Epilogue
Sadie
Camp Brower looks different in the fall. Instead of vibrant green trees against a cloudless blue sky, the yellow leaves of the aspens glow almost gold in the overcast afternoons. More deer are sighted along the dirt paths than ever before with the cooler temperatures pushing them down from higher altitudes. And those aren’t the only things that are different.
Over the last year, Camp Brower has seen its fair share of construction vehicles, like the small backhoe that’s currently parked behind the lodge. Six new cabins went up this summer, and we put in a permanent shed and instruction area up at the archery range. The construction made archery rotations difficult with the campers this summer, but when we explained the new fall programs that will be benefiting from it, all the campers were more than happy to ignore the daily sounds of nail guns and saws.
After Oliver’s theatrics at the end of last summer, Paul and Linda officially brought me in on the planning surrounding all of the changes to Camp Brower. And they’ve since kept me on as a permanent employee of the camp and their youth foundation. Last winter, while they sorted out all of the logistics of the summer construction, I stepped in and helped facilitate the winter programs they had been running with the Evans Youth Foundation for years. And together, we planned out Camp Brower’s first fall programs, which officially begin tomorrow.
Oliver’s cup of coffee warms my hands while I wait for him outside the lodge. Tomorrow is the first day of our inaugural fall program, and when he asked how I wanted to celebrate, I told him a sunrise hike. Even though he groaned, he was more than willing, if not exactly happy to wake up early to spend some one-on-one time with me. We’ve both been busy this week, prepping our new, more permanent staff for a whole new program, and some alone time together sounds like the perfect way to start my day.
With the sun rising later and later with the cooler months blowing in, the season is making itself known in other ways as well. I should have cracked open a few handwarmers, but Oliver’s warm drink will do for now.
Oliver rounds the corner, looking sleep-rumpled and grumpy, layered in a puffy coat and long pants, his hair obscured by a beanie and the lower half of his face covered in a few weeks of beard growth. I tried to convince him to save it for No Shave November, but he told me it was getting too cold in these mountains for a clean-shaven face.
Like he doesn’t spend most of his time in the heated lodge.
He presses a kiss to my lips before slipping the disposable coffee cup out of my hands.
“Let’s get going,” he mumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.
It’s not just the cold morning air that sends shivers up my spine.
Even after more than a year of dating, I can’t get enough of Oliver. He relocated to Utah after accepting the job Cameron offered, and it’s been so nice having him so close. Even though he wasn’t with me every day while I worked as Camp Brower’s camp director this summer, he was up at camp often enough, overseeing the major points in the construction process as we expanded and renovated the camp, making it more accessible for the colder months.
I follow Oliver as he sets the pace for the beginning of the hike—slow and steady. We’ve hiked together more over the last year, but he still complains that there isn’t enough oxygen in the air out here in the mountains. With it looking like he’s making a more permanent home out here, I told him he needed to suck it up and deal with it.
The familiar path to my favorite morning hike overlook—the same one I took Oliver to the first time we hiked together over a year ago—looks breathtakingly new with the fall colors and leaves falling around us, muffling the sound of our steps. Oliver and I chat about tomorrow’s program and he smiles when I get animated talking about the new horseback riding excursion we have planned in place of the Minnetonka Cave tours. With the caves closing for the cooler seasons, we’ve had to get creative with our out-of-camp excursions, but it was an exciting challenge to think outside the box and find something new.
When we reach the overlook, I pull Oliver over to the edge to get the most unobstructed view for watching the sun rise. Oliver steps behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders, resting his chin on the top of my head. We’re quiet for a long time as we watch the sun crest over the eastern mountains, bathing the choppy lake below in a cool, autumn light.
I look down into the valley where Camp Brower is still hidden in shadow, the freshly-paved road and parking lot easy to spot amongst the changing foliage. I tap Oliver’s hand and point out the tiny moving specks as the camp staff begins waking up and moving about, beginning their last day of preparation before tomorrow’s program begins.
“It’s so beautiful from up here,” he says, surprising me. I was expecting a comment about how everyone looks like ants or how you can tell it’s Finn and Harmony by how much faster they move than everyone else.
“Yeah, it really is.”
Oliver’s arms tighten around me, pressing me further into his warm body. I nuzzle my face into the slick fabric of his puffy jacket, warming up a section with my breath.
“We should get married up here.”
I still, and Oliver’s arms slip from around me. My senses zero in on the rustling movement behind me, and I slowly turn, like he’s a skittish squirrel that will run away if I move too quickly.
But there he is. Down on one knee, a black velvet box in his left hand. He reaches his right hand up, and I take it, letting him pull me closer, until we’re nearly knee-to-knee and eye-to-eye.
He flips the box open with his thumb, revealing the most perfect ring. A small oval-cut emerald, the color of aspen leaves in the middle of summer, sits between two clusters of tiny diamonds, with thin strands of silver twining around the band like delicate branches.
“Marry me?” he asks. Simple and to the point. No flowery words to declare his love for me. He already did that the day he came back to camp and sang “Moose Juice” in front of an unsuspecting group of campers. He’s done it every day since then by taking care of me and Camp Brower, by showing my favorite place in the world the love and care it deserves.
He doesn’t need flowery words because his actions have declared his love louder and more deeply than any words could ever.
“Yes,” is my soft answer, a smile to rival the sunrise behind me breaking across my face.
Oliver pulls my cold fingers to his lips, dusting a soft kiss across my knuckles before he gently slides the gorgeous ring on my finger. He gives me a moment to admire it before taking my face in both his hands and kissing me until I can’t feel the cold anymore.