Rick got off the boat first and placed his paddle safely on the side of the kayak, pulling the latch over it. He reached to guide out his side of our troop. I followed his steps in settling my boat and paddle before helping the duo to my left. While the campers were retrieving their art pads from their backpacks, I’d walked over to the farm owner, Mr. Kinsley, who was expecting camp visitors.
He pointed me to the field between the shed where we’d parked and the farmhouse. The field was a wide, open space with freshly mowed green grass. The farm had an abundant number of apple trees that spread around the farmhouse and its fencing. The three-rail white vinyl fence looked freshly reinforced and painted. On one side were three horses, two larger ones and one visibly younger. The other side had five goats.
“This might be the only time this summer that you get to be out here, so take your time choosing your focus point.”
“Amy, if I wanted to draw a horse, can I sit closer to the gate?” Kayla, an eight-year-old girl with golden-blond hair, looked up at me with hopeful eyes.
“Sure, Kayla, just don’t get too close.”
I looked around at my campers, who’d all found spots on the green field. I glanced over at Rick, sitting on a rock closer to the river. He was watching some of the kids engaged in their art and then looked back at the river. His solemn state struck me as unusual for him.
“You know I’m not happy about this anymore than you are,” I offered when I’d walked over to him.
“What are you talking about?” He looked up at me from where he sat.
“I’m talking about being stuck with me. I get that’s what you’re upset about.”
He looked up at me. “You think I’m upset about you? You’re a little nuts, I’ll admit, but I have better things to worry about than how I feel about you.”
“You sure have a way with people.”
“Ha—you’re one to talk,” he muttered.
I sighed restlessly, kicking myself for even trying.
“I’m just not thrilled about this carelessly planned outing. All for a dumb show,” he finally admitted.
“I didn’t plan this,” I said defensively, sitting beside him.
“I know—this has nothing to do with you,” he paused. “I never plan my outings with the campers on a last-minute workaround event schedule,” he started, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m always very thorough about the safety of the kids, including the location, the prepping, and the weather.”
I shrugged. “It’s not supposed to rain until later this afternoon.”
He gave a short laugh. “Long before we had the Weather Channel, Amy, people relied on good old observation, and from what I can tell, that storm’s coming a lot sooner than we were told.”
“Umm…I’m no forecaster, but the sky looks pretty clear to me,” I said.
“Spoken like a true unsuspecting inhabitant.”
I frowned at his words. Who talks like that? Despite the insult, I laughed. “Okay, know-it-all, why don’t you tell me what I’m not seeing.”
“Glad you asked! And it’s not what you see, it’s what you feel.” His mood suddenly turned into one of an enlightening teacher than of an irritated counselor. He moved toward the grassier part of the field and sat down, facing the river. He motioned for me to sit next to him.
I glanced back at the children and hesitantly sat down.
“Feel the grass with the tips of your fingers,” he instructed.
I slid the fingers of my right hand on the grass, brushing the strands before feeling them with the tips of my fingers. “Kind of dry.”
“That’s because the breeze is stronger than usual, and it’s drying out the moisture in the grass. Now close your eyes and take a deep breath.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Humor me,” he insisted.
Once again, I reluctantly did as he instructed. At first, I didn’t feel anything different, except that the air wasn’t salty like at the beach. It was damp and swampier. Suddenly, as if my body had known the prerain weather, I felt darker skies rush over my head. My eyes flew open, and I frowned. Maybe I couldn’t see it. But I could feel it. And it was coming soon.
“If we leave now, do you think we’ll make it across in time?” I felt myself starting to panic.
“I’m not saying it’ll start any second.” He looked at the kids thoughtfully. “I just wish people would talk to me first before changing things around.”
I got up, shaking my head. “So this was all out of principle?” I couldn’t believe his pigheadedness. I stormed away from him and started to approach the kids in the field. Rick followed behind me.
“Hey, Ashley, what are you working on?” I asked the slim nine-year-old girl facing the farmhouse.
“The brown horse,” she said pointing with her pencil at the mare closest to the white fencing. “But I can’t see his tail.”
I watched as the horse moved away from the fence and toward the stables. “Well, looks like you’re in luck; the horses are now in full—” Suddenly, I’d noticed the farmer was leading all the horses back into the stables. I turned to Rick, who was helping Dillon with shadowing. I was just going to call him to tell him that his suspicions might have been right, but I’d decided against it and started walking toward the farmhouse.
“Mr. Kinsley,” I called. “Is it feeding time for the horses?”
“Well, not yet, but looks like it’s ’bout to pour any minute. I’m gettin’ all the animals indoors,” he explained.
I turned back toward the field and noticed that Rick had already started getting the kids packed up. Dark clouds were coming in from the west, and the wind had picked up. I ran to help. The kids had already put all their art pads into the protective plastic bags by the time I’d reached them.
“How long do we have?” I asked Rick when he’d returned from storing the bags in the shed.
Just then, I felt the first splatter on my cheek, then another one on my left arm. The sky now matched some of the char-coal pencils in my backpack.
“Does that answer your question?” he huffed.
