by Diann Hunt
“You remember who this is?” she asks, eyes shining.
Millie and Lydia nod, but it’s all I can do to close my mouth short of drooling.
“You don’t remember me, do you, DeDe?” he asks, his keen blue eyes glistening. Gray strands work through his thick dark hair, giving it a light frost. He stares into my eyes, causing my heart to give a little leap. Okay, it leaps as though I’ve just been goosed.
“I’m sorry. I’m terrible with names.” But how could I forget those eyes?
“I thought maybe you’d remember the nerd who took you to camp prom. You didn’t care what other people said; you allowed me to take you anyway.” His gaze stays glued to mine. There’s a definite zip in my adrenaline here. Reality hits me like a splash of cold water, causing my jaw to drop.
“Steve Knight?” My voice cracks as I remember the night I got mad at the guys in the camp for fighting over me, so I opted to go with Steve instead. Let me just say here and now that this man in no way, shape, or form resembles the gangly, ruddy-faced kid who took me to prom.
“That’s me,” he says almost sheepishly.
“You’ve really, um, changed,” I say, resisting the urge to squeeze his biceps.
“I hope that’s good.”
“It’s good,” I blurt before he can blink. My heart is banging against my chest like a woman shoving her way to a blue-light special. That’s it. No more caffeine.
He shrugs. “I’ve been working out a little to shake that nerd image.”
Oh, trust me, you’ve shaken it way off.
His eyes twinkle. “Anyway, it’s great to see you again. And I’m glad you remember me.”
“I remember.” Wish I had put on my other jeans. The ones I’m wearing make my hips look too big. I tell myself not to squirm or mess with my hair. My hair! The wind has wreaked havoc with it. It’s probably standing up like the crest of a cockatoo. Don’t touch it. Whatever you do, don’t touch it right now.
A smile lifts the corners of Millie’s mouth ever so slightly. What’s that all about?
“Well, change looks good on you,” Beverly says in her happy-go-lucky voice, breaking the tension. Without any hesitation whatsoever, she claps her hands again. “Shall we tour the camp?” She turns to the door, and we follow close behind her.
Steve looks away, and my fingers quickly work through my hair, smoothing down the strays, making sure I’m not a total slob. A quick pinch of my cheeks should help with the pasty look of death too. I mean, hello, everyone wants to look their best when they see old friends, right?
Harley engines vroom outside, causing us all to look up. It’s Eric Melton and his entourage. They pull into the parking lot and climb off their metal horses. Millie, Lydia, and I lock eyes. Lydia will have some explaining to do.
“Well, Beverly, how are you?” Before Beverly can answer, Eric scans the crowd and his eyes stop at Lydia. He walks over to us. “You mean my little speech was so convincing, you decided to come after all?” He exchanges a glance with his cronies and nods as if to say, “I’m da man.”
“Excuse me. I believe it was my little speech that convinced them to come,” Beverly says, grabbing Lydia’s arm to pull her away. She stops a moment and looks back at Eric. “By the way, who are you?” Suspicion sparks from her eyes as she holds Lydia’s arm protectively.
Eric runs the palm of his hand above his ear to smooth his hair. All five of them. Okay, ten. Tops.
Beverly’s eyes grow wide. She drops her hand from Lydia’s arm. “Eric Melton?”
“One and the same,” he answers as big as you please. It’s obvious to me that Eric doesn’t mind in the least that his appearance has changed. He’s comfortable in his skin. Actually, he’s downright pleased with his skin. I think we’ll just leave him in his delirium.
We make the necessary introductions, then Eric and the Biker Boys, er, uh, the Looney Tunes, join us on a tour of the camp.
Beverly turns around. “Oh, before I forget. I’ve set up a concert for us all. It’s another way to generate more money. I don’t know what kind of talent we have between us, but I know Eric and the boys play guitars, Steve and DeDe sing, I can play the keyboard, Millie plays the trumpet, and Lydia can provide refreshments.”
Whoa, rewind. Did she say, “Millie plays the trumpet”? I’m thinking that whole memory loss thing is catching.
