a pity Harry had a meeting this morning and missed seeing you, but I’m sure he’ll have plenty of opportunities."

After she had left, Bella turned to D. "Will we be able to see Layla before we go?"

He brought her close to him and stroked her back. "I called this morning. They say it’s better not to visit her yet. I’ll bring you back to see her in about a month."

Bella leaned her head upon his shoulder as quick tears came to her eyes. "How long is it going to take until she’s better?"

"It’s hard to say, love, but you’ll be able to call her soon, and we’ll keep in close contact all the time. When she’s ready to leave rehab they place her with a family in the suburbs for a trial period to see if she can manage to live on her own yet."

"But she won’t be on her own – she’ll be with me," said Bella.

"But you won’t be with her night and day. It takes time."

Bella held him and nestled deeper into his arms, relishing the comfort and security she found there. After a few moments she said, "So we just leave her? It seems so cold and uncaring."

"You are anything but uncaring." He kissed the top of her head and then held her out and looked into her eyes. "Are you all packed?"

"Yes."

"Let’s just clear up these dishes and we can go."

Half an hour later they were on their way out of the city, cruising along the number 1.

"You know, Layla looks nothing like you," said D, musingly. "When she propositioned me, I was doing my best to ignore her. If you hadn’t turned around just then we could have missed her entirely."

"She takes after my mom - small, slim, fine boned – I’m much more like my dad."

"Your dad must have been very good looking." D shot her a grin, but she ignored him.

"My mother was pretty when she was young, but she was flighty and she suffered from depression. They were a very unequal couple with completely different interests. My dad really married the wrong person, but he stuck by her all those years."

D picked up her hand as he drove along and kissed her fingers softly. "You really admire your father don’t you? Tell me about him."

Bella rested her head against D’s shoulder. "I miss him so much. He was the best father you could have asked for. He’s the one who encouraged me to follow my dreams, like he hadn’t been able to. He really wasn’t cut out to be a mill worker – he should have been an English Prof. He loved literature." Her voice trembled and she wiped her eyes.

D smiled at her encouragingly. "What happened to prevent him?"

"Do you really want to hear all this?"

"Yes. Your father is important to you. Whatever is important to you is important to me. It’s that simple."

"Okay. My dad came from the States in 1970. He had just started his first year at university – you know what campuses were like back then – Kent State. He was a conscientious objector, but the whole atmosphere at the universities was changing – becoming very antagonistic and confrontational – so he came here. He had no money, and as an illegal alien he couldn’t make much. He went to the Island and worked for some hippies who were on a back to the land trip, pig farming. None of them knew what they were doing. In the mid seventies immigration opened up to everyone who had been living illegally in Canada, I think mainly to help out the draft dodgers who weren’t being accepted back to the States yet, and he was able to get landed and find a real job. In ‘81 he registered at UBC, but he met my mom, and she got pregnant. He quit university and they got married. Uncle Frank found him a part time job at the mill and he was trapped. He could never afford to save enough to further his education because my mom kept having breakdowns and needing therapy. But he read and learned on his own. He would have made a great instructor – he knew so much – but he had no credentials. The jerks in town kept putting him down for being a draft dodger and a loser, and hardly anyone appreciated what a wonderful person he really was. He supported my art so much; he re-mortgaged the house to send me to college. I didn’t even know that until he died."

She broke down crying and D held her closer, stroking her arm and speaking in a low, soothing voice. It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it that calmed her, but soon Bella wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "I’m sorry – it’s just that I’ve never been able to talk like that about him with anyone before, even June. I feel a lot better now."

"Do you have any other family?"

"There’s the Phillipses - my mom’s sister and her husband. But she encouraged Layla to live with George and told me to give up art and go on welfare, and my uncle’s an alcoholic waster. I don’t ever want anything to do with them again."

"What about your dad’s family?"

"His father said he was unpatriotic and cut all ties with him. He tried to find them over the years, but they’d moved and left no forwarding address. He had a younger brother and sister that he really missed – they were still kids when he left home. So you see, he just basically had me and I had him. He wasn’t close to Layla at all, though he did try. And now it’s just me and Layla."

 

"But you’ve got me now, and don’t ever forget it."

Bella looked up at him and kissed his cheek. I love you. The perfect time to say it, but why was it so difficult for her? Why couldn’t she just blurt it out? Her heart was so full of feeling, and it was all for him. He had been there, helping and supporting her through something that most people would be only too glad to run away from. He didn’t ask for anything – he only gave. She gazed at his profile as he drove, studied his cheekbone, his temple, the curve of his ear. He glanced down at her and smiled.

"What’s up?"

"You."

"Me?" He laughed.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Just lucky, I guess."

She laughed. "I’m being serious, D."

"If we’re being serious, I’d have to say that I’m the lucky one."

Bella just shook her head. She didn’t really believe in luck, but how did two souls that belonged together find each other in the confusing maze of life? She didn’t believe in predestiny either. Things didn’t just happen to people because that was the way it was supposed to be. Love didn’t just drop into your lap. It amazed her that it took a wild flight away from her Aunt Phillips to bring her to the very spot that she would find him. And she almost didn’t recognise him when she had found him. She shuddered when she thought of all she’d nearly turned her back on and his arm tightened around her.

