Almost Paradise Page 4

  “We discussed how to split an atom,” the first counselor, a college freshman, told the group.

  This appeared to please Roarke. “Excellent,” he said, nodding approvingly.

  “We dissected a frog,” the second counselor added.

  As each spoke, Sherry grew more uncomfortable. The neckline of her thin sweater felt exceptionally tight, and when it was her turn, her voice came out sounding thin and low. “I read them the Cinderella story,” she said.

  “Excuse me.” Roarke took a step closer. “Would you kindly repeat that?”

  “Yes, of course.” Sherry paused and cleared her throat. “I read my girls Cinderella.”

  A needle dropping against the floor would have sounded like a sonic boom in the thick silence that followed.

  “Cinderella,” Roarke repeated, as though he was convinced he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  “That’s right.”

  “Perhaps she could explain why anyone would choose to read a useless fairy tale over a worthwhile learning experience?”

  The voice behind Sherry was familiar. She turned to find Fred Spencer glaring at her with undisguised disapproval. Since their first disagreement over Sherry’s ideas, they hadn’t exchanged more than a few words.

  Sherry turned her head around and tucked her hands under her thighs, shifting her weight back and forth over her knuckles. “I consider fairy tales a valuable learning tool.”

  “You do?” This time it was Roarke who questioned her.

  From the way he was looking at her, Sherry could tell that he was having a difficult time accepting her reasoning.

  “And what particular lesson did you hope to convey in the reading of this tale?”

  “Hope.”

  “Hope?”

  The other counselors were all still staring at her as though she was an apple in a barrel full of oranges. “You see, sometimes life can seem so bleak that we don’t see all the good things around us. In addition, the story is a romantic, fun one.”

  —

  Roarke couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sherry was making a mockery of the goals he’d set for this year’s camp session. Romance! She wanted to teach her girls about some fickle female notion. The word alone was enough to make his blood run cold.

  “Unfortunately, I disagree,” Roarke said. “In the rational world, there’s no need for romantic nonsense.” Although he tried to avoid looking at Sherry, his gaze refused to leave her. She looked flustered and embarrassed, and a fetching shade of pink had invaded her cheeks. Her gaze darted nervously to those around her, as if hoping to find someone who would agree with her. None would; Roarke could have told her that. His gaze fell to her lips, which were slightly moist and parted. Roarke’s stomach muscles tightened and he hurriedly looked away. Love clouded the brain, he reminded himself sternly. The important things in life were found in education. Learning was the challenge. He should know. By age twelve, he’d been a college student, graduating with full honors three years later. There’d been no time or need for trivial romance.

  —

  Sherry had seen Roarke’s lips compress at the mention of romance, as though he associated the word with sucking lemons. “People need love in their lives,” Sherry asserted boldly, although she was shaking on the inside.

  “I see,” he said, when it was obvious that he didn’t.

  The meeting continued then, and the staff was dismissed fifteen minutes later. Sherry was the first one to vacate her chair, popping up like hot bread out of a toaster the second the meeting was adjourned. She had to get back to the cabin to see if Ralph had been caught and peace had once again been restored to the seven wizards’ cabin.

  Roarke stopped her. “Miss White.”

  “Yes.” Sherry’s heart bounded to her throat. She’d hoped to make a clean getaway.

  “Would it be possible for you to drop by my office later this afternoon?” The references—she knew it; he’d discovered they’d been falsified.

  Their eyes met. Sherry’s own befuddled brown clashed with Roarke’s tawny hazel. His open challenge stared down her hint of defiance, and Sherry dropped her gaze first. “This afternoon? S-Sure,” she answered finally, with false cheerfulness. At least he’d said afternoon rather than morning, so if Lynn was right, she didn’t need to start packing her bags yet. She released a grateful sigh and smiled. “I’ll be there directly after lunch.”

  “Good.”

  He turned, and Sherry charged from the meeting room and sprinted across the grounds with the skill of an Olympic runner. Oh heavens, she prayed Ralph had returned to his home. Life wouldn’t be so cruel as to break Pamela’s heart—or would it?

