Stay With Me

by Astfalk, Carolyn

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you pray at night?”

  Good—a change of subject. If she could get her mind off of being scared he knew she’d be fine. “I do.”

  “What do you say?”

  “Well, I thank God for the day, and I do an examination of conscience and say an Act of Contrition.”

  “You do what and say what?”

  “I think about the sins I committed that day and ask God to forgive me.”

  “Oh . . . Can I pray with you tonight?”

  “Sure.”

  The polyester sack crinkled as she shifted onto her belly and folded her hands on her pillow. “I’ll start and then you do your act of whatever it was there.”

  Chris chuckled. “Okay.”

  Her gaze followed his right hand as he made the sign of the cross. She waited, so he nodded for her to begin.

  “Lord, thank you for our safe trip here today. Thank you for the beauty you’ve created here—the mountains, the trees, the wildflowers, and the animals. Thank you for Chris and for all he’s done to make me comfortable here. Please keep us safe from harm.”

  She looked up, signaling she was done, so he spoke. “Now I take a minute to think about my sins.” He bowed his head over his folded hands, so he didn’t see if she did the same. Then he thought about his day. How he had been short-tempered with his mom when she pressed him for information about Rebecca. How he had thought himself better than the sloppy obese man at the campsite near the road. And how his eyes and his imagination had lingered a little too long on Rebecca’s curves while she helped him put up the tent. He looked back up, and she had an earnest expression on her face. She gave him a small smile, and then he recited an Act of Contrition from memory. She joined him in the “amen” and then watched as he blessed himself again.

  “Why do you do that?” she asked, setting off a half hour or more of conversation about the practice of his faith. She was respectful and inquisitive, and her questions were sincere. Chris found that they helped him refine his own thoughts about why he did what he did. Finally, she said, “I like the Act of—what was it?”

  “Contrition.”

  “Yeah. It says it all. I’m sorry, here’s why, and this is what I’m going to do about it so it doesn’t happen again.”

  “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Maybe you can teach it to me.”

  “I’d be happy to.”

  After that, they must have both drifted off to sleep. The next thing Chris knew he was awakened by an ear-splitting crack of thunder that reverberated in the ground beneath them. Rebecca shrieked and called out to him.

  His own heart thundered from the shock of it, but he had been in storms at the park before and knew that this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Because of their elevation, the clouds were closer and heightened the storm’s intensity.

  “It’s just a thunderstorm. It’ll pass.”

  Her bag rustled as she shifted onto her side to face him. Despite the fact that it had cooled, even inside the tent, she wrestled her arm out from her twisted sleeping bag and groped for his hand. Lying on his side now, too, he took her hand in his and held it lightly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

  Lightning flashed, followed immediately by another loud crack of thunder. They were right in the thick of it. Her hand tightened around his.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I like thunderstorms, but this one is fierce, and it caught me off guard.”

  For a half hour or more they laid awake, their hands squeezed together, talking only about the storm and whether it was letting up. By the time the thunder had stopped and the rain had diminished to a steady patter on the tent, Rebecca’s soft, even breaths told him she had fallen asleep.

  6

  Crash Into Me

  Chris didn’t know which had woken him—the sunlight streaming through the skylight, the birds chattering in the treetops, or the persistent rustling outside the tent. Maybe it was the faint odor of skunk lingering in the air. After studying the shadows of the leaves, twigs and other debris the night’s storm left on the outside of the tent, he looked at Rebecca, who faced away from him now. Sometime during the night their hands must have separated.

  He pushed down his sleeping bag and crept to the tent door, careful to make as little noise as possible. After unzipping the door, he slipped into his unlaced boots and stepped around the side of the tent. He discovered the source of the rustling: a fat raccoon. It nudged aside the base of the tent, searching for something.

  Chris kept his distance and waved the raccoon off. The last thing he needed was to wake Rebecca and have her pepper him with questions about raccoons, rabies, and God forbid—menstruation.