"You okay?"

"I’m fine."

It was all too complex to attempt to decipher. What really mattered was that they had found each other. She had never before felt so complete and so alive, and, despite all the stress she had just undergone sorting out Layla, so incredibly happy. They had lunch at Hope, and headed up the Fraser canyon singing along to Simon and Garfunkel. Bella took the wheel in Cache Creek, and drove the rest of the way as D relaxed beside her. When she pulled up to the cabin, D opened his eyes and looked at her.

"What’re we doing here?"

"We’re home."

"Aren’t we going to have supper together?"

"Come on in – I’ll cook us something."

"Am I ready for this?" he joked.

"I’m a good cook," said Bella. "I just don’t know what we have – oops - I have. I need to remember it’s only me here now."

"Chance just about broke my eardrum when he told me on the phone yesterday morning, but with everything that happened later it went completely out of my mind. Just like him to get married on the spur of the moment."

"It might have been a sudden decision, but they really . . ."

"Bella – I’m not saying it was a rash move – I know they love each other and belong together. It’s just an example of his impetuosity."

"I think it was a great way to get married, even if I couldn’t be there."

"So do I, but I feel the same way as you – I would have liked to have been there too." He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. "Are you going to be okay living on your own?"

"I’ll manage. I’m a big girl, you know."

"I know. Thanks for driving."

"Thanks for letting me," said Bella as she handed him the keys and got out of the car. "You probably don’t let too many people drive her, do you?" she added as she came around to join him.

"Even Colin hasn’t driven this baby," he said. "But I figured if I can trust you with my life I can trust you with my car."

Bella gave him a poke in the ribs and they entered the cabin. They made dinner together, pasta and salad, and ate it on a blanket in the back yard. Afterwards they lay beside each other talking as they gazed up at the paling sky. D’s phone went off while they were lying there. He sat up to take the call.

"Colin? Yeah, I’m back . . . at Bella’s . . . tomorrow . . . can’t you . . . I know. Okay, I’ll do it . . . see you in a bit." He turned to Bella. "That was Colin," he said unnecessarily.

"What’s up? Do you have to go?"

"Yeah. I need to go to Kamloops for a couple of days. I was hoping he could do it, but we’re short staffed right now. I have to go over the business with him tonight, though."

Bella tried not to let her disappointment show. She stood up and grabbed the corners of the blanket. "Pick up the dishes," she said, "so I can shake this out and fold it up."

D stayed put and held out his arms. "I’m not leaving just yet."

Bella lay down and wrapped her arms around him. "I’m going to miss you." She brought her lips to his and showed him just how much.

The next day, Aimee called wanting Bella to come in and discuss the upcoming art show. June had left her car for Bella’s use, so she drove into the village right away. It was a welcome diversion. She had been touching up the paintings she had done while camping with the kids, the whole time feeling increasingly lonely. She’d just spent almost two full days in D’s company, and a week when he was always somewhere close by. She had expected to miss him, but she hadn’t known just how bereft she would feel. It was different from the deep longing experienced when she hadn’t even known if there was hope. She knew they were everything to each other now, but still she missed looking up to see his eyes on her, his comforting presence, the warmth of his embrace, the heat of his kiss. It was an ever-expanding emptiness that would roll over her in waves that threatened to engulf her.

Aimee was not alone.

"Have you met my mother, Bella?" she asked, indicating the woman who was just leaving her office.

"Yes, but you probably don’t remember me, Mrs. Berg. Bella Gardiner. We met at the performance of Les Miserables." She held out her hand.

Katrina Berg deigned to take it. "I remember you. I know just who you are – and I want to have a word with you."

"She has a meeting with me, mother," said Aimee briskly. "You’ll have to wait if you want to talk to her."

"I’ll be downstairs having coffee," said Mrs. Berg. "Don’t keep her long. You know I don’t like waiting."

Aimee smiled at Bella apologetically. "I hope you don’t mind. Now, let me show you the space you will have to give you a better idea what to plan for." Aimee went into detail about display and lighting and in half an hour had wrapped the discussion up leaving Bella with a much clearer idea of what was expected of her. As she came downstairs, Mrs Berg stood up and joined her at the door.

"We will have more privacy if we speak outside. There is a little trail in the park here." She said nothing more until they were walking between the beds of flowers. "They don’t water these enough. I’ll have to talk to the town planner – his work crews are incompetent."

"Is this what you wanted to consult with me about?" Bella was becoming annoyed by her overbearing attitude. She had not once asked Bella if she had wanted to be there. It had all been at her command.

"I think you are well aware of why we are here."

"I have no idea."

"I had thought you were smarter than that. You certainly switched cousins quickly enough."

Bella felt her colour rise. "Colin is my friend – D and I . . ."

"Do you think I like to see my nephews duped? I saw you coming on to Colin at the play. It was more of a performance than the musical! Kissing him right in front of everybody too, like a cheap hussy. I know your type. Friend indeed! And then you no sooner dump him than you get your hooks into the other one. Discovered which of the two was worth more, did you?"

"You have no right to speak to me this way."