  Back at the cabin, Sherry discovered Pamela sitting on her bunk, crying softly.

  “No Ralph?”

  All seven children shook their heads simultaneously.

  Sherry’s heart constricted. “Please don’t worry.”

  “I want Ralph,” Pamela chanted, holding the pillow to her stomach and rocking back and forth. “Ralph’s the only friend I ever had.”

  Sherry glanced around, hoping for a miracle. Where was Sherlock Holmes when she really needed him?

  “He popped his head up between the floorboards awhile ago,” Sally explained, doubling over to peek underneath her bunk on the off chance he was there now.

  “He’s afraid of her microscope,” Gretchen said accusingly. “I’m convinced that sweet hamster was worried sick that he’d end up in a jar like those…those pigs.”

  “He knows I wouldn’t do that,” Sally shouted, placing her hands defiantly on her hips, her eyes a scant inch from Gretchen’s.

  “Girls, please,” Sherry pleaded. “We’re due in the mess hall in five minutes.”

  A shriek arose as they scrambled for their clothes. Only Pamela remained on her bed, unmoved by the thought of being late for breakfast.

  Sherry joined the little girl and folded her arm across Pamela’s small shoulders. “We’ll find him.”

  Tears glistened in the bright blue eyes. “Do you promise?”

  Sherry didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t guarantee something like that. Pamela was a mathematical genius, so Sherry explained in terms the child would understand. “I can’t make it a hundred percent. Let’s say seventy-five/twenty-five.” For heaven’s sake, just how far could one hamster get? “Now, get dressed and go into the dining room with dry eyes.”

  Pamela nodded and climbed off her cot.

  “Girls!” Sherry raised her hand to gain their attention. The loud chatter died to a low hum. “Remember, Ralph is our little secret!” The campers knew the rules better than Sherry. Each one was well aware that keeping Ralph was an infraction against camp policy.

  “Our lips are sealed.” Jan and Jill pantomimed zipping their mouths closed.

  “After breakfast, when you’ve gone to your first class, I’ll come back here and look for Ralph. In the meantime, I think we’d best pretend nothing’s unusual.” Her questioning eyes met Pamela’s, and Sherry gave her a reassuring hug.

  With a gallant effort, Pamela sniffed and nodded. “I just want my Ralphie to come home.”

  After the frenzied search that had resulted from his disappearance, Sherry couldn’t have agreed with the little girl more.

  Before they left the cabin for the dining room, Sherry set the open shoe box in the middle of the cabin floor in the desperate hope that the runaway would find his own way home. She paused to close the door behind her charges and glanced over her shoulder with the fervent wish: Ralph, please come home!

  In the dining hall, seated around the large circular table for eight, Sherry noted that none of her girls showed much of an appetite. French toast should have been a popular breakfast, but for all the interest her group showed, the cook could have served mush!

  As the meal was wearing down, Mr. Roarke stepped forward.

  “Isn’t he handsome?” Gretchen said, looking toward Sherry. “My mother could really go for a man like him.”

 
; After what had happened that morning, Sherry was more than willing to let Gretchen’s mother take Jeff Roarke. Good luck to her. With his views on romance, she’d be lucky if she made it to first base.

  “He does sort of look like a Prince Charming,” Sally agreed.

  “Mr. Roarke?” Sherry squinted, narrowing her gaze, wondering what kind of magic Roarke used on women. Young and old seemed to find him overwhelmingly attractive.

  “Oh yes,” Sally repeated, with a dreamy look clouding her eyes. “He’s just like the prince you read about in the story last night.”

  Sherry squinted her eyes again in an effort to convince the girls she couldn’t possibly be interested in him as a romantic lead in her life.

  Standing in front of the room, his voice loud and clear without a microphone, Roarke made the announcements for the day. The highlight of the first week of camp was a special guest speaker who would be giving a talk on the subject of fungus and mold. Roarke was sure the campers would all enjoy hearing Dr. Waldorf speak. From the eager nods around the room, Sherry knew he was right.

