The Runaway Bridesmaid

by Kaitlyn Rice

  As she awakened, her brain kicked into gear. “And after these campers leave, Darla and Sam will get married.”

  And I’ll go home.

  “So, a date at four in the morning?” she mused, peering toward the closed bedroom door. “Think Angie will be all right?”

  Trevor frowned. “Does she usually wake up at this hour?”

  “No. And if she did, Darla would hear her calls.”

  “Then she’s fine.” Trevor bent down to pick up a folded blanket and vacuum flask, then handed her a paper sack. “Carry breakfast?”

  She took it, and followed him toward the private exit.

  Before she stepped outside, however, she glanced down at her cotton gown. “Hey!”

  He turned in the doorway. “What?”

  She swept a hand down her gown. “I’m not dressed.”

  “You’re decent.” He moved his glance down and up. “Besides, it’s warm outside and no one will see you.”

  She followed him, trying not to giggle.

  When they were outside and headed toward the forested part of the property, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  He turned around and gave her a half smile. “To my favorite place here at Sam’s.”

  He led her toward the gazebo, finding his way even in the dark shadow of the trees. He knew Sam’s property well. Again, Isabel felt safe in his company.

  After they reached the aspen clearing, he veered down closer to the river and looked upward. “This is the spot.”

  Isabel looked up, too. She could see the quarter moon through an opening in the trees.

  Trevor spread the blanket, then took her bag and the flask and set them on the ground. The flask fell over. He moved it, but it fell again. “The ground’s sloped,” he said. Finally he walked a few yards nearer the tree-lined river and set them on a rock.

  Isabel dropped down onto the blanket and lay on her back. She folded her hands behind her head and closed her eyes.

  “Hey, you can’t go to sleep on our date!” Trevor said. “Want me to pour you some coffee?”

  “Not yet.” She kept her eyelids shut. “Too early, and the ground is more comfortable than my cot.”

  “Why are you sleeping on a cot?”

  She felt him move down next to her, and opened an eye, peering at him. “I could get poked all night by six-year-old elbows, listen to a squeaky cot all night while Angie thrashed around, or sleep on the cot.”

  “I guess you could sleep now, if you want.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes again. Relaxed.

  He groaned, low and long. “I can’t sleep, though.”

  Isabel sat up halfway, glancing at the fly of his jeans. Was he turned on, uncomfortable, at this hour? Had he brought her out here to—

  He laughed. “I didn’t bring an alarm clock.”

  “Oh!” She flopped back down.

  “If I miss my six-o’clock wake-up call, the entire camp might stage a manhunt for their missing director.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. She lay looking up at that slice of moon. “It’s nice out here, at this hour.”

  “I know.”

  “So how is this your favorite place?” she asked. “Did you used to bring girls here in your reckless youth?”

  “No.”

  “Why, then?”

  “Honestly? I just found it today.”

  “Trevor!”

  “It’ll be my favorite place from now on.”

  “Aww. That was nice.” Isabel turned toward him, resting her jaw against her hand so she could study Trevor’s profile. “You know tomorrow’s Independence Day?”

  “I do.”

  “Are you doing something special with the camp kids?”

  He moved nearer to her, pulling her torso against his. She nestled her cheek against his chest, wrapped her arm around his belly.

  “Yes, but it’ll have to be a natural celebration,” he said. “We can’t shoot rockets up here. We’ll probably roast hot dogs. We might go tubing in the river.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “And I know you have plans to head to Boulder, to eat dinner out and watch some parade.”

  “That’s right. For Angie. We’re also taking Darla’s mom, if she feels like going.”

  “Did you celebrate holidays in your house?” he asked.

  “They were very low-key.” Isabel lifted her head to peer at him. “We made gifts for each other at Christmas-time. I hated it then. I felt lonely, seeing the same three people all the time. Doing the same things.” She lay back down. “Now I think it was kind of nice. My sisters and I carry on a few of the old traditions.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “Darla told me you have a bunch of stepsiblings. Did you have huge family parties?”