"I have every right. I will not accept having a girl like you working at that school. Since you started there everything has gone from bad to worse. What Chance was thinking of hiring you, I have no idea. I’ve kept quiet long enough. What do you think D will say when he finds out your sister is a junkie, your father a deserter, and your mother a mental patient?"

"I don’t know where you get your information, but D knows everything about my family there is to know," said Bella in a tight voice.

"I advise you to get out of town and don’t come back, if you know what’s good for you. I’ll even make it worth your while."

"Did you specifically choose today to harass me because he’s out of town?"

"I’ll not have you drag him down. That fool program of his is bad enough, but a girl like you is the limit!"

"A girl like me?"

"Low class. You’ve got no background – no money. Your father committed suicide and killed his wife along with him; your mother was mentally ill; your sister is shacking up with a junkie on skid row; your uncle is a drunk; your aunt’s a hairdresser; and you are nothing but a lunch supervisor and a slut into the bargain."

"Now that you’ve insulted me and my whole family to my face, I’m not listening to you anymore." Bella turned and started walking away, but Katrina Berg grabbed her arm. The red fingernails dug painfully.

"You’re not walking away from me – I haven’t finished with you yet."

"But I’ve finished with you."

"Do you insist on taking up with my nephew? You’ll not get a penny out of him if I have anything to do with it!"

Bella felt tears welling in her eyes and she battled to keep her voice from breaking. "I don’t want his money or your money or anybody’s money. We love each other. Do you even know what love is?"

"Love! Is that what you call it these days? I call it sex. I’ll take you down and his precious program too. When I’m through with you you’ll wish you took the money when I offered."

"I can stand up to all your lies and innuendo, and so can the program. You can stop holding those threats of killing the program over D’s head. You don’t have the power the change it. There are more people than ever wanting to put their kids in the school. The community is behind it 100% and a few unfounded cheap shots at me will only gain you public ridicule. If you want a traditional school so badly, lobby to implement a pilot project at the other school. If the way you are trying to coerce me is your usual tactic, I wonder you ever got anywhere in this town. I suggest you go home and look at yourself in the mirror before you slander anyone else so self-righteously." She stood her ground, eyes glaring, tears held back. Katrina Berg turned and stalked off.

Bella sank onto a nearby bench and put her head in her hands. She had used up every ounce of her strength and she was left weak and shaking. She had no idea how D would react when his aunt told him about the encounter – all she knew was that she trusted in his love. That was what had helped her face Mrs. Berg and she knew it could carry them both through anything. After all they had already suffered through, the threat his aunt posed was nothing. She just wished he were there with her now to put his arms around her and hold her close.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

"How was your day, love?"

Just his voice brought a smile to her face and the simple words sent warmth spreading through her. Bella held the phone closer. "I missed you more than I can say."

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Bella could imagine the look that was in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was thick and soft. "So did I . . . maybe I should have left Daisy with you to keep you company."

Bella laughed. "As much as I like Daisy, she would have been a poor substitute."

"Did you get out and paint?"

"I was going over the pictures I have here, and then I had a meeting with Aimee about the show."

"How’d that go?"

"Good."

"Is something up? She has a tendency to ride roughshod over people."

"No, she was pretty accommodating . . . it wasn’t her."

"Who then?"

"Her mom, your aunt – the Wicked Witch of the West."

There was an even longer pause this time. "So that’s why she’s left so many messages to call her. They were all tagged urgent, so I ignored them. Was she extremely offensive?"

"Very."

"The spiteful old bat! I wish she would just keep her . . . Bella - don’t let anything she said hurt you. I wish I were there. I . . ."

"I stood up to her."

"I would have liked to have seen that – you can dish it out. Do you want to talk about it?"

"When you get back."

"You’ve just given me another reason to cut the dinner meeting tomorrow. I’ll be with you as soon as I possibly can. You know that nothing she has to say can change anything – she can’t touch us."

"I know."

 

D was on the cabin porch at 8:00 the next evening looking a little tired but exuding calm and comfort. The door was open and Bella glanced up to see him standing, leaning against the jamb, the evening sun glinting off his curls, the look in his eyes making it impossible for her to breathe. She covered the distance between them in an instant and stood in his arms, overcome by the feel of his body against hers, the smell of him, the taste. It was some time before they spoke, and even longer before what they said was halfway coherent.

"I’m sorry I’m so late."

"You’re not late. I wasn’t expecting you any sooner." Bella snuggled into his chest.

"I stopped by to see my aunt. I think I have a pretty good idea of what she said to you. I’m incredibly sorry for that – it must have been awful. She’s really gone over the edge." As he talked he led her over to the sofa and pulled her down beside him.

"Don’t worry about it."

"I have to. She can’t talk to you like that and get away with it. She’s also started lobbying to instate a traditional program at the school. I told her that if she wants to talk to me from now on it’ll be through our lawyers, and if she approaches you again or threatens you in any way I’ll slap her with a restraining order."

"You know she won’t get anywhere with her petition, She’s just an embittered old woman. You’ve gained so much respect in this town, and I really believe the community is behind the fine arts program all the way. The feedback at the musical was amazing."

"That’s not what concerns me. Whatever happens will happen – all I care about is you. I don’t want you to be subjected to that kind of vicious attack again."

