Cara and Regan went over to the tent. It was huge, made of tan nylon with dark brown binding. There was a wall inside that separated the two halves of the tent, and they could either zip it up or unzip it, depending on what they needed. They found two sleeping bags and their backpacks on the side nearest the door.
“That was really sweet,” Cara said as she unrolled her sleeping bag. “Now we won’t have to climb all over them if we need to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.”
“Uh, where is the bathroom?” Regan asked. “I didn’t see any Port-a-Potties as we were walking in.”
Cara looked at her, eyes wide. “I didn’t either.”
“You don’t think we’ll have to use bushes, do you?” Regan really, really didn’t want to hear the answer to that.
“Let me go talk to Brennan. There has to be a Port-a-Potty. I can’t believe they’d bring us out here and expect us to . . . Yeah. I’ll go talk to Brennan.”
Cara left the tent, and Regan heard low but earnest words being exchanged. She smiled while she unrolled her own sleeping bag and took off her boots. Brennan would do anything for Cara—he’d find a way to fix this.
Cara returned and lay down on her bed. “Brennan said they’d take care of it, and that we should have a nice nap.”
Regan wasn’t sure what all “taking care of it” would entail, but she guessed she’d find out when they woke up.
* * *
An hour later, Regan and Cara stood open-mouthed in front of a stand of trees, checking out the guys’ masterpiece.
“We made it while you slept,” Brennan explained.
“What is it?” Cara asked slowly. She glanced at Regan, who had no idea what they were looking at either.
“It’s a restroom!” Brennan pointed. “See, you sit on this tree branch that we bent over and lashed down, and this bush here has a branch that’s perfect for holding the toilet paper.”
“And we dug a little trench underneath,” Jesse said.
Regan’s mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.
“Thank you,” Cara said after a long moment of silence.
“Well, we felt bad about making you girls use the bushes,” Brennan explained. “We’re so used to it by now that it never occurred to us to think about it.”
Regan and Cara went over to the snack cooler to pull out supplies for the hike. As soon as the guys had wandered out of earshot, Regan grabbed Cara’s arm. “A tree branch? A trench?”
Cara started to laugh. “And they’re so proud of themselves, like they’ve done this wonderful thing for us. It really is sweet.”
“Sweet? A tree branch and a trench is sweet?”
Cara was still laughing. “They’re trying, Regan. They really are. We can be gracious, can’t we? I mean, this is camping. What were we expecting—hotel-quality bathrooms out here in the woods?”
“I don’t know what I was expecting. I wasn’t thinking about it at all.”
“Well, then, we can’t be too hard on them for not thinking about it either.” Cara picked up a package of cookies and looked at Regan sympathetically. “It’ll be okay. We’ll survive.”
“I guess.” Regan was not sure. Not sure at all.
With snacks and water bottles in their backpacks, they were ready to hit the trail. Jesse checked on the Dutch oven, readjusting some of the coals, and then they were off.
The clearing where they were camped was beautiful, but as they headed through the trees, Regan became more and more enchanted with everything she saw. The greens were so . . . green. All the colors were more vivid. She might even be tempted to say that she could feel the vibration of the world around her, but then she’d sound like Rory’s granola-crunching sister, Alana.
They came around a bend, and the two girls stopped at the same time. They had reached a spot where the trees broke away and gave them a perfect view of the lake down below, the bluest lake Regan had ever seen. She was sure it was full of all sorts of parasites and bugs and fish poop, but from up here, it was incredible, a faceted jewel set in the earth.
“Pretty great, huh?” Jesse asked, coming to her side.
“Amazing,” Regan breathed. She could almost forget about the makeshift potty of death back at camp. Almost.
“You should see it in the winter. The water looks like a crystal, and everything’s coated in snow and ice. It’s almost sacred.”
It sounded gorgeous, but Regan couldn’t imagine camping in the winter, even though she knew Brennan and Jesse did it all the time. This early fall business was more than enough for her.
“Tomorrow morning, we’d like to leave early and head all the way down to the lake. Are you girls game?” Brennan asked.
“Maybe,” Cara said slowly. “How early is early?”
“Around six,” Brennan replied. “We’ll eat well before we go, throw some meat in the Dutch oven, eat lunch on the trail, and be back here in time to have dinner. It’ll be great.”
Regan and Cara exchanged glances. “Okay,” Regan finally said. “But only because you’re doing all the cooking.”
They continued along the path, hiking the ridge over the top of the lake. After another hour, Brennan suggested that they head back, so they turned around. Brennan and Cara took the lead, and Jesse hung back a little bit with Regan.
“So, did your dad take you camping a lot as a kid?” Regan asked, ducking to avoid a low-hanging tree branch. She wished she’d had time to break in her boots—her feet were killing her.
“My grandpa, actually. He was a real camper. No tents for him—he’d sleep under the stars, even if it rained. He taught me everything I know. We took Brennan with us a lot too, but when he couldn’t make it, it was just me and Grandpa.”
“I’m glad you brought a tent along this time.”
Jesse shrugged. “Yeah, well, I never was crazy about the whole stars thing. Don’t get me wrong—I like stars—but I like at least some kind of ceiling over me when I’m sleeping.”
