“How are you doing? You seem a bit distracted.”
Trevor kept his gaze planted forward. “I have been distracted. I never knew I’d be dealing with this again. I guess I dealt with it by deciding it was no longer a part of my life. I can’t say that anymore.”
“You can’t,” Kyle agreed. “It still doesn’t seem right that she came back without any forewarning.”
“Even if I’d had forewarning,” Trevor remarked offhandedly, “I’m not sure what I would have done besides leaving camp for awhile. I suppose it’s a little too late for that.” He turned from his friend and began walking away. “I’ll check in with you later. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I will,” came the unemotional reply.
“Brent and Brad, if you want to stay with our group, then you need to be a part of this craft activity,” Whitney warned the two active twins she and Jenny had been assigned recently. “This is where we’re supposed to be for the next hour and a half and this is where you need to be, especially without any more complaining.” Whitney had felt a little uncertain about accepting Brent and Brad into their group when Kyle Fisher had come to her a couple of days earlier and mentioned they were “a bit more aggressive than some of the others and they needed some special attention, if possible. Could she take them on?”
Whitney had accepted the assignment even though she’d felt somewhat hesitant about adding more numbers to their group. Besides, she didn’t want Kyle to think she didn’t intend to do her part bearing the workload at the camp, especially since he seemed to watch her with unabated curiosity whenever he came around. The twins had thankfully turned out to be good kids. They were definitely active but as long as she maintained a lot of good one-on-one time with them, they seemed to do fine.
“I don’t want to make any of that prissy girl stuff,” Brad, one of the twins, had been grumbling, his twelve-year-old features set in firm disgust as they faced the circular craft tables before them. “They can’t make me do those stupid beads. I want to get out of here and shoot some arrows.”
“Archery is our next rotation,” Whitney calmly explained, keeping her voice on an even keel. “Since you have to wait for an hour and a half to go there anyway, you might as well do something fun and entertaining while you’re waiting. I’ll tell you what. You both come with me and we’ll do something a little different than everyone else. I’ll help you make some geckos out of those beads.”
“Geckos?” Brad repeated, twisting his nose in disinterest.
“My younger brother taught me how to do it,” Whitney explained. “He learned it at a summer camp. It can’t be too bad if a lot of boys learned how to do it, can it be? Come on. I’ll show you.” She pulled the reluctant twins over to a separate table, grabbed some beads and fish line and then began showing them how to string the beads. “Follow my lead and we’ll do it together,” Whitney said. “We’ll make two—one for your dad and one for your mom.”
“Not one for my dad,” Brad said in a low, disapproving tone. “No way.”
“Why not one for your dad?” Whitney asked curiously, trying to keep them on task. “Tie it around like this, Brent, and then back through the bead like that. See? There you go. Why not one for your dad?” she questioned Brad again.
“Our Dad left us a few weeks ago,” Brad explained in a cold monotone. “He doesn’t live at our house anymore. My mom and dad are getting divorced.”
“I see,” Whitney acknowledged in abrupt understanding. It didn’t take much to understand where some of the twins’ recent aggression had come from. “I think it’s really hard on kids when their parents get divorced. I bet you two are having a pretty rough time right now.”
Brad shrugged in pretended indifference. “We’re used to it. Dad hasn’t been spending much time with us anyway. It’s not much different now.”
“Are you still sad that it happened?” Whitney questioned.
“I guess so,” Brad said. “My mom cries sometimes at night when she doesn’t think we can hear. I always can. My room is right next to hers. She shuts the door but I can still hear.”
“I’m sorry,” Whitney said, troubled by the information. “It’s hard to see someone you love hurting like that, especially when there isn’t much you can do to take away the pain.”
“Yeah,” Brad said, turning his head away from her gaze. “I guess so.”