"I’m fine. Really. Knowing that I have you supporting me - loving me – gives me the strength to stand up to anything. Let’s forget all that and enjoy our evening."

He took her face between his hands and kissed her – long and lingering - then held her eyes with his as emotion passed between them like a current. "It works both ways," he whispered.

"Did you eat?" asked Bella, breaking the taut connection that left her light-headed and tingling.

"Not since 3:30."

"Then it’s a good thing there’s scalloped potatoes in the oven."

"You made scalloped potatoes?"

"From scratch."

"It isn’t any wonder that I love you, is it?"

The next day, D picked Bella up at 9:00 and they drove back out to the resort to spend the day painting in the meadow. They wandered through the one behind the lodge where D had taken her stargazing so long ago and took a trail that led to a smaller, more secluded meadow beyond. D carried a cooler and his guitar case while Bella brought a canvas and paints and a big blue blanket. They settled in the midst of lupine, Indian paintbrush, and delicate wild rose. Bella spread the blanket close to some young aspen and set up her little easel. She looked about her and let out a sigh of exhilaration. D lay on the blanket and smiled at her.

"Look at everything," she said in awe.

"I’m looking at the best thing."

She stuck her tongue out at him and touched the leaves of a young tree. "See how silvery they are? There are little intricate designs on each leaf."

"I think it’s some kind of parasite or blight."

"But it’s beautiful, and they don’t seem to be damaged. Look – every one is different." She picked a few leaves and handed them to him. As he inspected them she ranged further. The little scrubby roses were barely a foot tall, holding up their transparent pink flowers, five soft petals centred with a circle of fat yellow anthers on short, curved stamen. Small purple flowers Bella couldn’t identify twined amongst the rose stems, and here and there were single lilies on narrow stems, holding their cantaloupe coloured heads high. Tiny brown and orange butterflies danced from flower to stem to blade of grass. "Wild strawberries!" she cried and gathered a handful, bringing some back to share with D. "Try some – they’re warm from the sun and so sweet."

"You’re sweet," he said as he tasted the berries she dropped in his mouth. "I’ll pick some for our lunch while you paint."

"I want you to play for me."

"I’ll do both."

"Look." Bella was stretched out on the blanket with her face close to the earth, running heads of wild grasses through her hands. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" She turned to him. Her eyes shone, her voice held awe and reverence. The grass blades grew in clumps, dusty green tinged with red. The seed heads were on long slender stems, fat seed casings with long, 4" thread-like extensions. Bella gazed at them as they trickled through her fingers, thinking how she could translate them onto her canvas with brush and paint. D came over to crouch beside her. They didn’t need to speak – the moment transcended words. They both just gazed in wonder as the sun warmed their heads and Bella let the grasses flow and sift through her hands, until a dust coloured grasshopper jumped and settled on her arm and then jumped away again.

"You show me things in a way it’s as if I’m seeing them for the first time," said D softly.

Bella turned her smiling eyes to him. "This is what I’m going to paint . . . for you."

"And what would you like me to play for you?"

"One of the sweetest songs I know. It’s sad and it’s tender and I just love it."

"I would have to know it too. I don’t know many sentimental songs."

"I think you know this one. Superman’s Song."

D laughed. "I don’t know if I can sing as deep as Brad Roberts."

Bella placed her canvas upon her easel. "No one can sing as deep as Brad Roberts, but I think you’ll sing that song very well. Just don’t make me cry."

"Oh, I’ll try to, believe me."

D got out his guitar and ran his fingers across the strings. Soon he was adjusting the machine heads until he had the tuning just right. As Bella mixed her paints he started playing.

Tarzan wasn't a ladies' man
He'd just come along and scoop 'em up under his arm
Like that, quick as a cat in the jungle
But Clark Kent, now there was a real gent
He would not be caught sittin' around in no
Junglescape, dumb as an ape doing nothing

At first he sang in such an exaggeratedly deep voice that Bella’s giggles made him break down laughing,
but then he settled in to singing seriously and proved what Bella had already known. He was more than capable of singing the song with tender emotion. Bella shyly joined in on the chorus with him and he smiled appreciatively.

Superman never made any money
For saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him

Bella set about building a background of shadow and light, the music and lyrics flowing around her as she worked. She remained in both worlds - the layers of her picture and the sun-drenched blanket she shared with D.

Folks said his family were all dead
Their planet crumbled but Superman, he forced himself
To carry on, forget Krypton, and keep going

It was funny that a song about a cartoon character could have such a strong attraction to Bella, but The Dummies had taken the essence of the displaced man and shown with feeling what he went through to find a new life in a strange world. It was a universal story, and as a lost soul herself, it had always struck a chord deep within her. Now she was no longer lost, but the feeling of nostalgia lingered.

Sometimes when Supe was stopping crimes
I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back
On man, join Tarzan in the forest
But he stayed in the city, and kept on changing clothes
In dirty old phonebooths till his work was through
And nothing to do but go on home

And, as always, Bella felt herself tear up. She looked over at D as he sang the last refrain, their eyes not leaving each other.

 

And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him
And sometimes I despair the world will never see
Another man like him*

"You’re my Superman," she teased as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "I told you not to make me cry."

