My Secret Admirer

This book made available by the Internet Archive.

Chapter 1

Jenny never knew what woke her up. One minute she was in the middle of a deep sleep and the next she was wide awake, the lightweight quilt tangled around her legs, and her heart drumming in her ears. The silence around her was as deep as her sleep had been. It couldn't have been traffic that woke her; the house was miles from the main road. Maybe it was the moonlight. With no other houses close by, they hadn't been in a hurry to put up shades, and a shaft of moonlight spread across her pillow like a milky white ribbon. Jenny was grateful for the moon tonight. Instead of spending a few panicked seconds in total darkness, trying to figure out where she was, she could see around her well enough to know that she was home.

Home. Well, not exactly. Not yet, anyway. She and her parents had moved into the house two and a half weeks before, and Jenny knew from experience that it would be much longer than that before it felt like a home. If it got the chance to, that is.

Four moves in the last six years, she thought, lying back on her pillow. No wonder she had trouble remembering where she was in the middle of the night. Living with a father whose job as a freelance consultant to shaky businesses took him all over the country and a mother whose feet started tapping after more than a year in one place was enough to make anybody lose their bearings.

A movement at the end of the bed interrupted Jenny^s thoughts. Stretching her legs out, she prodded an odd-looking lump with her big toe and got a noise in return, something between a snort and a cough.

"Peaches? You awake?"

The lump moved again and heaved a deep sigh.

Jenny laughed softly and gave it another nudge. "You're awake, all right. You can't fool me."

Finally, the lump sat up. Peaches, an old dog, whose pale, sandy-pink hair was fast turning gray, heaved another sigh and blinked groggily. She'd been a roly-poly puppy and was still chubby in her old age. The closest she got to rolling these days, though, was onto her side for a snooze.

Jenny reached down and gave the dog a hug. "Come on," she said, before Peaches could collapse into sleep again, "I'm wide awake. Let's take a tour."

Taking a tour had become Jenny's solution to sleeplessness. It always happened when they moved, waking up at some strange hour, not knowing where she was, and then not being able to get

back to sleep once she remembered. In two or three more weeks, she knew she'd be sleeping her usual dead-to-the-world eight hours, but until she got used to a new house, a nocturnal tour was a better way to pass the time than lying in bed staring at whatever new ceiling she happened to be under.

She slipped on a pair of worn flip-flops and made her way out of the room and down the hall to the stairs, a reluctant Peaches waddling and yawning noisily at her side. On the main floor, she turned into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk, and gave Peaches a dog biscuit for being such a good sport. Leaving her pet gnawing happily on the cool tile floor, Jenny took her milk and wandered into the living room.

This was the room that had sold her parents on the house, and Jenny understood why. Stretching from front to back, it took up almost half the first floor and had a soaring beamed ceiling, a stone fireplace, and at the back, a wall of windows that looked out over hills covered with pine and aspen. Beyond that, bathed in the milky moonlight, was a rocky bluff that ringed the town of Rimrock on three sides and gave it its name.

Jenny had been told that the rimrocks were a great place for hiking and learning to climb, in case you got the urge to pit yourself against the mountains that made this part of the country famous. So far, Jenny hadn't felt that urge. In fact, she hadn't even visited the rimrocks yet and wasn't sure she wanted to. If anyone asked, she'd agree that they

were beautiful and awesome; privately, they gave her the creeps. She was sure they were full of snakes and coyotes, maybe even a few bears. But it wasn't just the possibility of unfriendly wildlife that bothered her about the bluff, it was the bluff itself. It was like a menacing shadow in a horror story or an evil giant in a fairy tale. It loomed.

It was a dark hulk now, but at the end of the day, Jenny had seen its pale, pinkish sandstone turned bloodred by the setting sun. It probably happens at sunrise, too, she thought, shivering as she peered through the tall windows.

She shivered again and then jumped when something cold touched her bare leg. Peaches, who'd ambled in hoping for another late-night treat, sat back with a guilty look on her face.

Jenny shook her head and laughed. "It's okay, Peach. Fm just jumpy. You can't help it if your nose is cold and wet. Let's go back to bed."

