The All You Can Dream Buffet (16 page)

Valerie leaned over and squeezed Ruby’s hand. “That’s beautiful, Ruby. Absolutely wonderful.”

“Thanks.”

Valerie gave a sidelong glance at her daughter. “Miracles happen.”

Hannah wiggled her foot and practiced her aloofness.

“And what about Ginny?” Valerie asked. “I haven’t had an email or a text in a couple of days.” She leaned forward and slid a celery stick through the bowl of hummus. “I was worried that she’d get stuck behind the fire lines or something.”

“Fire lines?”

“Big fire in Idaho. It wasn’t causing a lot of trouble when we passed through yesterday, but they were worried about some windstorms in the forecast.”

“I saw her blog post last night, but she was only in Utah.”

“I haven’t been online for a couple of days.” Valerie patted the pocket of her cargo shorts. “Hannah, will you go get my phone off the dash?”

Hannah rolled her eyes and heaved a long sigh.

“Now, child,” Valerie said.

The girl hauled herself to her feet and headed toward the driveway. Valerie waited until she thought Hannah was out of earshot, then said quietly, “She’s driving me crazy.”

Hannah turned around. “I heard that. Just because I don’t want to be all Kunta Kinte.”

“Nobody said anything to you, Hannah. Go get my phone.”

Ruby watched Hannah scuffle across the gravel circle drive, thinking the pebbles must hurt through the leather mocca-
sins. “I went through an Indian period,” she said.

Noah snorted.

“What?” Ruby said, keeping a straight face. “I’ll have you know I am 1/120th Cherokee.”

His nostrils quivered. “I can see that.”

“I’m just saying that girls go through things sometimes. I thought if I was Indian, I’d be more in touch with the land, and I loved the culture of the Plains tribes.”

“Nations,” Valerie said.

Ruby chuckled. “Right.”

“I know,” Valerie said, and sat back in her chair, turning her glass in her long brown hands. “It’s just a stage, a passion or something, but I would like her to explore the heroes of her own culture. Tecumseh and Sitting Bull are great men of history,
but so are the Chevalier de Saint-George and W.E.B. DuBois. And on her dad’s side there are all those heroes of Scottish culture—William Wallace and … whoever.”

Lavender snorted. “Hype.” She put her glass of tea back on the table. The ice cubes clinked. “Give her time. A passion is a good way to get through something.”

“I know. That’s why we did the trip.”

Noah said, “Tecumseh and Sitting Bull?”

She smiled. “Yeah. She’s crazy for Sitting Bull.”

“Good taste.”

“How are you holding up, gal?” Lavender asked. She narrowed her eyes. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I’m okay.” She reached for another celery stick. “Why am I the only one eating here?”

Ruby laughed. “I was trying to let everybody else actually get some before I turn into Wolverine Ruby.”

“Eat!” Lavender plunked some fruit and a single piece of bread on her plate. “I’ve been plagued with indigestion for a couple of weeks now. Never know what’ll set it off.”

“Have you had it checked out?” Valerie asked.

Lavender waved a hand. “If you start treating me like an old woman, I’ll start treating you like a widow.”

Valerie held up her hands. “Wouldn’t think of it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see if Hannah was still gone. “That’s the best part of leaving Cincinnati. Finally we can just be invisible, ordinary tourists. That was hard to do in Cinci.”

“I bet.” Ruby dug into her salad, savoring the cold sweetness of the watermelon, the depth of fat and creaminess in the avocado. “Do you know where you’ll end up?”

“Not really. We’re going to spend the summer with my parents in San Diego, but who knows after that. Maybe we’ll just keep wandering for a year.”

Hannah returned, long arms and legs moving as if she had no joints. Really pretty girl, Ruby thought. She wanted to play with her hair. “Here’s your phone. Can I
eat
now?”

“Of course.” Valerie flipped open her phone. “No messages. And”—she touched another spot on the screen—“no emails from her, either. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Hope she’s having an adventure,” Ruby said, eyeing a ring of red onion.

“No doubt about that,” Lavender said.

Ruby’s phone buzzed. A message from her father said,
Cute pic! I can see your tummy showing. How’s my baby growing?

She smiled and texted back,
Which one?

I hate texting. Call me, will you?

One second.

Ruby looked up from her phone. “Excuse me a minute, please. My father is anxious for news.”

She swished through the long grass toward the lavender fields. “Hey, Dad,” she said when he answered. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Everything going all right?”

“It’s beautiful here.” She inhaled the fragrance of lavender, baking under the sunny skies. “Isn’t Oregon supposed to be gloomy?”

“Not this time of year, I don’t think. The summer is good in the Northwest.” She could hear him cooking, a utensil clicking against a pan. “So you have a cat now? You know you can’t change the cat litter when you’re pregnant, right?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s a parasite that lives in cat feces. You can’t touch it.”

“Good to know. And, anyway, she’s a barn cat, so I guess she might hang out with me, but she’s really not that tame. She likes to eat mice.”

