Chapter 12
Twelve
With the two tents assembled, a fire built, and fallen timbers dragged over to form a seating semi-circle, the beach campsite looked warm and welcoming. Intentional. Like spending the night had always been part of the adventure and not the eventuality Emma had wanted to avoid.
Under normal circumstances, she enjoyed camping.
Fresh air helped her fall into a sound slumber.
Waking up early with the summer dawn meant soft, quiet mornings for reflection before the rush of the day.
But camping also included wood smoke permeating every strand of her hair and aching muscles from sleeping on the ground.
As she approached the campsite with another bundle of twigs to add to the fire, she felt conflict rising in her again.
She was glad for any chance to spend time with Daniel.
He must sense the same ticking clock on their rekindled friendship.
Because she’d go home, and he’d stay here.
And after this weekend, she couldn’t imagine coming back.
She’d find closure and move on for good. He deserved someone who could stay.
“Oh, great,” Margaux said. “Can we use those for roasting the hot dogs and marshmallows?”
Emma hadn’t thought about food when she’d headed into the tree line. But now her stomach growled. She chuckled. “Good idea.”
Margaux grabbed the bundle of sticks and with Christine’s help, stuck a hot dog on each one.
Emma approached Daniel, sitting opposite the fire out of the breeze. “Can I join you?”
“Please.” He smiled and patted the log.
She rubbed her hands together and held her palms out to the fire. The sun started to set, but it wasn’t particularly chilly yet. She just needed something to do with her hands before she did something wild and reckless, like reach for one of his. “Sorry about my carelessness today.”
He shrugged. “Accidents happen. Not your fault.”
She studied his profile, unable to read his expression as he gazed into the flames. Her throat squeezed tight. Maybe this wasn’t the right moment to ask about the journal or revisit the I like you conversation. Or discuss next steps.
Christine handed them a pair of sticks. “If we want to eat before midnight, everyone has to cook. Like Korean barbecue.”
Daniel stared at her, unblinking.
Emma snorted. He really hadn’t left their small town if he was confused by a very popular dining option.
“Thanks.” She accepted her stick and lowered her hot dog into the fire.
Christine and Margaux took logs on opposite sides of the flames from each other. Not out of malice but habit. The silence was almost companionable, surprising given the arduous day. Only the crackle of the burning wood and the occasional pop punctuated the quiet.
“This is such a beautiful piece of land,” Christine said. “It’s a shame to think about what will happen.”
Emma frowned. “Do you know something?”
“I don’t know any specifics about a sale. I can make an educated guess about the inevitable changes. My husband is a developer. I’ve seen how he takes acreage and reshapes the landscape into something…else,” Christine said.
Her tone was tense and short. When the land was nondescript farmland in the middle of nowhere, building a subdivision must seem like magic.
Creating a community from nothing for people to build their lives.
But losing a part of her childhood, along with old growth forests, was a personal tragedy.
Emma longed for the teens she worked with to experience a place like Camp Promise.
Being in nature healed the soul and fostered a reconnection with the world.
“The Thomases will be set up for the rest of their lives from a sale,” Margaux said.
Emma cringed. “I don’t think that’s what they wanted. I think they’d have been happy to live out the rest of their lives knowing their son had a legacy.”
Daniel inched his hand closer on the log, his pinkie nearly next to hers and a reminder he could be someone to lean on.
After shielding herself from the world so successfully for so many years, she could crumble at anything now.
Was she exhausted? Overwrought from the emotions of the day or never fully processing her pain?
Daniel was the answer, but he couldn’t be.
“Should we tell ghost stories?” Margaux asked.
Christine pulled a face.
“Or sing songs?” Margaux tried again.
“How about a prayer before we start our meal?” Daniel asked.
Emma nodded and smiled at him, glad to catch his eye for a moment. He’d calmed the situation before tempers could rise. She admired him.
“Dear Lord, we thank You for the ways You look out for us. For the capable hands that wrapped up an injured friend’s wound.
For the foresight to pack shelter and food for the night.
For the time spent together with old friends to reconnect, however brief, and reflect.
For finding peace in the midst of uncertainty.
For this and for all the blessings You have bestowed upon us, we give You thanks and praise. Amen.”
