10. Elouise
Elouise
“So, I spin around, saying YES , only to find him talking on his cell phone!”
Rebecca doubles over, laughing so hard tears are rolling down her cheeks. “You did not!” she wheezes.
“I did,” it’s been long enough that I can laugh about it now, but the next part will always sting my poor teenaged heart. “Then my friend, who witnessed the whole thing, comes running out, yelling my name. And you know what Beckett does?”
She looks up at me, hands still on her knees, “What?”
“He looks down at my name tag.”
Her mouth drops open and I can see her features torn between humor and outrage. “He did not?”
“He did.”
Straightening, she looks over my shoulder, again. “Well, if the amount of time he’s spent staring at you means anything, I’d say that man hasn’t forgotten you this time.”
My eyes widen and I fight the urge to look behind me, “He has not.”
She smirks, “He has.”
My brain is trying to make sense of this, when Beckett’s voice booms out, “Alright Campers, follow me!”
Composing ourselves, we join the herd following Beckett as he leads us up the path, past the bathrooms and then down a trail I haven’t noticed before.
The kids have all migrated to the front of the herd, so they’re – for the most part – listening to what Beckett’s saying. Whereas I have fallen to the back of the pack, not even attempting to hear what’s being said.
Beckett freaking Stoleman.
I just can’t even wrap my mind around it. Like… what in the hell is happening?!
I may have lost track of him after I went to college, but Beckett went to school in Chicago, for business – or something like that – so I’m fairly certain he’s not some sort of Wildlife Ranger.
And yet, here he is.
The trail crosses over an empty section of paved road and we cross to the other side. My eyes have been down, watching where I step, so when I finally lift them, I almost stumble.
The trees have suddenly dropped away to reveal a beautiful little lake tucked in a patch of evergreens. The water looks still, and there’s a sheen of ice in the center of the water.
It’s beautiful and peaceful and I may have just found my new Happy Place.
As we all come to a stop, I look around the area surrounding the lake and see a tangle of trails criss-crossing all over the place. Around the lake, through the woods, a series of podium-like stands dotting the gravel paths.
“Alright,” Beckett’s voice carries over the crowd and everyone falls silent, “one of the most important things to learn for survival, is what’s edible.
Meaning what plants you can eat, and what you can’t.
Ideally, I’d help you find living examples of these plants, but since it’s still early spring, and things are only just about to sprout, we’ll have to discover them in a different way.
” He bends down to the backpack at his feet, pulls out some worksheets, and hands them to the kid closest to him, “Do me a solid and make sure everyone gets one.”
“Even the adults?” the kid asks, clearly doubtful.
Beckett nods, “Yep. Adults get lost in the woods, too. ”
“Geez, isn’t that a lovely thought,” I mutter to Rebecca, who has found her way back to my side.
Beckett pulls a clear bag from his pack next, and it only takes me a moment to recognize the yellow color of the classic No. 2 pencils inside. He hands the bag to another student, asking her to pass them out.
Rebecca sighs next to me, “He might be hot, but he’s acting like a real buzz kill. This is Spring Break .” She says the last two words with emphasis.
I roll my eyes, “Yeah, except this spring break doesn’t have frozen margaritas in Mexico. It just has a bunch of kids in the frozen tundra.”
She snorts, “I should’ve brought booze.”
When a beat passes and I don’t respond, she turns to face me fully. “Elouise, are you holding out on me?”
“Well, if you’d actually slept in our tent last night, you’d know the answer to that.”
Rebecca grins, “Well look at you, being a rule breaker. But it’s all yours, I have Bob to keep me warm.”
I try not to pull a face.
Sensing my thoughts, she waggles her brows. “Moves, Elouise. He’s got mooooooves.”
“Ohmygod.” I cover my face with my hands. I don’t need that mental image seared into my brain.
“Speaking of,” Rebecca whispers, and I drop my hands in time to see Gym Teacher Bob approach.
A gust of wind whips through the small clearing, so I reach up with my free hand and pull my hat down further over my ears.
“Ladies,” he greets us both, but only has eyes for Rebecca. “Care to team up?”
Rebecca nods and Bob hands me a worksheet and pencil before walking off with the only friend I have here.
I resist the urge to sigh.
A couple of kids from my class walk past me, so I insert myself into their group and we make our way down the path around the lake.
Every couple of minutes we come across one of those mounted placards featuring a photo of a plant, explaining appearance, smell, and where it commonly grows.
Then there’s a second flap for you to lift that tells you whether or not it’s safe to eat, and we mark it off on our worksheets.
So far, I’ve learned that I’d probably rather starve than chance eating the wrong thing.
The kids are laughing and horsing around when we start down another path, which is why I don’t notice Creepy Dad Adam until he’s right next to me.
He’s just smiling at me, while attempting to match his stride with mine. I lift a hand in the most awkward wave, but keep walking, hoping he can take a hint.
“Sleep well?”
His question is so unexpected that I don’t know how to answer.
It feels like an inappropriate thing to ask, but really, it’s probably perfectly acceptable considering we’re a bunch of adults sleeping on the ground after all. I’m sure sleeping badly was the norm last night.
But there’s something about him that puts me on edge, so him asking how I slept feels very stalkery.
“I slept okay,” I shrug.
He chuckles and bumps his shoulder against mine, causing every hackle I have to rise.
I take a step to the side, putting some distance between us, and if he notices, he pretends not to.
I glance around, looking for his kid, “Where’s Ross?”
He waves away the question, “Off with his friends. I didn’t want to cramp his style.”
Oh, just my style then.