The dog was all for that. Bed was even better than a biscuit. It was better than the view, too, Jenny thought, giving the rimrocks one last look before she rinsed her glass and went back upstairs. Maybe that's what kept waking her up at night in this house; maybe that mass of rock that loomed over her. new home had somehow worked its way into her sleep, hovering there until she woke up and faced it.

"What you really ought to do, Jen," Richard Fowler said, **is face it during the day sometime."

He stuck some bread in the toaster and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then he leaned against the counter and grinned at the look on Jenny's face. "You go over there and climb around those rocks a few times, and I guarantee that nothing'll wake you during the night. You'll be too tired to do anything but sleep."

Jenny couldn't help smiling back. She should have known her father would have an answer; he always did. It wasn't always the right answer, of course, but he never let that bother him.

"Dad, all I said was I wasn't crazy about the rimrocks. I didn't mean I had any deep, morbid fear of them that needed conquering."

"I didn't mean you did, either," he said, buttering the toast and handing it to her. "I just meant you might sleep better if you got more exercise." He fed two more pieces of bread into the toaster. "Unpacking boxes and putting things away isn't the same as getting outside and stretching your legs. In fact, we could all do with some real exercise. I think I just hit on a good idea."

Her father's voice was enthusiastic, and Jenny knew what was coming. By lunchtime, he'd have the three of them standing at the bottom of the bluff, outfitted in climbing gear, and ready to conquer the forces of nature. Her mother wouldn't mind, she knew; in fact, Grace Fowler would probably head the expedition. Jenny had inherited her mother's blonde hair and freckles and her father's brown eyes and long legs, but somehow they hadn't managed

to pass on their go-get-'em, I-can-do-anything attitude to her. Her mother said she was too cautious and waffled back and forth about everything. Jenny guessed it must be annoying that their only child was so different from them, but she couldn't help it. She just approached things more slowly and thought a lot about something before she did it. Especially something like climbing that mini-Matterhom out there.

"Richard!" Mrs. Fowler's voice bounced off the still-bare walls, and they heard her footsteps slapping rapidly down the stairs. In a couple of seconds, she bustled into the kitchen, her eyes bright with excitement. "Good news!" she announced. "I just got off the phone with the real estate agent, and we've sold the other house!"

"Great!" Mr. Fowler lifted his coffee cup in a toast. "For once we won't be carrying two mortgages."

Mrs. Fowler reached for the telephone book and started paging through it. "I just hope I can get a reservation," she muttered.

**Where are you going?" Jenny asked.

*Well, we've still got things in that house, you know," her mother reminded her. "And there might be some snags in the closing or something. Somebody should be there to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Jenny nodded. Her mother couldn't stand watching from the sidelines.

"Make two," Mr. Fowler said as his wife punched the phone number.

"Two what?"

"Reservations," he said. "I was going to fly back in a week or so anyway, to firm up that consulting deal. Might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"Good idea," Mrs. Fowler agreed. "I'll make two. 7f they have them."

Jenny cleared her throat. "Aren't you forgetting somebody?"

Her mother stopped jabbing at the phone and slapped her forehead. "Of course!" she cried. "The painters."

'What painters?" Jenny asked. "I was talking about me."

Confusion. "You?"

"Me," Jenny said. "Your daughter, remember?"

More confusion. Plus a little guilt. Had she forgotten something important about her daughter?

Jenny decided to come to the rescue. "I was talking about my reservation," she said. "You'd better make one for me, too. Unless you want me to stay here."

"That's it!" Mrs. Fowler jumped on Jenny's last thought. "You can deal with the painters." She raised an eyebrow, slightly exasperated. "Honestly, Jenny, of course we didn't forget you. You don't want to go."

There was no question mark in her voice. It was a flat statement. Her mother tended to do that.

much to Jenny*s annoyance. Assume things about what people wanted or didn't want. Unfortunately, she was often right.

She was right this time, too. Jenny really did not want to go. They'd just moved their entire household. They were barely unpacked. Just the thought of repacking even a suitcase brought on an attack of exhaustion. And if she stayed, she could arrange her room, hang some pictures, shelve some books, and generally putter around without the parental cheering section urging her to move a little faster. Or worse, organizing a hike.

