A Little Bit Country: A Little Bit Country / Blackberry Summer

The phone ringing in the distance startled her, and her wrist was shaking when she set the picture back on the piano.

“Phone’s for you,” Mary shouted from the kitchen.

Rorie assumed it was George at the repair shop in Riversdale; she’d been waiting all morning to hear from him.

“Hello,” she said, her fingers closing tightly around the receiver. Her biggest fear was that something had happened to delay her departure a second time.

“Miss Campbell,” said the mechanic, “everything’s fine. I got that part in and working for you without a hitch.”

“Thank God,” she murmured. Her hold on the telephone receiver relaxed, a little.

“I’ve got a man I could spare if you’d like to have your car delivered to Elk Run. But you’ve got to understand fifty miles is a fair distance and I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you extra for it.”

“That’s fine,” Rorie said eagerly, not even bothering to ask the amount. “How soon can he be here?”

Twelve (#ulink_bbfcf0ed-0a3b-5808-8ace-c7cc9cb6bbc9)

“So you’re really going,” Skip said as he picked up Rorie’s bags. “Somehow I figured I might’ve talked you into staying on for the county fair.”

“You seem intent on bringing me to ruin, Skip Franklin. I’m afraid I’d bet all my hard-earned cash on those pig races you were telling me about,” Rorie teased. Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, she surveyed it to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

A pang of wistfulness settled over her as she slowly looked around. Not for the first time, Rorie felt the love and warmth emanating from these brightly papered walls. Lazily, almost lovingly, she ran her fingertips along the top of the dresser, letting her hand linger there a moment, unwilling to pull herself away. This bedroom represented so much of what she was leaving behind. It was difficult to walk away.

Skip stood in the doorway impatiently waiting for her. “Kate phoned and said she’s coming over. She wants to say goodbye.”

“I’ll be happy to see her one last time.” Rorie wished Skip would leave so she could delay her parting with this room a little longer. Until now, Rorie hadn’t realized how much sleeping in Clay’s parents’ room had meant to her. Her appreciation had come too late.

“Mary’s packing a lunch for you,” Skip announced with a wry chuckle, “and knowing Mary, it’ll be enough to last you a week.”

Rorie smiled and reluctantly followed him down the stairs. As Skip had claimed, the housekeeper had prepared two large bags, which sat waiting on the kitchen table.

“Might as well take those with you, too,” Mary muttered gruffly. “I hate the thought of you eating restaurant food. This, at least, will stick to your ribs.”

“Goodbye, Mary,” Rorie said softly, touched by the housekeeper’s thoughtfulness. On impulse she hugged the older woman. “Thank you for everything—including our talk this morning.” The impromptu embrace surprised Rorie as much as it obviously did Mary.

“You drive careful now, you hear?” the housekeeper responded, squeezing Rorie tightly and patting her back several times.

“I will, I promise.”

“A letter now and again wouldn’t be amiss.”

“All right,” Rorie agreed, and used her sleeve to blot tears from the corners of her eyes. These people had touched her in so many ways. Leaving them was even more difficult than she’d imagined.

The housekeeper rubbed the heel of her hand over her right eye. “Time for you to get on the road. What are you doing standing in the kitchen chitchatting with me?” she asked brusquely.

“I’m going, I’m going.” Mary’s gruff voice didn’t fool Rorie. The housekeeper’s exterior might be a little crusty, and her tongue a bit surly, but she didn’t succeed in disguising a generous, loving heart.

“I don’t know where Clay is,” Skip complained after he’d loaded the luggage into the MG’s trunk. “I thought he’d want to see you before you left. I wonder where he got off to.”