by Stacy Monson
“Maria-Rosalita is a beautiful name. Breakfast smells delicious. Thank you.”
They exchanged warm smiles, then Rosie handed out the rest of the steaming plates.
“Please let me know if you need anything,” she said to Mikayla before returning to the kitchen.
After Rob said a blessing, conversation flowed, and Mikayla smiled to herself. She wasn’t going to question how she’d come to this point; she’d simply enjoy it while it lasted. It would be over all too soon.
After helping Rosie in the kitchen, Mikayla wandered the grounds. Lula and Bruno had become friends, the pixie clearly in charge of the brute as he loped along behind her. They’d trotted off together when Mikayla had headed to the lodge for breakfast and now they were nowhere to be seen.
A pile of logs, a few already split, sat behind the shower house. Flexing her arms, she glanced around. She hadn’t chopped wood since last fall, but it was worth a try. If she couldn’t do it, no one would know.
She tossed her baseball cap aside, then got the feel of the splitter handle, Dad’s instructions ringing in her ears. She set a log on the stump, planted her feet and swung the splitter over her head. The blade bit nicely into the wood but didn’t split it completely. She wiggled it a few times, and the pieces separated with a sharp crack. Thanks, Dad! She added them to the stack and set up the next log.
Once in a rhythm, it was satisfying to hear the crack and split. She doubted her former coworker Leif could do this. She grinned, setting more pieces aside. It might mess his hair before a hot date.
“I’ve never seen anyone smile while splitting logs.” Dawson’s voice came from the side. “You like doing it that much?”
“Had a funny thought. Not about splitting wood.” She set the axe aside and brushed off her hands. “Good morning. How did your meeting go?”
“Long. Sorry to make you wait.” He looked at the pile she’d created. “Or maybe I’m not. Nice work.”
“Thanks. Who usually does this?”
“Me. Or Bucky. Anyone who has some extra time.”
“I’ll do some. I enjoy it.” She rolled one shoulder, then the other. “Although I might not be able to lift my arms tomorrow.”
He laughed. “Then it’s good we’re goin’ fishin’ today. I grabbed a couple of walkies on my way out of the lodge.” He held one out. “If you’re not on the clock, you don’t need one, but working staff never leave the grounds without one.”
“Does it matter which one we take?” She hooked it to a belt loop and then scooped up her baseball cap and pulled it back on, tugging her ponytail through the opening in the back.
“There’s a sign-out sheet, and each walkie is numbered. That way we know who’s out and where they’ve gone. I’ll show you where the gear is.” He looked around. “Where’s your guard dog?”
“She and Bruno are off exploring together. Rob said he’d keep an eye on her. Apparently I’ve been replaced.”
“By Rob or Bruno?”
“Both!”
With a laugh, he turned toward the pole barn. Mikayla kept pace with his long-legged stride as they gathered fishing gear, signed out the equipment, and then followed a winding path to the Fraser River. Dawson explained the procedures used with the kids. She nodded, itching to get her line in.
“Need help with your lure?”
“Done. You?”
His gaze snapped to hers, and she swallowed, holding her breath. It was one thing to tease Dad, but she barely knew this man.
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he turned away. “Touché,” he said.
“Sorry. I’ve always fished with my dad so I forget other people might not have the same sense of humor.”
“We’ll see who’s laughing in an hour.”
She grinned. “You’re on.”
They cast in silence, Mikayla’s shoulders lowering as she drank in the stillness. She watched a hawk circle overhead and sighed.
Dawson followed her gaze. “Red-tail. He’s a beauty. Look at the strength in those wings.”
“It looks effortless.”
His line jerked. “Like my fishing,” he said as he played the fish.
Mikayla reeled in her empty line, then grabbed the net to scoop the trout from the clear water. When he held it up, she nodded. “Good one. Eight pounds, maybe?”
“’Bout that. Since it’s a rainbow, the rules are catch and release.” He unhooked it and set it back in the water. “Two-fish limit on the others.”
