Ryan squats down next to him. “Hey, Jet.”
Jet’s intense stare settles on Ryan’s face, but he doesn’t respond.
“Want to join us? I could use a strong kid on my team.” Jake kneels as well.
The boy scoops up dirt in his hands then watches it filter through his fingers. “No.”
“That’s because he wants to join me on the winning team,” Ryan jokes.
The cold annoyance turns to a fiery scowl, his wrath aimed at Jake. “Why are you even here? You’re rich and famous. Why would you waste your summer with a bunch of loser kids? Does it make you feel better about yourself?”
Yikes.
Jake closes his eyes for a moment then turns to Jet. “You’re right, I have been pretty lucky in my life. You know what my favorite part of fame is? It’s the chance to share my belief that God gave us all amazing gifts and talents. I’m sure you have some pretty cool interests or skills. The key is finding a way to use those interests to help others.”
A shadow passing over his face, Jet clenches his grimy fist. “My brother thought that too. Lot of good that did him. It’s better to play the cards you’re dealt and forget your dreams, or you’ll end up dead.”
I wince. If the guys can’t reach him, who can? We may need some divine intervention.
Ryan runs his hand through his hair. “You know, I can’t really relate to what you’ve been through. Horrible things happen, and I’m so sorry you lost your brother, but maybe you have a chance to fulfill his dreams now.”
“Whatever. Just leave me alone.” Jet glares off in the distance, shutting everyone out.
Jake stands. “Hey, man, if you ever want to talk, you know where you can find us.”
With that, the guys head towards the ball field. As Sophie and I make our way to the parking lot, I pray that someone this summer will be able to reach that kid.
When the boys come into the dining hall to join us for dinner, I can hardly keep my excitement in check. “Wait till you hear! It’s so exciting! This camp has a secret.”
Ryan lifts his eyebrows at my exuberance.
“Wait,” Sophie says. “What happened?”
My enthusiasm caused me to miss the obvious. They’re both limping and covered in dirt. Dried blood is smeared across Ryan’s arm.
Jake slumps onto the bench next to Sophie. “The kickball game was a little intense.”
I search Ryan’s face, exhaustion making his features droop. “Playing kickball with a bunch of kids was that grueling?”
An indiscernible look passes between the guys.
Sophie’s eyes narrow. “You guys are athletes; a friendly ball game shouldn’t have been that difficult.”
“Tell your cousin that.” Jake rests his head on his hand.
A slight grin forms on Ryan’s tired face. “It kinda turned into a battle. Neither of us wanted to lose, so we played a little rougher than necessary. When the kids noticed, they joined in the intense matchup. At one point, I beamed the ball at Jake as he tried to steal second.”
Jake grimaces. “Yeah, thanks for that. I can feel the welt forming.” He turns to Sophie. “Don’t worry though, I got him back. As he was sprinting towards home, I threw the ball at his legs. You should’ve seen him trip and slide across the dirt.”
That explains the blood.
Ryan reveals his scraped-up forearm. “Our little competition was a hit though. With every confrontation we had, the kids screamed in excitement.”
Not sure that I should ask but can’t help myself. “So, who won?”
“When the bell rang for dinner, the score was tied.”
Jake rolls his neck. “Anyway, what were you saying about a secret?”
Sophie’s face brightens, and she begins rambling off the story. “The librarian in town was excited to tell us about the signs. Shortly before World War II, a young immigrant from Germany named Hans moved here to find work. He heard there were jobs around Lake Superior, so he made his way here to Minnesota.”
When she pauses for a breath, I take over the tale.
“He settled in that cute little town down the road and found a job stocking shelves at the local grocery store, befriending the owner’s daughter, Isabelle. The town consisted mostly of Swedish immigrants and when the war began, they didn’t trust the German boy. People were scared and took their fear out on Hans, banning him from entering restaurants and stores. Even Isabelle’s father caved under the pressure and fired him.”
