Reach for Tomorrow

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Meg hung on for all she was worth until her sneakers began to skid ever closer to the edge of the pit. “Help!”

  “Don’t let go!” Kimbra yelled from the sidelines. “You can do it.”

  Meg pulled hard, watching Josh slide ever closer to the edge of disaster. A … few … more … tugs, she told herself. By now her legs felt as if they were on fire and her back muscles were screaming for mercy. Her hands ached from holding the thick rope.

  “Whose bright idea was this, anyway?” Katie gasped over Meg’s shoulder.

  “Lacey’s,” Meg grunted.

  “Remind me to kill her.”

  “Me first.”

  All at once the rope went slack and the line of girls fell backward. Instantly the rope went tight again, but Meg, completely off balance, could do nothing to stop her forward momentum. She tumbled face first into the mud. Seconds later half the line toppled in with her. She came up sputtering, to the blast of the whistle and Eric shouting, “The winners and champions, the boys’ team!”

  A cheer went up, but Lacey rose out of the mud and shouted, “You cheated!”

  “Did not,” Josh said with a laugh. “We just used strategy to defeat your superior numbers. We threw you off balance; gravity did the rest.”

  “Are we going to take this, ladies?”

  A shout of “No!” and surge of bodies brought Josh and most of his team into the mucky mire. Soon mud was flying everywhere and staff and side-liners alike were ducking.

  Eric blasted the whistle, but someone yelled, “Get him!” and moments later he too was flung into the mud.

  “Don’t touch the ref!” he kept shouting. “Remember the rules!” But his shouts were lost in shrieks of laughter as he disappeared in a tangle of muddy arms and legs.

  Every time Meg tried to crawl to the edge of the pit, she slipped and skidded back into the mud. She was so weak from laughing and slinging mud at everyone, she could scarcely catch her breath.

  By the time the staff broke out the hoses and began rinsing kids off, Meg was resigned to sitting in the middle of the pit to await her turn. Richard Holloway announced, “To the lake!” and kids took off running. Meg, her friends, and a few stragglers were left behind in the muddy hole.

  Lacey, covered from head to toe in dark brown gunk, said, “I’ve always wondered what I’d look like as a brunette. Anybody got a mirror?”

  Katie, equally slathered with mire, said, “The worst part is now we have to do their laundry.”

  “We got ripped off,” Chelsea said. Because she’d been the last in line, she wasn’t as caked with mud as the others. “I think we should be let off the hook.”

  “I still think they cheated,” Lacey said in a huff.

  “Face it,” Katie said, “they outsmarted us. We’ve got to pay up.”

  Meg agreed and wiped slop from her mouth. “Ugh, this stuff tastes awful. Let’s get out of here.”

  Suddenly a hand reached down. Meg looked up, shading her eyes from the bright, hot sun. Morgan stood over her.

  “Want some help?” he said in his lazy drawl.

  ELEVEN

  “I’m really dirty,” Meg said, feeling self-conscious. Morgan chuckled. “I can see that.”

  She felt Katie nudge her from behind, so she held out her mud-caked hand and let Morgan guide her out of the pit. He walked with her to the edge of the woods.

  “Don’t mind us,” Lacey called. “We’ll get out on our own.”

  “Hush!” Meg heard Katie say.

  Ignoring her friends, Meg said, “Well, you can’t ever say you haven’t seen me at my worst.” Her chest felt tight, and she knew it was because she was standing so close to Morgan. She tried to scrape some of the mud off her face.

  “Let me,” he said, holding out a towel. He gently wiped her cheeks, forehead, and neck. “What do you know, there’s a girl under all that gunk.”

  “I’ll never get clean again,” she said, taking the towel and wiping her arms and hands. By now the towel was sopping and a hideous brown color. She could only imagine what she must look like. “Thanks.”

  His eyes danced with amusement. “You all were good sports, and the kids had a blast. It was fun to watch.”

  “Yeah, how come you’re so clean and neat?”

  His denim shirt was only lightly spotted with mud, and she was positive it had come from her.

