by VK Powell
Chapter Seven
“Okay, guys, quiet down.” Carter waved her hands to get everybody’s attention, and four eager faces turned in her direction. “Let me introduce our guest this evening.” She turned to Emma and almost lost her train of thought. Emma wore a bright-green sweater that set off her red hair perfectly. Her jeans were so tight, Carter wondered if she could walk in them.
“Well…who is she?” a chubby African-American girl asked.
Carter smiled at Simone, the latest addition and least trusting of the group. She loved the girl’s frankness and curiosity and vowed to nurture it. She doubted anyone else would. “This is Ms. Emma Ferguson. She’s a freelance reporter.”
Simone leaned over to another child but spoke loud enough for everybody to hear. “That means she makes stuff up.”
Emma stifled a laugh. “You’re right, Simone, and if I’m lucky, they pay me for it.”
Simone eyed Emma suspiciously. “So, you Carter’s girlfriend or what?”
Carter would’ve paid money for a picture of Emma’s face. Her eyebrow arched, mouth dropped open, and she glanced at Carter. “She’s a guest in the park and doesn’t know anyone, so I invited her to the cookout. You guys are fun, and she needs to have some fun.”
Simone seemed to consider her answer before finally nodding. “Okay. That’s cool.”
“Any more questions about Emma?” No one spoke up. “Is everybody okay with her being here, because if you’re not, I’ll ask her to leave. This is your night.”
“You’d do that?” Simone squinted as if divining the truth from her.
“Of course I would. We made a deal when you joined the group. We respect each other’s feelings and talk about anything that makes us uncomfortable. Right?” Every time Carter met with these kids, her admiration and affection for them grew. Each one had come to her broken and afraid for various reasons and had gradually opened up to her privately. Some of them still had issues with groups, but all were making progress. “Last chance. Any objections?”
All the children shook their heads.
“Okay, when I call your name, raise your hand so Emma knows who you are. Emma, meet Maddie.”
A young blonde with curls and an eagerness to please raised her hand. “Hi. If you need any help tonight, just ask.”
“Thank you, Maddie,” Emma said.
“Reggie.” Carter pointed to a shy, skinny African-American boy who barely raised his hand and picked at his UVA basketball T-shirt.
“Hey, Reggie. I like your T-shirt,” Emma said. The boy sat taller and almost smiled.
“Nico.”
“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” He grinned at Carter and winked at Emma.
“I thought you said there would be six.” Emma looked toward the activity bus that had dropped the kids off and now waited near the office.
“A couple couldn’t make it.” Carter turned back to the kids gathered around the campfire. “We need to go over the safety rules. Who wants to help?” Three hands shot up. “Nico.”
“Don’t play with the fire.”
“Right,” Carter said. “Reggie.”
“Uh…I got it. Don’t wander off in the woods.”
“Excellent. Maddie.”
“Don’t go down to the lake without an adult.”
Carter nodded. “You guys are so smart. And what’s our number-one rule, Simone?”
“If something doesn’t feel right or you don’t understand it, ask.” Simone pumped her fist in the air. “I got that.”
“You sure do,” Carter said. “Okay, guys, choose sides for a quick game of cornhole. The light will be gone soon.”
She left the kids talking about how to divide the group into fair teams and walked to where Emma was unwrapping paper plates and plastic forks. Carter heated under Emma’s hungry gaze. “Are you all right? They can be a handful.”
“I’m more than all right. Thank you for the invitation.” Emma lightly touched Carter’s arm before returning to her task. “The hot dogs are in that container by the grill, and all the fixings are in the cooler. I’ll finish laying the table when you give me the two-minute warning.”
“Two-minute warning?”
“I assume you’re the grilling chef, right?”
Carter nodded.
“Then yell when the dogs are two minutes from done, and I’ll put everything else out.”
Carter grinned but couldn’t speak. She had a sudden image of her and Emma maneuvering around each other while preparing a meal in Ann’s kitchen. She felt a rush of warmth because in her vision she and Emma were both older, with threads of gray in their hair and defined laugh lines around their mouths. What? Where did that come from?
“Yo, Carter,” Simone called out.
“Yeah? Sorry. Ready to play?”
Maddie stood with her hands on her hips, the way she always did when she had something she considered important to say. “We’ve decided that you, Reggie, and I are on one team, and Nico, Simone, and Emma are on the other.”
“Sounds good,” Carter said. Then she heard a choking sound behind her. When she turned, Emma was flapping her hand in the air in a stop motion, her face bright red.
“Nooooo…” Emma coughed again and pointed to her throat. “Sorry…water…windpipe. Not good.” She finally pulled a deep breath and motioned for Carter to come closer. “I can’t play cornhole. I don’t even know what it is.” She waved her hands down her body. “Look at me. I’m not a sporty girl.” She nudged Carter back toward the kids. “You guys have fun.”
Simone kicked up a pebble that skirted across the ground. “It’s because of me, ain’t it? You don’t like me for some reason.”
Carter’s heart ached as she saw the pain etched so clearly on Simone’s gorgeous face. She started toward her, but Emma caught her arm.