Our tag-team story-telling makes it seem like we’ve been friends for years. Today was so much fun, perusing all the archives together. We may just have found our joint interest.
Sophie nods, then continues. “The local priest gave Hans shelter for a while but when the congregation began withholding donations, Hans left, not wanting the priest to suffer. Hans felt like everyone, including God, had turned against him and in his anger, he stole a gold cross from the altar.”
“Like Jean Valjean,” Jake says.
“You know, Les Mis!” I gasp. “It’s one of my favorite Broadway shows. You like musicals? What’s your favorite?”
Jake flinches, looking slightly scared. “No, sorry, I don’t know too many plays. I read the book.”
“Oh.” Darn. Oh, well. “Anyway, back to the story. Isabelle was heartbroken that Hans had fled. She began to avoid town and started taking long walks through the forest here. One day, Hans approached her. He had been hiding out in an old hunting cabin, living off the land. He felt guilty for stealing from the church and knew it was wrong but was hurt and confused.”
When I pause, Sophie takes over again. “Isabelle and Hans eventually fell in love. One day on her way to meet him, two men traveling through the area grabbed Isabelle. Hans confronted them and saved Isabelle from the attack but was stabbed. Isabelle ran into town, pleading with everyone to help. No one would listen except for the priest. He went with her to the woods and found the dying boy. The priest offered the young man forgiveness before he died.”
Jake cocks his head to the side. “What happened to the cross he stole from the church?”
“It was never found,” Sophie explains. “But when the priest shared this story of sacrifice, love, and forgiveness in his homily, the community felt horrible for how they’d treated him, so they named all these trails and places in his honor. Even this camp.” She pauses briefly as the story ends. “The librarian made us copies of the letters and Isabelle’s diary.”
I sigh, leaning against Ryan’s shoulder. “Isn’t that the most beautiful love story?”
Ryan shifts. “How have I never heard of this before? Do you think the gold is still hidden in these mountains somewhere?”
“Are you kidding?” I push his shoulder. “You hear the most romantic story ever and that’s what pops into your mind?”
“Um, yeah.” Ryan glances at Jake, who nods in agreement.
A mischievous grin slides onto Sophie’s face. “Well, us too. The cross was never found. Seems we have a mystery on our hands.”
WEDNESDAY
How can working with a gaggle of kids be so draining? Of course, my exhaustion might be because last night Sophie and I lay awake for hours reading the copies of Isabelle’s journal and the letters between her and Hans.
Enjoying a brief reprieve from my duties while the kids are at chapel, I’m sitting under a tree near the lake, re-reading one of the letters and contemplating how their ill-fated relationship reminds me of other famous tragic love stories, when suddenly something plops into the lake. A huge splash sends drops of water raining down on me. Startled, I look up.
The culprit stands nearby, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Jet.
Well, that’s unexpected.
“I should warn you,” I calmly tell him. “I have a little brother about your age, so I have many years of experience putting obnoxious boys in their place.”
He eyes me warily. “I’m faster than you. There’s no way you can catch me.”
“That might be true, bu
t I’m patient and will strike when least expected.”
His face crinkles as he contemplates my words. “Why are you out here all by yourself?”
“I could ask you the same question.” His talkativeness is surprising; usually he’s sulking around by himself.
“I asked you first.”
“Fair enough. I’m reading some old letters.”
“From who?”
“It’s actually pretty interesting.” I pat the ground next to me. “Want to hear about it?”
His eyebrows furrow, suspicion in his eyes, then slowly he approaches. Warily, he sits down, keeping his distance as if he thinks I might have cooties or something.
For the next twenty minutes, he quietly listens as I tell him about Isabelle and Hans and all the places around camp named after them.
“Did he ever return the cross?” He runs his fingers through the grass.
I cringe at the dirt that’s caked under his nails. “No. It might still be hidden around here somewhere.”
