Vicky Banning by Allen McGill Read Free Book Online Page A

take you to my home,” he said, “so you could see how it’s decorated. But now I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. It might not be safe…for me.”
    “Don’t be silly,” Vicky said, calming her outburst. “Let’s go there. Is your roomie at work?”
    “If you can call it work,” Roger said, smiling to himself. “He’s off playing in the dirt again. At least that’s what I always tell him. He’s a miner.”
    “ Hold it! Pull over! ” Vicky shouted. Her eyes flared with fury, then narrowed menacingly as the car came to a halt. Her breath came in short gasps.
    “What’s the matter?” Roger called. “Are you all right?”
    Vicky spoke with the tone of an interrogator. Her jaw line was firmly set. “I’m pretty broad minded, Buddy, but here are some things that I will not tolerate, especially when it comes to children. Just how young is this roommate of yours?”
    Roger looked totally baffled. His brows drew downward toward the bridge of his nose, his head tilted curiously. “Children?” he said. “What are you talking about? Steve’s in his thir …” As he stared at her, his eyes widened with comprehension and his mouth opened into a silent “ Ooooh .”
    “Oh, oh, oh,” he drawled, looking at her as if she were a naughty puppy. “Why you dirty little old lady, you,” he said with a grin. “Vicky, Steve is a min- er , not a min- or . He digs iron ore from the mines west of here.” He shook his head with tolerant disappointment and sighed. “You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that. And if you’re not embarrassed, you should be.”
    Vicky felt a flush (she refused to acknowledge it as a blush) rising from her neck to her face. “I knew that,” she said, not meaning it to sound truthful, and knowing it wouldn’t be taken as such no matter how she said it. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”
    “Oh, sure. Of course you did,” Roger said, nodding and drawing out the words. “Sure you did.” He, too, was speaking without the pretense of honesty. He started the car. “It’s too bad you couldn’t see your own expression. I think you’d have appreciated it. The epitome of righteousness.” He chuckled at the windshield as Vicky glowered at him with vaudevillian intensity.
    Lawn statues and birdbaths gave way to tree-lined lanes as they drove. Tendril-like branches, lush with newly sprouted leaves, met high above the center of the road, directing their vision straight ahead. Nearing the top of a rise, Roger gestured. “Here’s where the scenery changes,” and slowed the car as they reached the summit.
    It was like lush drapery opening in a darkened theatre to reveal a brightly lit stage. Below them, demarked as if by lines on a map, was open farmland, a sunlit quilt of red and tan, dotted with miniature white houses and barns, the whole enclosed in a shadowed sweep of the distant Appalachians .
    “It’s lovely,” Vicky gasped of the awesome scene. “It reminds me of the valleys in Switzerland , in springtime when the melting snows send streams rushing down to the lowlands. Are those Penn Dutch farms? I’d love to visit one. I’ve never seen a real hex sign, and maybe we could buy some preserves.”
    Roger shook his head. “I’m afraid none of these farms is open to tourists,” he said. “And they don’t take kindly to people stopping by to gawk at them. They value their privacy.”
    Vicky could certainly concur with their feelings. “People actually do that?” A stirring of irritation rose within her at such thoughtlessness. “I certainly wouldn’t. I admire them immensely, how they’ve managed to maintain their customs in a country that thinks the staples of life are fast foods, cars, and television is commendable. I don’t understand how small-minded some people can be at times.”
    “I agree completely,” Roger said and turned to look at her with a directness that she hadn’t seen before. “It’s funny, they’re strong and independent, yet I