I make a sound of understanding and pick up my pace to stay with the group of kids ahead of us. This impromptu one-on-one time is making me all sorts of uncomfortable.
“So…” he starts.
And his tone has me quickening my pace even more. It sounds like he’s about to ask me out and holy hell please don’t let him do that. The answer would be no. Of-fucking-course it’d be no. But I can’t be rude about it. We’re here for another two nights!
“I was wondering- ”
His words are cut off by a chorus of young voices yelling “Beckett!” and I’ve never been more thankful for an interruption in my life. Even if it means close proximity to my childhood crush.
“How’s it going over here?” he asks the students, and they enthusiastically answer with unintelligible cheers.
He’s standing in front of the cluster of the kids, but his eyes are narrowed on Adam.
Weird.
Using the distraction as an opportunity, I take a few more steps over, putting half the kids between me and Adam. And I purposely ignore the fact that it brings me closer to Beckett.
“Mr. Beckett, have you ever eaten something bad when you were in the woods?” a girl asks, and the whole group falls silent.
Beckett smirks as his eyes move over to meet mine, “I have not, but Lou- I mean, Miss Hall has.” He waits one beat, “It is Miss Hall, correct? Not Mrs.”
Oh. My. God.
Ohmygod!
He remembers me.
Heat fills my body, from the tip of my freezing toes to the tip of my blushing nose.
I bite my lip, not sure if I’m about to grin like a fool or puke up my coffee.
“It’s Miss,” one of the kids calls out helpfully.
“Good.” Beckett replies.
Wait. What? Good? What does that mean?!
I feel several pairs of eyes on me, “What’d you eat?” someone asks.
“Um,” my brain gives itself a mental jump start, and I force myself to look back up at Beckett. “I, uh, don’t actually know what he’s talking about.”
With his eyes locked on mine, Beckett’s mouth forms that adorable, crooked smile, the one I fell in love with decades ago. “Mushrooms, Miss Hall. I’m talking about the time you ate the mushrooms you found in your yard.”
My eyes widen, “Wow… I forgot all about that.”
“What happened?” someone asks .
“Um…” Trying to recall the memory, I bite the tip of my finger. I glance at Beckett, since he clearly remembers it, but find his attention focused on my mouth.
I drop my hand. My blush deepening.
“I remember my mom freaking out,” I admit, still not sure of the details, “and I remember going to the hospital…” I trail off, really having forgotten all about the event.
“After eating a handful of bad mushrooms,” Beckett starts, “Miss Hall started throwing up.” Every kid makes a sound at that revelation.
“Her brother was with her, so he ran and got their mom. And then her mom had to call Poison Control. Since Miss Hall couldn’t remember what the mushrooms looked like, her mom brought her to the hospital so they could make sure she was okay. ”
“And were you?” one of my students asks.
“Duh,” a girl replies, “if she died, she wouldn’t be here.”
“How do you know all of that?” the only other adult asks. His voice sounding way too tense for the conversation.
We all turn to look at Adam, who’s standing with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
I swear Beckett stands up straighter, “Miss Hall and I go way back.”
Adam’s jaw clenches, but all I can do is focus on Beckett.
What is going on?
The kids look back and forth between the two posturing males.
“We grew up together,” I say, to break up the growing tension. “Kinda.”
Technically, we did know each other as kids. But grew up together might be a bit of a stretch.
“Cool,” one of the younger kids says.
“So, you knew Miss Hall back when she was a kid? Like us?” another asks, sounding absolutely shocked. Like the idea of me having been a child has never occurred to him.
Beckett nods, “Sure did.”
This causes a flurry of questions, but Beckett manages to get the group back on task, telling them that he’ll share stories tonight after dinner .
I can’t imagine what sort of stories he has about me.
He wouldn’t… I feel some of the heat drain from my face. He wouldn’t tell them about all the times I embarrassed myself in front of him. Would he?
When the group starts moving, I automatically fall into my previous spot at the back of the pack. I remember that I do not want to end up walking with Adam, so I covertly glance around. And I’m relieved when I spot his back as he strides down the trail at the front of the group.
I don’t really know what was going on between him and Beckett, but I’m glad it scared him off.
Half listening as the kids riddle Beckett with questions, I take in the beauty around me.
Yes, it’s cold, and my sleeping situation is miserable, but it’s impossible to deny the draw of The Great Outdoors.
Life is just starting to shake free from the deep freeze, tiny buds forming on bare tree branches.
A juxtaposition to the mighty evergreen trees, boasting their bushy deep green needles.
It’s not the prettiest time of year, in the traditional sense of the word, but it highlights the change in seasons.
A new life cycle. A chance to try again. A fresh start.
We stop at another plaque and after reading the fact card the kids all rush to write their answers.
I hear a quiet snap followed by a gasp, “My pencil broke!”
I’m moving towards the kid to give him mine, but Beckett beats me to him.
He holds out his hand, “Let me see.”
The kid places the pencil in his open palm. I can see that the point of lead has snapped off.
Beckett reaches into his pocket, and I expect him to pull out another pencil. But his hand is covering the length of the item but seems too short and wide.
With a flick of his wrist, a blade appears out of nowhere, snapping into place.
It’s a knife. A jackknife I think they’re called, or something like that.
With way too much fascination, I watch as Beckett makes quick precise swipes with his blade, shaving off the blunt end of the pencil .
I can’t look away.
His grip is controlled, hand flexing around the handle. His focus is unwavering. And his stance is slightly hunched over, stretching the material of his jacket tightly over his broad back.
In seconds he has the pencil sharpened to a point. And I’m breathing heavier than I was before.