“It’ll be fuuuuu-unnnn,” Katie singsonged.
“I told you, I already have plans.”
“You’re serious!” Landing on the sofa with a pounce, Katie squealed. “Tell me all about it.”
“I’m going on a weekend hike.”
“You? Hike?” Hysterical laughter poured out of her. “I’ve been camping with you. You could barely make it with”—she caught herself—“all of our help.”
“I’m an independent woman. Whatever I don’t have in ability, I make up for in effort.”
Looking thoroughly unconvinced, Katie squirmed for a minute then brightened. “Oh, I get it. You know with skiing how they have the little bunny hills and the advanced runs? You’re just going to do one of the little ones, right?”
“No. It’s a real hike. Five days.”
“Five days!” Katie gawked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Della nodded with far more confidence than she felt. “It’s real camping. Pup tents. Boots and backpacks and marshmallows.” Memories of toasting marshmallows and snuggling by Brandon at the campfire threatened to swamp Della. She straightened her shoulders and suppressed the memories. “My boots are broken in, and I’m great at toasting marshmallows. I’ll do just fine.”
“You’re going to break your neck.” Katie shook her head. “I’ve never heard a more ridiculous idea in my life.”
“Hey—where’s the support? Friends are supposed to cheer you on, not knock you down.”
“Friends,” Katie said in a doomsday voice, “are supposed to stop you when you’re doing something dumb.” She pulled a throw pillow onto her lap and hugged it. After a pause, she asked quietly, “Does anyone else know you’re doing this?”
Della knew she meant Brandon, but she purposefully ignored the thinly veiled question. Pasting on a cheerful smile, she proclaimed, “Ellen Zobel is watching the shop for me. She always does such a great job. I don’t know if she’s told Van or Val. That whole clan sits together in church, so they’ll find out soon enough.”
“I don’t think this is such a bright idea.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m going with a group—Rugged Adventure.”
“Never heard of them. Did you check them out?”
Della leaned back into the sofa. Finally, a question that didn’t feel like the Spanish Inquisition! “I looked all over. You know me and the Internet. I narrowed it down to three different companies, and this one is close-by and had an opening for dates that Ellen could cover the shop for me. It worked out perfectly. You should see their brochure on the Internet.”
Katie waggled her brows. “Are the guides hunks?”
“You’re impossible.” Della swallowed one last sip of coffee then stood. “I need to get going. I have a lot to do.” After giving Katie a hug, she ran a few errands before heading home.
Sitting at the curb was Brandon’s jeep.
Sixteen
Brandon knew the minute she drove up. Her brothers and dad had been in the garage when he arrived. They came out to “greet” him. Their idea of hospitality left a lot to be desired. He put up with it though. Della was more important than their anger.
Brandon ignored Gabe’s latest snarl and looked right over the fuming man’s shoulder to see Della slide from her car. Dainty heels. Swirly lavender dress. Big, hurt eyes.
His heart wrenched.
She turned to go into the house.
Brandon took a step forward.
The Valentine men formed a wall.
Brandon didn’t want to fight them. It would be ugly. All three would be in a bloody heap in a few seconds.
“Della, I need a minute with you.”
“Nobody here cares what you want,” Mr. Valentine roared. “Della needs you to get out of here.”
Slowly, Della turned. She refused to look Brandon in the eyes. “Say what you came to say.”
It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t come within several feet. Her vulnerability tore at him. Brandon wanted nothing more than to shove her family apart and gather her into his arms, but he didn’t have the right. He cleared his throat.
“The hike you’re going on—it’s not safe.” In revealing that, he knew she’d realize someone had talked with him about her. She didn’t need to know who. Fact was, Ellen told Van and Val, who both told their husbands. Jordan and Nathan discussed it, and Nathan came to him. He hadn’t known the details, though, until Katie called him. Della didn’t have a clue that so many people truly cared about her.