“Oh, Simone, it’s not about you, really,” Emma said. She stooped to the child’s level and lowered her voice to a near whisper, but the others were close enough to hear. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Simone shrugged.
“I’m awful at sports, never learned to play anything. I’d just hold the team back.”
“Is that all?” Simone snorted, took Emma’s hand, and escorted her to the boards. “Don’t worry. Me and Nico got this. Right, dude? Besides, nobody is great at everything. I bet you tell a good story.”
Carter watched as Maddie and Nico hugged Emma, and Reggie fist-bumped her. Emma’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she stepped behind the raised platform with a hole in one end.
“Somebody tell me the rules,” Emma said, hefting one of the corn-filled bags in her hand.
Nico took another bag and swung it back and forth. “You just throw the bag and try to get it in the hole on the opposite board. One point if it lands on the board, three if it goes through, and the first team to reach…” He scratched his head as if trying to remember.
“Twenty-one wins,” Reggie offered from the other side where he, Maddie, and Carter stood. “But we got Carter, and she has the longest arms.”
Carter pulled a coin from her pocket. “We’ll flip to see who goes first. Call it, Reggie.”
“Heads.” He watched the coin tumble through the air, land on the ground, and then shook his head. “They go first.”
Emma tried to hand the bag she held to one of her teammates, but neither would take it. “Guess I’m first?”
Carter watched as Emma swung the bag back and forth, each swing stretching the fabric of her sweater tighter across her full breasts. The image vanished when Maddie pulled her sleeve and motioned toward Emma, who was still swinging the bag. “Throw it, please.”
Emma heaved the bag toward the board Carter, Maddie, and Reggie stood behind, and they scattered as it overshot the mark and sailed in their direction.
“I’m sorry. Is everybody okay?” Emma started toward them but stopped when Carter waved her off.
“We’re fine. A little less force, more finesse might work better.” She motioned for Reggi
e to take his first throw.
He aimed carefully, made the toss, and the beanbag skidded very close to the hole. “One to zip.”
Emma missed shot after shot. Each time, the desperation in her eyes grew, and she tried to back out of the game. Her last pitch didn’t make contact with the board either.
Emma threw her hands up. “I’m sorry. I told you I was no good at sports. I’ll leave you guys to it.”
“Nobody quits,” Simone said, stepping up beside Emma.
“Yeah,” Nico added. “You just need to change your point of view.” He looked toward Carter, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Get down on your knees, at our level. Adults don’t always have the advantage.”
Emma knelt and started her swing to toss the beanbag.
“Relax your shoulders and just go with it,” Simone said. “This ain’t no contest. It’s a game. Have fun.”
Emma took a deep breath and let the bag fly. It sailed through the air, hit the board, bounced, and disappeared into the hole.
“Did you see that?” Simone was jumping up and down pointing toward the board at Carter’s end. “Emma hit a bull’s-eye.” She gave Emma a high five. “We’ll make an athlete out of you yet. Stick with me…and Nico. Three to one.”
“That was awesome, Emma. Well done.” Carter gave her a wink that she hoped relayed how proud she was. They played several more rounds before she stopped the game. “Guys, I’m calling this one at a tie. It’s too dark to play anymore. Go to the bathhouse and wash up while I start the fire and get the hot dogs going.”
“Guess I should wash up too,” Emma said, and started to follow the kids.
“Hold up a second, please?” Carter stepped in front of Emma and took her hands. “You’re a natural with these guys. You seem to understand what they need.”
Emma’s shy smile almost brought Carter to her knees.
“Everybody needs the same thing. Understanding, acceptance, and love.”
“You’re exactly right.” Carter kissed Emma’s cheek and lingered, fighting the urge to dip lower and softly touch her lips. She stepped back, releasing her hands. “I could use some help getting these guys fed.”
“Roger, Ranger.” Emma headed for the bathhouse, and Carter smacked her backside as she passed, remembering her earlier image of them fixing dinner together.
By the time Carter finished cooking the hot dogs, Emma had set the table with paper plates tucked neatly inside straw holders and napkins, a bag of chips, and a cold drink at each place. She’d arranged all the fixings in the center of the table and taken a seat at one end. She and the kids sat with their plastic forks and knives raised on either side of their plates, ready to dig in.
“All right, all right. Here you go.” Carter forked out two hot dogs for each person before taking her place at the other end of the table. She was very proud that everybody waited patiently until she was seated. “Emma, it’s our tradition to express gratitude before eating.” When everybody around the table had joined hands, Carter said, “We are grateful.”
Emma felt tears gathering as Reggie and Maddie, who sat on opposite sides, reached out to her. “Yes, I am,” she said quietly, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her napkin. She wasn’t sure she’d make it through the meal without breaking down completely. The whole evening had been like a fairy tale of sorts. She’d played games, laughed, been clumsy and imperfect but at the same time felt included and accepted. Carter and these children had given her a wonderful gift.
As they ate, she watched Carter engaging with each child, inquiring about his day, his life, and offering encouragement. She was a woman of depth and character, a soul who understood how to reach children with emotional issues. Where did that knowledge come from? She was totally lost in considering the possibilities when Maddie nudged her and pointed to her messenger bag. The other kids were staring at Carter.