“Cool. What happened to those two? Did they do something stupid like get married?”
I can’t help but smile. “No.”
Reluctantly, I tell him about the tragic ending to Isabelle and Hans’ story.
“Seriously? That’s a dumb ending.”
“Totally. Although, when the town eventually heard how he saved her and apologized for stealing the cross, they all felt horrible for the way they’d treated him. So, to honor him, they named the sites after the two of them. It’s actually a beautiful story of forgiveness.”
He looks at me, his face full of questions. “But why would he do that? Sacrifice himself for her?”
“Because he loved her.”
He rolls his eyes. “Love makes you do dumb things.”
I laugh. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the definition of love. But seriously, risking everything to protect those you care about is pure love.” A thought pops into my mind. “Like when Jesus sacrificed Himself for us.”
When his eyes glaze over, I know I’ve gone too far. Darn it.
In one quick move, he jumps up but doesn’t leave like I expected him to. Instead he walks towards the edge of the lake, kicking everything in his path, grass, flowers, rocks, dirt.
What makes this little pigpen tick? And how are any of us ever going to reach him? We’re running out of time.
I join him by the water, hoping to somehow connect with him. “I’ve noticed you never join in at any of the field games.”
“I don’t really like sports.” He picks up a pinecone and flings it into the lake.
“Yeah, I can relate to not doing the whole sports thing. Every time I’ve tried has ended up in disaster.”
His dark eyes peer at me from beneath his veil of greasy bangs. “Disaster?”
I nod. “A scraped knee during tennis, a twisted ankle in basketball, a mild concussion when the softball I was trying to catch hit my head instead of my mitt. Oh, and then there was the time I tried soccer and slid into a patch of clover and was stung by a bee.”
A slight grin forms on his face. “You’re kinda accident prone.”
“Yep, that’s me. But then I got interested in theater. I liked the acting, singing, and even the dancing. It was great to finally find something I was good at. So, what are you good at?”
He looks back at his feet. “I guess music’s kinda cool.”
Shocked that he actually answered, I nod. “Yeah, music is pretty awesome. It can be a great way to forget about problems for a while too.”
One grimy sneaker kicks the dirt, creating a swirling cloud of dust around him. “Exactly.”
As the air clears, his gaze shifts from my face to something behind me. Immediately his demeanor changes. His hands sink into his pockets and his shoulders stiffen.
I turn around to see Ryan, Jake, and Sophie coming towards us.
“Hey, mind if we join you?” Ryan sets down the large backpack that he’s carrying.
“It’s a free country,” Jet sasses back.
Sophie ignores his rudeness and reaches down to grab a flat stone. “Jet, do you know how to skip rocks?”
His face softens—slightly. “What’s that?”
“Here, I’ll show you. One summer, our grandpa showed Ryan and me how to do it.”
She zings the stone towards the water. It makes three hops across the smooth surface before sinking.
Jet’s eyes widen.
Soon we’re all scouring the shore for smooth flat stones.
“Here, Sophie.” Ryan offers her one. “Here’s a good one for you.”
She reaches out to grab the large stone.
“AKK!” She pulls her hand back as a little leg wiggles out from the side of the stone.
Poor, innocent little turtle.
Jet crumples in a fit of laughter.
“Don’t worry,” she tells him. “Ryan might have struck first but I’ll get him back.”
As sorry as I feel for the turtle getting caught up in one of Ryan and Sophie’s pranks, seeing Jet having fun is the best thing I’ve seen all day.
Soon we’re all immersed in a competition to see who can skip their rock the furthest. My stones always just sink to the bottom, but everyone else seems to have perfected the skill.
When the lunch bell rings, Jet waves good-bye and scurries towards the dining hall. A smile still on his face.
“Shall we join him?” I brush off my hands.
Sophie shakes her head. “No, we’ve got a better plan. The cook let me pack a picnic. I thought we could all go on a hike, unless of course the boys are tired of hiking after their morning outing with the campers.”