She sent her lure zinging toward the middle of the river. “Sorta hate to catch the rainbows and then put them back with a hole in them. Hopefully I’ll catch something else.”
“So you’re a fisher with a heart for fish.”
She felt his glance and shrugged. “I have a few issues like that.” Fishing just for fun had never really made sense to her. “When I was little, I’d cry if Dad had trouble removing a hook from a fish I caught. Fishing for a meal is different.”
They stood in silence under the sparkling morning sun, watching a deer cautiously approach the opposite shore. Mikayla drew a slow breath. “I can’t get over how beautiful it is here, how clean the air is.” She kept her voice low. “We’re proud of our clean air in Minnesota, but it’s different here. Fresher, I guess. Sounds weird, but I can’t get enough of it.”
“I’m a native of Colorado and I feel the same way.”
At the tug at her line, she pulled sharply to set the hook, satisfied by the response at the other end. “Watch how it’s done,” she said, playing the fish in to shore.
Dawson had the net ready and whistled in appreciation. “Look at you! That’s gotta be ten, eleven pounds.” He scooped the brown trout. “And you got your wish. It’s a keeper.”
She held it aloft and mugged as he took a picture, then unhooked it and slid it on the line. “Any questions?” she teased.
His laughter rang across the water, startling the deer back into the woods. “Pretty cocky for the team rookie.”
Their chuckles slowed as they turned back to fishing. “Have you fished your whole life?” he asked.
“Since I could hold a plastic fishing pole.”
“You mentioned a twin sister. Does she fish too?”
Mikayla shook her head with a snort. “Oh my gosh, no. Fishing might ruin her nails. And she’d be bored silly out here. She’s a fashion director.” And she’s not my twin anymore.
“Ahh.”
“Our older sister always had her nose in a medical book, so she never had time. She’s a pediatric surgeon now.” Mags, a surgeon. It still filled her with pride.
“Wow. How about your mom?”
“Hardly. It’s been just me and my dad. He taught me about fishing, hiking—”
“Chopping wood.”
She shot him a grin. “And everything else I know.” A sigh escaped. “He’s amazing. The most patient, encouraging, funny man I know. I miss him,” she added softly.
A breeze ruffled nearby cattails and danced across the water. “He’s in Minnesota?”
“He and my mom and my twin. My older sister practices in Boston. Dad can tie the tiniest knots, create the most detailed wood carvings, and clean a fish perfectly in minutes, but I swear he’s all thumbs when it comes to typing. Must be a mental block.”
Dawson chuckled. “Well, I may be some competition for him then. Seems like I always have a million things to do, so I shoot off half-done messages with bad grammar and no punctuation. And that includes emails. I thank God every day for Brenda’s attention to my lack of detail.”
“She seems awesome.”
“She is. Definitely an answer to prayer.” His lure flew over the water and disappeared with a tiny splash. “When Walt got sick, I was handling all the details myself and guiding and recruiting. I knew I needed help but didn’t realize how much until she showed up. Good thing God did.”
Mikayla gazed across the river. What would it be like to be needed like that? To be an important part of a team? She hadn’t been at the magazine. She hadn’
t even fit in with her own family. Maybe now…
“Here comes a winner,” Dawson exclaimed, reeling in his second catch.
“If it’s not,” she commented, retrieving the net, “you’ll be stuck fixing my catches for dinner.”
He laughed as he pulled the fish in, then held up a brown trout nearly the same size as hers. “Voila.”
Once each had their limit, Mikayla prepared to showcase some of the filet tricks Dad had taught her. Dawson’s hovering, however, set her on edge. When he grabbed the knife she’d set spinning, Dad’s signature finish, she faced him. “What is your problem? I’m not a child playing with knives, for heaven’s sake!”
“Looks like it,” he said, arms folded as their gazes locked. “We’re teaching responsibility, safety, and focus. This will absolutely not happen when the kids are around.”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Of course it won’t! But I don’t see any kids around here. It was something fun my dad taught me.”
