obsessed with them or something, asking all those questions and running her hands over that one wolf’shead. I can’t believe she was touching it like that! Was she crazy?
The path to our cabin was dark and kind of spooky, so I ran to catch up with Lynn. She stopped and waited for me, and when I reached her, she brushed hair from my forehead with her fingertips, real gently, just like Mama did sometimes.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Lynn said. “The horses scare you, don’t they?”
“Well … a little.”
Lynn slid her arm over my shoulder. “Would you like me to talk to your dad, get him to take the pressure off?” The pine needles on the path were quiet and springy under our feet. The flashlight beam caught a toad the size of an acorn hopping into the damp grass. A cricket chirped.
I took a deep breath. “You’d do that?”
“Sure.” We climbed the steps to the cabin, and Lynn fished the key from her back pocket. “I’ll talk with him tonight.”
“Wow, that would be great.” At that very minute I felt really relieved. Then, for some reason, I started to not feel so good about it. It felt like I was giving up. Not the kind of girl Daddy wanted me to be. Not perfect. But then I thought, why should I keep trying to be so perfect for Daddy? He’s already disappointed in me, so why bother?
I followed Lynn into the cabin living room. Lynn laid the flashlight on the kitchen counter, switched on a lamp, and headed back to the room she shared with Daddy.
“Hey, want to put on some music?” Lynn went into the bedroom, half-shutting the door. “And maybe we can play a family game when your dad and Diana get back.”
“Okay.” I lined up the CDs, glancing over when I saw Lynn pass across the half-open door to the bedroom. I used to follow Mama back into her room, lie on the bed, and watch her get ready to go places. Mama let me play with her jeweled glass perfume bottles and try on her lipsticks and blushes. Once, when I was about seven or eight, Mama let me wear her makeup to the grocery store. Daddy had gotten mad about that.
I didn’t go in Daddy and Lynn’s room now. I didn’t think Lynn was a person who wore perfume—I couldn’t smell it the way I could with Mama. I knew from just seeing a glimpse now and then that Lynn wore plain white underwear. She wore the same silver hoops in her ears every day, and had only one ring other than the one Daddy had given her. Lynn was a physician’s assistant, so she didn’t even dress up to go to work. She just wore a white jacket with her name on the pocket.
I put on a mixed CD. Lynn came out wearing a gray sweatshirt just as Daddy came in, carrying a couple of white-water-rafting brochures.
“So?” said Lynn. “What’d you find out?” They spread the brochures on the kitchen counter and sat on the tall stools there. Daddy massaged the back of Lynn’s neck. I crawled onto the stool beside Lynn and craned to see the pictures on the brochures of families in yellow rafts, wearing orange life vests and helmets, roaring down a river, screaming their fool heads off.
“Okay, we can go down the Big Pigeon or the Nantahala,” Daddy said. “Both of them have class three and four rapids. The Nantahala has one class five. The Nantahala is also much colder, apparently.”
“I went down the Nantahala in college and had a blast,” said Lynn. “But since you’re a city slicker, Norm, we probably ought to do the Big Pigeon. You know, very calm. Sort of like rafting in a warm bathtub. The city slicker river.” Lynn raised her eyebrows and smiled at Daddy in a real flirty way.
“I vote for the Big Pigeon,” I said. But nobody was paying any attention to me.
“You think I’m too chicken to go down the Nantahala?” Daddy was nose to nose with Lynn, half-smiling. He didn’t even look at me, but I started wondering, Is he trying to make it dangerous just to make me suck it up?
“I do,” said Lynn. Hooking her thumbs under her arms, she did
The path to our cabin was dark and kind of spooky, so I ran to catch up with Lynn. She stopped and waited for me, and when I reached her, she brushed hair from my forehead with her fingertips, real gently, just like Mama did sometimes.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Lynn said. “The horses scare you, don’t they?”
“Well … a little.”
Lynn slid her arm over my shoulder. “Would you like me to talk to your dad, get him to take the pressure off?” The pine needles on the path were quiet and springy under our feet. The flashlight beam caught a toad the size of an acorn hopping into the damp grass. A cricket chirped.
I took a deep breath. “You’d do that?”
“Sure.” We climbed the steps to the cabin, and Lynn fished the key from her back pocket. “I’ll talk with him tonight.”
“Wow, that would be great.” At that very minute I felt really relieved. Then, for some reason, I started to not feel so good about it. It felt like I was giving up. Not the kind of girl Daddy wanted me to be. Not perfect. But then I thought, why should I keep trying to be so perfect for Daddy? He’s already disappointed in me, so why bother?
I followed Lynn into the cabin living room. Lynn laid the flashlight on the kitchen counter, switched on a lamp, and headed back to the room she shared with Daddy.
“Hey, want to put on some music?” Lynn went into the bedroom, half-shutting the door. “And maybe we can play a family game when your dad and Diana get back.”
“Okay.” I lined up the CDs, glancing over when I saw Lynn pass across the half-open door to the bedroom. I used to follow Mama back into her room, lie on the bed, and watch her get ready to go places. Mama let me play with her jeweled glass perfume bottles and try on her lipsticks and blushes. Once, when I was about seven or eight, Mama let me wear her makeup to the grocery store. Daddy had gotten mad about that.
I didn’t go in Daddy and Lynn’s room now. I didn’t think Lynn was a person who wore perfume—I couldn’t smell it the way I could with Mama. I knew from just seeing a glimpse now and then that Lynn wore plain white underwear. She wore the same silver hoops in her ears every day, and had only one ring other than the one Daddy had given her. Lynn was a physician’s assistant, so she didn’t even dress up to go to work. She just wore a white jacket with her name on the pocket.
I put on a mixed CD. Lynn came out wearing a gray sweatshirt just as Daddy came in, carrying a couple of white-water-rafting brochures.
“So?” said Lynn. “What’d you find out?” They spread the brochures on the kitchen counter and sat on the tall stools there. Daddy massaged the back of Lynn’s neck. I crawled onto the stool beside Lynn and craned to see the pictures on the brochures of families in yellow rafts, wearing orange life vests and helmets, roaring down a river, screaming their fool heads off.
“Okay, we can go down the Big Pigeon or the Nantahala,” Daddy said. “Both of them have class three and four rapids. The Nantahala has one class five. The Nantahala is also much colder, apparently.”
“I went down the Nantahala in college and had a blast,” said Lynn. “But since you’re a city slicker, Norm, we probably ought to do the Big Pigeon. You know, very calm. Sort of like rafting in a warm bathtub. The city slicker river.” Lynn raised her eyebrows and smiled at Daddy in a real flirty way.
“I vote for the Big Pigeon,” I said. But nobody was paying any attention to me.
“You think I’m too chicken to go down the Nantahala?” Daddy was nose to nose with Lynn, half-smiling. He didn’t even look at me, but I started wondering, Is he trying to make it dangerous just to make me suck it up?
“I do,” said Lynn. Hooking her thumbs under her arms, she did
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