  “That depended on whose house we were at, and how the parents were getting along. Sometimes I was around a crowd, sometimes I was the only kid. Holidays were never the same from year to year.”

  “I guess they wouldn’t be.” She looked at him as he stared at the morning sky, recognizing that their different experiences had made them feel the same—alone. Lonely.

  “Could you imagine living here, Isabel?” Trevor glanced at her and away.

  But she felt it.

  He wanted her to stay. He wanted more time.

  He couldn’t come right out and ask, because he wasn’t offering more than his time and company.

  She sat up, bending her knees and curling her arms around them. “That’d be hard for me. My sisters and I have a special bond, because of the way things were. I love my life in Kansas.”

  He’d sat up, too, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out beside her. “I can tell.”

  Isabel frowned, feeling as if she wasn’t saying exactly what she meant to say. “I wish I could stay,” she said. “I feel something special for you. And…well, sometimes I feel as if I’m living a fragment of the life I could.”

  “But?”

  “Why give up something I love?”

  “The grass is greener theory?”

  “Exactly.” She rested against his legs, happy he understood. “And where I live, how I live—that’s what makes me who I am.”

  He lay back down, settling his head on his hands, looking relaxed and okay with what she’d told him. “So we’ll just have to enjoy the time we have left.”

  “I guess so.”

  “It’s a date, then. Four o’clock, here, every day.”

  She laughed, then dived on top of him, matching hip to hip and chest to chest. “I’d do it.”

  “I would, too. But you know I’ll be away. I have an obligation.”

  “I do know. It’s okay.”

  She kissed him, this time with fun, smacking kisses. She liked their playfulness because it lifted her gloomy thoughts of goodbyes.

  Their kisses grew sensual, and he explored the flesh beneath her gown as she eased her body to fit his awakening one.

  She heard a small sound. A scurrying.

  Trevor flipped her around next to him and looked toward the riverbank. Toward the trees and the rock.

  “What is it?” Isabel said, staring.

  “Shh! Look.”

  Twin lights lit the darkness. Eyes, staring at them. Remembering their discussion of bears, Isabel moved closer to Trevor. “What is it?”

  “A bold raccoon, after our breakfast.”

  Isabel felt frightened, even though she’d chased off plenty of raccoons at home. But there, she was generally inside her doorway with a pan and spoon, trying to frighten the animals away from her trash can. Here, she was in that raccoon’s territory.

  “Come here.” Trevor stood and held out a hand, then led her backward, toward the gazebo.

  They sat on the long bench, yards away from their blanket, and watched the animal rummage in the bag. The big ’coon tore at the paper until it found a muffin. It nibbled a moment, narrow eyes watching them, then held the food in its mouth and tro
tted toward the trees.

  Isabel let out a breath. “He was so big!”

  “I think she’s a she. Look.” Trevor pointed again, slightly to the right of the place where the raccoon had gone.

  She could see them, under the limbs. As the mama raccoon scurried along a path to her hideaway, a row of babies followed along behind her.

  When they were out of sight, Isabel breathed again and turned to beam at Trevor. “What a fun date, Trevor!”

  “Fun? She took our breakfast,” Trevor said. “And I knew better than to leave food out.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m not, either, but wait here.” He walked across the grass, grabbed the flask and torn bag and carried it back. “Want coffee now?”

  “Lord, yes.”

  He poured coffee into the lid and they took turns sipping as the day grew light. They didn’t talk anymore or continue with their kissing. Again, just sitting together was enough.

  Isabel thought if she were a different person—less a homebody and with a different set of experiences behind her—she might have said yes to Trevor today.

  She might have moved out here to Colorado and stayed for as long as their romance lasted.