She smiles here. “Whatever we lack, the Aspen Creek church ladies will help by gathering up their church’s talented and bringing them over to join us. They will also provide us with instruments, so I was hoping each of you could work up a number or two.”
Hope sparkles in her eyes. How can we say no to that? We smile and nod.
“Great.” She claps her hands and turns to lead the way through the camp. I’m still thinking she might want to reconsider Millie’s trumpet number, or we might have to refund some tickets.
“Oh, look!” Lydia points toward an open meadow where a herd of elk is grazing on sagebrush and bitterbrush.
Beverly lifts a proud smile as though she has something to do with it. “They come here often. I never get used to it.” Beverly turns toward the forest. “I don’t know if you remember, but we have subalpine fir, aspen, and limber pines through the forests.”
I never could remember all the names, but I love the smell of pine circling us with the breeze. I look back toward the elk and notice the colorful wildflowers that dot the open meadow. I think the Colorado columbine is one of my favorite wildflowers.
“Oh, look!” I say, pointing toward a red squirrel that scurries across the road in front of us. “Isn’t that a pine squirrel?”
“Yes, or a chickaree,” answers Millie, ever the librarian.
Watching the chickaree scamper up a tree, I remember why I loved this place as a kid.
Beverly smiles. “We have all kinds of critters around here. Let’s see, the birds are Clark’s nutcrackers, ruby-crowned kinglets, gray and Steller’s jays. You might see a snowshoe hare and, yes, even a black bear.”
Behind me, Lydia gasps. “Don’t remind me.”
“No need to worry, Lydia. As long as you’re smart about keeping food picked up, they’re not going to bother you.”
Lydia doesn’t look convinced.
“As you can see, we have some trees down that need to be cleared out, underbrush that needs to be removed, that sort of thing. Over there are the dorms.” Beverly points in the direction of a couple of brown wooden buildings. “They are in a bad state. Leaky roofs, loose floorboards. They’re too old. The church folks do what they can to volunteer their services, but, well, there’s just so much work to do and so few workers. The good news is, we have updated our kitchen to meet the new state regulations, and we’ve added air-conditioning in the dining area,” she says, looking proud. “Still, as you can see, there’s plenty to do.” She turns to the guys. “I sure hope you all know something about building repair.”
“I’m pretty good with a paintbrush, and I’ve been guilty of using a hammer and a saw,” Steve says with a grin.
The Biker Boys throw out their chests, nod, and grunt, assuring Beverly they know all about building repair. Eric tugs at his belt buckle, yanks his pants up, and lifts his chin. “I know about that stuff, Bev. You don’t need to worry; we’ll get it fixed up.” He glances at Lydia and winks.
Beverly just glows with his comment. ’Course, I could be wrong. She might be working up a sweat. I mentally calculate that she should be right around her early fifties, so I’m guessing she’s doing that whole hot flash thing too.
We walk through the dorms, taking in the chipped and faded paint on the walls, rusty nails and door hinges, loose floorboards, and leak stains on the ceilings. We evaluate the needed work and continue on through the cafeteria and chapel. The work appears almost daunting, but the guys insist we can do it.
I don’t mean to be a downer here, but with the amount of people who have turned up to help, I have my doubts.
“What was with that Steve Knight thing?” I as
k Millie once we get back to the RV.
Millie lifts her chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bats her eyelashes as though she’s a Southern belle. And let me just say she wouldn’t qualify as a Southern belle if she clanged from a steeple in Georgia.
“You know what I mean. Smiling and looking at me when Steve was talking.” I pull my sweatshirt from the dresser drawer to prepare for our campfire with the others in ten minutes. I mean, if I’m interested in him, it’s one thing, but I don’t need Millie pushing me. After that thing with Rob, I’m not ready to rush into anything. ’Course, if I was ready, Steve would definitely have my interest.
“Excuse me. I didn’t know it was a crime to smile.” Millie feigns innocence while I stare at her. “Oh, come on, DeDe, no one missed the sparks flying between you two,” she says matter-of- factly while applying white shoe polish to her sneakers.