“She’s cute. You’re feeling good?”

She thought of the throwing up, the endless, endless throwing up, and her grouchiness, and the not sleeping, but the only thing he could do was worry, and she could manage this. “I’m fine, Dad. Lavender and the others are going to take good care of me.”

“All right. I won’t keep you, then. Keep me in the loop, sweetheart.”

“Will do. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Ruby.”

She touched the screen to turn off the call, brushing her other hand over the lavender standing up to her hips on either side, and absently tapped the email icon. Her in-box came up, populated with the usual junk mail, a couple of notes from friends, and last—electrifyingly—a message from Liam.

The header was
Thought You Should Know.

A tangle of cold things wrapped around her throat, and she clicked on the email. The body of it hadn’t yet arrived via cyberspace, so she had to stand there for long seconds with her phone in hand, watching a little circle spin to tell her the program was working.

Still working.

Still working.

She made a small noise, and, as if the machine heard her frustration, it filled in suddenly. Short and to the point.

Ruby cried out, and a sharp, ripping pain went through her middle, as if a monster had reached into her chest and torn out her heart, leaving blood vessels and arteries hanging, pouring blood out onto the ground. She fell to her knees, nearly buried in lavender, and felt the impact shudder upward through her body.

Liam!

Ginny was awake at six, roused by Willow nosing her under the covers, blowing hard, ever so gently rattling the tags on her collar. Clear morning daylight poured through the windows, promising a good day on the road, and Ginny flung on her sweats and a sweater.

The minute she stepped out of the Airstream, she saw that Jack’s big blue rig was gone. Of course it would be. A pang of regret pushed through her chest.

On the other hand, the sky was absolutely pristine, a color of blue that almost hurt to look at. Not a single cloud marred the sheen of that sky, although she could see a ribbon of clouds to the north, low and thin. Nothing to worry about. She ought to be able to make Boise today with no problem, and then—Lavender’s!

She ate a simple breakfast of yogurt, toast, and coffee, sitting at the table and looking out through the generous window at the craggy blue ridge of Rockies. Pleasure hummed beneath her ribs. She drizzled honey over the toast.

Willow probably needed a walk, and Ginny probably needed to post a blog, but she felt no urgency to do either one. Maybe they could stop at a more attractive spot along the way for Willow’s walk, and maybe her readers would forgive her this once if she didn’t post a blog. She’d posted last night, so maybe
she’d get one up tonight, and, anyway, she’d be seeing a group of backbloggers later today.

On the map, she blocked out her route, calculating distances and stops, leaving some wiggle room to arrive in Boise by four or five. The group of backbloggers would pick her up at six-thirty.

That finished, she dressed and turned the hot water on for dishwater. Her phone started to buzz on the table, so she turned off the water, dashed over, and grabbed it. Her daughter’s number showed on the screen. “Hey, you,” Ginny said with pleasure. “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

“I have been working, but I took a break to call my mother and find out how the big adventure is going.”

Ginny couldn’t help it, she laughed. “It is not easy,” she said with some emphasis, “but I am having the time of my life.”

“I’ve been reading your blogs. It sounds like a blast. Have you met any interesting people?”

A flush washed over her, forehead to breasts. “Not really. There isn’t much time to hang around, honestly, and I’m headed for the lavender farm to see my friends.”

“Mom, you should get out and mingle! You’ll enjoy it. Promise you’ll try to do more of that.”

“I’ll try.” She put her cup and spoon and bowl into the dishwater. “Have you talked to your dad?”

“I have,” she said. “He is not happy with you, but you already knew that.”

“Right.”

“He’ll be fine, Mom. Just remember, you’re having an adventure, and you’d never want me to give up something like that because a guy got mad at me over it.”

“He’s not really some guy, Christie. He’s your dad.”

“He can still be my dad if he’s mad at you,” Christie said, and
paused. “Kinda interesting that you said my dad and not your husband.”

Ginny halted in the action of dropping a dishrag into the water. It hung over the water in points, the edging blue and yellow, crisp and clean because she’d bought them for the trip. She felt something ripple through her, a sense that these details would always stick with her. Steam rose from the water. “Hmm,” she said.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Christie said. She murmured to someone over her shoulder. “Sorry, Mom, I gotta go. They’ve got some charts I need to sign.”

“No problem. Love you, honey.”

“Love you, too. Call me when you get to Lavender’s farm. I want lots of pictures!”

“I will.”

She ended the call absently, staring out the window over the sink with her phone in her hand. Willow barked suddenly, and, startled, Ginny jumped. The phone sailed out of her hand and right into the water.

“Oh, my God!” She stuck her hand into the steaming water to retrieve it, but the water seared her skin and she jerked it out instantly. “Dang it!”

The seconds swooped by in a wild rush as she mentally scrambled for a way to get the phone out of the water. Gloves? No, she didn’t have them here. A spoon! She yanked open the drawer, ended up yanking too hard, and the whole thing spilled on the floor. “Crap!”