Since they’d broken up, she’d withdrawn from almost everyone. Van and Val both said once Della knew they supported his decision on a biblical basis, she’d avoided them.
She held her purse like a shield. “I’m going.”
“It’s not safe, Della.” He strove to reason with her, but from the way she hung back and stared off at nothing warned him she wasn’t receptive to what he came to say. Still, he had to try. “I checked into it. Rugged Adventure is a two-bit, seat-of-the-pants—”
“Rugged Adventure is a business. They know what they’re doing.”
He changed tactics. “Then I’ll go along. Just as a friend. Just to be sure—”
“No.” She finally looked him in the eyes. “You’re not my friend. I could never be just friends with you. Leave me alone, Brandon.” She pivoted and headed toward the porch.
Brandon watched as her shoulders began to shake. She’d started weeping, and he was powerless.
Thump.
Air whooshed out of him from being sucker punched. Brandon didn’t defend himself.
Justin glowered and kept his fists raised. “You made her cry.”
“I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know.” Brandon got into the jeep and left. He went to the beach and ran several miles. The steady beat of feet pounding the sand didn’t bring oblivion. All it did was punctuate the unending waves of grief at having hurt the only woman he’d ever love.
Finally, he walked to cool down and sat in the icy solitude of the star-blanketed beach. God, don’t let her hurt like this. Do whatever it takes. If she’s never going to come to You, then let her fall in love with someone who will make her happy. I’ll take the pain. I’ll handle the loneliness. Just please, God—don’t make Della pay for my decision to follow You.
❧
“We’ll make camp here tonight.”
Della watched in disbelief as Chet unbuckled his backpack and let it drop to the ground. The guide chose a lousy location. They were close to water—too close, because the water wasn’t moving much at all. It smelled brackish. The clearing was large enough to handle their group, but the ground sloped. The wind cut through at a nasty angle, too.
Ten other hikers struggled out of their gear. Della decided not to give her opinion. Resigned to slapping on extra bug repellant, she decided to position herself between other tents so they’d serve as nominal windbreaks.
Chet sauntered up. “Della, you’ll be with Misty and Madeline.”
“I thought you said they’re two-man tents,” she said.
He studied her from head to foot and shrugged. “Man. You’re all woman, and—”
“Hold it right there.” She glowered at him.
“Hey, I’m not trying to come onto you or anything.” He waved his hand as if to erase the words. “I meant to say, you’re all women. The other two are small. Three of you’ll fit fine.”
She didn’t say another word. He’d gotten the message that she wasn’t about to put up with any flirting. Still, just about the last thing she wanted was to share a tent with the two bickering teens. The sisters didn’t want to be here, and they’d made no secret of that fact. If tonight went badly, Della decided she’d have cause to ask for a reassignment. For now, she wanted to put up the tent and eat.
Rugged Adventure outfitted its hikers—but for a small fortune. Della had borrowed Gabe’s backpack and brought her own sleeping bag and hip mat. A trip to the surplus place filled in the rest of the essential gear. Seeing the poor quality of the othe
rs’ sleeping bags made her glad she’d seen to her own equipment.
“Tents!” the other worker shouted as he dropped bundles every few feet. The fact that one of the employees carried the tents had seemed like a great idea. Della didn’t feel capable of toting the additional weight. Now that she saw the flimsy nylon structures, she consoled herself with the fact that California Septembers weren’t especially cold. They’d brought five, two-man tents. With ten campers, two workers. . . The math simply didn’t add up.
“I guess we’d better pitch this thing,” Della said to Misty.
“The only thing Misty is pitching is a fit,” Madeline said as she kicked the small bundle.
“All I care about is having a warm, dry place to sleep.” Della methodically opened the bundle and started fitting together the fiberglass framing poles. The girls disappeared, so she ended up doing the work by herself. Once she had the tent up, Della started driving in stakes.
Chet came over. “Here. I’ll do the rest.” He took a stake, shoved it straight down into the ground, and banged on it with a hammer.