Whitney subtly studied Brad’s profile as he pretended absorption with the beads. His small confession at the craft table touched her heart. It was almost as if, in some small way, he needed her listening ear. It felt good to Whitney to have this chance to try to help him, to get out of her enclosed, claustrophobic world where she thought only of herself and her problems and finally give a little attention to someone else for a change. It had been good for her to come back to this camp—if not to settle the past between her and Trevor Matthews, to at least feel like she had some small purpose in her life again.
Whitney looked at Brad and smiled in understanding. If she could help him while she was here, perhaps her own heart wouldn’t feel as sore and unsure as it currently did. Like Brad, she faced her own similar confusion as to what she was doing in her life, especially when her purpose in coming back here seemed unobtainable—almost unreachable. She could see that Trevor Matthews wanted to keep her at a safe and guarded distance and did not want to even rekindle a friendship or any other type of association. Trevor wouldn’t speak to her and he hardly ever noticed her, as if she had become part of the distant scenery. She had obviously faded completely from his life. The knowledge of his disinterest, in some ways, made Whitney feel almost as lost as her little friend, Brad. But, Whitney thought with inward determination as she glanced at Brad’s busy brown head, at least she and Brad could be lost together. There had to be some consolation in that, wasn’t there? She turned her attention back toward the twins, trying once again to force thoughts of Trevor from her mind.
Later that evening, when the kids at the camp had settled in for the night, Whitney sat calmly visiting in the Recreation Room with Jenny and some of the other counselors when another counselor, Mindi Garrett, walked in and directly over toward Whitney, appearing flustered. “Whitney, I’m sorry to interrupt this but one of the twins—Brad, I think it is—just got in a fight with one of his bunkmates over in Cabin 4. Would you come talk to him, please? He’s being unreasonable even after I informed him about camp rules about fighting. You seem to know how to work with him. I told him one more infraction like this and his parents would have to come up and get him. He doesn’t seem to be listening to me.”
Whitney got up immediately. “I’ll go talk to him. Was Brent in on it, too?”
“No,” Mindi said, still frustrated. “They thankfully put them in different cabins. Follow me. I’ll take you to him.”
Whitney followed Mindi’s somewhat plump figure outside as they wended their way over the bumpy trail toward Brad’s cabin. When they arrived, Brad sat on his bunk bed with his arms folded across his front, looking impenetrable as the other five boys in his room sat in a small group opposite him. Brad’s brown hair was mussed and he didn’t change his glaring frown, even for her. Whitney could see his earlier opponent nursing a nosebleed, gathering quiet sympathy from the four boys surrounding him. Whitney walked directly toward Brad. “You and I need to talk.”
“Why?” Brad asked, his nose turned up in resentment.
“I think you know why,” Whitney replied firmly. “Come on. It’ll be just you and me. There’s a bench outside where we can sit and talk privately. Come on.”
For a moment, Brad looked as if he might try to fight her, as well, but he grudgingly gave in. He kicked his feet off the bed, stood and tromped moodily after her, still frowning. They were soon sitting on the outside bench, enfolded in the warm night air. “What happened in there, Brad?” Whitney asked.
“That guy’s a total jerk,” Brad complained in open resentment. “He kept singing and laughing and bugging me. He wouldn�
��t stop even when I asked him to so I let him have it.”
“You’re going to run into a lot of jerks in your lifetime, believe me,” Whitney said, “but you need to learn to how to handle them in ways other than yelling and fighting. You do realize if something like this happens again, they’ll call your parents and make you go home. They’re very strict with that rule. I’ve seen kids sent home before.”
“Who cares?” Brad asked.
“You care, I hope.”
“I don’t care,” Brad insisted.
“Well, I care,” Whitney countered. “I’ve had a lot of fun being with you this week. I don’t want you to have to go home. Besides, you’re a good kid—better than I believe you behaved tonight. And I should know. I’ve seen a lot of different kids come through this place.”
“You haven’t,” Brad argued.
“I have.”
“No way,” Brad said. “Mindi said you only started working as a counselor for our group.”
“That’s true for this year but I used to work at this camp a long time ago.”
“You didn’t,” Brad said.