“Amen,” the women said in unison.
Emma admired his steady faith most of all. He anchored his life with God and didn’t waver or bob.
“You’re on fire,” Margaux said with no modulation.
“Yeah, you are. Great job, Daniel. Thank you,” Emma added.
“No, Emma. Your hot dog is on fire,” Margaux said with animation.
Emma yanked back her hot dog and blew furiously on the flaming sausage. The flames abated. She was left with a charred hot dog. “Good thing I like them burnt.”
Christine tossed her the plastic bag of buns.
Emma prepared her hot dog and took a bite, before passing the rest of the buns down the line.
Daniel arched a brow.
“What? This is good. Try it.” Emma offered, extending the hot dog.
“No thanks.” He rotated his hot dog like a pig on a spit at a luau. “I prefer a thorough cooking method to be sure it’s properly heated.”
Emma liked the playfulness in their interactions. During the past few days, her stress levels had been at all-time highs. Being with him was easy. Across the fire, Christine shot her a knowing look. Emma blushed and took another bite.
“Do you think we’re safe out here?” Margaux asked.
For a long moment, only the night answered. Insects hummed. Birds sang. The fire snapped and popped.
Emma had been afraid to ask the question but felt it in her bones.
“Of course we are,” Daniel said. “I know we’re on edge after Jennifer’s accident—”
“I don’t think it was an accident,” Christine interrupted, softly.
Emma swallowed her bite. “What do you mean?” How could it have been foul play? She’d been closest to Jennifer when it happened. If Jennifer had been pushed, wouldn’t Emma have been jostled, too?
“I think she saw the hole and knowingly stepped into it,” Christine said.
Emma couldn’t believe a best friend would accuse another of such a thing. “Why? That doesn’t make sense. Her yelp was ear piercing. She hobbled on the path. She didn’t fake her pain.”
Christine released a heavy exhale, the whoosh of the air almost as loud as the wind. “Her injury is real. She’s in self-sabotage mode and wanted to get out of here. Now, she’ll have a reason for her husband’s sympathy and attention.”
“Why?” Emma shouldn’t ask. None of this was her business. But if her friend was in pain, shouldn’t she help if she could?
“Because she’s convinced he’s having an affair,” Christine said.
“For the record, I don’t think he is. But she won’t let it go.
It’s why we were out looking for cell service the other day.
I think she’s bored. Her kids are older and don’t need her as much.
Her husband has a busy, demanding job. I want her to join me at my company.
Give her something of her own. She needs to have her own life.
But she won’t do it. Not much more I can do. I can’t force her.”
Emma finished her hot dog, letting the words wash over her.
Loneliness and boredom were dangerous bedfellows.
Jennifer had so much going for her, and she could be a light for so many, if given an opportunity.
Everyone had gifts they could share to brighten the world and, in turn, lift their spirits.
Service was the greatest kindness to both the recipient and the giver.
“Maybe we should tell ghost stories to lighten the mood,” Christine said.
“Or we could start dessert,” Emma countered. She had no desire to be scared by choice.
“Marshmallow?” Daniel asked, passing around the bag.
“Thanks,” Emma said by rote, sticking several on her stick.
“I’ve got everything ready over here,” Margaux said. “When you’re done, let me know, and I’ll assemble.”
“Just graham cracker and marshmallow for me,” Christine said. “I don’t need the sugar but can’t resist a treat after today.”
“It’s not worth the calories without the chocolate,” Margaux said.
Emma smiled. “Mrs. Thomas wasn’t wrong.”
“Her little sayings pop up in my brain all the time,” Christine said. “Okay, fine. Go ahead and give me a real s’more.”
Emma wanted something sweet to chase away the bitter moments of the past few days. From the corner of her gaze, she spotted Margaux carefully lining up the graham crackers and chocolate bars for three. “Aren’t you going to make a s’more?” Emma asked.
“Not in the mood,” Margaux replied. “And…I get what Jennifer must be going through. I wish she had shared with me. I can commiserate. I miss having my own identity. I’m so wrapped up in my husband’s life right now.
Where does he end and I begin? I’m not a helpmate.
I’m not a companion. I’m just sort of there, smiling for cameras. It’s very…”