DestinyInterrupted
by
Ruth Davidson
Destiny Interrupted
Copyright © 2017 Ruth Davidson. All rights reserved.
Cover image LEEROY Agency from Pixabay
To Olivia and
Maddy…
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter One
“Whitney Ann?”
Whitney Hunsaker stopped packing, leaving her suitcase open on the bed, before she slowly turned toward her locked bedroom door. She didn’t open the door immediately but leaned her forehead against the hard, cool wood. “What is it, Dad?”
“I probably don’t need to say this out loud because I believe you know how I feel,” her father replied, his tone muffled. “I don’t want you to go.”
Whitney dropped her chin to her chest, sighing heavily. She knew she had incurred her father’s displeasure in making this decision but she hadn’t known he would try to stop her once she had decided to go. She unlocked the door, opened it and then plopped her slender figure on the edge of her bed as she waited for her father to enter. He stepped inside, leaning heavily against the door jamb as his tired brown eyes sought hers. “Why are you doing this?” he questioned. “I don’t understand what you intend to accomplish by going through with this.” He raked his large hand through his partly graying hair, leaving it in further disorder and making him appear even more discontented than he had previously.
“Dad, I have to go,” Whitney answered, shrugging helplessly. “It’s something I feel I need to do. I haven’t made this decision lightly. Please don’t keep fighting me about it. Let me go through with it without further repercussions. It’s been hard enough getting to this point.”
Her father furrowed his graying brows. “How do you expect me not to voice my feelings about this? You know I care about you and I want what’s best for you.”
“I do know you care about me,” Whitney conceded, troubled. “You’ve been very protective of me—as any good father would be. But I need to do this. My life has been on hold for far too long. This is the only way I can see to get out of the endless rut I’ve been in.”
Her father studied her, shaking his head in unhidden displeasure. “You’re headed for further heartache and pain. It’s inevitable.”
Whitney pressed her fingers to her temples in reaction, rubbing them in a circular motion as she tried to fight the familiar tension she felt inside. “Heartache and pain are a part of life, Dad. We’ve experienced it enough to know that, haven’t we? But I’ve got to take this risk. My life has been on hold for two long years. This room has been my tomb. I know every ruffle in these curtains, every crack in the ceiling above my bed. This home has been holding me trapped for far too long and I can’t let it keep holding me hostage anymore. I finally discovered the one thing I can do to break free of the stifled life I’m living and you’re trying to stop me.”
“I believe it’s best,” her father stubbornly insisted. “I know it’s best.”
Whitney clasped her slim hands together in front of her, dropping her eyes from her father’s displeased gaze. “I know you’re going to be angry with me because I plan to leave no matter what you have to say about it. I’m not going to let your disapprobation stop me this time. I’m not saying I won’t get hurt or that it will be worth it,” she forged on, stopping his forthcoming rebuttal, “but this is something I feel I need to do. I feel it in here.” She fisted her hand and placed it over her heart as she glanced over at him. “I hope you can understand that.”
Her father stared hard at her for several tense moments before he shook his head in obvious dissatisfaction before quietly exiting the room, shutting the door tightly after him. Whitney stared at the closed door before she lifted herself from the bed and began restlessly pacing about her small bedroom, her feet tracing the familiar path in the worn carpet beneath her. Why didn’t her father understand her need to do this? Why couldn’t she be free of his cold disapprobation before she left? Choosing to leave had been hard enough without his feelings causing further difficulties for her.
Whitney walked over to her dresser mirror and glanced into it, facing her tension-stained features with objective scrutiny. She’d changed so much in two years. Would anyone even recognize her? Her thick brown hair had darkened and lengthened, framing her pale, nearly colorless features and making her chocolate brown eyes look larger than they actually were. She lightly rubbed her cheeks, trying to instill at least some momentary glow in them, wishing she didn’t appear as frail and gaunt. Her face still looked much too thin.
Whitney pressed her features sideways, staring at her reflection as she lightly traced the tiny thin scar beneath her high cheekbone with one finger. The scar was scarcely noticeable but it was still there, a grim reminder of those events of long ago that had started this whole mess. She frowned, jutting out her chin as she formed her full lips into an expression of anxious discontent. Was she doing the right thing? Was she making the correct choice by returning to a place where she might not even be wanted? Whitney knew her father had been right. Further heartache and pain, taking a step like she planned on doing, seemed inevitable.
But staying here, wasting away to nothing, letting all her dreams and aspirations crumble to dust around her—that seemed even worse. Whitney knew she couldn’t continue to wither away and let life pass her by like it had been. She had been living a safe, sheltered existence but her spirits had been growing progressively subdued as she had, almost as if she had been slowly drowning. If she didn’t try to break out of the confines of her structured, uneventful life now—while there was still some fight left in her—she might not make it. Leaving home meant her first hesitant flight out into the hazy, uncertain unknown.