My heart somersaults here. Either she’s right, and I am attracted to him, or I need to see a doctor as soon as I get home.
Lydia, who just finished throwing a bag of marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers into a paper sack to take with us to the campfire, stops in her tracks at Millie’s words.
“Now, you see? You’re making Lydia think something that just isn’t there. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you two—I’m not interested in another relationship.” Maybe I’ve changed my mind, but you don’t need to know that.
“No one is saying you have to have that kind of a relationship, DeDe,” Lydia says. “Just enjoy the journey. You could miss out on a good friend if you shut him out.” Her cell phone rings. She steps outside to answer it while I stare after her.
Closing my mouth, I look back at Millie, who smiles and goes through the door behind Lydia.
Jerking on my sweatshirt, I reluctantly follow. My heart is telling me to give it a try, but I’m not ready to be that vulnerable again. So what if Steve’s eyes crank up my blood pressure a notch and his smile, well, could melt me down to a puddle? Who cares if he could pick me up with one arm behind his back? Can I quickly forget what I’ve been through with Rob? My heart screams yes. My mind says no.
I wonder which one will win.
Millie snaps candid pictures of our little group as each one searches the surrounding area for pine needles and wood branches for kindling. We’re soon sitting on logs and hay bales around a crackling fire that shoots tiny sparks into the night air. Millie and Lydia scoot their log a little farther from the fire than the rest of us. Lydia’s eyes are red, so I’m guessing her phone call was from one of her boys and the conversation didn’t go well.
Not wanting to draw attention to Lydia, I look back toward the fire. It’s a good thing I have on my sweatshirt. I’m sitting close enough to the flames to singe the hair on my arms, but I don’t care. I love warmth.
A slight breeze stirs through the alpine forest, causing the leaves to rustle and the pine scent to meander our way.
“Isn’t this the most wonderful place in the world?” Beverly asks between bites of s’mores.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. “It really is heavenly.”
“Well, we’re close enough to heaven, that’s for sure,” Millie says. “I’m surprised I haven’t had a nosebleed yet.”
“The stars are so beautiful. Greg used to tell me he would reach up and get one for me.” Lydia lifts a sad smile, and suddenly things turn a bit somber.
“I was really sorry to hear about Greg, Lydia,” Steve says, sitting down beside me on the log. Goose bumps crawl up my arms. The temperature must be dropping.
“Thank you for your card. It meant a lot, Steve, really.”
Steve sent her a card? She never mentioned that—at least, I don’t remember if she did. That was thoughtful of him. Too bad all men aren’t like that. Then again, who knows what lurks beneath his manners? I mean, what drives him to do the things he does? No one would have guessed Rob’s hypocrisy. Least of all me.
“So what do you do for a living, Steve?” If I ask enough questions, we’ll eventually find what he’s made of.
“I own a boat business in Florida.”
My heart skips to my throat. “You live in Fl—Florida?”
“Yeah, why?” He pops a marshmallow in his mouth and looks at me.
“Um, I just didn’t know that.”
“DeDe lives in Florida,” Millie offers.
Attempting an evil glare, I send it her way, but she returns a sweet smile. I have half a notion to pulverize her with a bag of marshmallows.
Steve’s eyes study me, and I try not to squirm. Let me just point out that he’s sitting so close to me that if he was a magnet and I was a paper clip—well, we’d be inseparable, that’s all.
We discuss where we live and the fact that we’re about four hours from each other. I’m not going to analyze how I feel about that right now. With his magnetism, I’m having enough trouble just staying on my side of the log.
“Do you remember Ethel Belle?” Steve asks with a laugh.
“Oh, you mean the camp warden?” Eric takes an ambitious bite of his hot dog, dropping a blob of ketchup onto his paper plate.
“That’s the one,” Steve says. “Boy, you girls could sure get her stirred up.”
“Now, why are you looking straight at me when you say that?” I’m acting all offended here.
Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Well, let’s just say you have a reputation.”
“No, let’s say I have a life,” I correct him.
