Dillon felt the lump in her throat returning and knew she needed to do something to bolster her spirits before seeing the others. She didn’t want to be the one unhappy camper that dragged everyone else down. Her only recourse—a lesson she’d learned long ago, but sometimes forgot—was to give her heartache to God. She knew his ways were higher than hers. And she knew he could handle her brokenness . . . and that, in time, he would restore her. She would get past this.
“Hey, there.” Janelle called out as she walked out on the dock. “We were wondering what had become of you.” She came over and sat down next to Dillon. “Are you okay?”
Dillon forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“We missed you last night. I didn’t realize you’d left the campfire.”
“I was pretty worn out.”
“What a beautiful morning.” Janelle took a deep breath.
“Yes, I thought I’d take out a kayak, but someone beat me to it.” Dillon pointed to the pair on the lake. “Is that Jordan and Vivian out there?” She tried to sound nonchalant.
“I don’t know about Vivian, but Jordan was just getting up when I left.” Janelle turned to Dillon. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, Jordan is worried that something is wrong. I mean with you.”
“Oh no, I’m fine.” Dillon hated to lie but told herself it was for the right reason.
“Did Jordan do anything to offend you yesterday?” Janelle peered curiously at her.
“Why . . . I mean, what are you getting—”
“Jordan stayed up late last night talking to me about everything, Dillon. My brother really likes you. He really, really likes you. And he thought you felt the same. And then it felt like you suddenly turned chilly on him. The poor guy is confused. And if you don’t mind me saying so, he’s hurt. Jordan doesn’t usually put himself out there like that. But he was doing it for you.”
“What about Vivian?” Dillon asked. “It looked like he was putting himself out there for her too.” Now she described seeing them cozying up at Vivian’s campsite, and then horseshoes, and even the skit. “And Vivian acts like, well, you know.”
“I know that Vivian has been after Jordan for a couple of years. But he only thinks of her as a friend. He’s always made that clear. I also know that Vivian started talking to him about her calendar project at the tea party yesterday afternoon. She monopolized his time so much by showing him photos on her phone that the girls and I got bored and left.”
“Oh . . .”
“So did you misread all that?”
Dillon nodded. “I guess so.”
Janelle brightened. “Well, that’s a relief. I told Jordan over and over last night that you didn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would lead a guy on and then just leave him hanging like that.”
“No, I would never do that. Not to anyone—especially not to Jordan.”
“So you’re as interested in him as he is in you?”
Dillon nodded again.
“Well, I told the twins I’d be right back. They’re getting dressed. So I better go.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dillon stood. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth or anything yet.” As they returned to Dillon’s trailer, she was relieved not to see anyone. Especially Jordan. She suspected she looked a fright. As Janelle herded her girls out of the trailer, Dillon used the privacy to do some much-needed primping. So all her worries had been for nothing! What a silly fool she’d been. She should’ve known Jordan wasn’t like that.
CHAPTER
33
Finally, feeling ready for the day and suspecting that breakfast was probably being served, Dillon emerged from her trailer and hiked up to the group area. There, to her total surprise, everyone was waiting with balloons, a birthday banner, and a sheet cake. And suddenly everyone was singing “Happy Birthday” to her.
“Blow out your candles,” Jordan told her. “We didn’t know how many to put on, so I insisted the girls stop at thirty.”
“Thank you!” Dillon grinned at him. She took in a deep breath, and knowing that her wish was probably already coming true, she blew toward the candles. With the help of the girls, she managed to put them all out.
“Are you surprised?” Chloe asked.
“Absolutely.” Dillon nodded. “I almost forgot it was my birthday.”
“We didn’t,” Emma told her.
“This is your birthday breakfast,” Chloe said. “It was my idea.”
“The girls insisted you had to have your cake first thing,” Janelle told her. “I wanted to wait until lunch.”
“Cake for breakfast,” Dillon declared. “What could be better?”
As they ate breakfast together—bacon and eggs and birthday cake—Dillon felt fairly certain that Janelle had informed Jordan that all was well with her. At least she hoped so. Since Jordan was acting fairly normal, she tried to do the same. Still, she hoped that they’d have a chance later to talk about all this stuff. It felt like they needed to clear the air . . . and get a fresh start. Perhaps even a birthday kiss?
So when they were done eating and Jordan invited her to take a walk, she gladly agreed. They were just setting out when a small rental RV pulled into their camp area. “Someone must be lost,” Jordan said as the vehicle parked near the group area.
Dillon glanced at the gaudily painted RV van then suddenly felt sick. “Oh no!”
“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked.
“I can’t believe it,” she said in a hushed tone. “It’s—it’s Brandon.”
“What?” Jordan frowned. “Why is he here?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t seen him since—”
“Dillon!” Brandon got out of the RV, extracting what looked like a giant bouquet of red roses and, wearing a confident smile that defied all common sense, he strolled over to them. “Happy birthday, honey!”
“Brandon?” She looked at him with a horrified expression. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you even know how to find—”
“Margot told me you were here. So I rented this RV for a few days and came up to find you. The camp host said your group was over here.” He grinned. “So here I am, wishing you a very happy birthday.” He handed her the roses with a flourish.