  He was right, though. They didn’t have long. They should take great care and enjoy each other in the time they had left.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabel coaxed the roots of a dandelion from the ground beneath a clump of bachelor’s buttons, then sat back on her heels and tossed it onto a growing pile of yard debris behind her.

  “This area could use some mulch,” she told Darla, who was working on a flower bed nearer the gazebo. “I doubt that any more weeds will sprout in the week before your wedding, but the beds would appear more groomed.”

  Wiping her brow, Darla said, “Good idea. The mulch bags are in the lodge storage room, though. I should have thought to bring one out.”

  “No problem. I’ll find them.” Isabel got up and stretched her muscles, then watched her friend work for a moment. “Anything else you need?”

  “Since you asked, I could use a cold drink,” Darla said. “This part of Colorado rarely sees ninety degrees, and I guess I’m not used to it.”

  Darla was a strong woman, but the stresses had begun to affect her. She’d been quieter than usual lately. “Are you okay, otherwise?” Isabel asked.

  Darla glanced over her shoulder. “I’m fine.”

  “You and Sam okay? Your mom?” Isabel prompted.

  Now Darla stopped working and turned toward Isabel, shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare as she looked up. “Mom was very tired the last time we spoke. The day before she was great. Do you remember seeing that kind of up-and-down change when your mom was sick?”

  Isabel knelt beside Darla. “Yes, I do. But remember she didn’t accept medical treatment, so after a while it was all downhill. Toward the end she was very frail and small. Almost like a different person.”

  “I’ll bet,” Darla said. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my mother had refused treatment.”

  “Your mother’s doctors think she’ll kick the cancer, don’t they?” Isabel asked.

  “Yes. And I think so, too.” Darla returned to her work. “Now that the last camp session is over, I just need to get through my wedding day. When Sam and I get on that plane to Alaska, I’ll relax.”

  “I know you will,” Isabel agreed, standing up. “Now, I’ll go get that mulch and a big glass of something ice-cold for you.”

  “I’ll come help you carry.” Darla dropped her trowel.

  “Stay there, Darla,” Isabel said. “I’ll bring Angie back with me, and she can carry the drinks in her pack. Those counselors have enough to do without keeping track of a six-year-old.”

  “It’s their last day. I’m sure they don’t mind. Anyway, Sam’s hanging out with the guys today, and I know he’ll watch out for her.”

  Perhaps. And this summer, quite a few of the folks up here had developed an affection for Angie. She was in Isabel’s care, however, and Isabel wanted to make sure that no one shouldered the responsibility for her longer than a few hours at a time.

  “I told Angie earlier that we might be able to use help with watering out here,” Isabel said. “She’d get a kick out of working that well pump.”

  Darla returned to her work. “Good point. Bring me some iced tea.”

  As Isabel made her way over to the lodge, she pulled her hair from a band at her nape and regathered it into a neater ponytail. It was definitely hot outside today. She was sweaty from her weeding, but she felt fine.

  She’d inherited a love of gardening from her mother, and ninety was pretty average for July in south-central Kansas. The heat reminded her of home.

  It was hard to believe she’d be returning in just over a week. She missed her sisters and friends, and she was ready to start in on some orders that had come in for Blumecrafts. She’d finished the baby quilt.

  She would be pleased to be home.

  She hoped.

  She’d come to view Darla and Sam as the extended family she’d never had. And she hadn’t even let herself think about leaving Trevor.

  Checking her clothes, Isabel realized she was filthy. With dirt-blackened knees and a T-shirt that was no longer white, she could only imagine about the parts of her she couldn’t see.

  Trevor and the campers had returned from their mountain-climbing excursion early this morning. She’d already run into Trevor twice, and he’d been bright-eyed, watching her.

  She might see him at the lodge.

  Oh, well. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would notice a few dirt smudges. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to care.

  She entered the lodge through the nearest entrance, then checked the laundry room for Angie. A few tokens were spread out over the tray of the machine, but the room was vacant. Earlier, the little girl had been taking turns playing the video game with Sam and Dusty.

