camp, determined to conquer the Coyote Point painting.
The Morning Whisper now bobbed beside her little Duckling. Her camp now felt complete, but the tranquil quiet was oddly dull after the chaotic morning.
Geez. Never happy, are you ?
Before she headed up, she slathered on more sunscreen, slipped on a long-sleeved shirt and long pants over her swimsuit, and exchanged sandals for sneakers. She braided her hair back and tied her floppy wide-brimmed sun hat on her head.
Her battered beach umbrella marked her spot a good distance upslope from camp. The high whirring of cicadas in dried-out brittlebushes stopped as she neared and resumed when she was past. When she was little, she’d called them rattlesnake bugs.
She had to admit this was the craziest time imaginable to work up on the hilltop. The heat from the ground slammed at you—but she wanted the light, so she came up.
The Coyote Point version four began well—she could draw the scene now in her sleep, and the layout on the larger block pleased her—but her focus was shot, and the washes fought her, drying fast, and pooling the colors in frustrating ways. She stifled the urge to rip the painting from the block and shred it. The result wasn’t half-bad, but far from what she held in her mind’s eye. She wanted to catch the intense light of this land of stone and water. All she had captured was desolation.
Clearly time for a well-needed break to step away and to keep from ruining the painting.
She pulled a water bottle from her little cooler and drank down half in a long, chill swallow. Her eyes needed a rest from the glare, as well. She slipped on her sunglasses, leaned back, and looked up inside the interior of the umbrella. The once-forest green had faded to a mottled olive, the seams giving way, the fringe frayed. She frowned. How had she not noticed something that had been with her so long was falling apart?
Falling apart. Everything she’d thought so set in her life was unraveling and shifting. She needed to pull and patch everything back together, and that meant giving Nate a straight answer.
But which one?
She played with the idea of accepting. Honestly, thinking of the men she had met in her life, she couldn’t imagine marrying or living with any man other than Nate. Nate was the perfect one to see Oregon with. So many things to paint there in the Northwest. The temperate rainforests there were an amazing ecosystem. The mountains were gorgeous.
She chuckled uneasily. Plenty of rocks to paint.
If any man might be worth risking her heart on, Nate was the one. But could she? She almost believed in the possibilities of yes and Nate. Well, she believed in Nate, but hadn’t she seen time after time that happily ever after only came true in fairytales?
Is that entirely true? Stop looking at your messed-up family and look at your friends. Look at JoAnn and Lloyd…
Maybe…As long as she thought only of Nate, only of the heat and emotion and happiness in his eyes, she could say yes, would say yes. But—
“Mad dogs and Englishmen.” Olivia’s voice behind her made Kay jump.
Chapter Seven
“Wow, I so did not hear you coming.” Kay laughed and shook her head at the startled rush of her heart.
Olivia ducked under the straggling fringe into the umbrella’s shade. “Sorry about that. How can you stand it up here? And in long sleeves and pants. You must be baked to a crisp.” She wore a black cover-up more suited to a resort poolside over her bikini, but at least she wore sneakers for the hike up, and for a change, no cigarette lay pinched in her fingers.
Kay set aside her empty water bottle. “Cotton, light, and all in white. Better than burnt.”
“That’s true.” Olivia gave a half laugh. “Poor Mark. I just came from camp. He fell asleep and no one was there to wake him. He’s going to be very sore.”
Kay sighed. “Dork. I told him to move into the shade.”
“He said that.” She stood quietly for a
The Morning Whisper now bobbed beside her little Duckling. Her camp now felt complete, but the tranquil quiet was oddly dull after the chaotic morning.
Geez. Never happy, are you ?
Before she headed up, she slathered on more sunscreen, slipped on a long-sleeved shirt and long pants over her swimsuit, and exchanged sandals for sneakers. She braided her hair back and tied her floppy wide-brimmed sun hat on her head.
Her battered beach umbrella marked her spot a good distance upslope from camp. The high whirring of cicadas in dried-out brittlebushes stopped as she neared and resumed when she was past. When she was little, she’d called them rattlesnake bugs.
She had to admit this was the craziest time imaginable to work up on the hilltop. The heat from the ground slammed at you—but she wanted the light, so she came up.
The Coyote Point version four began well—she could draw the scene now in her sleep, and the layout on the larger block pleased her—but her focus was shot, and the washes fought her, drying fast, and pooling the colors in frustrating ways. She stifled the urge to rip the painting from the block and shred it. The result wasn’t half-bad, but far from what she held in her mind’s eye. She wanted to catch the intense light of this land of stone and water. All she had captured was desolation.
Clearly time for a well-needed break to step away and to keep from ruining the painting.
She pulled a water bottle from her little cooler and drank down half in a long, chill swallow. Her eyes needed a rest from the glare, as well. She slipped on her sunglasses, leaned back, and looked up inside the interior of the umbrella. The once-forest green had faded to a mottled olive, the seams giving way, the fringe frayed. She frowned. How had she not noticed something that had been with her so long was falling apart?
Falling apart. Everything she’d thought so set in her life was unraveling and shifting. She needed to pull and patch everything back together, and that meant giving Nate a straight answer.
But which one?
She played with the idea of accepting. Honestly, thinking of the men she had met in her life, she couldn’t imagine marrying or living with any man other than Nate. Nate was the perfect one to see Oregon with. So many things to paint there in the Northwest. The temperate rainforests there were an amazing ecosystem. The mountains were gorgeous.
She chuckled uneasily. Plenty of rocks to paint.
If any man might be worth risking her heart on, Nate was the one. But could she? She almost believed in the possibilities of yes and Nate. Well, she believed in Nate, but hadn’t she seen time after time that happily ever after only came true in fairytales?
Is that entirely true? Stop looking at your messed-up family and look at your friends. Look at JoAnn and Lloyd…
Maybe…As long as she thought only of Nate, only of the heat and emotion and happiness in his eyes, she could say yes, would say yes. But—
“Mad dogs and Englishmen.” Olivia’s voice behind her made Kay jump.
Chapter Seven
“Wow, I so did not hear you coming.” Kay laughed and shook her head at the startled rush of her heart.
Olivia ducked under the straggling fringe into the umbrella’s shade. “Sorry about that. How can you stand it up here? And in long sleeves and pants. You must be baked to a crisp.” She wore a black cover-up more suited to a resort poolside over her bikini, but at least she wore sneakers for the hike up, and for a change, no cigarette lay pinched in her fingers.
Kay set aside her empty water bottle. “Cotton, light, and all in white. Better than burnt.”
“That’s true.” Olivia gave a half laugh. “Poor Mark. I just came from camp. He fell asleep and no one was there to wake him. He’s going to be very sore.”
Kay sighed. “Dork. I told him to move into the shade.”
“He said that.” She stood quietly for a
Similar Books
