by Loree Lough
“You trimmed your beard.”
Ian stroked his chin. So much for trying to look like a rough-around-the-edges criminal.
“Just a little.”
“What’s the real reason you wear it?”
“Thought I told you...to hide a scar.”
“Lots of people have scars.”
So far, he’d taken two bites of the pizza, yet despite having just two coffee-dunked cookies and a handful of oyster crackers to eat that day, Ian didn’t feel the least bit hungry. Breaking hearts, it seemed, was a great appetite suppressant.
“I think I get it,” she said. “If it wasn’t hidden, every glance in the mirror would remind you of Lincoln.”
Ian started to deny it, but she already knew that in his opinion, it made no sense to hide his past, neither on a personal nor a professional level.
“The scar is...” She lifted both shoulders and, palms up, said, “It isn’t about some inmate meting out his insane brand of prison justice. It’s a reminder of who you used to be. You don’t like that person very much, so...”
He leaned back, stretched out his legs—far easier to do now that the cast was gone.
“Boy. You don’t even need a hammer to hit the nail on the head, do you?”
“I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds.”
“You didn’t. We’re friends.”
“Friends...”
Disappointment rang in her voice. There’d be plenty of time to cope with the guilt and self-recrimination of causing that. Right now, Ian needed her to hear him out. “You know I have a one-track mind,” he began, “so do me a favor and just listen for a minute, okay, because I need to say this before I chicken out. Again.”
Hands folded on the table, Maleah sat up straight. “Let me have it, friend.”
“You already know that I fell for you in the school library when you stood in front of a guy twice your size and blasted him and his friends for stuffing a kid into a locker. The robbery, Lincoln, time, nothing—nothing—changed that.”
She’d obliged his request, and sat ramrod straight and silent, blinking those long-lashed eyes and squeezing her hands together. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Not that it mattered. He’d made a promise to himself, hand on his grandfather’s Bible and everything: This ended today.
“I love you. Probably always will. One of the reasons is, you’re too nice to tell me flat out that it’ll never work. So I’ll say it: It. Will. Never. Work. Not with fourteen—no, it’s fifteen now—not with fifteen years, four cops and two angry women between us.” He frowned, drove a hand through his untethered hair, groaned with frustration. “Wait. That came out wrong. It sounds like I’m asking you to choose me over your family. I’m not. Definitely not. You have to believe that. Say you believe that.”
“I believe you, Ian.”
“Whew. Anyway, let me start again, and shoot for nonthreatening and nonaccusatory this time.
“We were great together...as naive kids. But we’re older and wiser now. We both know there were better ways for me to grow from a smart-mouthed kid with a chip on his shoulder to the man I am today.”
“I like the man you are today.”
Ian couldn’t afford to believe it. Not even for a split second.
“I’m done, Maleah. Just...done. Tired of hanging on to something that never had a chance to develop into anything more than it was at its inception...an innocent teenage infatuation.”
There. He’d said his piece. And she hadn’t flipped the rest of the pizza onto his lap. Her calm demeanor told him she agreed...just because they couldn’t be a couple shouldn’t stop them from being friends.
If he had anything to say about it, Maleah would never hear how he really felt: Her family was the reason she’d cut him off then, why she couldn’t make up her mind about him, now. For him, it had always been full-out, no holds barred, one-hundred-percent love. He’d never stand between her and them, but if what they’d shared—what they could share—wasn’t worth telling the hard truth to her family, then she wasn’t worth fighting for. It had taken time, but he’d adjusted to life at Lincoln...and he’d adjust to life as only her friend, too. “I hear Washburne is sponsoring a camping trip to the mountains,” he continued. She blinked. Maybe Maleah had expected him to give her a chance to speak her mind, too. Well, it may seem harsh, but she’d had a hundred opportunities to do that, and let each pass at his expense.
“Did Stan tell you that?”
“No, Terri. She signed Avery up for the trip. But her mom’s surgery is scheduled for the same week. So she asked if I’d stand for her.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Double knee replacement. She’ll need help that first week.”
“You said yes?”
“Sure. Terri’s a friend. And I think the world of that kid of hers. I’d hate to see him miss out again this year.”
She nodded slowly.
“I’ve been camping plenty of times. Got all kinds of gear in the storeroom behind the bistro. My tent sleeps six, so if there are other kids without chaperones...”
“I’ll look into it. Thank you.”
“I’ve already filled out the paperwork, and Terri signed it. So if you need help in the planning phases, what to pack, what to expect, stuff like that, let me know.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but this isn’t Washburne’s first camping outing.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“You know because Avery couldn’t go last year.”
“Or the year before. He’s pretty psyched.” Ian forced a grin. “Wants to pitch a tent in his basement this weekend. I told him we couldn’t build a fire down there, so he agreed we’ll conduct the test in his backyard, instead.”
“Sounds like fun.” She paused. Ian tried not to let it bother him when their conversation went back to being stiff and formal. Maleah would come around to the friendship idea, or she wouldn’t. Either way, he’d made up his mind, and made himself clear: after tonight, there’d be one fewer rubber ball in her toy box.