“I did,” Whitney calmly claimed.
“When?” Brad challenged her.
“A few years ago. I stopped because I was in an accident.”
Brad turned to look at her in the semi-darkness. He seemed interested in that. “You were in an accident?”
“I was.”
“What kind of accident?”
“A four-wheeling accident,” Whitney told him. “Have you met Trevor Matthews, the man in charge of this camp—the tall, dark-haired one?”
Brad nodded.
“He and I went four-wheeling one night and rolled down the mountain on the four-wheeler. I got knocked unconscious and I was taken to the hospital. They thought I might die or be permanently disabled because of what happened.”
Brad had been listening carefully. He had forgotten his earlier displeasure and had become caught up in her story. “They thought you might die?”
“They did but only for a few days,” Whitney explained. “Then I slowly got better. It took me two long years to become as well as I am right now but I’m back again, just in time to be your counselor and to get to know you like I’ve been able to do. I want to tell you something. The minute you told me about your parents’ divorce, you became my close and special friend. Both you and I have some pretty tough knocks to deal with in our lives right now but we’re going to come out on top of them. Don’t you agree?”
Brad dropped his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“We are,” Whitney said decisively. “But we’re not going to get anywhere with our fists and fighting. I want you to go back in there, apologize to your wounded friend and then apologize to Mindi. She said you kept talking back to her.”
“She kept yelling at me,” Brad retorted.
“Because she wants you to keep the rules just like I want you to keep the rules,” Whitney said. “Do you think you can do those two things and then stay out of trouble for the rest of the session?”
“I don’t know,” Brad said.
“You can,” Whitney responded. “It’s just a matter of if you will.” Whitney stood from the bench. “Come on. Let’s go make those apologies and then you’d better get to bed. From what I remember, you have a three-hour horseback ride tomorrow, lunch included. Am I right?”
Brad nodded.
“Doesn’t that sound fun?” Whitney asked.
“Sort of,” Brad confessed.
“Then let’s get going,” Whitney said. She motioned him to follow her as she began walking toward the door. Brad dutifully complied, keeping his features slanted downward as he did.
Chapter Four
Whitney had been sleeping soundly later that night when she became abruptly awakened by a loud pounding on her cabin door. She sat up groggily and glanced over at Jenny’s silhouetted figure. “Who’s that?” she questioned, pressing her crumpled hair from her face.
“I have no idea,” Jenny hastily replied as she sat up in her bed, her sleep-laden features barely illuminated by the hazy light that came from the quarter moon shining though their window. Jenny quickly lifted herself off her bed, her bare feet lightly scraping against the floor as she moved toward the door. When she opened it, Trevor Matthews stood outside, a flashlight in one hand, his features scarcely discernible above the thin beam. “I’m sorry to have awakened you but there was a minor accident a couple of hours ago,” Trevor informed them. “Everything is going to be fine but one of the twins was jumping off the rafters in the stable with some of his friends. He slipped and ended up landing on one of the four-wheelers below. Kyle took him to the hospital and just called me. He ended up getting stitches and they’re setting his broken arm but he’s asking to see Whitney.”
Whitney got up and walked over directly beside Jenny, shielding her eyes from the beams from Trevor’s flashlight. “Is it Brad or Brent?” Whitney asked.
“Brad,” Trevor said.
That didn’t seem too surprising, Whitney inwardly surmised. “Let me put on some clothes and I’ll be right with you. I’ll hurry as fast as I can.” Whitney turned, grabbed her clothes and then went into the back room before quickly changing. She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, said a distracted goodbye to Jenny and then walked outside. Trevor already sat inside the camp Jeep that stood idling directly outside their cabin and Whitney walked over to join him. She slipped onto the passenger seat, closing the door securely after her. “What time is it?” Whitney questioned.
“A little after midnight,” Trevor answered.
“What time was Brad taken to the hospital?” Whitney asked, still trying to awaken fully.
“He was taken in around ten-thirty,” Trevor informed her.
“What was he doing out that late?”
