Nancy A Collins-Vamps 02 Read Free Page B

aggravation and love she felt for her mother. When they were together, all the things that stressed her out seemed to melt away.
    At first their rendezvous were infrequent. Now they could barely go a day without seeing each other—despite the danger to both of them should they be discovered.
    As Cally approached the hawthorn tree that stood silent sentinel over her grandparents’ graves, she spotted a red-and-black-plaid wool blanket spread out on the ground underneath its gnarled branches. Sitting in the 19

    middle of the blanket was an old-fashioned wicker picnic hamper. She stopped and looked around. Peter suddenly stepped out from behind one of the nearby monuments.
    He was older than Cally by a couple of years, with tousled reddish-brown hair and dark brown eyes.
    “I thought it would be nice to have a picnic together while the weather’s still good,” he said with a sheepish smile.
    “You really didn’t have to do something like this—
    but I’m glad you did!” Cally said, throwing her arms around his neck.
    “I guess I’m just a romantic at heart,” he said as they sat down together on the blanket.
    “So what kind of picnic did you pack?” Cally grinned, flipping open the lid of the hamper.
    “Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that,” Peter replied. “Let’s see . . . we’ve got a mini-bottle of sparkling Blanc de Blanc, farmhouse biscuits, chocolate truffles . . .”
    “What’s this?” Cally asked, holding up a stainless steel cylinder. “Coffee?”
    “No.” Peter chuckled. “That’s for you. Go ahead and open it.”
    Cally unscrewed the top of the gleaming thermos.
    Even before she looked inside, the smell told her of its contents. She looked up at Peter, who was watching her expectantly.
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    “Do you like it?” he asked.
    “Peter—where did you get this?” she asked in an awed whisper.
    “It came from the infirmary at the Institute.” Cally screwed the cap back onto the thermos. “Are you sure about this, Peter?”
    “They’ll never notice it’s gone,” he replied. “I hacked into Doc Willoughby’s computer and ‘corrected’ his inventory. He’ll never miss a spare pint of O positive.” Peter reached up and cupped the back of her head in the palm of his hand, running his fingers through her short, dark hair. After a long moment, they finally broke their kiss and stared into each other’s eyes.
    “You’re so beautiful, Cally. I wish I could show you off to the rest of the world.” Peter sighed as he stroked her cheek. “I know this little Italian place, with a stroll-ing accordionist and opera singer, just like in Lady and the Tramp. It’s kinda cheesy, but it’s also wicked romantic, you know?”
    “It sounds wonderful , Peter!” Cally smiled as she busied herself with opening the bottle of wine. “But I couldn’t really eat anything, no matter where we end up going. I mean, I could pretend to, like they’ve been teaching us at school. All I have to do is push my food around on my plate and sneak some of it into my nap-kin when nobody’s looking every now and then, just like anorexics and fashion models do.
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    “You know, it’s been years since I went on a picnic. It was up at Granny’s cabin in the Catskills. I could still eat solid food back then,” she said as she handed him a glass filled with the sparkling wine.
    “Are you sure you can’t have any of this?” Peter asked, holding out one of the chocolate truffles.
    Cally shook her head and pushed the proffered candy away. “If I try, I get sick. I’m on a liquid diet for the rest of my life.” She held up a glass identical to the one she’d given him, except this one was filled with chilled blood. “I propose a toast: to us!”
    “To us!” Peter agreed. He touched the rim of his wineglass to hers, only to look away at the last moment as Cally drank. “So—how was your day?”
    “It was great—but you don’t really want to hear about it because it was mostly