Jake drapes his arm around her shoulder. “Hiking with you girls shouldn’t be as difficult as hiking with thirty rug rats.”
That’s what he thinks. “You haven’t hiked too much with me yet. I’ve had a few interesting incidents.”
“She speaks the truth.” Ryan hitches the backpack onto his shoulder. “Where to?”
The perfect place comes to mind. “Well, we could check out the spots that Isabelle mentions in her diary. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the hidden cross.”
Before long, our leisurely stroll is ruined when the guys decide to race each other to the clearing at the end of the trail, leaving us in the dust.
Sophie shakes her head as they take off. “Those two are a little too alike.”
“I know. They’ve been competing in everything this week. We should make a bet on which one will get injured first.”
“They’d probably turn that into a competition as well.” She pushes a low-hanging branch out of her way. “You know, I can’t stop thinking about Hans and Isabelle.”
“Me either. It’s been fun reading the journal and letters with you.”
She turns to me, her eyes meeting mine, then smiles. “Yeah, it has been fun. I keep thinking how their story reminds me of one of the great love stories. Like Gatsby and Daisy.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking! Our very own Lancelot and Guinevere.”
By the time we reach the clearing that Isabelle wrote about in her journal, a large field of wildflowers surrounded by tall, twisted oaks, Ryan and Jake have a spot picked out for our picnic.
“Isabelle brought Hans here for picnics of their own.” I begin pulling the food from the backpack. “Isn’t that so romantic?”
Ryan grabs the bag of chips. “You two are getting a little obsessed with this story.”
“That’s because it’s a beautiful story.” Sophie reaches for the sandwich I hand her. “Isabelle saw a side to him that no one else saw. She wanted to prove to him that not everyone was cruel. She thought if he returned the cross and came back to town, she could convince people they were wrong about him. But he didn’t think that was possible. In her diary, she wrote that after he died, she went back to the cabin and found a note he’d written her. It’s a bit vague but sounds a little like a goodbye note.”
“See, this is not one of your romance novels. R
eal life doesn’t always have happy endings.” Jake leans back on his elbows.
“Yeah, I wish they could’ve lived happily ever after.” Sophie takes a bite of her sandwich.
I shake my head. “But in a way, I think their story did have a happy ending.”
“He’s dead. And no one ever found the treasure. That’s your idea of a happy ending?” Ryan asks.
I throw a grape at his head. “It’s clear that she did reach him. He knew she loved him. But he also realized he couldn’t stay here, that there was no future for the two of them. I don’t think he planned to sell the gold. I’ve been re-reading his last letter. It sounds like a goodbye note, but I think it’s also a clue.”
“A clue?” Jake reaches for his water bottle.
“I think it might be a hint to where he left the cross.” Excitement bubbling up inside me, I pull out the letter. “Listen. He wrote, ‘All the gold in the world cannot mend the deep chasm created by a broken heart, but finding it can create a new life.’ Isn’t that beautiful?”
Sophie leans forward. “Now that you mention it, it does sound rather cryptic.”
“If it’s a clue, where’s this chasm?” Jake asks.
“That, I don’t know. Nothing we’ve seen so far matches that description. After lunch we could check out the remaining places marked by those signs.”
We spend the next hour exploring the area but don’t see anything that looks like a chasm.
We’re on our way back to camp when we pass by a small pool at the base of a waterfall. My foot slips on the mossy rock, and next thing I know, I’m in the water, my head popping to the surface.
“I think you got a little too close.” Ryan laughs as he leans over and offers his hand to help me out.
As I reach for him, Sophie catches my eye. I read her mind and move out of the way. In one quick move, she shoves him into the pond. She and I pretend to high-five to celebrate her retaliation.
THURSDAY
While the boys are back at camp with the kids, Sophie and I are exploring the last few Hans and Isabelle locations. Our time here is winding down.
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