They walked together down the old logging road, each one in a tire rut, kicking their way through the tall grass and moving rocks and branches. They made it to a nice level spot that was well hidden in the trees, and she put her hands on her hips and looked around. “This looks great,” she murmured to herself. She kicked off the extra branches and rolled a stone farther down the road. She could hear Gage walking back to her rig, but she had no idea how far he’d made it until she heard the unmistakable rasping roar of the old Jeep’s engine.
“Wait!” she called and started running, but it was too late. Hitting RPMs the engine hadn’t hit in years, her camper bounced up and over the hump where the two roads met and rocked perilously side to side. Then the rig was fully on the logging road, the engine was still running, and Gage jumped out looking proud of himself. “How far back do you want it?”
She resisted the urge to say she wanted it parked over his dead body, even though it seemed like an appropriate thing to say at the time. He hadn’t exactly committed car theft, but he was at least rude. “I’ve got it from here,” she said calmly.
He shrugged and held the door open for her. And took his hat off again. Maybe it was the color of the straw cowboy hat, but she had assumed he was blond, so the shock of dark hair—black in this dim light—surprised her again.
Once she was in, he slammed the door. She looked at him in surprise, but he was smiling. He looked to be around thirty years old, but he still seemed to think that was the normal way to close a car door.
“I’ll be fine,” she said through the plastic window and started backing up. But instead of heading back up the drive, he strolled after her, lit by the headlights as she backed up through what looked like a pitch-black tunnel in the rearview mirror.
It was slow going, but she got it parked. She dropped the hitch jack, and without a word Gage moved the Jeep out of the way. She pulled four jacks and a flashlight out of the bumper box, and by the time she had finished placing one he had done the other three, letting her know all the while what the level indicators were saying. The whole process was done in a flash, and she even got the propane pilot lit without its usual stubbornness and sputtering.
It would have been a good note to end the evening on, but Gage just kept going. While she was on the other side of the trailer she heard the step being pulled out, and he opened the door to her camper. “Hey,” she called, but he didn’t stop. As she rounded the other side, she saw the light come on in the camper.
“It’s Mouse!”
Meg stopped in her tracks, eyes closed, and wished again he would have just let her be. And she wished he had said, “It’s a mouse,” but she knew he hadn’t.
He popped his head out of the doorway. “Why do you have Mouse the Moose all over your walls?”
“I think he’s cute,” she said.
He vanished again. “This is all painted directly on! Didn’t Catherine say you were a painter? Did you paint all these?”
She nodded, knowing full well he couldn’t see her.
He popped out again, eyes wide. “Did you write the book?”
“Yes. But could you please not tell…”
He was gone again. “This is awesome! My nephew would go crazy about this. It’s his dream come true, camping with Mouse the Montana Moose.”
She stepped up into the camper. There was only about six square feet of floor space, and Gage was taking up most of it, with his head tilted sideways not to hit the ceiling. He doesn’t fit in here, she thought.
There wasn’t much empty wall space, but she had managed to cover almost all of it with mountain scenery, wild animals, and Mouse the Moose sweetly and blissfully getting in trouble. It made her smile. And when she met with clients in her camper, which was not exactly the best business office, it instantly put them at ease. She backed her way into the narrow seat at her tiny table.
“‘Mouse was a very good moose,’” he said. “‘It was his antlers that were naughty from time to time. And the problem with antlers is that you can’t act like they don’t belong to you.’” He laughed. “I love that!”
He was quoting her own children’s book, apparently by memory. It made her stomach do flips and her head hurt in a way that wasn’t all bad.
“My nephew Cade makes me read your book over and over, and he says I have the best Moose voice ever. Do you have any other books out?”
“My publisher wants to do another, and I’ve been working on a few ideas.”
“That’s great. You’d better get on it so I can buy it for Cade for Christmas and cement my place as Uncle of the Year. I can’t believe Josh never told me you were the author. The book says Margaret Parks, doesn’t it? I never thought to make the connection; Parks is a pretty common name. Still, I can’t believe—”
“He doesn’t know.”