He grinned at her. "And you’re my Wonder Woman."

She gave him a look and turned back to her painting. D began softly plucking at his strings, the gentle classical fingering making light music that sent Bella deep within her painting until she was easing the delicate strands of grasses across the foreground of her canvas. She turned around in answer to his call to see lunch all set out on the blanket, and in the centre a bowl of the tiny berries as he had promised.

"You sure know how to treat a lady," she said as she rinsed her brush.

"I try my best," he answered with a wink.

After they ate, Bella rested her head upon his chest as he held her close. The young trees provided dappled shade that played lazy patterns over them. A light breeze rippled through the leaves, the soothing rustle mingling with their drifting thoughts as they flowed on the tide of sleep. Bella awoke to fingers softly tracing the line of her jaw from her ear to her chin. She opened her eyes and marvelled again at the green of his as they looked down into hers. She was curled in the crook of his arm as he lay on his side, supported by his elbow.

"You look very sweet when you sleep."

"I thought you were my pillow."

"You slid off while we were asleep. I’ve just been looking at my painting. You even put in the grasshopper."

"Are you sure one didn’t jump on and get stuck in the paint?"

"Is that how you do it? No wonder everything looks so real. I feel sorry for the butterflies, though."

Bella began to tickle him, and soon they were rolling on the blanket as he attempted to tickle her back.

"Watch out for the easel!"

"And my guitar." D sat up and reached for it. As Bella made to get up too, he said, "Stay there. I’ve got something I want to sing for you." He almost looked bashful as he tested the tuning and began a rippling intro. Bella rested her head on her arm and watched him. She could still not get over the fact that he was so gifted, so beautiful, so generous, and yet he loved her. Despite all she’d done, regardless of her family troubles, in the face of his aunt’s displeasure, he loved her more than ever. Her heart filled with such warmth and love for him that she thought it could take no more, until he began to sing. Then she discovered that the capacity of her heart was unlimited.

I was floating this oblivion
Alone on some lost shore
But you lifted me up
With colours so real
Drifting down like fine rain falling
Leaving small droplets
on the wisps of your hair
And your canvas fills with colour
And I see what you see
With your eye

As he sang he held her gaze. His voice was rich, mellow, and sincere, and every word was for her, about her.

And you take me, you take me
Somewhere I didn’t know I could go
Didn’t know you would know
Didn’t believe would ever
Happen to me
But you take me there
You colour my life
You bring me light
It’s never been
Better than this

Out on the meadow that belonged only to them, on a blanket the colour of the sky, D told her more than he had ever told her before. Love was not just a simple word for some fleeting emotion, it was the essence of what was between them, what they shared and would continue to share, together, always. And Bella welcomed it, cherished it, and showed in her eyes the fullness of her heart.

 

I was wandering this maze
Hiding behind my eyes
But you showed me
With the gentlest strokes
Dropping sunlight in shiny pieces
Little drifts of stars
Spread across your page
Sparkling in your eyes
And you warm me
With your smile

The music wove through the lyrics with resonant notes that danced and wavered in the warm air.

And you take me, you take me
Somewhere I didn’t know I could go
Didn’t know you would know
Didn’t believe would ever
Happen to me
But you take me there
You colour my life
You bring me light
It’s never been
Better than this
And you take me, you take me
Somewhere I didn’t know I could go
But it’s home **

As the last notes echoed across the meadow, Bella sat up and leaned forward to close the space between her and D. Their eyes had not lost contact throughout the entire song. She took his face in her hands and breathed deeply.

"I love you, Darcy."

The guitar got in the way of the kiss, but D soon managed to slide it from between them and place it near the case where it lay, all but forgotten, for quite some time.

"How long have you known?"

"That terrible night, after you left me in the parking lot and I sat in the car crying my eyes out."

D stroked her hair as he held her close. "How did . . . oh – you mean you knew you loved me then? Already? And I took so long to kiss you again."

"I think we needed that time to become used to . . . everything and each other."

"I think so too, but what I was really asking you was how long have you known my name? Did Tess tell you?"

Bella laughed. "Your name - I guessed it that night of the baseball game, when Cassandra was trying to figure it out."

"But you didn’t say anything."

"You didn’t want it known, so what right did I have to tell?"

He kissed her again. "Thank you for understanding, even when you didn’t like me."

"Don’t remind me."

"I won’t if you’ll say it again."

"Darcy. You don’t mind if I call you that?"

"Not the way you say it. But . . . I really wanted to hear you say the whole thing again."

"You mean, I love you Darcy?"

"That’s the one."

She took his face in her hands again and looked deeply into his eyes. "I love you, Darcy," she whispered, her voice low and soft and full.

A dust coloured grasshopper jumped onto Bella’s arm, and from there to Darcy’s knee, but neither of them noticed. They didn’t notice either when it hopped back to land on a swaying stem of grass, and further on to disappear among the soft pink roses, blue spikes of lupine, and trailing runners of wild strawberries.

The End

*Superman's Song ~ Crash Test Dummies

**You Take Me ~ D Jag and the Daisies

 

 

EPILOGUE

"So we do really have the campsite reserved for us, and you haven’t had to bribe someone to give it up like you did ten years ago?"