  “Shoo, shoo. Get out of here.”

  “Chris?”

  Uh-oh. “I’m right out here. Just a pesky little varmint.” He shooed the masked rodent one more time, and it scurried off into the weeds.

  Chris went back into the tent to find Rebecca wide awake. She had rolled back over so that she faced his empty bag.

  Sleep had mussed her wavy brown hair, making it look even fuller and giving her a natural, slightly-untamed look. Her wide, brown eyes looked like matching pools of melted milk chocolate. The sleeping bag silhouetted the gentle slope from her feet to her hips, the dramatic dip of her waist, and the rise to her shoulder. She took his breath away and had him rethinking his whole “no fooling around” promise.

  What would it be like to wake up to that every morning? He doubted he’d ever get to work on time again. Chris didn’t know if he could manage a coherent conversation or whether he should even try. It would probably be better if he left.

  “Everything okay?” She tilted her head as if it would help her understand, but it just made her hair fall from her shoulder to her bust line.

  Sure, everything’s fine if you think spontaneous human combustion is okay. “Yep...Just, uh, a...” He jerked his thumb toward the side of the tent. “A, uh, an animal. Got rid of it.” He forced himself to look away and slipped back out the door. “I’m going to get some dry wood and start a fire for breakfast.”

  ***

  Rebecca shoved down her bag and folded her legs in front of her. She pulled a hair ribbon from the pocket on the tent wall, dragged her fingers through her hair, and pulled it back into a messy ponytail.

  Nothing like having a cute guy that you’re falling for see you first thing in the morning. That should dispel any illusions he might have about her. With her wild hair, tired eyes, and oily face maybe he wouldn’t notice her worn, baggy, makeshift pajamas. She remembered what a scaredy cat she had been the night before, and then that she had basically told him she had her period. She groaned and pushed herself to her feet. There was only one way out of the tent, but maybe she could kill some time by cleaning up inside first.

  She fluffed their pillows, rolled the sleeping bags, and let the air seep out of the sleeping mats. She took the little whisk broom and dustpan that sat in the corner and swept the bits of leaves and tree needles they had tracked in on their feet.

  After dumping the debris outside of the tent, she slipped her hiking boots onto her bare feet and walked toward the picnic table where the smell of bacon hung in the air.

  Chris cracked eggs into a cast iron skillet alongside thick slices of sizzling bacon. If he kept feeding her like this, they’d have to do another hike.

  “Smells delicious. Are you sure you only cook in the outdoors?”

  “Positive.” He smiled, but he didn’t look at her. That was odd.

  She took a seat in her camp chair next to the fire and pulled her sleeves down over her hands while she listened to the small fire crackle and pop. The sun hung low in the sky, and the air carried a chill. “So, what did you find outside the tent?”

  “Just a raccoon.” He still didn’t look at her. Weird.

  “Chris?”

  “Yeah?”

  She didn’t respond, and finally
he looked away from the skillet and up at her.

  “There. Is something wrong? I didn’t think you wanted to look at me.”

  He laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

  “Well, I know I look ratty in the morning, but I pulled my hair back, and as soon as I can get to the showers, I can make myself presentable.”

  He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what she said and stood up. He pointed his greasy spatula at her. “You...you look fabulous. Better than anyone has a right to after a restless night in a tent.”

  He was just trying to make her feel good, and it worked. She smiled. “Is it almost ready? I just realized I’m starving.”

  “You and me both.”

  ***

  Once they finished breakfast, Chris offered to clean the dishes and tear down the tent while she showered.

  “You’ll need to take the car since the showers are all the way up by the amphitheater. And make sure you have quarters. They’re pay showers.”

  “Please tell me there’s hot water.”

  He smiled. “There is. I’ll go when you get back, and by then it will almost be time for the church service.”