“What?” Then she heard her cell phone ringing. When she reached for her bag, Carter shook her head. “Let me turn this off. Sorry, guys.”
“Somebody want to tell Emma why we don’t bring cell phones to our outings?”
Maddie raised her hand and waited patiently, though she practically vibrated with excitement. When Carter nodded, she cleared her throat and began. “Several reasons really. It’s just good manners to leave your phone off during a meal. It’s respectful of other people, says you think they’re important and you like them. And you can’t really do two things at once and be equally good at both. There.” Maddie nodded and reached for her drink.
Emma patted Maddie’s shoulder. “You said that beautifully, and you’re exactly right. Thank you for reminding me.” She glanced at Carter, and her wide smile as she looked at Maddie could not have been any prouder.
“Okay, guys, it’s time to say good night to Emma while I take care of the fire. I’d like a few minutes alone with my favorite kids before you go.”
When Emma stood, the four children swarmed her and wrapped their arms around her waist. As each one hugged her good-bye, his and her parting words burrowed into her heart.
“Good game tonight, Emma,” Simone said. “You can play on my team anytime.”
Maddie said, “You’re a good person. I can tell these things. Come out with us again.”
Olive-skinned Nico hitched his pants up and kissed her on the cheek when she bent to hug him. “Remember, cornhole is just a game. What’s important is to play fair and have fun.”
Shy Reggie hung back until the other kids moved away. He motioned Emma closer so he could whisper in her ear. “I like that you write stories. Maybe you can read mine one day. I want to be a book writer.”
“I’d love that, Reggie.” Emma stood, so full of emotions that when she saw Carter coming toward her, she knew she couldn’t talk to her right now. “Thank you, everybody. I had a great time tonight.” She grabbed her bag and ran toward the cabin.
She made it to the other side of the ridge, out of sight of the office, before falling to her knees and sobbing tears of complete joy. From the mouths of babes she’d heard some of the best advice, and she’d had one of the most enjoyable nights of her life. Children had a way of drawing a line under what was really important. She cried away some of her old sadness, then continued toward home.
The return uphill was much more grueling than she remembered, and she picked her way slowly along the poorly lighted path. Her legs burned and ached, but she finally saw her cabin in the distance. As she drew closer, someone ducked around the side of the house. Maybe Carter had finished with the children and had come by to check on her. Adrenaline-fused excitement pumped through her.
“I’m here.” But there was no response. Maybe she hadn’t seen anyone at all.
When she crested the last ridge at the road, car headlights blinded her, and she lost her footing on loose leaves, tumbling down the embankment. Pain radiated from her left ankle, and she grappled for a handhold to stand. Before she could steady herself, someone grabbed her from behind.
“What the—” She struggled.
“Relax, Emma. I’ve got you. You fell, again.” She recognized Carter’s teasing voice.
Still a bit disoriented, Emma realized Carter was carrying her toward the Jeep. “Put me down, Carter. I can walk, for goodness’ sake.”
“Your ankle is sprained, if not broken. Calm down and don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
The pain in Emma’s ankle convinced her that Carter was probably right, so she relaxed into her arms, not an entirely bad place to be. Laying her head against Carter’s chest, she heard the strong pounding of her heart and smelled the delicate scent of her perspiration. Her arms were sure and her steps unwavering. But Emma felt vulnerable and helpless, something she’d never allowed herself to accept before.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the hospital, of course. You might’ve broken something.”
“No. Take me back to the cabin. I’ll be fine. It’s just a sprain.”
“And how would you know th
at? Do you have medical training?”
“No, but I can tell. I’ve taken enough falls in my life to know when I break something.”
Carter stopped by a raised boulder beside the path, shifted some of Emma’s weight onto her knee, and reached into her jeans’ pocket. “Then I’m calling Ann. She’s a nurse.”
“Don’t disturb her. I mean it, Carter. I’m really fine.”
Carter shoved her phone back into her pocket and took a different path around the incline toward her Jeep. “You’re really stubborn.”
“So I’ve been told.” She relaxed against Carter’s chest again. No one had ever held her like this, and she loved how safe and comfortable she felt.
When they reached her cabin, Carter waited while she unlocked the door, deposited her on the sofa, and started back out. “Stay put until I get back, and I’ll examine your ankle.”
“Carter, wait. I saw someone snooping around the cabin. Don’t go out there.”
“I left the Jeep running. If somebody’s out there, I’ll find him.”
Carter closed the door, and Emma searched within her reach for anything that could serve as a weapon. She didn’t want to be alone in these woods with some unknown person lurking nearby. She heard a rustling noise outside near the door but didn’t dare open it. She called out to Carter and got no reply. A sharp crack pierced the still air, followed by something crashing against the side of the cabin. She burrowed deeper into the sofa. She’d give anything to hear the warbling wail of a police siren outside her door.
After what seemed a spooky millennium, Carter knocked on the door. “It’s me. Don’t shoot.”
“Get in here,” she demanded before the door could close behind Carter. “What in blazes is going on out there? What was that awful crashing noise? Are you all right? Did you find anyone?”