“Hopefully not when you were a kid.”
Nobody bad-mouthed Dad. She stepped closer, chin angled as she glared. “For your information, my dad is the most responsible, knowledgeable, safety-conscious guy on the planet. But he also likes to have fun. Maybe you should try it.” She spun back to their makeshift filet station and scooped scraps into a bag, her jerky movements sending some to the ground.
In the distance birds sang, leaves fluttered overhead, the river lazed past. She paused and closed her eyes. So much for impressing her new boss. Obviously he thought her incapable of good judgment with the kids. Or he’d be impossible to impress and she should get out now.
There was a long breath behind her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I overreacted. That was stupid.”
“I’m not a dumb blonde,” she ground out without looking up. “Do I seem that irresponsible to you?”
“Not at all. It’s just… A few years back I hired a girl right out of college who told me she had lots of experience. Turned out she had pretty much none. She cut herself really bad when she was trying to filet, somehow cut her wrist. There were kids there that time.”
Mikayla looked sideways at where he stood quietly, eyes closed under a pained frown. He shook himself from the memory and handed her the knife.
Her shoulders lowered. “Sounds awful.”
“It was.” He squatted and picked up fish pieces from the ground. “Afterwards, we changed a lot of our policies. I don’t take people’s word for it when it comes to what they know, or don’t know.”
Thus the overload of teaching. “You took mine.”
“My introduction to you was on a trail where you professionally wrapped a stranger’s ankle.” He glanced sideways and gave a half-smile. “And I called your boss at the magazine.”
“You called Ted? When?”
“After you and I talked on the phone. You’d mentioned the magazine, so I called. We had a great chat. He said I’d be stupid not to hire you. And I hate being stupid. Like I just was.”
She hid a smile and returned to cleaning. They worked quietly side-by-side until the area was clean and the filets neatly wrapped and stored in his backpack.
As they started back, Dawson paused. “Mikayla, I have no questions about your abilities. And I haven’t for a second thought you’re a dumb blonde.”
“I know there’s a lot for me to learn about how the camp runs, but I will never intentionally put the kids or staff in danger.”
He held her gaze then nodded. “I know you won’t. And I’ll try not to overreact.”
She put out her hand. “Deal?”
His grip was strong. “Deal. Now let’s get these fish back before every bear in the county is onto us.”
“Onto you, you mean,” she said, starting up the trail ahead of him. “I just have to run faster than you.”
His chuckle followed.
~ 21 ~
Cresting the hill that afternoon, Mikayla released a delighted laugh. Layers of jagged mountain peaks surrounded them, from green and detailed in front to a hazy blue in the distance. Thick forests spread like carpeting, a river winding through the valley. This was where they’d camp with the kids? Her heart danced and spun in her chest. “This is amazing!”
“Part of why we picked it.” Dawson pulled out his water bottle, then slid his backpack to the ground. “That and it’s a tough enough climb that the kids have to work.”
“I’d say so.” She drank deeply from her hydration pack. “Especially if they’re carrying supplies.”
“Work is necessary for anything worthwhile. That’s a good lesson to learn early.”
She settled beside her backpack on the clover-covered slope and leaned back on her elbows. “Beautiful as it is back home, there’s nothing like this.”
“I’ve never been to Minnie-sohta.” He dropped down beside her. “Tell me what it’s like.”
His exaggeration of her accent made her smile. From the montage of images that flashed before her, she focused on her favorites. “You know we’re called the Land of 10,000 Lakes, right? For starters, we have way more than that. There are reservoirs, marshland, manmade lakes—pretty much water everywhere you look.
“It’s so green,” she added. “Such a variety of nature across the state. Lots of parks, campgrounds. Miles of walking, biking, and inline skating paths. The Boundary Waters area in the northern part of the state has wonderful camping, and pristine lakes great for canoeing and kayaking. It’s a beautiful wilderness.”
“So a lot like here, just no mountains.”