"It wasn’t a bribe. There you were, innocently talking about getting a campsite, when I knew everything had been fully booked for months. I didn’t want you to be disappointed, and I wasn’t sure if you’d accept it if I offered you space at the resort – so I made it available to the people who’d booked your campsite already."

Bella snuggled closer to her husband in their big bed and gave him a kiss. "You were always so sweet."

"And I’m not anymore?" he teased.

"Even sweeter. Those people were thrilled with the spot you gave them – they come back every year."

"Can you blame them? I still give them the same deal. Anyway, you know very well that I booked the campsite for the reunion a year ago. Has everybody confirmed yet?"

"Adam can’t make it, he’s in New Zealand training as a shepherd. And Jordan – well we could hardly expect him."

"His call-up to the majors was amazing. Starting for the A’s and he’s only twenty-two."

"When Heather phoned this morning she told me she caught his game. I would have given anything to be there – seven innings and only one run – it’s too bad it was a no decision."

"We’ll miss his next start, but I promise you we’ll take the kids to Anaheim for his third start."

"And I’ll tell them all about the time he struck their dad out."

"I seem to recall striking him out a couple of times too. So is Heather going to make it?"

"No – she’s eight months pregnant. She wants her first child born at home and not in a tent."

"Did you tell her where our first child was born?"

"Tash was a little over eager to come into the world. Good thing you came along with me on that painting trip. The big blue blanket was never the same again, though."

"Well, it was only fitting," he said with a reminiscent gleam in his eyes.

"At least Jas and Carl had the decency to be born at home."

"I don’t think I would have relished delivering twins beside the waterfall."

"Or the hike back to the canoe afterwards. They gave me a little tougher time than she did."

"You were amazing out there. It was all I could do to get you to let me carry her back to the canoe, and only because I’d pointed out that you would get to hold her all the way home seeing as I’d be paddling."

"Not an experience I want to repeat," said Bella, rubbing her still tiny belly.

D smiled at her fondly. "Maybe the next one will take after me, and give you no trouble at all."

"You wish. Did I tell you Lise can’t make it either? She’s doing the European swim circuit to prepare for the Commonwealth games."

"But the other seven are all coming, right?"

"And Tess. It’s going to be so much fun."

"You are still such a kid," he said, pulling her tightly against him and kissing her with heightening intensity.

"Mommy, daddy, we can’t sleep." The door creaked open and two pyjama clad figures tiptoed into the room.

"C’mon, hop in", D sighed, pulling back the blankets as they scrambled over him and nestled between their parents.

"What’s up?" asked Bella.

"We’re too ‘cited ‘bout campin’"

"Well if you both want to stay here, you’re going to have to stop being such wriggle worms."

"And get your giraffe out of my face," added D, "or I’ll eat him up."

"Oh daddy, you won’t!" cried Carl indignantly.

"No jungle animals in the bed."

"I need my monkey!" said Jas, hugging it tightly.

The door pushed open wider and a larger figure wandered in. "How come you guys are having a slumber party without me?" asked Tash, throwing herself on the end of the bed.

"There’ll be room for you to snuggle in too, if your brothers toss out their stuffed animals," said Bella, moving closer to the edge of the bed.

"They’re goin’ back to da jungle," cried Jas as both boys hurled their animals into the air.

After they had all finally found their places and settled down, Carl piped up, "Tellus ‘bout campin’ again. I want a yellow tent."

"I want a green one," said Jas.

"You’re both going to share with me and daddy, in the blue one."

"Can I share with Alyson and Sofie?" asked Tash.

"If they say it’s okay," said Bella. "Now hush and daddy’ll sing a song."

"The iggly wiggly tiggly one?" asked Jas hopefully.

"No, the sweetly reflective Superman one," said D, and he let his voice sink soft and low and soothing. When he was done they were all asleep, including Bella, whose fingertips he could just reach when he stretched his arm across their sleeping children to find hers.

The next morning the whole family along with Daisy piled into Bella’s loaded Land Rover and drove to the studio to pick up Alyson and Sofie. Lakeside Studios was a beautiful wooden structure on the outskirts of the town centre. It housed a gallery, offices, six studios, and a classroom that stretched the full length of the building. D and Bella had established it five years earlier to provide an outlet for local artists. Sofie had earned her degree at Emily Carr Art Institute, and was now a full time artist/instructor along with Bella, who had achieved her own degree through distance education. She lived in a cabin set deep in the woods behind the main building. As they pulled up outside, Alyson and Sofie came running down the steps to meet them.

"I’ve finally graduated and I’m moving home!" cried Alyson as the kids tumbled out of the vehicle and jumped all over her.

"Congratulations!" said Bella and D together.

"You’d have been finished a year earlier if you hadn’t’ve changed your major from physics to English half way through," teased Sofie.

"Maybe we could start a writing club at the studio. What do you think?"

"Sounds like old times," said D.

"That’s not her only news," said Sofie. "Tell them the exciting part, Al."

"I met this great guy, and he’s coming out here to see me, and . . . well . . . I think he’s the one. His name is Blayne." She blushed deeply as they all teased and hugged her. Tash was tugging at her shirt with all the patience of a seven-year-old. "What’s up honey?"

