"Ow!" Heather cried, clutching the back of her hand.
"Rose, play nice."
"I didn't hit her hard."
Alice Gordon gave her daughter a warning scowl. She considered calling a stop to the game, but Heather had already hidden her hand behind her back, ready to continue.
"One, two, three," Rose said. Her open hand darted out.
Heather, at the same instant, swung her hand into view with two fingers extended. "Aha! Scissors cut paper!"
Rose presented her hand. Heather slapped it hard, getting even.
"Didn't hurt," Rose taunted.
They got ready for another match. "One, two, three," Rose said.
Heather came out with scissors again. As Rose's flat hand swung forward, it closed into a fist. "Rock breaks scissors," she declared.
"No fair!" Heather cried out. "You cheated. Didn't she, Mom? You saw her! She was paper!"
Nick looked around from the passenger seat. "Is Rose cheating again?"
"Yes!" Heather blurted.
"I think we've had enough of this game," Alice said. "Why don't you find something nice to play? Twenty Questions or Hangman."
"I get to slap her!" Heather protested. "She was paper!"
"No more slapping."
"But I won!"
"Kids!" Arnold snapped. He was driving and didn't look back. "Do as your mother says."
"But, Daaaad!"
"You heard me."
Heather sighed as if the world were unfair. She narrowed her eyes at Rose. "Cheater."
With a long-suffering smile, Rose offered her hand. "Go ahead and give it to me."
"Mom, can I?"
"Oh, I don't care. Just once, then I want you both to find something better to do."
Heather slapped downward. Rose's hand shot out from under the path of the blow, and smacked the back of Heather's descending hand. "Hey!"
Rose laughed. So did Nick. Heather punched her sister's knee.
"That's enough!" Alice snapped. "Stop it!"
"I think I'll pull over and tan some hides," Arnold said.
"No!" Heather yelped.
"We'll be good," Rose said. "Promise."
"All right then. Now, do as your mother says and play something nice."
"Better yet," Nick said, "take a nap."
Rose rolled her eyes upward. "Are we almost there yet?"
"A couple more hours," Arnold told her.
The idea of a nap certainly appealed to Alice. She took the pillow from the space between her and Heather, fluffed it up, and placed it behind her head. Snuggling back against it, she closed her eyes. In quiet voices, the twins were discussing whether to play Hangman. She heard a rustle of paper. Good. That should keep them out of mischief for ten or fifteen minutes.
She wondered if Arnold had remembered to set the lamp timer before they left. No point bothering to ask, though. If he'd forgotten, it was too late now.
Her mind drifted to the last time she'd seen Scott O'Toole. They'd gone over for dinner and bridge. Scott had complimented her on her perm. That must've been over a year ago, closer to two. How could June walk out on a man like him? Must be more to it than meets the eye. Maybe he was fooling around on the side. Sure had plenty of opportunity, being away half the time. And those flight attendants. Everyone knows how they are. June was no slouch, not by any stretch of the imagination, but a guy like Scott'd be a real prize for lonely stews. A lot of temptation there. Take a strong man to resist.
Thank God Arnold stopped flying. He might have to work nights when the shift bid didn't go his way, but at least he came home to his own bed and wasn't alone in hotels all across the country. Would've been nice for him to have a pilot's pay and prestige, but she'd rather have him as he is. They got by just fine, thank you, and she didn't have to spend all her time worrying.
Poor June must've been worried sick, wondering if he'd go down or get himself shacked up with some stew. Who was that — Jack? — no, Jake. Jake Peterson. Had a whole second family in Pittsburgh. Must've come as quite a shock to his wife — both wives. Wasn't even a Mormon, not that that would've made it right, but… Alice's thoughts slipped away as sleep overtook her.
The road up the mountainside had once been paved, but winter snow, spring runoff, and summer sun had broken up the asphalt, leaving a dusty shambles. The car bounced over ruts and potholes as Scott steered slowly up the grade.
Ahead, a Volkswagen appeared around a bend.
"What now?" Karen asked.
"He's small." Scott eased the car to the right until branches squeaked against its side. He stopped.
"Hope he's careful," Karen said. She was gripping the armrest.
"If he's not," Scott told her, "he'll have a very thrilling ride for a few seconds."
A girl in the passenger seat of the VW had her head out the window. She was looking down, apparently contemplating just such a ride. From her perspective, Scott imagined that the sheer drop-off must look bottomless. After a moment, she pulled her head in and said something to the driver.
The VW crawled closer. The young bearded man behind the wheel grinned at Scott as he inched alongside. "Lovely day," he said.
"Yep," Scott agreed. "How far to Black Butte?"
"Take you an hour."
"The road get any better up ahead?"
"No. Tell you what, though, there's an RV about a mile behind me."
"Thanks for the warning."
"Have a good one, friend."
"You, too."
The Volkswagen finished passing, took to the center of the narrow road, and sped off with a cloud of dust.
"A camper?" Karen asked. She looked sick.
"What'll we do?" Julie asked from the back.
"I guess we'd do well to find a wider place in the road before he shows up."
"No sweat. Right, Dad?" Benny asked.
"No sweat," he said, and pulled away. He drove slowly, looking for a place to turn out. Ahead, the road bent back in an uphill hairpin. He took the curve. Now they were on the outside, the slope dropping away sharply to the right. "Maybe a little sweat," Scott admitted. He picked up speed. The car lurched and jarred as it rushed up the grade.
Should've played it safe, he thought. Should've stopped back at the bend. But now he was committed. What he could see of the road ahead didn't look good. The mountainside rose up steeply to the left, leaving no room for turning out. To the right, there was no more than a yard's width before the ground fell away. Even if he parked at the very edge, he doubted there would be room for a recreational vehicle to squeeze through.
"What'll we do?" Karen asked.
"If worse comes to worst, we can always back up."
"Oh, wonderful."
Scott's foot jumped off the accelerator as the camper came down the center of the road straight at them. In a reflexive move, he pulled at the wheel as. if to raise the nose and shoot above the oncoming vehicle. His car remained earthbound. He stepped on the brake, and eased to a halt.
The camper moved over close to the mountain's wall and stopped, blocking two thirds of the road. An arm poked through the driver's window. It waved Scott forward.
"Can you make it?" Karen asked.
"Sure," he said. "Just to be on the safe side, though, I want you out." He looked over his shoulder. "Everybody out."
"I'm not scared," Benny said.
"No arguments."
With a sigh, Benny opened his door. When he, Julie, and Karen were outside the car, Scott unbuckled his seat belt. The trio walked ahead of him, Karen nodding and speaking to the man behind the wheel. At the rear of the camper, they stopped and turned around to watch. Karen straddled the road's edge, her eyes fixed on his right front tire. Her lips were drawn back in a grimace. She wiped her hands on the sides of her corduroy shorts.