Gage was perfectly still. His pale brown eyes pierced her. “Why not?”
“I guess I never got around to telling them,” she said weakly.
Gage was frowning, now. She didn’t know him from Adam, but that look made her feel as low as dirt. “‘Them?’ Does that mean no one in your close-knit, loving, good Christian family knows? Do your parents even know?”
She shook her head. Then she concentrated very hard on knitting her fingers together. I’m scared to tell them, she thought, but she didn’t say anything.
Gage huffed. “Well, don’t worry. I won’t let your little secret out. I won’t even tell Cade about it, even though I know he’d love to see some pictures of your camper, and he’d think I was especially cool for having met you, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”
His expression made it clear he thought her reasons must be selfish. He tipped his hat and left.
She was still for a moment, but with a jolt that left her heart racing she jumped up and out of the cabin. “Gage!” she called.
He was just a little ways down the road, but she could make him out in the fading light as he turned to face her. He waited for her to say something. It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought of her. She shouldn’t have to defend herself to him. She tried to think of something else to say.
“Do you have any bear spray?”
“No.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“The airlines frown on carrying a gun on the plane.”
She smirked in the dark. “Let me get you some bear spray. I have plenty.” She ducked back inside and fished through one of her tiny cabinets, which was a hopeless jumble now, and pulled out a huge black can. When she turned around he was standing right in the doorway and she jumped.
“I’m not a bear,” he said calmly.
“You need to know how to use this.”
“I know how,” he said and removed it from her hand.
“Do you use it on wild bears roaming the streets of Austin?”
He grinned again, finally, and she felt so relieved she almost giggled. “You’d be surprised,” he said, and with another tip of his hat he was gone.
Friday
Meg put the percolator over the blue gas flame. It was June, but the mountain night had been cold, and she was looking forward to a hot mug in her hands. Perked coffee and boiled water were the only things she made on the two-burner stove top of her camper, since cooking smells lingered forever in the small space. Coffee first, clothes second. She thumbed through her Bible until the coffee was ready. This particular Bible lived in her camper, and it looked worse for the wear. She wondered what God thought about years’ worth of coffee drips and rings on His book and hoped He didn’t mind too much.
She put on board shorts, a swim tank, and a camp shirt and added a pair of water shoes to her messenger bag. Sitting on the table, only slightly battered from the beating it had taken on its journey onto the logging road, was a large wrapped present. It was probably too early to bring that up to the cabin. Of course it was a framed picture, there was no hiding that. She’d tried to make up for the lack of surprise by making the package a colorful explosion of ribbons and spark
ing confetti paper.
I never understood why you don’t dress yourself like you do your artwork, Catherine had said. She looked at her pale blue shirt and black and brown plaid shorts. They were kind of surfer/boarder chic, weren’t they? Or did they just make her look like a middle-aged man? She sighed. Well, they were comfortable. Luckily it was Leah who would be the center of attention today, not her. Everyone looking at one of her murals made her feel wonderful. Everyone looking at her made her feel awkward.
She threw a few more odds and ends in the bag and headed out to do her usual campsite check, but when she opened the door she found Gage standing still with his arm raised to knock on the door. She jumped backward so far she almost fell into the mini bathroom.
“I’m still not a bear,” he said. “Sorry. Hey, is that coffee I smell? Do you have any more?”
“What are you doing here?” Her words sounded much harsher than she intended. “It isn’t time for the rehearsal breakfast, is it?”
“No, I just thought I’d walk you up to the cabin. I do have the bear spray,” he said, holding his trophy up in the other hand. The can’s safety band was still in place.
“I have more,” she said, meaning bear spray.
“Great, I’d love some coffee!” he said and stepped up into the cabin. He closed the door behind him. “It’s nice and warm in here. It’s pretty cold out until you get up into the sunshine.”