Drops began to fall densely as the kids started screaming—mostly the girls, I unfortunately had to admit. I started looking around for shelter for them until we figured out what to do next.
“Okay, everyone follow me to that oak tree.” I started running toward the tree I’d noticed earlier, eight obedient kids trailing behind me. Puddles were starting to form as the rainfall became heavier. I gathered them under the driest part and looked back at the farmhouse. I didn’t see Rick follow us, and now he was nowhere in sight. All I could see was the steam rising from the grass as the rain fell harder. Rick emerged a minute later with his waterproof backpack.
“This won’t last long,” he said over the overpowering sound of the deluge.
“The rain?” I yelled over the loud mess.
“No, the tree. Those leaves will hold off the water for only so long.”
“What about the stables?” I asked helplessly, although I knew the answer to that question.
“Drake’s allergic to horsehair, and we can’t split up.” He caught his breath. “Listen, there’s a rain tarp behind the farm, which is also visible from the road. We’ll take shelter there, and I’ll call the camp to send a van.” He started to remove his backpack and unload little blue packets. It took me a second to realize they were emergency disposable rain pouches. He started throwing them toward the kids, then one at me.
“Put these on,” he commanded.
We all quickly threw them on. I helped a few kids into them.
“Okay, everybody grab hands and follow me.” He grabbed two hands on either side, and they instinctively grabbed one on theirs. I followed the same pattern.
“We’re right behind you,” I yelled back.
As we ran through the misty, blurry field, I was relieved that they were all wearing water shoes. I suddenly remembered the kayaks. So much rain was falling, I worried they would drift off into the river. Overwhelming guilt
rushed through me as I thought about what Rick had been saying earlier. He was right. The whole thing should have been cleared with him first. Maybe if I hadn’t agreed so quickly, he would have had a chance to argue against it. I shook it off and tried to concentrate.
In the foggy distance, I spotted a dark-green triangular rain tarp sturdily tied to three metal rails. It was big enough for a group three times our size. We finally made our way under it. By the time I’d caught my breath and looked up, Rick was already dialing.
“Everyone okay?” I asked the campers.
“What’s going to happen to our art pads?” Ashley asked.
I forced a smile. “We’ll come back for them. They’re going to be safe and dry in the shed until the rain clears up.”
“The van will be here in five minutes,” Rick announced.
I sighed with relief and looked at him. The misty background behind him became a blur, and all I could see was his hair dripping in front of his face. He was looking back at me and still breathing heavily. At that moment, as if the pouring downfall hadn’t been enough, the rain intensified to a full-on monsoon, and our gaze broke simultaneously. We both turned to a squeaking of the metal on one of the railings. He ran to the site, reached to the top of the rail and held it in place before it could collapse. I rushed over to help and held the lower end tight while he tried to tighten the latch.
“What can we do?” I asked, looking up at him. We were intensely close, and although we were wet and cold, I could feel the heat of his body.
“There’s nothing we can do. This tarp wasn’t built for a storm like this. This is going to come down any minute.”
“Then we’ll have to stall it. Maybe I can hold the other end?” I asked in a low voice, looking back at the rail, hoping it would stay put for just a few minutes longer.
He didn’t respond.
“Hey when the rain gets stronger like that, doesn’t it mean that it’s about to stop soon?” I was not only hopeful, but trying to snap him out of his daze.
He looked down at me and smiled nervously. “Not always.”
We both turned at the sound of a loud car horn. An over-sized gray van pulled up. The driver, Rob, whom I recognized from the camp, ran out and met us under the tarp.
“I got here as fast as I could,” Rob said, looking around. “Everyone okay?”
Minutes later, all eight kids were safely in the van. I jumped in to make sure everyone was safely buckled and ran a quick count. I grabbed a clean towel from Rob, running it over my face and hair.
“Rob, I have to stay back with Rick. He’s going to need help with those boats.”
“You sure, Amy? It’s a mess out there.”
“I can’t leave him alone.”
“Call if you need me,” Rob called as I jumped out.
The van took off as I ran back to catch up with Rick, who went to grab his backpack from under the tarp.
“What now?” I yelled through the rain before joining him underneath.
He flipped around, startled. “Amy, what are you doing? You should have stayed on that van.” He yelled over the thunder.
“I’m staying with you. You’ll need my help.”
He shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry about my attitude earlier, but this isn’t your fault. You don’t have to stay back with me. I can handle it.” Although he was under the tarp, water was trickling down his jaw and chin as he spoke.
“Will you stop being so stubborn. I get it, you were right. Sarah and I should have planned this better. You’re the all-knowing ‘suspecting inhabitant.’” I waved my arms in the air to add a dramatic touch to whatever it was that meant.
He couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “To be honest, I don’t really have a plan yet.” He bit his lower lip.
“Then we’ll come up with one.”
Just then the tarp started to cave in on one side. In a swift motion, Rick grabbed my hand and ran us out from under the collapsing nylon.
Suddenly, we were both laughing. The situation was a lot more relaxed without eight kids to worry about.