* * *
MALEAH HADN’T ASKED for a camping gear list, but Ian provided one, anyway. And because it was far more complete than the old one, she made copies to include with the information folders. She opened the get-acquainted meeting by handing out the packets, and gave everyone time to peruse the contents.
Without exception, moms and dads, teachers and counselors agreed it was the most efficient compilation of its kind they’d seen.
“Your friend is remarkable,” the administrator said. “He thought of everything from flashlight batteries to zipper bags for collecting rocks and bugs.”
Her friend.
“I’m just glad he’ll be with us in the woods.” The counselor shivered. “I don’t know the first thing about the woodland creatures that live on Ragged Mountain!”
“Don’t worry,” Maleah assured. “Most of us have made the trip before. We’ll gather everyone together and talk about all that once we arrive.”
“I hope it’ll include a lesson on building and maintaining a fire,” one of the dads said. “Left to my own devices, I’d burn down the forest.”
“We’ll do our best to teach you everything you need to know. We want you to stay safe, but we hope you’ll have fun, too.”
Stan, who’d assumed the role of camp director, stepped up front.
“As Maleah said,” he told the worried mom, “we’ve all been there before, and learned a lot with each trip. The campground makes their staff available to answer any questions we can’t...and as I said, we’ve done this before, so there won’t be many.” He gave a brief speech about the route, recommended supplies, meals in the campground’s mess hall, and transportation, then drew their attention to the camp’s map, highlighted on an old-fashioned roll-up screen.<
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“We’ll go over this again, of course, but I hope you’ll each take a few minutes to study the map included in your folder. Once we’ve assigned campsites and everyone is settled in, we’ll meet up again for a walking tour, so you’ll know which areas are off-limits.”
“Is it dangerous? I mean, should we be worried about bears or wildcat attacks?” asked a guy in the front row.
“There has never been a cat sighting in the Town Creek Campground, but just to be on the safe side, you might want to pack some tuna treats to distract the cat while you’re making your getaway.”
Laughter filled the room.
“Seriously, folks, the place is perfectly safe. You’ll find the staff friendly and helpful, and those of you who’ve been there with us before know how hard we try to keep your kids—and you—safe as babes in their mamas’ arms. That lovely young lady over here,” he said, pointing to Maleah, “pulled this event together.”
Smiling, Maleah gave a little wave.
“If you don’t already have a tent, sleeping bag, backpack or first-aid kit, come see me,” Stan continued, pointing to a stack of supplies in the corner.
“They’re included in our registration fee?” a woman in the back row asked.
“No, ma’am, they are not. They were purchased and delivered by Ian Sylvestry, who asked that we distribute them to folks who need them. They will be yours to keep.”
Quiet murmurs now circled the room.
“Where is he?”
“You’ll get a chance to meet him on Monday in the high school parking lot where we board the buses.”
The meeting ended, and while attendants gathered around the refreshments table, Stan pulled Maleah aside.
“You make me proud, girl. I tell ya, it’s hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, you seemed unprepared for this meeting.”
“I had a little help.”
“Sylvestry?”
“Yes, and my secretary. My next door neighbor pitched in, stuffing information into the folders.”
“Well, you assembled a good team, as always.” He gave her shoulder a fatherly squeeze. “Now admit it, aren’t you glad I persuaded you to call Ian?”
“Of course. As it turns out, he’s becoming a good friend.”
“Friend? You wouldn’t kid an old man, would you?”
From across the room, a woman hollered, “Maleah, can you come here for a moment?”
It was Mrs. Bealle, who’d honed her talent for finding problems to a keen edge. It was just as well. Maleah would rather help look for a solution than talk with Stan about Ian.
Saved by the Bealle, she thought.
“Sorry, Stan, but duty calls.”
“You can run,” he called after her, “but you can’t hide.”
Wanna bet?
* * *
TWO DAYS LATER, Maleah was the first to arrive at the high school parking lot. The sun burned bright in the cloudless sky, and a calm breeze rustled the trees’ newly-unfurled leaves. Weather analysts predicted lower temperatures and the possibility of storms later in the week, and she hoped they were wrong. No one enjoyed huddling in a damp-floored, leaky tent, even during a gentle rain. But with Washburne’s sensitive-to-noise kids, wind, thunder and lightning had the power to take the campground from calm to chaotic in seconds.
She unlocked the trunk and reached for her wheeled backpack.
“Let us get that for you.”
“Ian, Avery, good morning. I didn’t even hear you pull up.”
“I’m so excited!” the boy said, flapping his hands as Cash cozied up for a pat. Maleah obliged them both, stroking the dog’s nose, then drawing Avery into a sideways hug.
“We’re gonna have a blast.”
“You bet we are, pal.”
“Hey, can I climb on that wall over there?”