She pulled a second mug from her cabinet. He peered over his shoulder, head held sideways because his hat couldn’t clear the ceiling. “Hey, don’t those things break in there, all tossed in like that? I would’ve guessed you had to organize them so they don’t bang into each other.”
She took a slow breath. “Everything got messed up on the way in here.” When you backed up the camper like a BMX rider going up a ramp, that is.
“Guess that’s one of the hazards of moving your home from place to place.”
She gave him a blank look. “Milk?”
“No thanks. This isn’t one of those flavored coffees, is it?”
“Yes, it is.”
He shrugged. “Still tastes fine. Thanks.” With that Gage sat down, leaving his long legs in the tiny hallway, and removed his hat. He looked like he planned to stay a while. He glanced over at her Bible. “So, are you a…”
“Jesus freak? Mm hmm.”
He looked relieved. “I don’t know what to call it, or if it’s okay to ask. It feels kind of like asking what brand of underwear you wear or something, like it’s too personal. Do I say Christian or something else?”
She had to think about that. “I guess most of the people I run into ask if you’re a believer.”
“Wasn’t there a song about that in the movie Shrek? I’m a believer.”
Meg laughed. “I don’t think that’s what the song was about. So, are you a believer?”
He nodded. He looked like he was going to say more, but instead he downed the rest of the coffee and stood up as straight as he could. “Leah’s got breakfast going. Joshua bought a new grill for her, and she’s going to town on it.”
“Joshua is up?” Meg said.
“Oh, no. But he will be when he gets a whiff of what she’s cooking.”
When they made it up the long road to Joshua’s cabin, they saw Leah cooking over a huge, shiny new barbecue grill. Leah waved her spatula at them. “French toast is almost done. Which one of you has the dangerous job of waking my fiancé?”
Meg raised her hand. “I’m a pro,” she said. She had spent most of the summers of her youth, and a few stray winters, living with Aunt Catherine and Uncle Jacob. Joshua’s love of sleep was well known. The trick to waking him was to get out of the way.
She started with a mug of coffee, with milk, half-full so he wouldn’t spill it. Then she slowly opened the big bedroom down the other hall from Leah’s room, but she found it empty—and decorated with flowers. She smiled. That was probably Catherine’s doing. That left the boys’ bunk room as the only place for the men to sleep. She was extra careful opening the door because he might be within striking distance.
Lucky for her he wasn’t just on the other side of the room, he was on one of the top bunks, snoring away. She first blew over the top of the coffee to carry the scent into the room. “Joshua, coffee,” she whispered. “Coffeeeeee.”
He grumbled something unintelligible.
She grabbed a pillow and tossed it. The first shot missed, but she grabbed another and scored a direct hit onto his head. He growled and his fists went flying through the air, hitting nothing. Then he ducked under the covers again. “Coffee, Josh,” she sang.
Grumble. “Cream?”
“Milk.”
Grumble. She crept into the room. One of Joshua’s arms reached out. She carefully placed the mug in his hand, and then it disappeared under the covers by his head. She heard a loud sip.
When she turned around she saw Gage in the doorway, shaking his head. She was headed his way when she heard a telltale rustle behind her, and without looking she ducked low. A pillow flew over her head and hit Gage directly in the stomach.
“Hey!” Gage yelled.
“Some best man you are. You’re supposed to defend me. Who let the morning person in here?”
Meg tried to grab the pillow out of Gage’s hands, but he held tight. “He didn’t just let me in, he came and got me. He must know what a grump you are. I’d better warn Leah not to marry you.”
Joshua was a bed-headed, swollen-eyed mess. “What is wrong with you people? And what is that incredible smell?”
“Leah’s breakfast,” Gage said. “I’m not guaranteeing that anything will be left if you keep lounging around in bed.”
Meg slipped out the door, and Gage closed it behind her. He was a little too close and a little too tall, and she found herself staring at the spot between his collarbones. He was in her way.