It’s wrong. It should go in at an angle, just like Brandon showed me. Especially with the wind, we’ll need it secured. “I can do this. Really. Why don’t you help someone else?”
“Not a problem. It’ll only take a minute.” He flashed her a smile. “Besides, it gives me an excuse not to cook.”
“What’s for supper?”
“Shish kabobs. Packed ’em frozen, and they’ll be thawed and ready to stick on the fire.”
“Sounds good. I’m hungry.” She smiled, even though he pounded in another stake the wrong way.
Supper tasted great. The day’s activity and cool air sharpened her appetite. Della decided the trip was working out well enough. There were bound to be a few glitches here and there, but for the most part, the group seemed happy. A few songs at the campfire, rich hot chocolate, and they turned in for the night. Misty and Maddy both argued about the limited space. They complained about the hard ground.
Della wished she’d brought earplugs. She burrowed into her sleeping bag and tried to ignore them. Then she decided she’d wished they hadn’t fallen asleep. At least their arguing served as a diversion. Now she couldn’t stop the flood of memories from the times Brandon took her camping.
The wind howled. Someone snored. The corner of the tent lifted and started flapping. Della fought the crazy urge to laugh because she couldn’t decide whether it was the wind or the snore that blew it loose. In her heart, though, she knew if Brandon had tacked down that stake, it wouldn’t have given way.
They hiked farther into the San Bernardino Mountains the next day and made good time. At one point, they passed through a vacant campground. Della drank at a fountain then refilled her canteen. She wondered why they didn’t set up for the night here, but Chet clapped his hands. “Gather up. We still have plenty of light. No sissy camping. We’re stouthearted adventurers. Open trail for another hour or so before we stop.”
“Well, there’s truth in advertising,” someone said in a wry tone. “This is definitely a ‘rugged adventure.’ ”
Folks laughed and fell into step. They chattered along the path, but Della couldn’t help remembering how Brandon was as he hiked—he’d point out types of trees, plants, rocks. Interesting little facts. According to what Brandon taught her, Chet led them out of the chaparral, past the yellow pine forest, and crossed through montane meadows. From what she could judge, they’d come to the lodgepole forest. But Chet didn’t talk about the different geological regions or point out the tracks in the earth from deer or raccoons. He just plowed on ahead. Compared to her hikes with Brandon, this so-called adventure was nothing more than a harsh march.
Chet consulted the GPS then adjusted their course when a rockslide obliterated part of the trail. It added some excitement to the trek, and by the time they reached their destination, everyone needed to use a flashlight to find footing.
“You folks go ahead and pitch your tents along here.” Chet swung his arm in a line.
Della’s brow puckered. “Why not over by the rocks? Wouldn’t it be warmer there?”
“That’s where we’re having campfire.”
“Oh.” The minute Della dragged the tent to a spot, Misty and Madeline disappeared. The sisters didn’t care to do much of anything. Their parents heaved sighs and raised their hands as if to say, “Oh, well,” but Della noticed they didn’t offer to help her pitch the tent. Once she had it up, she stored her gear inside.
Chet mentioned he had a permit for them to use deadwood and to have open fires. He and the other man scraped back a clear area, made a nominal ring of stones, and started the fire. They’d worked hard while folks pitched the tents to gather the wood and chop it to size, so Della dismissed the thought that the ring was too small. They do this for a living. It’s okay.
Only it wasn’t okay. Logs slid from the pyre, and one fell outside the perimeter stones. A few dried twigs and some grass caught fire, but folks stamped it out.
That wasn’t the only problem. Chet arranged for everyone to sit against the rock wall and had the fire farther out, away from them. Brandon taught me to build a fire close to the wall so the heat would radiate back and give double the heat. . . .
