A Country Affair(36)

Rorie smiled and reluctantly followed him down the stairs. As Skip had claimed, the housekeeper had prepared two large bags, which sat waiting on the kitchen table.

“Might as well take those with you, too,” Mary muttered gruffly. “I hate the thought of you eating restaurant food. This, at least, will stick to your ribs.”

“Goodbye, Mary,” Rorie said softly, touched by the housekeeper’s thoughtfulness. On impulse she hugged the older woman. “Thank you for everything—including our talk this morning.” The impromptu embrace surprised Rorie as much as it obviously did Mary.

“You drive careful now, you hear?” the housekeeper responded, squeezing Rorie tightly and patting her back several times.

“I will, I promise.”

“A letter now and again wouldn’t be amiss.”

“All right,” Rorie agreed, and used her sleeve to blot tears from the corners of her eyes. These people had touched her in so many ways. Leaving them was even more difficult than she’d imagined.

The housekeeper rubbed the heel of her hand over her right eye. “Time for you to get on the road. What are you doing standing in the kitchen chitchatting with me?” she asked brusquely.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Mary’s gruff voice didn’t fool Rorie. The housekeeper’s exterior might be a little crusty, and her tongue a bit surly, but she didn’t succeed in disguising a generous, loving heart.

“I don’t know where Clay is,” Skip complained after he’d loaded the luggage into the MG’s trunk. “I thought he’d want to see you before you left. I wonder where he got off to.”

“I’m...sure he’s got better things to do than say goodbye to me.”

“No way,” Skip said, frowning. “I’m going to see if I can find him.”

Rorie’s first reaction was to stop Skip, then she quickly decided against it. If she made too much of a fuss, Skip might suspect something. She understood what had prompted Clay to stay away from the house all morning, and in truth she was grateful. Leaving Elk Run was hard enough without prolonging the agony in lengthy farewells.

Skip hesitated, kicking at the dirt with the pointed toe of his cowboy boot. “You two didn’t have a fight or anything, did you?”

“No. What makes you ask?”

Skip shrugged. “Well... It’s just that every time I walked into a room with the two of you, I could feel something. If it wasn’t for Kate, I’d think my big brother was interested in you.”

“I’m sure you’re imagining things.”

“I suppose so,” Skip said with a nod, dismissing the notion. “Ever since you got here, though, Clay’s been acting weird.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sort of cranky.”

“My unexpected arrival added to his problems, don’t you think?” In so many ways it was the truth, and she felt guilty about that. The responsibilities for the farm and for raising Skip were sobering enough; he didn’t need her there to wreak havoc with his personal life.

“You weren’t any problem,” Skip answered sharply. “In fact, having you around was fun. The only trouble is you didn’t stay long enough.”

“Thank you, Skip.” Once again she felt her throat clog with tears. She was touched by his sweet, simple hospitality and reminded of how much she’d miss him.

“I still kinda wish you were going to stay for the fair,” he mumbled. “You’d have a good time, I guarantee it. We may not have all the fancy entertainment you do in San Francisco, but when we do a county fair, we do it big.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great fun.”

Skip braced his foot against the bumper of the faded blue pickup, apparently forgetting his earlier decision to seek out Clay, which was just as well.

“You don’t like the country much, do you, Rorie?”

“Oh, but I do,” she said. “It’s a different way of life, though. Here on Elk Run, I feel like a duck in a pond full of swans.”

Skip laughed. “I suppose folks there in the big city don’t think much of the country.”

“No one has time to think,” Rorie said with a small laugh.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Everyone’s got thoughts.”

Rorie nodded, not knowing how to explain something so complex. When Skip had spent some time in the city, he’d figure out what she meant.

“The one thing I’ve noticed more than anything is how quiet it is here,” she said pensively, looking around, burning into her memory each detail of the farmhouse and the yard.

“I like the quiet. Some places, the noise is so bad I worry about ear damage,” Skip said.

“I imagine if I lived here, I’d grow accustomed to the silence, too. But to be honest, I hadn’t realized how much I enjoy the sounds of the city. There’s something invigorating about the clang of the trolley cars or the foghorn on the Bay early in the morning.”

Skip frowned and shook his head. “You honestly like all that racket?”

Rorie nodded. “It’s more than that. The city’s exciting. I hadn’t really known how much living there meant to me before coming to Elk Run.” Rorie wasn’t sure how to describe the aroma of freshly baked sourdough bread, or the perfumed scent of budding rosebushes in Golden Gate Park, to someone who’d never experienced them. Country life had its appeal, she couldn’t deny that, but she belonged to the city. At least, that was what she told herself over and over again.