“Come on.” He pulled lightly on my hand and ran us back around the farm. The farmer, who had been outside and spotted us, quickly motioned for us to come in through the stables. Rick and I glanced at each other and raced in.
Mr. Kinsley closed the stable doors behind us. I pulled back the dripping blue-plastic hood from my head and took in the surroundings. The extreme change in climate hit me like a tornado of senses. The air was warmer and drier with a sweet, earthy smell of hay. There was also a rich scent of new leather—although neither one could overpower the smell of horse manure.
“I saw the van pull up for the kids, figured you two stayed back for those kayaks,” Mr. Kinsley said. “You should stay here until it clears out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kinsley. I don’t think it’ll be much longer,” Rick said.
“Well you’re more than welcome to join me for some tea in the farmhouse,” he said, walking toward the back exit. It was a polite offer, but he didn’t seem like he expected us to follow.
The rain had eased up a little, compared to the downpour we had been getting earlier. As we stood there, I realized it was the first time we’d been alone since the incident at the pool that first night. And up until the kids were being picked up, we hadn’t exactly had pleasant encounters. The realization made me suddenly uncomfortable. I shifted my weight nervously.
Rick had been standing by the cracked-open stable doors, watching the rain as though he planned on running out the second it let up. He looked at me alarmed, almost as if he’d picked up on my tension. Again.
“I’m just cold,” I said defensively.
He grinned. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Yes, you were,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “You had that same questioning look that you always do, as if you’re…sizing me up or something.”
He turned his attention back to the field outside the door.
He squinted. “Five-foot-three.”
“Wow you’re good,” I breathed out.
He laughed.
The rain slowed to a drizzle. Rick peeked out and looked up at the sky. Then looked over at me.
“We’re clear for takeoff.”
I followed him out, then looked up at the clearing sky. What a difference from about seven minutes ago.
We approached the boats, and they hadn’t looked so terrible. The mixture of water and the sandy rocky landing caused a muddy mess, but no driftaways. Thank goodness. I didn’t need another reason for Rick to hate me.
“What are we doing?” I asked.
“Improvising.”
I was shocked. “You don’t have a plan?”
He placed his hands on his hips and stared at the six kayaks as if they were sending him a secret message. It looked like he had an idea.
“What do you got?”
“It’s not good.” He looked at me tentatively.
“It’ll be something.”
“We take two boats back to the camp and come back in my Jeep and load the other four.”
“That’s not a bad plan,” I admitted.
“I got one better!” The farmer came up behind us, and we both turned our heads. “I can haul about four’r five of these on my truck, then you can just row the other two across.”
Twenty minutes later, Mr. Kinsley’s truck was loaded with four kayaks. He insisted we fit in one more, which fit well, leaving us with only one to row across. Rick helped tie the boats tightly in place, and the two dusted their hands, admiring their handiwork.
“I’ll see you kids across,” he said, getting in his truck.
Rick hopped in front of the two-person kayak, and I followed behind him. We started to paddle in silence, and I picked up speed in an effort to keep up with him. Silently appreciating that he didn’t slow his paddling down on my account. I was also wordlessly grateful that a two-person kayak faces one direction, which took away the need for conversation.
�
�What are you thinking about?” he asked, without glancing back at me.
There went that benefit.
“That you’re now down two shirts for the summer,” I answered, drawing attention to the grass stains and the small new tear on the sleeve of his left arm. I just had to go there.
“Ha. I suppose there are worse things,” he paused. “Like turning down a nice gesture.” His voice suddenly apologetic.
My head popped up.
“Sorry about the coffee,” he offered, glancing back at me.
“No need. I don’t offend easily.” I knew what this was. And I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d hurt my feelings.
We rowed in silence the rest of the way.
CHAPTER 8
The next night Rachel was getting ready to go to a party and tried on a number of outfits. Lucky seven made the cut: a pale-blue miniskirt, white tank top, and white strappy heels so high I imagined her walking the runway and accidently slipping. Not that I’d ever want that for Rachel. It was just a natural image that came to mind when I saw someone wearing heels she looked completely uncomfortable in.
“Hope you don’t plan on walking.”
“Course not.” She tore her eyes from the full-length mirror to give me a mischievous look. “You’re driving us.”
I took a moment to scan myself in my bed: book in hand, propped on a pillow, wearing flannel pants, a blue tank, and the coziest pair of socks known to man. I couldn’t imagine what gave Rachel the idea I planned on going out.
“Do you really think I’d let you stay in on a Saturday night?”
“Appreciate the cordial invite, but it’s not really my scene.”
I turned back to my book, which was snatched away from me a few short seconds later.
“And what is your scene, exactly?” She scanned the book’s contents for a moment before reading out loud.
“‘She stared into his dark, cold eyes and shouted, Vampire! He didn’t respond nor did he even blink at her accusation. He just stood there waiting…watching…’”
“Okay, that’s enough.” I snatched the book back.
“Look, you don’t have to like me or even stay in touch after we’re done here this summer. But there’s no way I am letting you stay in and read in your flannels on a Saturday night.”
A Summer of Chances Page 5
