My father took my mother's arm and helped her up the hill. Her face was flush with the effort, but she waved away everyone's concern. "Don't worry, princess, I'm sure those good manners will shield you from actually enjoying yourself."
Corsica straightened up with sudden defiance, tossed her hair, and smiled. "Stew around a campfire sounds lovely, Mrs. Brightwater. Thank you."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Corsica - 7
"Before we head down the hill for dinner, just let me grab my shawl," Alice said.
I turned with Penn's mother towards the yurt and smiled. "You have a beautiful home," I said.
Alice Brightwater snorted. "You know, dear, it's easy to hear when someone's thoughts and words don't match up."
I tried again. "How could I not think this is beautiful?" I gestured to the large swathes of bold fabrics, the layers of patterns, and the doorway curtain made of gauzy scarves.
"Because you still see it as a tent." Penn's mother sighed as he gave her a look. "I suppose I could let you see inside. Maybe that will change your mind."
I stepped inside the yurt behind her and covered my surprise with a small cough. The round room made of framing covered with canvas was hidden behind thick tapestries. Sumptuous rugs covered the dirt floor with large pillows scattered in place of furniture. Moroccan lamps hung from the ceiling and glowed with the flickering light of candles. A sleeping loft added space as well as it created hidden storage.
"This is wonderful," I breathed.
"But you wouldn't want to stay here," Alice said.
I crossed my arms. "Maybe I would if I felt welcome."
That sharp retort earned me a smile, and Alice patted my arm as she swept past me. For a woman sick with breast cancer, she moved gracefully. I could see the frail bend of her shoulders before she pulled on the shawl and the sight squeezed my heart with hard memories.
Alice's sharp eyes were on mine. "You will be welcome when you stop hiding. Your thoughts and your words should be one."
I wasn't about to share my painful memories. It always felt like losing my mother all over again. So, I didn't say anything, I just pushed aside the scarves and stepped back outside.
There was already a small knot of people around the large campfire when we walked down the hill. Before we reached the quietly chattering group, Penn hooked my elbow and pulled me aside.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes," I lied. "I just don't think your mother likes me. She doesn't want me here."
Penn shook his head. "That's not true. Alice loves everyone. She's just pushing you. She wants you to open up."
I saw the curiosity all over his face and felt cold. My backstory only ever elicited pity and once people pitied me, they never saw me as anything else.
I brushed my hair back over my shoulders then twisted it into a tight bun. I didn't want pity. I wanted to be my own person and make my own way in the world. That meant leaving the past where it was and not digging it up every time someone was curious.
"Are you sure your mother's not just a bully?" I asked.
Penn laughed. "No. I'm certain she's a bully. Don't let her get to you. I'm living proof that you can survive without following Alice Brightwater's advice to the letter."
"What about Xavier? Does he follow her advice?"
"Looks like it," Penn muttered. He watched the billionaire settle his mother onto a log strewn with blankets. Xavier then took a seat on the soft dirt in front of her.
"They look happy together," I ventured.
Penn pulled a sour face. "Who knew that was even possible."
"What? That two people could make each other happy?" He slipped his hand into mine as squeezed as he pulled me into the circle. "Actually, I think I'm starting to figure that out."
"Billions of dollars at Mama Brightwater's feet," a camper was laughing to his companion.
All around the circle were comments about Xavier's suit and his shiny shoes. For a crowd that had been camping under the stars for an untold amount of time, they were certainly up to date on the latest tabloid headlines.
"Is it true that you appropriated a Native American tradition in order to make your conference calls more efficient?" another camper asked Xavier directly.
The tension around the circle was palpable, to everyone except Xavier Templeton. He laughed, "No. Though, funny enough, that article made some good points and now we might try it in the future."
Penn's employer took every jab, every attempt at an accusation, and every curious question in stride. I watched him with awe and wished I could learn his easy, unruffled responses to people. He loved the attention, even when the comments turned personal.
"You're trying to heal your shattered past," a dreamy woman in a blue dress told Xavier.
He nodded, not at all put off or defensive. "And, I'm not so foolish to try to do it on my own. Anymore. I've joined Alcoholics Anonymous."
The group was stunned by his openness, and then pleased. They showed it by nodding and moving on to other topics of conversation. Even as Xavier Templeton complained about the texture of the stew, pointed out the inefficiencies of the camp, and gently mocked their lifestyle, he was accepted.
I, on the other hand, was ignored. Too much an outsider to even be acknowledged. A few campers caught me choking down my stew. I felt their whispers more than their eyes assessing my outfit. The green sundress had seemed like a good idea this morning, but now it felt too prim and tailored.
The biggest problem was I liked the dinner. The food might have been too rustic for me, but the atmosphere was magical. All those faces glowing in the light of the campfire. I loved how the eclectic group debated and teased as they all sat together. As the conversations flowed around me, I daydreamed about what it would be like to live there. I could just give up everything and keep this peaceful feeling all the time.
Then, I remembered the last time I had walked away from an entire life. Even the warm glow of the campfire was not enough to ward off the chill I felt.
"Uncomfortable?" Alice asked me from across the circle.
All eyes were on me. "Dinner was delicious. Thank you," I said.
Alice shook her head. "Those perfect manners, they really are a detestable shield."
I forced myself to try again. "I'm enjoying myself. Your camp is very, ah, magical."
Penn stepped in before his mother could pounce. "It takes some getting used to and everyone here knows it."
Alice would not be put off. "What word did you really mean, Corsica?"
"Magical," I repeated. "The fire glow on the leaves, the hints of stars. It's very peaceful, and I like it."
"What aren't you saying?" Alice asked. "It's dirty? It's strange? You don't know why anyone in their right mind would trade the luxury of a hotel for the hard ground and the woods?"
I stood up, my eyes riveted on Alice. "Stop judging me by the way I look and dress. I've camped before, and I love camping. I spent my childhood camping and hunting and fishing. I could live out here for a week and be nothing but happy if you weren't harassing me."
"There you are," Alice said with a smile. "Hello, Corsica."