He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Kadee! I don’t know ‘bout that!”
We spent the next five minutes discovering the make-up aisle together. Since it was my first visit, I felt a little overwhelmed by the choices. Should I go for volume or length for mascara? Black noir or brownish black? In the end, I randomly grabbed a black tube from a line that was having a weekly sale, and picked a neutral gloss from the same brand. I added them to the cart before heading to the grocery side of the store, idling wondering if Pete had ever done the one-stop shopping thing in his life. Highly doubtful. Just like it was highly doubtful I would ever shop for my wardrobe in a store that only sold clothes.
An image of a classic blonde in crisp outfits came to mind. Reese Caruthers—that was the kind of girl who belonged with Pete. Polished, pristine, yet so personable every single member of camp fell in love with her, including me. Just like Pete. When you were with them, you felt like you were at the center of the universe, no matter where you were. Clovis, New Mexico had never been so desirable. Now it seemed exciting as New York City and glamorous as Paris, France. My desire to flee had fled me ever since he’d set foot in town limits.
The thought that Pete was leaving tomorrow—maybe for good—was enough to make me sick with longing. Why had I wasted two whole weeks avoiding him? Oh yeah . . . because he’d lied and tried to sabotage me with my family, and was only here to snatch Andrew out from under us for his evil academy. Idiotically, I didn’t care about that little bit of relevance at the moment. He hadn’t succeeded so far, and couldn’t help whom he was working for, I reasoned. All I focused on right now was the side of Pete I sensed was good and not out to hurt us, the one who did find me attractive and enjoyed spending time with me.
A desperation to extract every last drop of time from him as possible overcame me. It was the same intense feeling I’d had right before Mama died. Everything seemed to have been heading in the right direction until I’d lost my temper. Maybe I could still salvage things? I quickly jerked the cart back out, remembering another feminine wile my mother used on my father.
“Hey!” Mikey protested. “What are ya doin?—we were next in line!”
“I’m suddenly in the mood to bake,” I announced with a huge grin.
My coconspirator fist-pumped my decision again. “Yay! . . . This is the bestest day evuh!”
I morphed my grocery cart into a go-cart, careening back around the food aisles, hoping the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. We made it back in record time, half-running half-stumbling into the house, loaded down as pack mules. Blue’s excited yelps and jumps could no longer be ignored, so I dropped the bags, and a kiss on his whiskery face, and tossed him a refrigerated ham bone. Then ran around like a cyclone, slamming cans into cupboards and cramming produce into bins.
“Mikey!” I overly yelled while whipping together butter and sugar. “I need you to scoop one and a half cups of powder into each of the calf bottles while I get the cookies started.”
He appeared, defiantly hugging his Hummer to his chest.
“Please. You said you’d do anything for me, remember? Then we’ll have your favorite cookies—oatmeal, butterscotch-chip. But you gotta help, okay? . . . I’m gonna invite Pete to join us for snack today.”
“Pete’s comin’?” Mikey clarified, and I nodded my head. “Okay, Kadee. I’ll do it.” He spirited his prized possession away and ran whooping out the door to the shed. Looked like Pete was the magic word.
I sighed, reaching over to preheat the oven. I realized Pete’s exit from our lives would affect us all. Maybe this was a bad idea? It felt slightly irresponsible, like bringing home the most irresistible puppy in the world, only to give it back after a couple of weeks because you were allergic to it. It was so much harder letting go once you’d already fallen in love.
Too late for me . . . I’d already fallen.
I didn’t have time to ruminate further because I was in business mode. When the first batch of cookies was baking, I grabbed the slop bucket and ran to the shed to check on Mikey.
“Great job, buddy!” I acknowledged his hard work. Mikey beamed at me from the last bottle. “Now feed and water the chickens, then you’re all done for now.”
After a quick reward hug, we set off down our respective paths, weighed down but light-hearted at the prospect of a Pete-filled afternoon. The wind picked up, whipping my hair into a frenzy and flying bits of grit into my eyes. In the distance, dried brush waved back and forth, and the earthy smell of sunburnt pasture reminded me: time was marching forward.
I dumped the water and slop, then ran back to the house with two plastic buckets clanging around my ankles, making it back just in time to pull out the first batch of cookies. I set them out on the counter to cool and fragrance up the place. A quick glance at the ticking clock, and I skedaddled to the bathroom to freshen up.
After splashing water on my face, I yanked off my shirt and flung it into the hamper before pulling on a pink-hearted fresh one. Then released my hair from its bondage to brush it so that it spilled down my back in an obedient line—an exercise in futility, for the moment I walked outside, it would simply knot itself back into a mass of tangles. However, my girly urges could not be denied, so I finished with a couple of sweeps of my new mascara, immediately feeling like a cuter version of myself. I was skipping back to the kitchen like the Easter bunny with my basket of dirty clothes when Mikey banged in from the outside.
“Mmmmm! It smells good in hewer!” It was hard to say who was salivating over the cookies more: Blue or Mikey. From the puddle of drool at his feet, I’d have to give it to Bluesy.
I beamed at him, sailing past to Daddy’s room. Looked like my feminine wiles were working on those two males, but they were an easy audience. After hastily sorting through Daddy’s dirty clothes, I went to the sink to wash my hands. And peek at his scotch stash. Sure enough it was still there, only almost completely full now. A new bottle? Watered down? Whatever the case, it looked like the teetotaler was still imbibing. I shoved it back under the sink and headed back to the kitchen, where the sweet butterscotch and vanilla smell embraced me like a hug from heaven. Mmmmmm. I inhaled, feeling a pang touch my heart—making Mama’s favorite cookies always had a bittersweet effect on me.
The unmistakable rumble of the Hummer, prowling over the uneven terrain, caused my stomach to do its own rumble, and the dormant butterflies to stir. I hightailed it to the oven to remove the next batch. They were already here, so I didn’t have time to gloss my lips without running the risk of him taking off on me. It just now occurred to me: I didn’t have a way to get in touch with Pete outside of school. I didn’t even know where he was staying for that matter. It was an odd sensation—feeling so drawn to someone I knew so little about. Almost like falling off a steep cliff. I just hoped there was a net somewhere at the bottom, waiting to catch me.
Determined to remedy that situation right now, I burst out the door to greet them, fully prepared to throw myself in front of his two-ton truck if need be. Bounding down the steps a little too enthusiastically, I realized I probably looked like a dork so forced myself to a more dignified pace. I obviously caught Pete off guard because a brief look of surprise crossed his face before he shoved the gear into park, a grin already forming.