  “I decided not to give the guys an unfair advantage, what with my superior strength and all.”

  “Oh, you,” she chided. “You just didn’t want to get muddy.”

  “You’re right about that.” He laughed. “Let me walk you down to the lake so you can rinse off.”

  She took a step. “Yuck. I’ve got mud oozing between my toes. Feels awful.”

  He walked with her. In spite of her sticky condition, she felt light and happy. Just being around Morgan lifted her spirits. “You know,” she said, “there are people who pay hundreds of dollars to soak in mud so they can be beautiful. They must be crazy.”

  When they got to the lake, she saw the campers jumping and splashing in the water. “Come this way,” Morgan said. He led her to a more isolated area. “Go on in and wash off. I’ll wait here on the bank.”

  Meg walked out into the water shyly, knowing he was watching her. Please don’t let me fall in a deep hole, she begged silently. That was all she needed, to make even more of a fool of herself in front of him. She was sure his onetime girlfriend had been poised and ladylike, not at all like her. Odds were she didn’t go rolling around in a mud pit.

  Meg rubbed at her arms and legs, and the water swirling around her turned a dirty shade of dark brown. She held her breath and went under the surface, trying to cleanse her hair of the clinging mud. She came up and rubbed her arms again, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, her skin remained a pale brown. Finally she gave up and staggered back to shore, the water pouring off her. Her sneakers squeaked across the grass.

  “Sit with me a minute,” Morgan invited her.

  She dropped beside him in a wet heap. “I feel better,” she said, “but something tells me I’ve got a long way to go before I reach clean.”

  “You look fine to me. I like a girl who isn’t too prissy, who doesn’t mind getting a little mussed up. On my aunt and uncle’s ranch, we get city dudes all the time trying to catch a piece of the Old West. They buy all these fancy clothes—as if a horse cares what you look like—and within days these same people are wearing faded jeans and the most comfortable shirts they can find. Ranch life isn’t for the fashion-conscious.”

  Meg laughed. “My dad’s a surgeon, so mostly he wears scrubs all day. In medicine you’d better like green because that’s the color you’re wearing most of the time.”

  They sat in a comfortable silence, looking out over the lake. A heron, wading along the shore, darted its long beak under the water and came up with a small fish, which it quickly devoured. The sound of the campers’ laughter started to fade, and Meg said, “I think everyone’s headed back to their cabins to get cleaned up before supper. I’d better go too.”

  She started to rise. He caught her arm. “Could I ask you a favor?”

  Her heart seemed to trip, then go on beating. “Sure.”

  “I’ve—uh—been reading a lot of poetry lately. Some of the poets you mentioned to me.”

  “You have?” She hoped she sounded sufficiently surprised.

  “I like them. Some more than others, of course. I was wondering if you’d get together with me and help me understand them. I’d like to really catch on to what they’re saying with all those nice words. Would you do that with me, Meg?”

  If he’d asked her to walk across the lake on her hands, she would have agreed. “Of course I will. But I’m no expert. I don’t always get the point of a poem either.”

  “You’ve got to be smarter about it than I am,” he said with a grin. “The words are pretty, but the meaning sometimes escapes me.”

  “I’ll sure try to help,” she told him.

&n
bsp; He helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk you home.”

  Her legs felt rubbery, both from the exertion of the tug-of-war and from Morgan’s proximity. “Thanks,” she said. “The hot water’s probably all used up by now anyway.”

  “I’ve got a shower down at the barn.”

  “That’s all right,” she said hastily as images of herself in his shower flitted through her head. “I need to get fresh clothes and all. Plus, because of our big mouths, we’ve got laundry, bedmaking, and serenading to do.”

  They were at the cabin now, and she saw her girls peering out through the screens and heard them giggling and whispering.

  “Can you meet me at the barn tomorrow night after supper?” Morgan asked.

  “I’ll be there.” She walked into the cabin, fairly floating off the ground.