  Isabel walked down the hall to search in the community room. The boys were loud in there, probably exhilarated about their climbing experience and also anticipating their parents’ arrival in a couple of hours. She spotted Dusty, talking to a couple of the boys, and asked if he’d seen Angie or Sam.

  “Angie had a phone call in the offices,” Dusty said. “I took her over there a minute ago and told her to meet me here.”

  “And Sam?”

  Dusty beamed. “At the house, wrapping and hiding Darla’s wedding gift from him.”

  Grinning, Isabel continued on to the office.

  She heard the little girl crying before she saw her. She rushed into the room and found Angie in Darla’s chair with the phone receiver cradled to her ear.

  “Daddy, I’m sposed to be the flower girl,” she said. When she saw Isabel walk in, her brown eyes widened.

  “No,” she said then, her expression stubborn. “Yes. She is. ’Kay.” She took the receiver away from her ear, and without a word handed it across to Isabel.

  Isabel pulled the phone to her face. “Roger, what on earth is happening? Your daughter is very upset.”

  Roger didn’t hesitate or try to explain. “As soon as I hang up, I’m calling the airlines. My daughter needs to come home immediately.”

  “What happened?” Isabel’s heart raced. “Is R.J. okay?”

  “He’s fine. Everyone is fine. But Angie needs to be here with me.” Roger’s voice was cool.

  Strange that he’d decided such a thing this late in the summer. The little girl had barely a week left. It would be much easier, not to mention cheaper, for Isabel to bring her home in the car.

  “Just a moment,” Isabel said to Roger, then covered the mouthpiece with her palm.

  She smiled at Angie, who was sitting at Darla’s desk, trying to be calm but hitching her breath every few seconds. “Hey, hon. Do me a favor, would you? Find Dusty and ask him to wrap one of those brownies we made yesterday. Put it in your backpack.”

  Angie nodded, visibly calmer.

  “Now, ca
n you remember this?” Isabel asked. “Also get a bottle of iced tea for Darla and a juice for you. Carry it all out to the gazebo. Darla’s there. You know the way?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay. Tell Darla you’re there to help water the flowers, and that I’ll come along in a couple of minutes.”

  Angie hopped out of the chair. “I like brownies.”

  “Then tell Dusty you need two.”

  “Okay!”

  Isabel watched the little girl exit the room, satisfied to see the half skip the child started on her way down the hall. Then she leaned against the desk and returned the phone to her ear. “Okay, Roger. Tell me what happened. Why is Angie so upset, and why are you deciding now that she needs to come home?”

  “Because I want my daughter here with me.”

  “But when Darla realized that Angie was going to be here for the wedding day, she asked her to be the flower girl. She bought her a dress and ordered special flowers. Angie’s looking forward to it.”

  “She’ll get over it,” Roger said. “She shouldn’t have been there with you, anyway. I had no idea, Isabel, that you could be so careless.”

  Isabel frowned. “Careless, how?”

  “When Angie spoke to R.J. a couple of nights ago, she asked him if he thought it was okay for you to kiss other boys.”

  “Other boys?”

  “Some counselor there. In a swimming pool.”

  Oh, no. Angie must have seen her and Trevor on their nighttime swim, after all. Isabel felt awful. If she’d known that the little girl was worried about it, she would have tried to explain.

  It was too late for that. What surprised Isabel now was that she didn’t feel particularly remorseful about Roger. Confused, certainly. Maybe a little angry. But not as sorry as she should be, considering.

  “Why is this coming out now, Roger?” she asked. “Angie saw us days ago.”

  “R.J. didn’t think that much about it,” Roger explained. “He said he thought Angie had confused something she saw. Yesterday he mentioned it in passing because we stopped by the Git-n-Go and talked to Sandy for a while.”

  “Sandy?”

  “The clerk. Curly red hair? Short and skinny?”