8. Chase
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHASE
I pull into the youth center, parking next to the large white eight-passenger van waiting out front. We’re headed to the museum today for ideas on incorporating the history of Fort Bender into our arts and crafts at camp. I’m early, as usual, but since the hazy sun is making a rare appearance in the morning sky, I wait outside on the hood of my car.
Kayla usually shows up early, too, and what I wouldn’t give to have a couple of minutes alone with her, just to try and chip away at some of those walls she has up. She’s stunning, sure, and that’s what first caught my eye at the diner, but something else keeps me drawn to her. With her gentle confidence and the unbothered way she navigates the space around her, I’m not even sure she knows how captivating she is. I’ve spent all week frequenting the diner and trying small talk during training, and all I’ve managed to get is a few fleeting moments and seeing how she interacts with everyone else. It’s just enough information to keep me wanting more.
“Hey, Chase.” Claire waves, grasping a clipboard to her small frame as she walks toward the van. I turn a smile her way, walking the short distance from the hood of my crossover to meet her near the van’s sliding door.
“Hey! Do you need help loading anything?” I ask, looking into the van to see if she’s already loaded it. “You mentioned sack lunches yesterday.”
“Nope, we’re just waiting for everyone else. Kayla offered to make the sack lunches at Patti’s, so she’ll meet us at the museum and bring those over at lunchtime.”
Damn. Another lost opportunity. Since she won’t be meeting us here, I go for the easy alternative—asking her boss about her. “You’ve known Kayla for a while, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I was one of her camp counselors when she attended Camp Bender. She’s so funny! And a patient teacher. When I became director, I knew she’d make an awesome counselor herself. Kayla’s great!”
“Yeah, she seems like it…” I nod casually, even though I’m busting to ask more. Sami and Kyle pull up, silencing any other questions I could have asked. I climb into the back of the van and wait for the rest to file in.
Sami slides in next to me, ready with an entertaining story about how the rental she and Kyle are staying in lost power last night. She’s talking fast, and I nod, trying to keep up. She’s nice and all, and I don’t want to make her feel bad. But, man, can she talk.
Samson finally clambers into the van, yawning like he just woke up. He says hello, tips his head back on his seat, and laces his hands over his lap. I’m pretty sure he’s out by the time we reach the end of the parking lot.
The museum looks like a two-story lodge, with a dark green roof framing the honey-colored wood siding. The entire front of the building is made of glass windows, tinted dark to keep the sun from shining in too brightly. It’s like we’re about to go inside some kind of rustic bed-and-breakfast. Walking around to the front, a large wooden sign welcomes us to Fort Bender Visitor’s Center and Museum. Sami has turned her motormouth to Samson, and I take the opportunity to walk ahead and hold the door open for everyone. Claire is the last one through, and when I step in behind her, my eyes take a few seconds to adjust from the brightness outside.
Looking around the main floor from the entryway, I wonder if they really did make this place out of a lodge. The split-level interior includes a wide-open main floor with a long hallway of rooms upstairs. Folded maps you’d expect to see in a visitor’s center line the wall immediately to my left with display cases against the surrounding walls. Behind the information desk, the main floor opens to a large exhibit showcasing the wonder of redwood trees.
My eyes finish their sweep of the room and land at the front desk where everyone is gathering. Kayla leans against it, hand under her chin, talking and laughing with Ashlie. She’s wearing her standard Patti’s Place uniform, minus the apron, and it’s the first I’ve seen her look so relaxed. Her genuine smile—not the polite grin she gives to me , but that one —nearly knocks the wind out of me. It’s not even directed my way, and I’m hooked. I’m making it my new mission this summer to get her to smile at me that way.
“Alright, everyone,” Claire calls. “Sign the visitor’s log, and then you’re free to explore the museum. We’ll meet for lunch on the patio at noon.”
I step in line behind everyone, waiting for my turn to write in the log. When I get up to the desk, a large group of retirees enter through the door behind me.
“Hey, Chase!” Ashlie greets me with a smile, her curls dancing in the ponytail piled on the top of her head. Kayla looks at me, flashes the polite smile, and heads across the room to the stairs.
“Hey!” I respond. “So tell me about this place. Where should I start first?”
“Sure thing. Do you want the whole spiel or the abbreviated version?”
“Whatever you have time for.” I shrug. She goes into the history of the building, confirming my suspicions about it being a former lodge. They gutted and remodeled the inside ten years ago, but the town voted to keep the exterior the same to match the historical accuracy of the other buildings downtown.
“The main floor is all about the history of Fort Bender, and everything upstairs is local art.” She leans in close with a knowing smirk on her face. “I’m pretty sure Kayla went upstairs…”
I smile back and glance toward the staircase. A touch on my arm brings me back. “Hey, Chase…” she says quietly.
“Yeah?” My eyes snap back to hers, wondering about the sudden change in her tone.