  The next morning after breakfast, Katie went to Josh’s cabin to keep her part of the tug-of-war bargain. Meg had gone on to Kevin’s cabin, and they had agreed that the next morning Chelsea would make Kevin’s bed while Lacey made Josh’s. Katie entered the cabin cautiously and was relieved to discover that it was empty. The area the boys used looked fairly neat, but the room off to the side where Josh stayed looked as if a bomb had gone off in it.

  Shocked by the disarray, Katie grumbled that he’d probably trashed the place on purpose just so she’d have a mess to clean up.

  She set to work. Clothes lay in heaps, so she sorted through them, piling the dirty ones in a corner to take with her to the laundry room when she left. She picked up a T-shirt and was struck by the scent of Josh’s familiar aftershave that clung to the fabric. Her heart lurched as she remembered nights of being in his arms, the wonderful fragrance enveloping her.

  She opened his closet door and fingered the few clothes hanging there. She saw a shirt she’d bought him, now faded from being laundered so many times. She thought of the time they’d been together at the Transplant Games, of the fun they’d had, of his soft kisses in the moonlight.

  With a shake of her head she shut the door on the closet and on the memories.

  She went to his bed and was dismayed at the snarl he’d made of his sheets. She threw everything off the bed, then remade it, making sure the corners were tucked in neatly and the top blanket folded properly. She picked up his pillow and found stray hairs. She hugged the pillow and buried her face in it, recalling all the times she’d snuggled against his broad chest, listening to the beat of his heart while he smoothed her hair and whispered, “I love you, Katie.”

  She jerked herself into the present, fluffed the pillow and tossed it on the bed, then turned her attention to his dresser. A photo caught her eye, and she picked it up. It was of Josh and a smiling girl with long, dark hair. They had their arms around each other, and it was obvious they were at a party. Across the bottom, a feminine hand had written: To the good times! Love, Natalie.

  Katie’s heart thudded and her throat constricted. So this was his new girlfriend. She was pretty. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why Josh liked her. Confronted by the image of the girl, Katie felt the sting of jealousy.

  She was scrutinizing the photo so hard that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her and had no idea that she was no longer alone until she heard Josh’s deep voice ask, “Can I help you, Katie?”

  TWELVE

  Katie dropped the photo as if it were on fire. She spun around. “I—I didn’t know you were here. I thought I was alone.”

  “I just came back for Andy’s catcher’s mitt. We’re getting up a game of baseball.”

  She absolutely hated being caught snooping. And Josh had caught her red-handed. She held her head high in an attempt to restore her dignity. “I’ve made your bed and cleaned up a little. The place was a mess.”

  “I’m a messy guy. You know that.”

  Back home, when they had dated and she’d gone to visit him at his grandfather’s, his room had often been less than orderly. She’d joked with him about it and he’d told her, “What I need is a girlfriend who loves junking up a place as much as I do.” She wondered if Natalie was that kind of girl.

  “Well, it’s none of my business,” she said with a shrug, and started past him toward the heap of dirty clothes.

  He stepped around her and up to his dresser. “What do you think of Natalie?” he asked.

  Katie’s cheeks felt hot. “I hardly got a look at her.”

  “She’s a nice girl. You’d like her.”

  Katie doubted that. “Maybe I can meet her sometime.”

  “Maybe.” He set down the photo. “Katie, I hope that when we get back home we can be friends again.”

  “We are friends. Aren’t we?”

  “You’ve gone out of your way to ignore me. That’s not how friends treat friends.” He sounded hurt.

  Ashamed, Katie shrugged. “It’s nothing personal, Josh. I’m just giving us both lots of space.”

  “If we had any more space between us, I’d be on the moon.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “This summer has really been great so far,” she said. “I like being here. I like having you here.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, Josh. It’s nice to look up and see you every day. Like old times.”

  He flashed her a smile that almost made her heart melt. “Thanks for telling me that. It helps.”

  “Helps?”

  “Helps me believe that we aren’t a hopeless case.”

  She smiled shyly. “Nothing’s hopeless.” She bent and picked up his heap of clothes. “Except maybe your laundry. It looks pretty grim.”

  “Thanks for doing it.”