“So, starting the store was just a natural thing to do.” Regan was curious how a guy so young could own such a large business. Maybe she could weasel the answer out of him without having to be tactless.
“Yeah, it’s pretty much my dream job.” He didn’t expound on that, leaving Regan a little frustrated. Maybe she could ask Brennan, or have Cara ask Brennan, but that was so fifth grade. She’d get up the courage and ask for herself.
When they got back to camp, Jesse checked the Dutch oven and said it was ready to go. They pulled out more paper plates and gathered around the fire to dish up their meal.
“This is the best chicken I’ve ever had,” Cara said as she wiped her chin with her napkin.
“Wait until you have my potatoes. I’m making those for tomorrow’s dinner,” Jesse said. “If you don’t swoon at least once, I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”
“Define ‘swoon,’ please,” Regan said. “Does actual fainting need to occur, or just lightheadedness, or what?”
“In my opinion, in order for a swoon to be a real swoon, there must be at least a little bit of eye rolling, and yes, a tiny bit of lightheadedness. But that’s happy lightheadedness, not sick lightheadedness.” Jesse took a swig from his water bottle.
“I didn’t realize there was such a thing as happy lightheadedness,” Regan said.
“Well, how do you feel when you get in a new shipment of books by your favorite author?”
Regan thought about it for a minute. “Okay, point made.”
Dinner cleanup was just as easy as it had been at lunch, and before long, they had gathered around the campfire in their folding chairs, listening to the sounds of night. Jesse motioned overhead. “This is how I like to look at the stars,” he said, nudging Regan’s elbow.
As Regan leaned back to check out the night sky, she felt like she was at the planetarium. Every star seemed twice as big and twice as bright. Aspen Ridge wasn’t a sprawling metropolis by any means, but it must still generate enough light to detract from t
he natural nightlights overhead. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to feel the peace of her surroundings, letting down her guard for the first time in . . . she didn’t know how long.
Chapter Six
“Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the warmth of your sleeping bag?” Jesse’s voice floated out of the darkness.
Regan thought about it. “What’s ten?”
“Ten is, I’d better get out before I bake.”
“Okay, I’d give it an eight.”
“Eight is good. Cara?”
“I agree with eight.”
“How would you compare this sleeping bag to others you’ve used in the past?”
“What if I’ve never used one in the past?” Regan replied.
“Oh. Good point.”
“I’d say that I feel like a caterpillar all smashed up in my cocoon,” Cara said. “Is there room for that reply on your imaginary survey form?”
Brennan chuckled. At least, Regan thought it was Brennan. The sound seemed to come from his corner of the tent.
“Who says my survey form is imaginary?”
“Uh, it’s pitch-black dark and there’s no way to see to write anything down. Are you memorizing our answers?” Cara asked.
“Absolutely. Now, how would you rate the thickness of your sleeping bag?”
“My question is, how do you guys like them?” Regan asked. “We don’t know anything. Your opinions are the ones that matter.” She shifted a little bit, agreeing with Cara’s caterpillar analogy.
“I think they’re pretty good. We’ll see how we sleep.”
“I’ve got the most wildest idea ever,” Regan said. “How about if we actually go to sleep.”
“Already? But Mom . . .” Brennan whined.
“Don’t make me come over there,” Regan warned.
The tent fell silent, and Regan snuggled down into her sleeping bag. Her stomach was full of delicious food, she was warm enough, she felt safe, and the ground wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be. Maybe the extra thickness of the sleeping bag had something to do with it. But she’d have to say that the first day of camping had gone surprisingly well. And their guide was definitely growing on her. She fell asleep listening to Jesse’s light snore.
* * *
“Knock, knock,” Jesse called out from his side of the tent.
Regan straightened from where she’d pawing through her things for fresh clothes. “Come in.”
Jesse unzipped the tent divider and came through, holding something plaid in his hands. “I brought you a present.”
“And what is that?”
He held it up, and she could see that it was a plaid shirt. In fact, it was quite similar to the plaid shirt he wore.
“To what do I owe this thing which I suppose is a pleasure?”
He grinned. “You said camping was for wearing plaid shirts. So I figured, we’re camping, we need plaid shirts.”
This sounded like a challenge. Regan snatched it from his hands. “I’ll not only wear this shirt, but I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
“Good for you,” he said, then left the tent, leaving Regan to change from her pajamas. She’d show him plaid wearing like he’d never seen it in his life.
* * *
“Okay, take what you need for today and leave the rest here,” Brennan said.
That was a little trickier than it sounded. Regan spread all her stuff out on her sleeping bag and tried to decide which was which. Jesse had been looking at the sky with some concern, pointing out that a large cloud bank was on the horizon and blowing their way. That meant she’d definitely want her poncho, and probably a spare pair of socks. She could leave her fuzzy pajama pants behind, but she’d want her jacket, definitely. She sorted through the rest of her things and was rather pleased with herself when she was finished.
She walked out to the campfire, where Jesse was arranging coals on another Dutch oven. “Are these the potatoes you were telling me about?” she asked.