“Just…keep trying,” Ashlie says. I tilt my head, trying to decipher what she means. She continues, “I’ve seen the way you look at her. My best friend doesn’t open up easily, but she’s worth it. Just keep trying.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” I glance back toward the stairs. The group of retirees looks to be growing restless behind me, so I wave at Ashlie before making my way to the second floor.
I weave in and out of rooms filled with taxidermy, sea fossils, and local plants before I find Kayla. She’s standing in front of a large black and white portrait of an older woman whose short curly hair forms neatly around the deep wrinkles in her face. It looks like the entire exhibit is pottery and sculptures by this woman—Pearle Harris. I watch as Kayla stares at the portrait for several minutes before she moves on to look at some of the pottery.
“So you’re into ceramics…” I say from behind her.
Kayla jumps, whipping her head around. “Oh, God! Do you sneak up on everyone like that?” She holds her hands to her chest, taking a deep breath to regulate herself. The rose gold ring on her thumb glints under the track lighting overhead as she lowers her hand.
“Sorry.” I chuckle as I walk across the small room to stand next to her. “So…ceramics?” I try again.
Kayla glances at the door behind me, trying, I assume, to plot an escape. She’s good at that, finding ways to avoid me. But instead of leaving, she sighs and squints at me. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like ceramics.” She turns back to the exhibit and walks slowly from the wall of pottery to the tall displays showcasing sculptures. I follow along next to her, focusing my attention on the intricate formations of clay.
“Like…you make ceramics?” I ask, trying to get her to engage with me.
“No.” She snorts. “I’m not any good at sculpting. I’m strictly an admirer.” A soft smile lands on her face, and she glances back at the portrait on the wall.
Behind us, a small group of retirees pile into the room, talking loudly as they fill the space. An overzealous couple sweeps in near us to peer at a sculpture, and my hand instinctively presses to the small of Kayla’s back as we step closer. She goes rigid, and our eyes lock, both of us holding our breath at the intimacy. I didn’t mean to do it, but when the couple moves on to the next display, I have a hard time moving my hand away. Just the act of this innocent touch sends an electric jolt through me that makes me want to savor it.
“Hey, you two,” Claire walks toward us quickly. Kayla clears her throat and steps sideways, looking down into the display case in front of her, making my hand fall limply to my side. “I knew I’d find you in here, Kayla. Has she told you all about this exhibit yet?”
“Um, no.” I turn to Kayla, raising my eyebrows expectantly. She grimaces as she taps her fingers on the glass display case.
“Of course not. Really, Kayla, you’re so modest,” Claire says before turning back toward me. “This was all made by her grandma. Kayla’s basically Bender royalty.”
“My great-grandma, actually…” Kayla says quietly. A wistful look falls over her face as she looks at the portrait again.
“Oh, that’s right. Anyway, she could probably tell you all about Pearle’s sculpting process. I have to go check on the other counselors. Enjoy!” Claire swirls on her heel and bounces out of the room, her long braid swinging behind her .
“ Well , your highness, were you going to tell me you were famous?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes and wrinkles her nose. “I’m not famous…” Shaking her head, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Or Bender royalty, whatever that means.”
“Local celebrity is still celebrity,” I say, smirking. “So tell me about Pearle’s process. What put her on the map?”
Kayla looks at me for several seconds, pressing her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip as she decides whether she’s going to take the bait. Finally, she drops her hands and moves back toward the vases. “Okay, look up here at these.” She points to a collection of simple, unglazed ceramic vessels, ranging in color from light gray to a rich rusted red with intricate designs carved into the earthenware. “These are her earlier pieces—simple and delicate. Compare them to these over here,” she says, moving around me and a few stragglers to the wall behind us. The stoneware on the display shelves is much more colorful. Shiny blues, greens, and whites swirl through the vases and platters, reminiscent of the waves crashing into the ocean bluffs outside.
“Wow, it looks like the ocean.”
“Exactly. She ground up the sea glass from Crystal Beach to get the colors, and heating up the glass during the firing process would melt it down. That’s where the pooling and swirls of colors come from.” A faint smile teases her lips as she looks back at the pieces, seemingly lost in a memory while she fiddles with the rose gold band on her thumb.
“Did you spend a lot of time with her?” I ask softly, not wanting to disrupt the nostalgic expression on her face.
Kayla nods, looking down at her hands. “She helped raise me. I used to collect the glass for her when she couldn’t make it down to the beach anymore. She tried to show me how to do it all, but I was too young to be any good. And I…” Her voice trails as she looks back at the portrait.
I wait, hoping she’ll continue. This glimpse of vulnerability, the first I’m learning anything about her besides the bare basics, leaves me intrigued with this mystery girl. I sense pushing will only make it harder to get to know her, and I definitely want to get to know her. So I wait.
She takes another look at me, and her eyes have shifted back to the cool mask she wears. “I should go grab the lunches from Patti’s,” she says.
“Do you need any help?”
“No…no. I’m good.” She moves around me and walks right out the door. As frustrated as I feel that she ran again, I can be patient with this. With her. I think I’ll have to be if I want to make any kind of progress.