Trevor Matthews sat at his desk in the cool, air-conditioned cabin, filling in an order sheet for the next outdoor adventure camp—his first quiet moment in the long, hot, taxing day. The next two-week camp session would begin in two days and he had a few minor details to iron out before the new session started. The numbers attending this summer were greater than had ever come before and Trevor Matthews sometimes felt like the camp kept growing more quickly than he could handle. The groups attending this year were becoming more diverse and varied, as well, ranging from family and religious groups to various youth groups, even one group that included troubled teenagers from the south of the state. If numbers kept coming like they had been, they would have to expand even more than they had the previous year. It was the best problem of all he had to deal with but sometimes Trevor felt like it kept him busier than he wanted.
Kyle Fisher, Trevor’s long-time assistant and good friend, suddenly walked in and sat across from him, his large features unusually sedate as he settled his stocky, square figure in the canvas chair next to Trevor’s desk. Kyle’s baseball cap had been slanted backwards on his head and it cast a funny shadow across his features from the overhead light. Kyle folded his arms across the front of his broad chest. “Is something wrong?” Trevor questioned as he remained busy with his work, keeping his dark head bent downward in studied concentration. “Oh—I forgot to ask you. Did the vet make it today to check on the horses?”
“He came around one,” Kyle answered mechanically. “We got the new rowboats in this morning, too. We’re marking them before taking them down to the lake.”
“How many did you order?”
“Ten.”
“Good,” Trevor remarked. “We have a group of fifty twelve-year-
olds coming from the Academy and that’s the place they usually like to congregate.”
“That’s what I figured,” Kyle said. “I tried to time the delivery accordingly.”
The somber, reflective tone of Kyle’s voice finally pulled Trevor from his work and he set his pen down on the desk, looking at his friend in question. Kyle had been a close confidant for several years since they had started working the camp together and Kyle’s usual easygoing nature rarely suffered any variation. Tonight Trevor could sense something deeper than the usual camp issues troubling him. “What’s wrong?” Trevor questioned.
“Have you read the new counselor list for the summer?” Kyle asked.
Trevor shook his head. “I haven’t. Why? Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know if you’ll consider it a problem or not,” Kyle observed with some hesitation. “I suppose that’s why I’m here.”
Trevor leaned back in his chair as he settled his deeply tanned arms on the worn armrests. He didn’t know if he should be more concerned than he felt but he faced his friend with relative composure. “What is it?”
Kyle dropped his gaze to the wooden floor before he lifted it again, looking grim. “I don’t know quite how to break this to you but Whitney Hunsaker has signed up to be one of the new camp counselors. She’s been hired on and is at camp as we speak.”
Although outwardly Trevor didn’t flinch, he couldn’t deny his intense inward reaction as he heard the familiar name. His large, calloused hands slowly clenched the armrests at his sides. His knuckles were white where he gripped the handles. “Are you sure it’s the Whitney Hunsaker we know?”
“I poked my head in on the counselor meeting this morning to make sure,” Kyle responded evenly. “It’s Whitney, all right. I would have recognized her anywhere.”
Trevor sat breathlessly still, still trying to absorb the shocking news. “Is she…?” he began before abruptly stalling, not quite able to finish what he’d begun to say. How could he say it appropriately? Was there a way to address those kinds of things or were those kinds of things best left unsaid?
“Is she what?” Kyle pressed him. Then, instead of waiting for Trevor’s response, he stated coldly, “She looks the same except for being a bit thinner than she used to be. I couldn’t tell anything different about her other than her size. She was responsive, taking part in the meeting. She seems normal enough.” He looked almost annoyed when he spoke again. “Whitney’s here. Right now. At camp. Talking to everyone. As if nothing happened.” His words were terse, laden with obvious resentment.
Trevor still tried to grapple with his unsteady emotions as he faced his friend. “Do we know for sure if Whitney is capable of handling something like this?”
“You know how Deborah carefully screens counselors when she interviews them, even if they have worked at the camp before,” Kyle countered. “Deb didn’t say anything at all about any type of problem. Why? What did you expect?”
Trevor shook his head in uncertainty. “I don’t know. After what her father told me, I wondered if there might be some…”
“Permanent damage?” Kyle finished for him.
Trevor let out a heavy breath. “That’s probably what I meant to say. I didn’t know quite how to put it. I guess there’s really no nice way of saying it, is there.”
“No, there isn’t. And to answer your question, there’s not one bit of damage that I can see,” Kyle insisted callously, his large lips curling into a derisive frown. “Sometimes I swear—I think her old man was putting one over on you with all that stuff he said. I still get riled when I think about it. He was completely out of line. Her being here like this, showing up like nothing happened, is completely out of line, as well. I’m having a hard time with it. I can only imagine what it is you’re feeling.” Kyle stood from his chair, his square, broad shoulders tense beneath his forest green camp shirt. He turned toward the door, getting ready to leave, but abruptly pivoted to face Trevor at the door. “What would prompt her to come back like this without telling you about her plans? Why would she do this to you?”
“I have no idea,” Trevor remarked distantly as he still tried to adjust to the sobering news. “I would have never expected it.”