  As Rebecca gathered her things and left the campsite, Chris noticed their neighbors were back and all seated around their fire pit. A heap of wet logs billowed white smoke, and he assumed they were attempting a campfire. Thankfully whenever they had returned to camp last night—and it must have been late—they hadn’t made noise. They were a curious bunch. Cheap model tents from a big box store didn’t denote serious hikers or campers. Their bulky coolers looked as if they were designed more for holding beer at a tailgate party than efficient packing. Instead of bagged and hanging from a tree limb, their trash was strewn around an overflowing box that, wouldn’t you know it, had the name of a major brewery on the side. More than likely they were drinking buddies, not hiking companions.

  Chris stopped scraping the bits of egg from his skillet when one of the guys called to Rebecca. Chris couldn’t hear what he said, but she responded with a few words and a nervous laugh and continued on her way. He couldn’t say the guy had done anything improper, but he had a gut feeling about it, and it wasn’t good. He took comfort in the fact that he and Rebecca would be packing up and heading out soon.

  After smearing some bacon grease on the skillet and setting it down to season over the coals, he brought all of their gear out of the tent and set it on the picnic table. Then using the metal hook on the back of his mallet, he removed the stakes from the tent fly and then the tent. Once the ends of the tent poles were lifted from their pockets, the tent collapsed in front of him. Chris grabbed a wad of paper towels and dried some of the parts that were still wet and dirty from last night’s storm. He nearly jumped when a man’s voice rumbled no more than a yard over his left shoulder.

  “You packin’ up?”

  The guy who had spoken to Rebecca stood behind him. He wore a white undershirt and dirty jeans with a threadbare red plaid flannel shirt. He looked more like a man coming off a bender than someone who had spent the night in a tent.

  “Yep. We’re heading out this morning.”

  “You mind if we take whatever wood you have left?”

  There wouldn’t be much left, but he wasn’t hauling the cheap pine out of the park in Alan’s car.

  “No problem. There’s a little left under the table. I can’t say it’s completely dry, but I did have a tarp over it last night.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Chris turned over his damp wad of paper towels and wiped the tent in preparation for folding it. He figured the guy would leave, but apparently he had more to say.

  “That was some storm.” He motioned back to the guys still circling the stinky, white cloud emanating from the fire pit at his site. “We decided to ride it out at the bar up at the lodge.”

  Lifting his chin in acknowledgement, Chris didn’t want to encourage more conversation. Something about this dude unsettled him.

  “’Course if there had been something to interest me back at the tent, that would be a different story.”

  Chris spared him a glance. He didn’t know what that remark meant, but from the tone of his voice and the lascivious look in his eye, he guessed it had to do with a woman.

  “The chick you brought. She’s hot.”

  So, his instincts were right. This guy was a dirt bag, and he had an interest in Rebecca. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Nothing’ like getting laid in the fresh mountain air, is there?”

  Whoa. Where did that come from? Chris’s uneasy feeling ratcheted up to mild fear. “It’s not like that. We just shared the tent. She’s a really nice girl.”

  The next thing that came out of the guy’s mouth made Chris’s blood boil. A stream of crude words and implications made him fear for Rebecca’s safety. Had he put her in danger? He’d camped here himself at least a dozen times and never had a problem with other campers. If anything, they were decent and polite. Not this guy. When his filthy words ended with a lightly-veiled threat of bodily harm if Chris didn’t “share” Rebecca with him, all his internal alarms went off. He hoped there was a long line at the showers, and Rebecca wouldn’t come strolling into this. It might be five on one, but Chris wouldn’t let them harm Rebecca. He brought her here, and he felt responsible for her safety.

  Chris stood and realized with dismay that the guy had a good three inches on him, not to mention being just plain bigger. Lord, give me strength. And wisdom.

  He looked into the slightly-dilated eyes that were now trained on him. “How about you take the wood and go back to your campsite? We’re going to pack and leave. And you’re not going to say a word to my friend. In fact, I don’t even want to see you or your buddies looking at her.”