  “You beat us. I owe you, remember?”

  “Well, we did sort of trick you.”

  “I know, but we’ll get over it.”

  She eased out the door, clutching the clothes, and the last sound she heard as she walked toward the laundry room was Josh whistling.

  That night at supper in the rec hall, Katie sat with her friends, picking at her Jell-O. “What’s the matter?” Lacey asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Lacey leaned over to the others. “Which is shorthand for ‘Lots, but I’m not going to tell you-all.’ ”

  “Can’t a person have a personal thought around here?” Katie asked.

  “Sounds like a Josh encounter to me,” Lacey said with authority as she leaned back in her chair.

  Katie was starting to snap, “No, it wasn’t,” when the rec doors opened and Josh, Kevin, and Eric strolled in. They wore makeshift Mexican-style out-fits—big, cheap sombreros and horse blankets thrown around their shoulders. Eric carried a guitar, and the other two held roses in their teeth. They slowly walked over to where the girls sat and bowed from the waist.

  “We have come to sing for you,” Kevin announced in a terrible Spanish accent.

  “I thought we were supposed to sing for you,” Katie said. The three boys looked so ridiculous that she could hardly keep from laughing aloud.

  “We have heard all of you sing,” Josh said. “It is not a pretty noise.”

  “Why, you …” Lacey picked up a blob of Jell-O as if to toss it at them, but Chelsea grabbed her hand.

  “Methinks the señorita is miffed,” Eric said. He’d drawn a thin mustache on his upper lip with eyebrow pencil.

  Kids were leaving their seats and gathering around the girls’ table. “Hey, Josh,” one boy called out. “Are those my shower shoes you’re wearing?” He was a big kid, heavyset and bald from chemotherapy.

  Katie looked at Josh’s feet and saw that he wore shower sandals shaped like little boats. She muffled her laughter with her hand.

  “We have a song for the pretty girls,” Josh said in an equally bad Spanish accent. He glanced at his compadres. “The music, Señor Eric.”

  Eric strummed the guitar, and together the three boys sang “Wind Beneath My Wings.” They were not quite on key, but as they went along, they began to sound decent, almost good. And when they sang the refrain, Josh looked straight into Ka
tie’s eyes.

  She felt the look all the way to her bones.

  When the song was over, the campers cheered and stomped. Lacey shook her head, and Chelsea gave Eric a dreamy look. Meg leaned over to Katie and said, “So, do you think they have a shot at singing careers?”

  “Probably not,” Katie answered, but her insides were still quivering from the expression in Josh’s eyes.

  The three boys offered dopey grins, handed each girl a rose, and bowed one final time. “However, señoritas,” Kevin said, “this was just a demonstration of how proper singing is done.”

  “Yes,” Josh said. “Make certain your song to us is equally well done.”

  Lacey stuck out her tongue.

  The three boys laughed and moved out of the rec center. Campers tagged after them, knocking off their sombreros and taking turns wearing them.

  “Now, how are we going to follow their act?” Chelsea asked.

  Lacey rolled her eyes. “Who wants to?”

  “It’s our turn tomorrow night to sing to them,” Chelsea said. “We’ve got to do something spectacular.”

  “Yeah, Lacey,” Katie chimed in. “This is all your doing anyway. Think of something.”

  Lacey sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll come up with some kind of idea. But the three of you had better go along with it.”

  “Suits me,” Meg said with a shrug. “I’d love to inflict terminal embarrassment on the three of them.”

  “Not Eric,” Chelsea said quickly. “I’m sure the other two dragged him into this.”

  “So we’ve got a little soft spot for Eric, have we?” Lacey asked.

  Chelsea shrugged self-consciously. “I think he’s cute. Don’t you?”

  “He thinks he’s cute too,” Lacey said.

  “That’s not kind,” Chelsea said.

  “Maybe. But it’s the truth.”

  Meg kept quiet, glad she had never told any of them about her canoe adventure with Eric. Ever since that night, they had been polite to each other, but he’d gotten the message that she wasn’t interested in a relationship with him and had left her alone.