On the other hand, she wasn't crazy about the idea of staying alone. True, she was a boringly responsible sixteen, and if they'd just been here a couple of months longer, she wouldn't have minded. But she wasn't used to the place yet, especially the night noises. And she didn't know anybody. School didn't start for another three weeks.

Her parents were giving each other '*the look," trying to communicate without words. Actually, they were pretty good at it. And Jenny was pretty good at interpreting it. Neither one of them would insist that she stay, but they hoped she would. Her mother wanted someone here for the painters; her father wanted someone to keep an eye on the house, since the nearest neighbors were a mile and a half away. And both of them were getting impatient because she was taking so long to think about it.

Be decisive, she told herself. Be bold. "You're right," she said. 'Taking a trip is the last thing I

want to do. You go, and Fll stay and handle the painters."

Great relief. Her mother went back to the phone. Her father poured himself more coffee. Jenny reached down to pet Peaches, who had stationed herself under the table hoping for a handout and dozed off before she got one. "Wake up. Peach. You're going to have to be a watchdog for a couple of days."

Mr. Fowler snorted. "That dog can't watch anything, including her weight. You should take her for some long walks. Hey, take her with you when you go climbing, that'll work some of the fat off."

"It might give her a heart attack, too," Jenny pointed out. "Besides, it's dangerous to climb alone. rU wait."

"Never mind." Her father laughed. "You're right about climbing alone, so you and the mutt just keep the home fires burning. Remember, though," he added, his eyes twinkling, **the rimrocks will still be there when we get back."

As it turned out, they couldn't get plane seats for two days, so they could have gone climbing after all. But her mother wanted to get some more things done in the house, and her father had some papers to look over, so Jenny was spared.

She wasn't spared, though, from the "getting-ready-to-go-someplace" attitude of her parents. Fortunately, she was used to it, and instead of getting sucked into their controlled frenzy of Ustmaking and double-checking, she offered to drive into town

and pick up some supplies. Her mother, happily adrift in a sea of lists, surfaced just long enough to hand her the car keys and tell her to drive carefully, then dove back into her preparations.

Rimrock was a tiny town; people did their big shopping in Mount Harris, twenty-five miles away, where there was a mall big enough to get lost in. Even though Jenny knew plenty of rich people lived in the area, Rimrock itself didn't look it. Its tren-diest store was a shop that sold candles and hand-painted greeting cards. The rest of the businesses were strictly the necessary ones -- a small grocery, a veterinarian, a post ofiice, a clothing store that dealt mostly in Levis, a drugstore, and a diner.

Jenny liked it, though. She had to admit that the bluff made a beautiful setting for a town, and since she'd never lived anywhere near a place that didn't bustle, she enjoyed the small-town quiet. Of course, it was going to be a different story^ in the winter, when she wouldn't be able to drive or bike into town (she'd heard alarming rumors of three-foot snows and storms that lasted for days), but right now it was warm, and the air was clear and smelled of pine.

She bought the things her mother had asked for, got some snacks and two frozen pizzas for herself, checked to see if the grocery's paperback rack had anything new, which it didn't, then headed back to her car.

She was fumbling in the pocket of her shorts for the keys when she heard the unmistakable clip-clop

of horses* hooves. Then a girl's voice said, "Hi! I bet youVe our new neighbor."

Jenny turned. It definitely was a horse, a big, shiny brown one, and the girl on it had short, curly hair to match. She was riding bareback and she didn't seem the least bit self-conscious about being on a horse in the middle of a paved street lined with cars.

"I'm Sally Rafino," she said. "I've been visiting my grandparents in Ohio, and I just got back yesterday. The first thing Mom told me was that somebody had moved into the house up the road from ours, and they had a girl who looked my age. You've just got to be the one."

"If the road's narrow and steep and doesn't have a name, then you're right." Jenny laughed and introduced herself, and after a couple of minutes, she found out that she and Sally were the same age and would both be juniors when school started.