  Fungus? Mold? Sally looked as excited as if he’d announced a tour of a candy factory that would be handing out free samples. Maybe Sherry was wrong. Maybe her charges weren’t really children. Perhaps they really were dwarfs. Because if they were children, they certainly didn’t act like any she’d ever known.

  Following breakfast, all fifty wizards emptied the dining room and headed for their assigned classes. Sherry wasted little time in returning to her cottage.

  The shoe box stood forlornly in the middle of the room. Empty. No Ralph.

  Kneeling beside the box, Sherry took a piece of squished French toast from her jeans pocket and ripped it into tiny pieces, piling them around the shoe box. “Ralph,” she called out softly. “You love Pamela, don’t you? Surely you don’t want to break the sweet little girl’s heart.”

  An eerie sensation ran down her spine, as though someone were watching her. Slowly Sherry turned to find a large calico cat sitting on the ledge of the open window. Her almond eyes narrowed into thin slits as she surveyed the room.

  A cat!

  “Shoo!” Sherry screamed, shooting to her feet. She whipped out her hands in an effort to chase the monster away. She didn’t know where in the devil she’d come from, but she certainly wasn’t welcome around here. Not with Ralph on the loose. When the cat ran off, Sherry shut and latched the window, with her heart pounding.

  —

  By noon, she was tired of looking for Ralph—tired of trying to find a hole or a crack large enough to hide a hamster. An expedition into the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa would have been preferable to this. She joined the girls in the dining room and sadly shook her head when seven pairs of hope-filled eyes silently questioned her on the fate of the hamster. Pamela’s bottom lip trembled and tears brimmed in her clear blue eyes, but she didn’t say anything.

  The lunch menu didn’t fare much better than breakfast. The girls barely ate. Sherry knew she’d made a terrible mistake in allowing Pamela to keep the hamster. She’d gone against camp policy and now was paying the price. Rules were rules. She should have known better.

  After lunch, the girls once again went their separate ways. With a heavy heart, Sherry headed for Roarke’s office. He answered her knock and motioned for her to sit down. Sherry moistened her dry lips as the girls’ comment about Roarke being a prince came to mind. At the time, she’d staunchly denied any attraction she felt for him. To the girls and to herself.

  Now, alone with him in his office, Sherry’s reaction to him was decidedly positive. If she was looking for someone to fill the role of Prince Charming in her life, only one man need apply. She found it amusing, even touching, that somehow even in glasses, this man was devastating. He apparently wore them for reading, but he hadn’t allowed the staff to see him in them before now.

  “Before I forget, how did you settle the problem with Gretchen Hamburg?”

  “Ah yes, Gretchen.” Proud of herself, Sherry leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. “It was simple, actually. I repositioned her cot away from the wall. That was all she really wanted.”

  “And she’s satisfied with that?”

  “Relatively. The mattress is too flat, the pillow’s too soft, and the blanket’s too thin, but other than that, the bed is fine.”

  “You handled that well.”

  Sherry considered that high praise coming from her fearless director. He, too, leaned back in his chair. He hesitated and seemed to be considering his words as he rolled a pencil between his palms. “I feel that I may have misled you when you applied for the position at Camp Gitche Gumee,” he said after a long pause.

  “Oh?” Her heart was thundering at an alarming rate.

  “We’re not a Camp Fire girls’ camp.”

  Sherry didn’t breathe, fearing what was coming next. “I beg your pardon?”

  “This isn’t the usual summer camp.”

  Sherry couldn’t argue with that—canoeing and hiking were offered, but there was little else in the way of fun camping experiences.

  “Camp Gitche Gumee aspires to academic excellence,” he explained with a thoughtful frown. “We take the brightest young minds in this country and challenge them to excel in a wide variety of subjects. As you probably noted from the announcements made this morning, we strive toward bringing in top educators to lecture on stimulating subjects.”