A warm, hearty stew made from dehydrated stores bubbled on the fire and restored Della’s faith in Rugged Adventures. They’d had no mishaps, and Chet showed fair navigation skills when they’d run into the need for a detour. There’s not just one way to do things. Brandon knew one way, but things are working all right this other way.
Della snuggled into her sleeping bag and listened to the sisters complain about the hard ground and how cold they were. When she’d taken a closer look at their hip pads, she knew they had cause to grumble. Brandon told me those were cheap. If it froze, they’d turn into sleds, and they didn’t keep any cushion factor. Only she couldn’t share her pad—by design, they were only shoulder-to hip pieces. Even turning it sideways wouldn’t help. The quality of the sleeping bags equaled the one he’d sneered at and left behind on their first camping trip.
By the next morning, Della drank the rest of her canteen and went to the creek to refill it. The other worker chuckled as she added water purification tablets.
“See how the water’s running over all those rocks? That’s nature’s purifier. You don’t need to use those pills.”
“I thought the water had to rush over the stones and be white to be safe.” At least that’s what Brandon said.
“It’s close enough.”
Della hitched a shoulder. “Oh, well. Better safe than sorry.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she bit her lip to keep from crying. Better safe than sorry. . . Brandon always said that when he took her camping.
Seventeen
I’ve got a bad feeling about Della’s trip,” Brandon said as he rolled up an electrical extension cord.
“Nothing you can do about it.” Nathan looked out at the stakes in the bulldozed plot of earth that would become a housing development. “Put her in God’s hands.”
“I do. I have.” Brandon dumped the bright orange, coiled cord onto a piece of plywood. “The problem is, I keep snatching her back. It’s like I have her on a yo-yo string. She’s God’s. . .she’s mine. . .she’s God’s. . . .”
“You don’t know what she’s learning. Could be, God’s plan is going to unfold because of the things she finds out about herself on this trek. From what Jordan and Val tell me, when you went camping, you babied her.”
“I most certainly did not. I showed her how to do things the right way.”
Nathan shot him a telling look. “You made the decisions. Her dad and brothers do the same thing to her. Maybe on this trip, when she has to do things for herself, she’ll iron out some issues.”
“Who says Della has issues?”
“Everyone has issues. You’re having an issue right now—trying to make her out to be a saint when we both know she’s a sinner. Just because you love someone and are
loyal doesn’t mean you view them as perfect.”
“You could drive a man to violence,” Brandon muttered.
“I’m trying to guide you to reason.” Nathan unrolled the layout for the tract and weighted it down on the table. “I can’t say Vanessa’s helping, though. She insists that we need to have faith. We prayed last night, and we’ve decided to put a fleece before the Lord on your behalf.”
“What’s this fleece thing?”
“In the Old Testament. There was a mighty warrior, Gideon. He wanted to be sure of God’s will, so he set a fleece on a threshing floor one night. If it was wet and the rest of the floor was dry, then he’d take it as God’s will for him to go to battle.”
“Well? Was the fleece wet?”
“Soaking. He squeezed out a whole bowlful of water.”
Brandon nodded. “So he went to war.”
“Nope. He decided to ask God for confirmation. The next night, the fleece was to be dry, and the rest of the floor was to become wet.”
Brandon lifted a brow.
“Fleece was dry as a bone—the floor was wet.”
“So Gideon sorta bugged God, too.” For some reason, that thought pleased Brandon. He didn’t feel quite so bad for having a hard time following the Lord’s direction. “I’m gonna have to read more about that guy. Where is his story?”
“In the book of Judges.”
“Okay. So what does that have to do with me?”
“Vanessa and I prayed over the tract. We walked it last night and felt led to a particular plot. If you select that plot, we’re going to set it aside as a home for you and Della. We’ll take it as His direction for your life. If you don’t select it, I’m going to pray with you to let go of her completely.”
Brandon stared at the horizon. “I already did that. The other night at the beach. I told God if she’s not going to be His daughter, I wanted her to find someone else to love.”
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