She pursed her lips as she looked across the panoramic view. “I guess so. Maybe that’s why this place speaks to my heart. Minnesota with mountains.” And she’d get to spend the next week looking at this with a group of campers. How lucky was that?
Dawson chuckled. “We don’t have as many lakes, but there are plenty of waterfalls, streams, creeks and rivers.”
“We have lots of good fishing as well.”
“Trout?”
“And walleye, bass, northern, muskies, crappies, sunnies, perch.”
“Mmm, nothing like a great meal of perch.”
She giggled. “Those are appetizers. Oh, and we have lovely bullheads and carp.”
He wrinkled his nose. “No thanks.”
“My dad can make even a bullhead taste good over an open fire.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He studied her. “You know your Minnie-sohtah fish.”
“I had a great teacher. We also have brown and black bear, wolves, deer, cougars, elk, fox, moose, porcupines, otters—”
“Sounds crowded. What pulled you away from such an amazing place?”
She turned back to the view. “I needed to find someone, a relative I didn’t know. Problem was nobody knew much about him, so I’ve had to do a lot of digging. Started in Michigan, then Jackson Hole, and eventually here.”
“Did you find him?”
“Not so far.”
Dawson sat quietly.
“I have a good lead, so I’m not giving up yet. But,” she added, sitting up to brush off her elbows, “the silver lining is I discovered Colorado.”
“And I’m glad you did. Let’s eat before I get into details about what we do up here with the kids for five days.”
“I’m starved. Something yummy from Rosie again?”
“As always. Would you get a fire going for coffee while I get the food out? I brought some fire starters, if you need them.”
She was up to the challenge. Hopefully the more he saw what she could do, the less explaining he’d need to do. Within minutes she had a fire blazing in the fire ring, the fire starters still in the package. His appreciative smile gave her a shot of satisfaction.
Over roast beef sandwiches and fresh fruit, Mikayla asked about the camp. “You said Walter started it but now you run it. How did that come about?”
Dawson chewed thoughtfully, staring at the fire. “My childhood was… It had some rough spots.” His gaze touched hers, then returned to the
flames. “When you talk about how great your dad is, I’m pretty jealous. Mine was mean. I hated being in the house. My folks fought all the time. I started getting into trouble. Going-to-jail trouble. That’s when my mom sent me to Outlook.”
He gave a snort. “To say I didn’t want to come was an understatement, but the judge agreed we’d give it a try before sending me to juvie. That’s when I met Walt and life started to turn around.”
“Was it him or being outdoors or being away from your dad?”
“Yes,” he said, a half-smile flickering. “Walt himself was great—laid-back but no-nonsense. We were welcome as we were, but we had to follow the rules. He sent kids home when they didn’t. And being outdoors is good for everyone, even angry teens. Especially them.”
“It started as a camp for kids in trouble?”
“Not really, but there were quite a few of us who came. He had a way of accepting people for who they were. Because he’d gotten in trouble at times in his life, he was somebody we could relate to, which made us want to do better. Be better.”
He pointed at a bald eagle soaring overhead. “I always wanted that kind of freedom, that strength. Walt taught me that with strength comes responsibility. Freedom has a cost. I could have both if I understood that and put it into practice.”
It seemed he’d forgotten she was there as he watched the bird continue its path. Mikayla followed the majestic bird, hoping Dawson would continue.
“It was confusing at first, trying to figure out how to make better decisions, how to not be so angry. But the more time I spent with him, the more I understood. And it all stemmed from his faith in God, and how he modeled his life after Jesus. Once I got that, life just…fell into place.”
He looked across the flames at her. “I know you said you don’t really believe. I get that. I was there. I hope working here gives you a better understanding of what I learned from Walt.”
She wanted peace far more than freedom or strength. Dawson’s calm, cheerful demeanor relieved some of the ache in her heart; his smile always pulled one from her. In these few days together, she’d found her shoulders relaxing and her circling thoughts slowing. Maybe there was peace to be found here, answers to the questions that still made her heart ache in the quiet of the night.