"Can I share the tent with you and Sofie?"

"Sure can. So when’s everyone else getting here?"

"Tess and Jake are driving from Vancouver today, so they should be at the campsite by late afternoon."

"How’s she doing?"

"She loves her Montessori pre-school, even though it means living in the city, but with Jake’s job as a landscape architect, it’s the perfect location for him."

"And what about June and Chance?" Alyson threw her pack in the back of the Land Rover as she asked her question.

"Living in Kelowna has been great for them. Chance misses being a principal, but he’s such a good administrator that promotion was inevitable. June is job sharing now and working three days a week. It helps that the girls go to the same school where she teaches."

"Are April and May coming?" asked Tash, butting into the conversation.

"Not until later in the summer, Bunny," said Bella.

"April and May!" laughed Alyson. "That always breaks me up. Chance is such a joker, but I never believed June would let him do it."

"Don’t let June fool you," said Bella. "She acts so sweet and demure all the time, but she really is very sly."

"I just wonder what they would have called a boy," said Sofie. "Possibility?"

"We don’t need any of your bad jokes," said Alyson as she finally stopped giggling. "Tash, you’re going to regret bunking with us, believe me."

"No I won’t," said Tash as she happily squeezed in between the two of them in the back seat, while D strapped the boys back into their car seats in the middle. Daisy sat between the two front seats with her head on Bella’s lap.

"Are Colin and Carla still running the resort?" asked Alyson.

"They’re a real team," said D. "I get to stay in the background where I like it. Carla is a wonderful activity co-ordinator, and Colin’s a born host. Their son, Devon, is just like him. He drives Carla crazy."

"She says she’s doing to have danger signs tattooed on him when he’s a teenager, and post warnings to all the girls who come to stay at the resort," Bella added with a grin.

"And you’ve still got the school?"

"It’s my baby," said D. "I never thought I would want to be a principal, but after Chance left I couldn’t trust anyone else with it."

"You should see it," said Bella. "It has state of the art everything - a theatre to die for. The waiting list to get in is a mile long."

"I remember when Katrina Berg tried to change it to a traditional school," said Alyson. "She almost got hounded out of town."

"That was a big disillusionment for the poor woman," said Bella. "She used Phil Collins as a scapegoat, but she lost all her political credibility and even moved to Vancouver for a few years. She’s given up on politics now and keeps to herself. We don’t see too much of her."

"Are you talking about the witch lady?" asked Tash.

"Shh! That’s not a nice thing to say about your Great Aunt Batty, honey," said D.

Tash giggled.

"Whatever happened to Collins?" asked Alyson. "He always used to creep me out."

"He was fired from the school and then when Katrina Berg turned her back on him he left town. I heard he ended up in a small town in Alberta kow-towing to some public dignitary with an inflated ego," said Bella. "We were glad to see him go."

"Hey, is there still a hot lunch program? I’ll never forget the artichokes and capers!"

"Or the pizza with feta, anchovies, and sundried tomatoes," said Sofie. "I drank so much water that day!"

"We still have a lunch program but it’s run by volunteer parents," said D.

"You mean poor Cassandra lost the contract?"

"I’m afraid she quit," said D.

"She didn’t take our marriage well," said Bella.

"I remember," said Alyson. "She actually walked up to you and asked you if you’d lost your mind, didn’t she, D? She was wearing a bright orange mini dress."

"Wasn’t it nasturtium?" asked Sofie, giggling.

"And she was leaning right up against you, and you backed away and said, ‘No, I lost my heart.’"

Bella, her eyes glowing, looked at her husband and mouthed the words, I love you.

Alyson and Sofie shared knowing glances, then Alyson continued to reminisce. "I remember your sister was living here when we graduated from high school. What’s she up to now?"

Bella smiled. "She’s doing well. I was hoping she would stay here, but she wanted to be somewhere she was really needed. She tried working on the Lower East Side, but that was too stressful for her. She’s back in Ecuador now, working in the same mission she did when she came out of rehab."

They turned at the road leading to the provincial park and were soon in the parking lot. A blue van was parked by the trail, and as they pulled up beside it five girls poured out.

"They’re already here!" cried Bella.

After half an hour of hugs and jumbled greetings, unloading, and packing things to the campsite, they set about putting up all the tents and stowing their gear. Jas and Carl got in everybody’s way as much as they possibly could, but by the end of the job were nowhere to be seen. Before Bella had a chance to even panic, her four-year-old twins were discovered burrowed deep in Sarah and Rita’s sleeping bags, sound asleep, and there they were allowed to stay as the group settled around the picnic tables and reacquainted themselves.

Rita was working for a computer firm in Victoria, and engaged to a man named Dan whom she met one afternoon at Home Depot. It seems he had impressed her with his knowledge of power tools. He also had the amazing ability of being able to sit through the entire five plus hours of Pride and Prejudice, without batting an eyelash, although it is true that his hands did roam a bit.

Cindy lived in Kamloops and intrepidly reported for the Daily Times, covering community events, but she had hopes to be the editor of her own section one day. She had been married for six months to her loving husband Derf, who had found it a great hardship to part with her for the week. She consoled him by authorising the installation of a hot tub on their deck, which would be ready in time for her return.