Ian followed the line of his pointer finger. “Yeah, I guess. But no jumping down from it. We don’t want to go to the emergency room instead of the campground, do we?”
“Okay. I’ll be good.”
Hands flapping excitedly, he ran off, leaving Maleah with Cash and Ian.
“I’m glad you brought him along,” she said, bending to kiss the top of his furry head.
“It’ll be good for the kids to learn about search and rescue dogs.”
She glanced around the lot. “Did someone drop you off?”
“Gladys needed my truck. So I’m driving her car.” He pointed to a sporty red coupe. “Took a while to unfold myself from behind the steering wheel, but listening to that motor purr made it worth it.”
He grabbed the backpack’s handle and tugged. “Holy smokes! There are plenty of rocks around this place. Why would you bring more?”
“Ha-ha. I loaded the bag into the car myself, so I know it isn’t that heavy. But thanks for saving me a bonk on the head.” She narrowly missed clipping her forehead as she slammed the trunk closed. “See what I mean?”
“We need to find you a stretching machine, short stuff,” he said, patting her head, “so things like that won’t happen anymore.”
They both leaned back against her trunk to watch Avery. On the other side of the parking lot, he pretended to walk a tightrope atop the three-foot-wide brick wall.
“If the powers that be ever see fit to give me a son, I’d want him to be just like him.”
“He’s a good kid, all right.” Maleah nodded. Shading her eyes, she looked toward down the road. “The buses ought to start arriving soon. The kids, too.”
“And the counselors.”
“And the teachers.”
“And Stan.”
Maleah groaned. “He means well. I think.”
The first of six yellow school buses lumbered toward the center of the lot. Close behind it, an SUV and a modest sedan.
“Are you ready for this?”
She shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s make a deal, before the rest of ’em roll in.” Ian held out his hand. “If I get into any hairy situations, I’ll find you.”
“Ditto.”
They shook on it and grinned. This friendship thing might just work after all.
The woman in the SUV climbed out of the passenger seat. Young, curvy, with long glistening auburn hair. Ian noticed her, too. This might work as long as she didn’t have to watch him admire other women.
But she had no right to feel jealous. Friendly distance was exactly what her surly behavior told him she wanted. “They’re calling for storms. What’s the plan if they’re right?”
“Panic.”
Eyebrows high on his forehead, he looked into her face.
“Kidding. Just kidding.” Maleah gave his shoulder a playful slap. “We’ll start by making sure everyone knows to head straight for the clubhouse at the first sight of lightning. I’ve made clipboards for teachers and chaperones, names and ages of each child in their charge, and individual things to watch for.”
“Things they’re scared of, or haven’t done before, you mean.”
“Right. Plus, who can’t swim, who tends to disappear, who gets stuck in the tree branches...”
“Looks like folks intend to show up on time.”
“Parents of kids on the spectrum keep things calm and organized, starting out with a strict schedule. It helps with just about everything.” Bus drivers paced near the open doors of their vehicles, while parents offloaded their children’s packs. Counselors and teachers headed for Maleah.
“You know what I feel like?”
“Queen bee in the hive?”
“I was going to say Mother Goose, but I like yours better. Guess I’d better buzz on over there, make sure this trek starts off on a sweet note.”
Since Avery left them to teeter atop the wall, Ian
had only taken his eyes off the boy long enough to admire the lady from the SUV.
“You keep this up, you’ll be bleary-eyed and jittery when we leave that campground.”
“Keep what up?”
She could have said “Ogling pretty women,” but chose to say, “It’s impossible to watch him every minute. That’s why we assembled so many volunteers. And why we’ll hang name tags round their necks.” He nodded, and she added, “Want me to hold off on the ‘let’s do this’ pep talk until you round up Avery?”
“Can you do that?”
“’Course I can. I’m the queen bee. Meet me in front of bus number seven.” Had Ian heard her? Maleah couldn’t tell. But he was a big boy—a big, handsome boy—and no doubt he’d figure it out.
Keep thinking that way and this friendship thing will fall before it takes off.
She’d never been a woman who settled. But she’d do it in this case, because having spent so many years without him, Maleah would take friendship over absence, any day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AFTER SUPPER ON the third day at Town Creek Campground, the aftereffects of two all-nighters presented themselves. Yawning, Ian walked beside Avery, pointing out the types of twigs that made good kindling, and the stems in the ground that, in just a few weeks, would develop three reddish-gold leaves each.
“You know what it’s called?”
Avery kept his distance. “Poison ivy. When it gets big enough, it’ll climb up the trees and if anyone touches it, they’ll be sorry.”
Ian ruffled his hair. “Did your mom teach you that?”
“Yes. She likes to walk. Walking is good for the soul.”
“She’s right. And a good teacher, too. You’re lucky to know how to recognize things like this in the woods.”
The boy yawned and knuckled his eyes.
“Sleepy?”
“Yes.” He looked up at Ian.
He sat on a folding camp stool, gestured toward a second. “Have a seat, Avery, so we can talk a bit before you turn in.”