“But I—”
“Now, don’t say anything. Not yet.” Brandon reached into his jacket pocket. “I have a very important question to ask you.”
“Brandon, don’t—”
“Please, let me say this without interruption, Dillon.” He pulled out a small blue velvet box. “It’s too important.”
“I think I should excuse myself,” Jordan said stiffly. “This looks like a private moment.”
“But I don’t want you—”
“Let him go,” Brandon said abruptly to her. And before she could stop him, Jordan was gone. Then, to her complete and astonished horror, Brandon got down on one knee and, declaring his love, asked her to become his wife.
“No, Brandon.” She folded her arms in front of her, firmly shaking her head. “I’m sorry you went to all this trouble. Especially after I already told you—over and over—that we were over and done with.”
“But this is the real deal, Dillon.” He stood, brushing off his knee. “I’m not asking you just to be my girl, or to wait a whole year. I’m asking you to marry me, Dillon. And we can do it right now if you want.”
“I don’t want!” Dillon sensed eyes on her and turned to see all her fellow campers staring down at her with way too much interest. “Come walk with me, Brandon.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him away. “You have to understand this once and for all. I am not ever going to marry you. Not now. Not next year. Never.”
“But it was what you’d always wanted. And now that I’m really ready to do it, I can’t believe you’re blowing me off like this.”
“I told you the last time I saw you, Brandon. No is no.”
“I didn’t propose to you the last time. Not like this anyway.” He held out
the velvet box. “You didn’t even look at the ring. It’s really—”
“I do not want the ring.” She paused in the shadow of some trees. “You have to believe me, Brandon. I will never marry you. Never ever.” She handed him back the roses. “Please, go.”
He looked truly dismayed.
“I’m sorry if that hurts, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you before. I wish you’d listened.” She glanced around, hoping to spot Jordan nearby . . . and desperately hoping Brandon’s sudden unexpected appearance hadn’t just set them back again. But she didn’t see Jordan anywhere.
“But I thought we made real progress when I was here last time. Remember we had that great lunch right here at this very lake. It was a good day. Remember?” Brandon was giving her his kicked puppy look, but she wasn’t buying it.
“Sure, we parted on friendly terms, Brandon. But that was all. I didn’t want hard feelings between us, but I never did anything to make you believe I’d marry you.”
“So I did all this for nothing?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, but you did.”
He scowled. “So there’s nothing left to say.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. I just wish you’d listened before. Then you wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.” She wanted to add that he was ruining her birthday, but didn’t.
Brandon just shook his head and, without another word, turned and stomped away. Dillon watched as he got back into that hideous RV and drove off. It wasn’t until he was out of sight with only a trail of dust left behind that she realized she was shaking and on the verge of angry tears. Why had he done this? And on her birthday too? How selfish.
Not ready to return to her camping friends, and wondering how she would ever live down this embarrassing episode, she decided to just walk it off. Hopefully she’d cross paths with Jordan. As she walked, she couldn’t shake the expression in his eyes when Brandon had pulled out that stupid velvet box—it was a cross between confusion and hurt. Dillon knew she’d have to explain this to him . . . and apologize for Brandon’s stupidity.
By the time she’d circled the whole campground, she felt like her breathing had stabilized and her blood pressure returned to normal. In fact, she could almost see the humor of the whole situation. She could almost imagine explaining it to Jordan and having a good laugh over the whole thing. Almost.
The campers had drifted away from the group area and Dillon went to her trailer in the hopes of finding Jordan. But it was only Janelle and the girls, packing up.
“What was that all about?” Janelle asked Dillon after they stepped outside.
Dillon sighed. “That was my delusional ex-boyfriend.” She explained about Brandon and his stubborn persistence. “I really thought I set him straight the last time he was here, but apparently he didn’t believe me. I honestly think he might be a narcissist. It’s like he only thinks of himself and what he wants.”
“Did he really propose?” Janelle asked. “With a ring and everything?”
Dillon nodded. “Unfortunately. I think he honestly thought it would turn my head, that I would forget everything and agree.”
“He does sound a bit narcissistic.”
“Is Jordan in his trailer?” Dillon glanced next door.
“No. I’m not sure where he went. He disappeared while your, uh, suitor was still here. The girls are getting their stuff out of your trailer.”
“You’re not leaving yet, are you?”
“No, we’ll stick around for lunch. And I promised them they could go swimming later on.”
“Oh, good.” Dillon looked down to the nearby beach, noticing a kayak was missing. “I wonder if Jordan is on the lake.”
“Maybe.” Janelle frowned. “I don’t want to worry you, Dillon, but he looked pretty upset when he walked away.”
Dillon nodded. “Well, hopefully I can find him and set him straight. If he gets back before I do, tell him I’m taking out a kayak.”
Before long, Dillon was on the lake, but because of the time of day, there were other boats and canoes and kayaks out as well. Trying to spot Jordan, if he was even out here, might be a challenge. But she was determined.