  Not much of a threat, but he didn’t have anything to back it up with, so it would have to suffice. He hoped.

  The guy laughed—a mocking snort that made a knot twist in Chris’s stomach and his fists clench at his sides. The damp towels he held dripped as he inadvertently squeezed the excess rainwater from them.

  “What’s the matter? Afraid she might realize you’re a lousy lay?”

  When that didn’t provoke the response the guy wanted, he took a swing at Chris.

  Chris darted to his right, missing the hit by inches.

  He had never hit anyone in his life, not even Alan when he deserved it, but in that instant a surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins, and he punched the guy in the jaw. His knuckles felt more like they had slammed into a brick wall than a face, and they hurt so badly his instinct was to pace and try rubbing out the pain. Instead, he shook out his hand and waited for the retaliation.

  The guy fell back a step, rubbing his bloodied lip and cheek. Chris spied movement in the distance. One of his buddies leapt to his feet.

  “Darryl, you need a hand?”

  Darryl didn’t turn or answer. He waved his buddy off and gave Chris a slow, seedy smile before he hauled off and took a swing.

  Chris darted to the right again, effectively dodging the fist aimed at his face but, in stepping to the side, he twisted his ankle on the tent pole lying at his feet.

  He broke his fall with his right hand, but he lacked the agility to avoid the boot that landed in his side. Darryl could’ve pummeled him, but for some reason he allowed Chris to get back on his feet before he took another swing.

  This one hit its intended target, and Chris winced at the flash of pain in his left cheek and behind his eye.

  He cursed as the metallic taste of blood reached his tongue, then he steadied himself.

  Weaker and less skilled, Chris’s only advantage was his desperate desire to defend Rebecca, and that wasn’t turning out to be an advantage at all. With a guttural growl, he charged at Darryl’s middle and hoped he could at least knock him off balance. Darryl’s meaty hands gripped his waist, and Chris tried to get better purchase on the wet ground as a yell came from the trail.

  �
�Hey, break it up!”

  Darryl’s hands fell away, and when Chris lifted his head, he glimpsed a park ranger jogging toward them. Thank you, Lord. He didn’t know who had alerted the rangers, but he’d be forever grateful to whoever did. Now he had to convince the ranger he hadn’t instigated this; he wanted to safeguard Rebecca.

  ***

  Rebecca ran her fingers over her damp braid as she walked from the showers to the car. The warm water soothed her aching muscles; she only wished it weren’t a race against an invisible clock before the water stopped. She rubbed a hand over the prickly stubble on her left shin. She had been afraid to even try shaving her legs; she hoped Chris wouldn’t get too close.

  She kept the car at fifteen miles an hour as she drove the short distance to the campsite. A ranger’s vehicle and a golf cart idled in their parking area. She didn’t bother attempting to back Alan’s car in since she knew Chris would be heading to the showers next. As she closed the door, she noticed a couple of rangers at the empty walk-in site closest to the parking lot. Chris sat on a stump next to the ranger. A first aid kit lay open on the ground next to him, and he held an ice pack to the left side of his face.

  Her breath caught. She jogged over to the site and stopped short of the fire pit in front of Chris. Had there been some kind of accident? “What happened?”

  Chris lifted the pack from his face and raised his gaze to her, but before he could say anything, the ranger asked, “Is this her?”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened as she scanned Chris’s face. The left side of his lips swelled, and it looked as if his upper lip had been bleeding. The eye on the same side was nearly swollen shut.

  “Yes, this is Rebecca,” Chris said. His voice sounded slurred either from the swelling around his lips or the numbness caused by the ice pack.

  The ranger spoke again, this time to her. “Your friend here took a little heat for defending your virtue.”

  Rebecca looked from the ranger to Chris and back to the ranger again. “My virtue?”

  “Apparently your neighbor took a less-than-wholesome interest in you. Your boyfriend took a blow to the face defending you.”