  “Like fungus and mold?”

  —

  “Yes. Dr. Waldorf is a world-renowned lecturer. Fascinating subject.” Roarke tried to ignore her sarcastic tone. From the way she was staring at him, he realized she strongly disapproved, and he was surprised at how much her puckered frown affected him. Strangely, he discovered the desire to please her, to draw the light of her smile back into her eyes, to be bathed in the glow of her approval. The thought froze him. Something was drastically wrong. With barely restrained irritation, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  Her lack of appreciation for the goals he’d set for this summer put him in an uncomfortable position. She saw him as a stuffed shirt, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t allow Sherry’s feelings to cloud his better judgment. He didn’t want to destroy her enthusiasm, but he found it necessary to guide it into the proper channels. He liked Sherry’s spirit, even though she’d made it obvious she didn’t agree with his methods. He hesitated once more. He didn’t often talk about his youth, saw no reason to do so, but it was important to him that Sherry understand.

  “I would have loved a camp such as this when I was ten,” he said thoughtfully.

  “You?”

  “It might astonish you to know that I was once considered a child prodigy.”

  It didn’t surprise her, now that she thought about it.

  “I was attending high school classes when most boys my age were trying out for Little League. I was in college at twelve and had my master’s by the time I was sixteen.”

  —

  Sherry didn’t know how to comment. The stark loneliness in his voice said it all. He’d probably had few friends and little or no contact with other children like himself. The pressures on him would have crumpled anyone else. Jeff Roarke’s empty childhood had led him to establish Camp Gitche Gumee. His own bleak experiences were what made the camp so important to him. A surge of compassion rose within Sherry, and she gripped her hands together.

  “Learning can be fun,” she suggested softly, after a long moment. “What about an exploration into the forests in search of such exotic animals as the salamander and tree frog?”

  “Yes, well, that is something to consider.”

  “And how about camp songs?”

  “We sing.”

  “In Latin!”

  “Languages are considered a worthy pursuit.”

  “Okay, games,” Sherry challenged next. Her voice was slightly raised as she warmed to her subject. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue long. It was better to get her feelings into t
he open than to try to bury them. “And I don’t mean Camp Gitche Gumee’s afternoon quiz teams, either.”

  “There are plenty of scheduled free times.”

  “But not organized fun ones,” Sherry cried. “As you said, these children are some of the brightest in the country, but they have one major problem.” She was all the way to the edge of her cushion by now, liberally using her hands for emphasis. “They have never been allowed to be children.”

  —

  Once again, Roarke shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, strangely unsettled by her comments. She did make a strong case, but there simply wasn’t enough time in a day to do all that she suggested. “Learning in and of itself should offer plenty of fun.”

  “But—”

  Sherry wasn’t allowed to finish.

  “But you consider fairy tales of value?” he asked, recalling the reason he’d called her into his office.

  “You’re darn right I do. The girls loved them. Do you know Diane Miller? She’s read Milton and Wilde and hasn’t a clue who Dr. Seuss is.”

  “Who?” He blinked.

  “Dr. Seuss.” It wasn’t until then that Sherry realized that Roarke knew nothing of Horton and the Grinch. He’d probably never tasted green eggs with ham or known about Sam.

  Roarke struggled to disguise his ignorance. “I’m convinced your intentions are excellent, Miss White, but these parents have paid good money for their children to attend this camp with the express understanding that the children would learn. Unfortunately, fairy tales weren’t listed as an elective on our brochure.”

  “Maybe they should have been,” Sherry said firmly. “From everything I’ve seen, this camp is so academically minded that the entire purpose of sending a child away for the summer has been lost.”

  Roarke’s mouth compressed and his eyes glinted coldly. Sherry could see she’d overstepped her bounds.

  “After one week you consider yourself an expert on the subject?”

  “I know children.”

  His hands shuffled the papers on his desk. “It was my understanding that you were a graduate student.”

  “In education.”

  “And a minor in partying?”