Tamsin had moved to Alberta and was just starting out in her teaching career, luckily not in the same small town that Collins had ended up in. She was still single, but hopeful that one day she would meet the perfect guy. For now, she had encountered her share of losers, and regaled everybody with her hilarious tales of Matt, the latest poor fellow to become besotted with her.

Sarah was already a successfully published author and had taken a break from promoting her latest fantasy novel to come to the reunion. She now lived in Montreal in a very cosmopolitan part of town on the third floor of a heritage home. Residing on the second floor was a rather interesting mathematician who she often chanced to meet on the landing. These meetings invariably lead to ordering take out while they both forgot about the existence of the computer screens and stacks of papers that waited for them in their respective studies.

Alicia majored in literature at UBC, where she and Alyson had shared an apartment. Now she was visiting home for the summer after her first year back east at an illustrious law school. She had taken honours and won scholarships towards her next year’s tuition. She soon proved to everyone that despite the fact she would be an aspiring young lawyer in a couple of years, they had no need to be intimidated by her serious nature. Though she was not in the habit if going bananas, she could still behave as nuttily and frivolously as the rest of them. She was not actively on the lookout for a man at the moment, due to her pressing studies, but she had a good idea what she was looking for. Tall, dark wavy hair, firm athletic body, an intense gaze, and an engaging smile. But that was just the window dressing – what was more important was his nature: loving, compassionate, considerate, respectful, intelligent, humorous, honourable and trustworthy. She was particularly careful to stay away from anyone whose name started with the letter V.

After the boys woke they ate lunch, hiked and swam. Tess and Jake arrived when they were in the midst of a huge water fight. The girls all rushed out of the water to greet her and give her big, wet hugs.

"You’re pregnant!" They cried when they saw her very obviously distended belly. "When are you due?"

"The end of September."

"What do you want, a boy or a girl?" asked Rita.

"We already know it’s a boy," said Tess. "I’m naming him after my brother."

"You’re naming him D?" asked Alicia. The girls looked at their old teacher, who had a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"I’m naming him Darcy," said Tess with a grin.

The girls were all stunned for a moment as D’s colour rose.

"Mr. Fitz’s name is really Darcy?" asked Sarah.

"That’s what the D stands for," said Tess.

"I knew that," said Tash. "Mommy calls him that all the time, ‘specially when they’re . . ."

"Thanks Tash," said her dad quickly, "I think they believe you."

"Especially when they’re . . ." said Cindy saucily.

"And all the time we thought they were just like Darcy and Lizzie," said Alicia, "and he really was Darcy."

"Tess, if you weren’t pregnant right now, I’d . . . drown you." said her loving brother. "The poor kid has to live with that."

"I love the name," said Bella.

"At least his last name won’t be Fitzwilliam," said Tamsin. "I can see where that might have caused a problem."

"You should have seen all the girls swooning over him," said Tess, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

"Jake, can you do something to keep her in line?"

"I see nothing wrong with her behaviour and I like the name. You should take it as a compliment that we want to name our first born son after you." Jake tried to keep a straight face but was soon breaking up.

After that, everyone called him Darcy for the rest of the afternoon, especially Jas and Carl who thought it was supremely funny. They were thrown in the water quite a few times for their pains so it is no wonder that they persisted. After the evening meal was eaten and cleared, D and Bella walked out onto the beach by themselves, with Daisy at their heels, while the girls and Jake entertained their kids. Bella had a small canvas with her and D carried her easel and paints.

"I’ve always wanted to catch this," she said, "but I’ll have to be fast." D lay on the beach by her side as she sat and painted.

The sky was still blue and bright in the west, but the sun was low enough that it was not full on the lake. There were fat lines of pale lemon yellow running across the surface to Bella, with a clear watery blue in-between, the colour of tourmalines. The surface of the water danced with flecks of light interspersed with little flickering lips of indigo. Bella worked quickly, capturing it with expressionistic dabs of colour. She could see what drove the Impressionists to interpret light the way they did. The light was ever changing and full of movement; before Bella was finished the sun had completely disappeared and the lake had darkened.

She turned and looked at D. "I think I’ve managed."

"I think you’ve more than managed," said D sitting up and bringing his lips to meet hers.

From the picnic table the girls all watched.

"To think we brought them together," said Cindy.

"They would have come together no matter what, no matter where, no matter who," said Tess.

"I think it’s time to make the fire," said Jake. "Who’s helping?"

"Me!" said Jas and Carl, running after him.

The evening ended as so many others did ten years ago. They sang all the old songs and then trailed off to their tents in ones and twos until only D and Bella were left, with Daisy sleeping at their feet. Gentle riffs of guitar trailed into the night as D’s soft voice sang with as much feeling as it had that day in the meadow.

And you take me, you take me
Somewhere I didn’t know I could go
Didn’t know you would know
Didn’t believe would ever
Happen to me
But you take me there
You colour my life
You bring me light
It’s never been
Better than this
And you take me, you take me
Somewhere I didn’t know I could go
But it’s home

And now it really is The End.

 

© 2003 Copyright held by the author.

Sofie's Stories