Still, none of that was sufficient reason for Jenny to dispense with the niceties.
“Is there a please hiding in there somewhere?” Joanna asked. “I didn’t hear one.”
“Pretty please,” Jenny said.
Joanna nodded. “All right then,” she agreed. “We’ll stop in Benson for lunch.”
“At Burger King?”
“I suppose.”
As they drove down Benson’s almost-deserted main drag, the thermometer on the bank read 105 degrees. Joanna shook her head, letting the hot wind from the open window blow over her face. If it was already this hot in Benson, what would it be like when they dropped farther down into the valley?
“Why couldn’t we bring the other car?” jenny had asked when the air-conditioning vents started blowing nothing but hot air.
Jenny was referring to the county-owned Crown Victoria Sheriff Joanna Brady now drove for work. The Blazer she would have preferred to use as an official vehicle was out of commission after being too near an unexpected blast of dynamite. Since the Cochise County Sheriff’s Department was currently long on Crown Victorias and short on Blazers, Sheriff Joanna Brady was stuck with one of the former.
“Taking you to camp at Mount Lemmon on my day off hardly qualifies as county business,” Joanna replied. “And since I’m trying to discourage unauthorized private use of official vehicles, that would be setting a pretty poor example.”
“I know,” Jenny said glumly. “But at least the air conditioner works.”
“I’m sure I can get this one fixed.”
“Before you come back to bring me home?”
“We’ll see.”
Fifteen minutes later, armed with the remains of two large Cokes and in somewhat better spirits, Joanna and Jenny hooded north on 1-10. The seventy-mile-an-hour speed limit on the interstate chewed up miles so fast that there was still some Coke left by the time they turned off the freeway onto Houghton Road. Using that and Old Spanish Trail, Joanna was aide to make it to the Mount Lemmon Highway without ever having to endure central Tucson’s heavier traffic.
Had Joanna been willing to get up at four A.M. and drive to Tucson, it would have been possible for Jenny to ride up to ramp on a chartered bus that had left for Camp Whispering Pines from Tucson ’s Park Mall at six o’clock that morning. However, knowing that weekend nights often resulted in late night calls, Joanna had opted instead to drive Jenny up to camp on her own. Joanna had used the too-early hour as a handy excuse. Although her rationale might have sounded reasonable enough to anyone else, Joanna herself knew that getting up at the crack of dawn was only part of her reluctance. The truth was that even today she was still having a hard time dealing with the idea of Jenny’s going off to camp on her own lift two whole weeks. After all, with Andy dead, Jennifer Ann Brady was all Joanna had left.
As soon as the General Hitchcock Highway began climbing tip) out of the desert floor into the Catalina Mountains, the temperature began to fall. Halfway up the mountain, Jenny screeched with excitement when she spotted a multicolored Gila monster lumbering across the two-lane road. By the time they reached the turnoff to the camp, near Mount Lemmon ’s 9,100-foot summit, the breeze blowing in the windows felt pleasantly cool. Somewhere in the high eighties, Joanna estimated. But the improved comfort in the car did nothing to lessen her concern about saying good-bye to her daughter.
“You’re sure you packed everything on the list?”
Yes, Mom,” Jenny said resignedly.
“Everything? Even the insect repellent?”
“Even that,” Jenny replied with a scowl. “It was on the list, too. I checked everything off as I put it in the bag. You sound just like Grandma Lathrop, you know,” she added.
Unfortunately, Joanna realized at once that Jenny’s criticism was right on the money. Eleanor Matthews Lathrop was forever firing off barrages of blistering questions. To Joanna, who was usually on the receiving end, those questions always felt more like an attack than anything else. Now Joanna found herself wondering if her mother’s unending grilling hadn’t served to disguise what was really going on. Maybe Eleanor had been just as concerned about her daughter as Joanna was about hers. Maybe firing off all those questions had served as a substitute for the motherly concern Eleanor never seemed to know quite how to express.
Hoping to do better than that, Joanna sighed. “I’m going to miss you, sweetie,” she said.
Jenny nodded. “I’ll miss you, too,” she replied seriously, sounding altogether too grown-up for Joanna’s taste. “Will you be okay out on the ranch all alone?” Jenny continued.
Once again, jenny’s innocent remark was so impossibly dead-on that it took Joanna’s breath away. She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could answer. Joanna held herself back, refusing to blurt out the whole truth about her very real dread of being left alone.
In her heart of hearts, she knew this separation of mother and daughter was a necessary step for both of them. It offered them an opportunity to move beyond the tragedy of Andy’s death and to find new ways of functioning in the world. That was something Eleanor Lathrop had resisted doing after the death of her husband, Joanna’s father. When D. H. Lathrop died, Eleanor had tried too hard to keep Joanna cocooned with her, creating a kind of hypertogetherness that had done nothing but drive Joanna away. It had been a motherly mistake and probably perfectly understandable under the circumstances, but it was an error in judgment that Eleanor’s daughter was trying desperately not to repeat.
“I won’t be all alone,” Joanna corrected, hoping to keep her answer light and accompanying the comment with what she trusted was a convincing enough smile. “Not with two dogs, one horse, and ten head of cattle to take care of,” she added.
“You know what I mean,” Jenny insisted with a frown.
“Yes,” Joanna conceded. “I do know what you mean. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll write to me?”
“Every day.”
By then they had threaded their way up the narrow road In the parking lot at Camp Whispering Pines. They stopped next to the sign that said NO MOTOR VEHICLES ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT. Off to the left ahead of them, nestled at the end of a small clearing and backed by a grove of towering pines, sat a low-slung dining hall. Tucked here and there among the trees were large wood-floored canvas tents, each of them large enough to hold eight cots. The place was at once familiar and foreign. Joanna had stayed there herself years earlier. What seemed inconceivable now was that Jenny was already a “Junior” Girl Scout and old enough to stay there on her own.
Joanna opened the trunk of the Eagle. By the time they had Jenny’s bedroll and duffel bag unloaded, a smiling, shorts-clad, and deeply tanned camp counselor came hurrying down the path in their direction. “Hi,” she said, smiling down at Jenny and holding out her hand. “I’m Lisa Christman. You must be Jenny Brady, and this must be your mother.”
“How did you know?” Jenny asked, gravely shaking the proffered hand.
Lisa laughed. “For one thing, you’re the only camper we were missing. For another, ten minutes ago we had a telephone call from someone looking for Sheriff Brady.”
Joanna flushed with annoyance. She had deliberately left her pager at home, leaving word with Dispatch that this was to be a real day off. She had planned to spend the whole morning with Jenny. In the afternoon there was that much-needed wardrobe rehabilitation expedition. Both Joanna’s chief deputies, Dick Voland and Frank Montoya, had known where she’d be, but she had given strict instructions that, if at all possible, she was to be left off call.
“There’s a phone in the camp director’s office,” Lisa offered helpfully. “You’re more than welcome to use that. In the meantime, I’ll help Jenny pack her gear up to the cabin. Did you already have lunch?” she asked, addressing Jenny.
Struck suddenly both subdued and shy, Jenny nodded and backed away.
Lisa, clearly an old hand at bridging troublesome parental farewells, forged ahead. “You’ll be in Badger,” she continued. “‘That’s just two cabins up the hill from the dining hall. There are some really great girls in there. If you can carry the bedroll, I’ll take the bag. That way, I can help you find your bunk and he there to introduce you when the other girls come back from lunch. Is that all right?”
For a moment, Jennifer wavered, hovering between wanting lo go with Lisa and wanting to climb back into her