Finally, she thought she recognized him on the far side of the lake. Paddling full force, as if she thought he might escape her somehow, she got close enough to call out and wave.
As he paddled toward her, she prepared her statement—starting with an apology. But before she got the words out, he was apologizing to her. “I’m sorry I took off like that,” he said. “But I just couldn’t stand it.”
“I’m sorry Brandon did that,” she told him. “The poor guy needs his head examined.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I could’ve made myself more clear to him last time he was here. But he really thought he could persuade me otherwise today.”
“But he couldn’t?”
“Of course not.” She held up her hands in frustration. “I very bluntly told him that I would never marry him—ever. Hopefully he got it this time. Otherwise he should be locked up.”
Jordan shrugged. “Well, you can’t really blame him.”
“I can and do blame him,” she argued. “I’ve told him again and—”
“No, I mean you can’t blame him for loving you.” Jordan smiled. “I know how he feels.”
She blinked. “You do?”
He nodded, paddling closer to her kayak. “Yes, I do.”
“Really?” She was afraid to get too happy . . . what if she’d heard him wrong?
“I suppose I was aggravated at Brandon because I’d planned to tell you that today. It felt like he’d cut me off at the knees.”
“You’d planned to tell me . . . ?” She studied him closely.
“Yes. I’d decided that since it was your birthday, I would tell you how I really feel about you, Dillon. Then Brandon came along and . . .”
“Well, Brandon is gone now.” She smiled. “And it’s still my birthday.”
“Okay then.” He set his paddle down then reached for her hand. “I love you, Dillon. And it’s about time you knew it.”
She felt so happy that she could hardly contain it. “I love you too, Jordan.”
He pulled her closer, bumping their kayaks together in an awkward attempt to kiss her. Not just a peck either. It was a long, sweet, passionate kiss. But then, feeling dizzy—or perhaps unbalanced—Dillon felt her kayak tilting too far toward his. She grabbed for him as it toppled over, causing his kayak to follow suit. The next thing she knew they were both plunged into the chilly lake. But Jordan simply laughed and kissed her again—soggy but sweet. And she knew they were just a pair of happy campers . . . getting ready for a brand-new adventure.
CHAPTER
1
George Emerson didn’t need anybody. Or so he told himself as he carefully shaved with his straight-edged razor, just like he always did seven days a week at exactly 7:07 each morning. George knew that most men used more modern razors, but this silver implement had been left to him by the grandfather who’d helped raise him. Wiping his razor across a soft terry towel, he stretched his neck to examine his smoothly shaved chin in the foggy mirror. He could see better with his reading glasses, but after so many years of the same routine, George felt certain the job was done right.
As he closed the bathroom window, shutting out the humming “music” of his overly friendly neighbor, George wondered if there was some polite way to avoid Lorna Atwood this morning. She’d been puttering around her yard for the last ten minutes, and George felt certain it was in the hopes of catching him on his way to work.
As he replaced the cap on his Barbasol shave cream and returned his razor to its chipped ceramic mug, a pinging in the kitchen told him that the coffee was done. The automatic-timed coffee maker was one of the few modern perks that George had been talked into a few years ago. But, as with most electronic devices, he still didn’t fully trust the fancy machine. What if it got its wires crossed and decided to make coffee in the middle of the night?
; George peeked out the kitchen window as he filled his stainless steel travel cup with steaming coffee, only to see that Lorna was now sitting on her front porch. He slipped two thin slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster, removed a hard-boiled egg from the fridge, and poured himself a small glass of grapefruit juice. This was his standard weekday breakfast. On weekends he’d sometimes fry or poach himself an egg or, if feeling particularly festive, he might stroll over to the Blue Goose Diner and splurge on pancakes and bacon, which he’d leisurely consume while reading the newspaper. Although it had probably been more than a year since he’d indulged in that.
But today was Friday, and by 7:27, George’s breakfast was finished, his dishes washed. With his travel mug refilled and briefcase in hand, he locked his front door, checked to be sure it was secure, then checked again just in case. Lingering for a moment, he pretended to check his watch, glancing left and right to be sure Lorna wasn’t lurking nearby.
The sun seemed high in the sky for late May, but that was only because he’d never fully adjusted to the late-start days that Warner High had implemented last fall. Although it had disrupted his internal time clock, George had to admit that students seemed moderately more awake with an extra hour of sleep.
“Hello, Mr. Emerson,” Lorna Atwood chirped merrily.
She popped out from the shadows of her front porch like a jack-in-the-box in Lycra. “Lovely day today, isn’t it?”
He peered up at the cloudless sky then nodded an affirmative. “Looks like a good one, for sure.”
“Especially for this time of year in western Oregon. Last year it rained all the way through May and June.” She hurried over to him with a hot pink coffee cup in hand. Had she coordinated it to match her lipstick? “Now, you didn’t forget about my invitation, did you?” Lorna looked hopeful.
George feigned confusion then tapped the side of his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Atwood, but I realized that I do have other plans for tonight. I hope you’ll please excuse me.”
The Happy Camper Page 27