“Not just potatoes. Heaven with cheese. And that one’s ribs.” He nodded toward another oven that had already been set to cook.
“Sounds great. I can’t wait to try them.” Breakfast had been delicious too—scrambled eggs and sausage cooked over the fire on a skillet. If this is what it meant to go camping, she was all for it.
“Okay, gather up all your stuff and put it in the tent,” Brennan called out. He put the lids on the coolers and lugged them inside, setting them in the exact middle. Then he piled some of their sleeping bags and whatnot on top. “Bears,” he said in response to Regan’s quizzical look. “Just masking the smell as much as possible. The coolers are air tight, so that takes care of most of it, but this is just in case. Oh, and don’t leave anything valuable behind.”
“Because the bears might take it to a pawn shop?” Regan asked.
Brennan chuckled. “No, because there are people out here in the woods too. For the most part, campers are respectful of each other’s property, but we don’t want to tempt them too much.”
“Well, I didn’t bring my wallet with me, so I’m fine.” Regan hitched the straps of her backpack up on her shoulders.
Brennan zipped up the tent, Jesse checked the fire pit, and then they were ready to go. Cara didn’t look entirely awake, but she came along willingly, stifling a yawn behind her hand. “How long will it take us to get down to the lake?” Cara asked.
“Well, that all depends,” Brennan said. “You’re new to hiking, so we figure it’ll take us about half the day to get there and half the day to get back. As you get more experienced, your speed will pick up.”
“I do work out,” Cara reminded him.
“Yes, but a mountain is totally different from a gym. You’ll probably discover muscles you never knew you had.”
Regan raised her hand. “Um, what about those of us who don’t go to the gym and eat way too much chocolate and are only moderately thin because of their genetics?”
Brennan grinned. “If you like, you can climb a tree and wait for the rest of us to come back.”
They hiked for about an hour along the same trail they’d taken the previous day. At first, they didn’t talk a lot. But as the sun warmed the path and it didn’t feel like the crack of dawn anymore—because it wasn’t—they became chattier.
“What’s the most interesting book you shelved this week?” Jesse wanted to know.
“Hmm. Well, the most interesting title was 101 Ways to Teach Your Cat to Sit. That was a special order—we don’t stock that on a regular basis.”
“Not much demand?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah. Folks in Aspen Ridge aren’t so particular as to whether their cats sit or not.” Regan sidestepped to avoid a tree branch that was growing out over the trail. “But the most interesting book to me personally was the new Allison Holbrook novel.”
“I’ve never heard of that author,” Jesse said. “What does she write?”
“Suspense. Her bad guys are way creepy.”
A few minutes later, they came to the ridge where they’d stood the day before to look down at the lake. The path branched out from there, one side of the fork leading down, and the other continuing along the top of the ridge.
“This is where we head down,” Brennan said, taking the lead. “The path is narrow, so we’ll go single file,” he called over his shoulder. Cara followed him, with Regan behind her, and Jesse brought up the rear.
“You haven’t told me what you like to read,” Regan said.
“That’s a tough question. I guess you could say, a little of everything. I love the old classic Westerns—Zane Grey and Louis L’Amour, of course. But I really like contemporary literary novels, too, stuff that makes you think. And comic strips. I love comic strips.”
Regan laughed. “That is quite the eclectic taste you have there.”
“Life’s too short to keep yourself in a box.”
Regan wished they didn’t have to go single file—she’d love to be able to see his fa
ce while they talked. “And your favorite comic strip?”
Jesse snorted. “Calvin and Hobbes, of course.”
“Of course.”
Regan couldn’t tell if it had rained here last night or if the ground was just softer in this spot, but she noticed that her boots were sinking into the dirt a little more now than they were before. She imagined that the close foliage held in moisture and that it was natural for such a narrow path to be spongier than a wide path that got a lot of sun. The path wasn’t steep, but it was definitely heading down, and Regan wondered how difficult it would be to hike back up it at the end of the day when they were tired.
About a half hour later, Brennan suggested they stop for a break. There were some fallen trees off to the side of the trail, and they used those as benches.
“I think I’m getting a blister,” Cara said.
“Let me see.” Brennan rummaged through his pack for a first aid kit and pulled out a Band-Aid. He put it on her heel, then peeled the backing off something that looked like a little piece of felt. “This is moleskin. You stick it in places where there’s chafing, and it helps reduce the friction. Anyone else need some?”
Jesse and Regan both shook their heads. Regan’s feet were still a little sore from yesterday, but they weren’t chafed, thank goodness. She hated blisters, like, really hated them. Brennan tossed his kit back in his pack. Cara slid her sock and boot back on. “Thanks, babe.”
“Not a problem.” He leaned forward and kissed her.
“Ew, gross,” Jesse whispered to Regan, and she giggled. That surprised her—she wasn’t usually a giggler. Neither was Morgan. Cara and Laurie were more the giggly type. Okay, just Cara. Whatever.
Regan finished the handful of trail mix she’d poured from the sack and washed it down with a swig from her water bottle. She’d never really cared for trail mix before, but now, out here on the trail, it seemed utterly appropriate.
Between The Lines (Main Street Merchants Book 5) Page 5