Steve lets out a hearty laugh, and something about that makes me feel warm all over. My dad laughs a lot. Probably makes me think of him.
While moonlight sprays over the camp, we talk about our camp days, the good, the bad, and the ugly. We also discuss the concert and make a rough schedule of the program. Darkness and night sounds surround us.
Lydia’s gaze keeps shooting toward the forest.
“Are you all right, Lydia?” Beverly asks.
The question appears to startle Lydia. “What? Oh, I’m fine, really.” Her hand reaches for her throat. “I was just wondering about, well, bears.” Once again she looks toward the forest.
Eric laughs. “Oh, you don’t need to worry, honey. I’ll protect you.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Lydia looks as though someone has thrown cold water on her face. Eric doesn’t seem to notice in the least.
“Well, bears do come up here, but I’ve never seen them come while we’re still out here. We do have to make sure we clean the area thoroughly, though. We can’t leave any trace of food, or they’ll trash the place before morning, tearing up anything standing in their way of a snack,” Beverly says.
“It’s the same with DeDe and her chocolate. Get in her way, and she’ll hurt you without blinking an eye,” Millie says before throwing me another innocent smile.
Everyone laughs but me.
“Well, I don’t want to be in their way,” Lydia says in a small voice, her eyes still fixed on the forest.
“It’s probably a good time to go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow. I’ll be passing out work assignments in the morning. Plan to be at breakfast at seven thirty,” Beverly says.
Millie nods.
“Oh yes. Millie has agreed to wake us with her trumpet in the morning.” Beverly smiles as though she’s doing us a favor.
Millie sits taller in her seat.
I groan. “Okay, tell me one more time, why did I come here?”
Everyone laughs. No, wait. Millie isn’t laughing. Oh, but that’s okay, because I wasn’t trying to be funny. I flash a sweet smile to Millie. If looks could kill . . .
We all set to work clearing the area and go back to our places. Lydia continues to speak of bears and her fears. Eric’s face pops into my mind. I’m thinking Lydia has more to worry about than bears. She has a wolf on her tail.
That’s enough to scare anybody.
20
A loud, annoying sound jerks me from a deep sleep. In my fog, I reach up to thump off the alarm clock, but the nois
e continues. The trumpeter blares a bad version of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” giving me a headache. That can only mean one thing.
Millie.
Suddenly everything becomes clear. I am stuck in an RV, at Aspen Creek Bible Camp, with two women who used to be my best friends, while a metal rooster crows outside my window. Need I mention that our windows are open?
Lydia yawns. “Is it that time already?”
“If, by that, you mean time to hurt Millie, the answer is yes,” I growl, yanking off my covers.
A retreat to the bathroom sounds like a good idea until I can get my attitude under control. Once I’ve finished washing my face and combing my hair, blessed quiet fills the air.
Millie clambers into the RV and snaps open her trumpet case, putting her treasured instrument inside. She looks up and smiles as big as you please. “Guess I was loud enough. At least I got you up,” she says, wearing a proud expression.
I look her square in the face. “Millie, all of Colorado is stumbling out of bed right this minute because of you.”
I’ve always had a problem with speaking my mind, and, well, today is no exception.
“May as well get used to it, DeDe. I’m gonna be the first thing you hear every morning and the last thing you see at night.” She grins savagely, sucking all the joy from the room. The woman is evil personified.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you two.”
“Give it up, Lydia. We can’t be helped.” For some reason, my own comment makes me sober. Am I beyond help? Does God think so? I’m the one who turned away from Him, but I hope He hasn’t given up on me.
Now that the music—and believe me, I use the term loosely—is over, I go outside and run through my memorized Pilates routine and then head back inside.
After my shower, we all hustle around the kitchen—bumping into one another in the process—pulling together a meager breakfast of oatmeal, toast, juice, and coffee. At last, we sit down.
“It’s cool that we’re parked near a bird feeder,” Lydia says, scooping some sugar into her cereal bowl. “I noticed Cobbler watching the birds eat. I think she enjoys it.”