“He and his cabin mates broke curfew and decided to have some fun together,” Trevor explained. “We probably wouldn’t have known about their little escapade if he hadn’t been hurt. They snuck out past their chaperone who didn’t even hear them leave.”
Whitney glanced at the darkened landscape outside, twisting her lips in reluctant understanding. Brad must have been trying to make amends for his earlier fight by taking his roommates on an adventure, hoping to win back their respect and admiration. Little did he realize the price he’d have to pay for doing it. Whitney still felt compassion for Brad’s attempt. She knew he had been trying to make things right with his new friends. “What will they do with Brad?” Whitney questioned. “Will they keep him at the hospital overnight?”
“His parents are driving up and will pick him up as soon as they can. We got in touch with his mother and she didn’t want the expense of an overnight stay.”
“Probably because she and her husband are divorcing,” Whitney informed him. “Brad told me about it earlier. I believe that event has something to do with his current irresponsible behavior.” Trevor glanced over at her after she’d spoken but he didn’t say anything in reply.
Whitney and Trevor continued to drive in silence on the long dirt road toward the highway, the only sound about them the steady hum of the Jeep’s motor and the crunching gravel beneath the spinning wheels. It seemed strange to Whitney to be sitting next to Trevor in the quiet darkness. She hadn’t spoken to him since her inane attempt to explain her sudden arrival back at camp. He seemed quiet and contemplative, his features unreadable in the dim interior lights that shone about them. His dark eyes stayed unerringly planted on the road.
Once they came to the T-junction and hit the paved highway, Trevor picked up speed and in less than twenty minutes, they had arrived at the hospital. As they drove toward it, Whitney faintly recalled being there after her own accident two years ago. The old tan brick structure seemed somewhat recognizable in the bright lights that blazed out from the front entrance. She felt somewhat self-conscious about her disheveled appearance but she tried not to show her embarrassment as they parked the Jeep and walked toward the sliding glass doors tog
ether. “Kyle Fisher stayed with Brad while I came to get you but he and I need to fill out some paperwork at the front desk,” Trevor explained as they entered. “You can go see Brad now.”
“I’ll do that,” Whitney said, relieved to be able to visit him on her own.
Kyle Fisher had been sitting in the front lobby, looking tired and spent, but he got up immediately when he saw Trevor and Whitney walking toward him. “Brad is just down the hallway in Room 123,” he told Whitney. “He’ll be glad to see you. They just got through casting his arm and they told me he wasn’t too happy when they had to set it.”
“I’ll go see him right away,” Whitney replied as she quickly walked away from them and down the hallway toward Brad’s room, her tennis shoes squeaking lightly on the shiny, polished floors. Brad’s door had been opened part way so she knocked lightly before she pushed her way inside the room. Brad was alone lying on the hospital bed with his clean, white cast and a fresh bandage on his stitched forehead. The stark whites were a vivid contrast against his dark jeans and blue T-shirt, a T-shirt that still looked somewhat ragged and dusty from his earlier escapade. A late-night show glowed from the TV above him but the sound had been muted to a low hum.
When she first approached, Whitney thought Brad might be asleep but he turned immediately when he heard her walking toward him. “Brad,” Whitney greeted him, summoning up a smile. “They told me you wanted to see me.”
Brad wasn’t one to show his emotions easily and he had intended to put on a brave show, but Whitney could quickly see the trace of tears on his dark lashes as he looked over at her. “You’ve had quite a night, I see,” Whitney said as she went toward him and sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to bump his injured arm as she did. “I imagine this hasn’t been too fun for you.”
“It hurt really bad,” Brad told her, gulping noticeably as he spoke. “They just got done with this.” He lifted his cast toward her.
“And you have a long line of stitches on your forehead,” Whitney said. “You’ll have a scar similar to mine.” She turned her head and showed her scar to him, tracing it slowly with her finger. “Now we have two things in common. We will both have permanent mementoes of this camp.”
Destiny Interrupted Page 4