There was that nice smell again. How did he pull that off? There were no showers at the cabin, only the water spigot outside and the river down in the valley. Just before she decided to crawl out of the way, he moved and let her pass. She thought she heard him chuckle. She sure hoped he was laughing at Joshua and not her, because she didn’t want him to know he was bugging her. He seemed to thrive on it, and she had learned on the playground decades before that the best way to get rid of that kind of boy was to ignore him.
“Did you hear if Mark was coming?” Leah asked, switching from one cast-iron pan to another.
“I don’t think so.” And without Internet access she wouldn’t know until her brother either arrived or didn’t. Leah didn’t seem bothered by his lack of RSVP. Mark was pretty well known for not keeping in touch, but he was seventeen, after all.
The big table on the deck was set, there were wildflowers in a mason jar, and there was enough food to feed an army. It felt like Sunday brunch at Catherine and Jacob’s house, and Meg loved it. The water pitcher with a filter in it was new. It seemed like a good idea, but she’d grown up drinking this water right out of the ground. Everything looked great. But Leah’s forehead was all wrinkled up, and there was a frenzied quality to the way she was working.
Sliding up beside her, Meg helped move some of the serving plates over to the table. “You’re not supposed to be working hard today, Leah. Please give me something to do.”
“I just want it all ready before she gets… before they all get here.”
As far as Meg knew, the only people coming were Aunt Catherine and Uncle Jacob, Meg’s own parents, Uncle Jeffrey, Joshua’s brother and sister, and Leah’s mom. She guessed Leah was talking about either Catherine, her future mother-in-law, or Leah’s own mom. It seemed likely that it was one of them who would have the power to make her so nervous. “It looks so pretty, Leah. I’ve never seen the deck look this good. And I saw the white ribbons and cloth in the cabin; I can’t wait to get it all up so we can see it ready to go. It’s almost like decorating for Christmas.”
“It’s a lot to get done,” Leah said, flipping anothe
r batch of French toast in the cast-iron griddle.
“I’ll get it done, don’t worry. And by this afternoon there will be a ton of other people here who want to help, too.”
Leah’s shoulders dropped, and she looked up from the grill and out over the valley below. “It’s still not going to be okay. I know Catherine went to so much trouble to make her feel at home, but she’s used to big, fancy hotels and concierge service, and she hates bugs and ground that scuffs her shoes and well water…”
That explained which mom, and the water filter. Meg put an arm around Leah’s shoulders. “That’s going to be really hard. I know you like it here, and I bet you wish she did too.”
Leah nodded silently.
“Leah, the good thing is Joshua’s here, and he loves you more than anything in this world. Try to remember it’s all about you two now. It’s about all of us blessing your marriage. It’s about you and Josh blessing each other. And anyone who is cranky, puking, wimpy, or whatever just shouldn’t matter this weekend.”
Leah snickered. “You have a way with words, Meg. You should be a writer.”
She might have told Leah about her book right then if Gage and Joshua hadn’t walked out onto the deck. Joshua looked awful. She glanced at Leah, who was looking at him like he hung the moon, and smiled. It made her feel funny, the way they couldn’t see anyone else. She felt like an intruder, and she was happy for them. And she was a little bit jealous of their relationship.
Not that she would have any idea what to do with a husband, anyway.
They all heard the sound of an engine at the same time, and Jacob and Catherine’s blue Expedition drove into sight. Before the engine was off, her aunts, uncles, and two of her cousins poured out. She waited. There was no sign of her parents. And with a quick glance at Leah she confirmed that there was also no sign of Leah’s mother.
There was a flurry of hugging and loud back slapping as Uncle Jeffrey greeted Joshua. “I can’t tell you what it means to me to be here, Josh! What a blessed time this is.” He then turned toward the girls. He looked like a taller, thinner version of her own father. “Leah! It’s so good to see you again.” He rushed over and gave her a hug and a back slap that sounded a little painful. If it hurt, Leah kept it to herself. Meg was next. It didn’t hurt that badly, that was just Uncle Jeffrey. She wondered if he gave the same thumping hugs to the elderly ladies in his congregation.
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