“No one could have expected it,” Kyle claimed brusquely. “No one should have to expect it.” He turned to leave.
“Did you happen to see which cabin Whitney has been assigned to?” Trevor suddenly questioned, stopping him.
“She’s with Jenny Cantwell over in 2-C,” Kyle said as his hand rested on the rickety handle beneath him. “When do you expect Laura Benson back at camp?”
“Next month.”
“Next month,” Kyle repeated. “I imagine Laura won’t be too happy to realize that Whitney has suddenly popped back into your life.”
“She won’t be,” Trevor acknowledged, trying to picture Laura’s face as he told her the news. She definitely would not be pleased.
“At least you’ll have some time to adjust to this situation before then,” Kyle remarked. “That should give you a small window for things to settle down. I could say a few more uncharitable things about your current predicament but I’ll hold my tongue. You don’t need anything further to deal with right now and I guarantee what I have to say won’t help.”
Trevor watched as Kyle turned and tromped out, obviously upset. Trevor sat unmoving at his desk, staring blankly at the pile of unfinished work beneath his hands, still trying to fathom what he’d just learned. Whitney Hunsaker had returned. She had come back into his life. He never would have imagined that he would have to deal with Whitney’s presence again. He had supposed she had long ago faded from his life and had done so permanently. Little did Trevor realize how many emotions he had buried in relation to her—not until he suddenly had to come face to face with the mountain of them that stood before him with the knowledge that she was nearby.
Whitney Hunsaker began unpacking what few belongings she had in her sparse cabin room, meticulously setting them in place with her long, slim fingers as she tried to silence the anxious feelings that had arisen inside her after her first long, demanding day at camp. She had not yet once caught a glimpse of Trevor Matthews. She didn’t know what to think. She had been certain she would have run into him by now and she’d wanted to let him know of her return. What was she to do? Seek him out to tell him? Or wait until they accidentally bumped into each other?
Just then Whitney’s new roommate, Jenny Cantwell, entered from the gathering dusk outside, slapping away a few bothersome mosquitoes from her face. Jenny seemed filled with a happy, carefree energy, her short blonde hair bobbing with her quick, animated movements. Her features were bronzed from long hours in the summer sun. “You’re sure getting settled in fast,” Jenny observed in a friendly tone as she sat across from Whitney on her bed, pulling up her tanned legs beneath her. “Have you eaten dinner?”
“Not yet,” Whitney replied distractedly, still working as she spoke. “I wanted to get my things in before I went over to the dining hall.”
“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d like that,” Whitney answered, instantly relieved to know she wouldn’t have to face the large dining hall crowd alone, especially if Trevor happened to be there.
Jenny lay across her bed on her stomach, propping her head beneath her as she abstractedly watched Whitney place her clothes in the white pine dresser they shared. “I thought I heard you mention at the meeting this morning that this isn’t your first camp counselor job up here at the camp.”
“It isn’t,” Whitney conceded softly. “I’ve been here at this camp before.”
“I’ve been here at camp for over a year and I don’t remember seeing you,” Jenny replied. “It must have been awhile ago.”
“It was over two years ago,” Whitney said. Two very long and draining years ago, she could have added.
“That’s why I missed you. How long did you work here?”
“A little over a year and a half.”
>
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I loved it,” Whitney replied. “Being back at this place, in these mountains—it reminds me why I came out here in the first place.”
Jenny nodded with a happy grin. “It’s incredible, isn’t it—so isolated and rugged. I love being out in the middle of nowhere. I can’t believe we get paid for doing this—hiking, horseback riding, canoeing, entertaining kids and adults.” She curled her brows in question. “Why did you decide to quit if you loved it so much?”
Whitney twisted away in slight discomfort. How could she explain this appropriately, especially to someone she hardly knew? “I didn’t exactly decide to quit,” she finally told her. “Something personal came up and I had to leave for awhile.”
Jenny seemed to sense Whitney’s unease about discussing the reason for her departure and she chose not to address the issue further. She sat up cross-legged on her bed before she spoke again. “Did you see anyone today that you knew from before?”
“I saw a couple of people,” Whitney said. “I remember the cook…”
“Claire?” Jenny questioned.
“Yes, Claire.”
“Claire’s the best chef for miles around,” Jenny stated exuberantly. “Her peach cobbler is the best in the state. She even has a blue ribbon from the fair to prove it.”
“I also remember Kyle Fisher,” Whitney continued.
“You know Kyle? I guess that means you must know Trevor Matthews, as well. Those two have been a team in charge of this place for awhile.”
Whitney dropped her eyes to the floor at the mention of Trevor Matthews, noticeably affected by the name. To have heard his name spoken out loud again almost startled her. Yes, she did know Trevor Matthews, far better than Jenny could imagine. “I did know Trevor,” Whitney finally admitted, trying to keep the slight tremor out of her voice as she closed the dresser drawer she had been filling. “He’d been in charge for a few years when I began working here. I thought I might see him today but I didn’t.”
Destiny Interrupted Page 1
