Chapter 2
CAMI
Iplace a stack of white paper plates on the table along with a handful of markers, colored pipe cleaners, glitter glue, googly eyes, and an assortment of other craft items before repeating the process on the remaining four tables.
This week at Kids Korner, we’ll be making fun masks and putting on a little play for the parents.
I wish I could volunteer at the Hope Mountain Community Center more than just one day a week, but I have bills to pay, which means I still need a day job.
Granted, that job is also working with kids, but when you’re a kindergarten teacher’s assistant, there are a lot more parents to deal with.
Here, everyone is grateful for the free childcare.
“Ms. Cami!” someone shouts excitedly as they rush into the room. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It’s Travis McClone, an easily excitable and adorable six-year-old who is here almost every week.
“Hi, friend,” I greet. “I’m so happy to see you! But remember what we talked about last time? You need to stay with your mom until I get you checked in.”
He sighs exasperatedly, making me laugh. I hold my hand out and lead him back to the table set up outside the door.
“Sorry, he got away from me almost as soon as I walked inside,” Pamela, his mother, apologizes. She’s carrying Travis’ baby sister, Tonya, on her hip with a giant diaper bag hanging over the other shoulder. She plasters on a smile, though I see the exhaustion in her faded green eyes.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “We’re pretty informal here, but the kids’ safety always comes first. We just need to get your names here on the iPad and name tags on. You know the drill.”
Travis grabs a name tag sticker and a marker, and I smile as he writes his name in big, sloppy letters.
He’s getting better, though it’s still barely legible.
It doesn’t really matter. We all know Travis and Tonya.
They are one of many families who take advantage of the programs, groups, and classes offered at the community center.
Pamela attends AA meetings on Thursdays, and she just earned her ninety-day sobriety chip.
I couldn’t be prouder of her and the way she’s picking up the pieces of her life to give her kids the best love and future she can.
“Let’s gooooooo!” Travis whines as he tugs my hand. I give Pamela a hug before she heads to her meeting, then turn to the bundle of energy bouncing up and down beside me.
“Do you want to make a lion mask with me?” I ask. “Or maybe an alligator?”
His eyes light up, and he races to the nearest table. “I wanna make a cat, like on your dress!”
I smile at his answer and get him set up with everything he needs. My dress today is yellow and bright pink, and has silhouettes of cats lining the bottom of the skirt. I wore my matching pink cat head earrings along with a bright yellow sparkly scrunchy.
“Pretty,” Amelia, another six-year-old I see often, says, pointing to my hair. I kneel down and let her touch the scrunchy, wincing when she tugs a little too hard.
“I have an extra one in my purse. Would you like it?”
Her brown eyes go wide with equal parts disbelief and longing, and she nods enthusiastically.
That’s one reason I love working with kids.
They accept me for who I am, crazy fashion sense and all.
Most kids haven’t formed opinions on what’s weird yet, and I think that’s kind of beautiful.
I can’t say the same for my peers or my own parents, for that matter.
Get a serious job, Camilla. Wear clothes more fitting for an adult, Camilla. Fit into our little box of what we find acceptable, Camilla.
Okay, so I added that last one in there, but the subtext is loud and clear; I’m not the daughter they wanted.
I get caught up in the crafts and play time of the evening, loving that I get to spend a fraction of my time investing in these kiddos.
Most of them come from impoverished and/or broken households, but it amazes me how resilient each child is.
Some days there are more tears and temper tantrums than others, but every single week spent volunteering is so fulfilling.
I feel honored to be a stable presence in these kids’ lives, even if they only see me once a week.
Before long, my two-hour Kids Korner time is already up, and I’m helping with coats and hats as the kids bundle up and leave with their parents.
I finish cleaning up the room and packing the craft supplies and games into my rolling suitcase, satisfied at another successful Thursday evening at Hope Mountain Community Center.
I may not have had the rough childhood so many of the children I watch do, but I still used this place as an escape growing up.
While both of my parents made enough money to feed and clothe me, they weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy.
The people I met here always accepted me just as I was, even when my hair wasn’t perfectly brushed and I didn’t get straight A’s on all of my tests.
They didn’t care if I was chubby and fidgety; they were just happy to see me and find out what I’d been up to.
I hope I provide that kind of safe place for each of the kids I see on a weekly basis.
The cool evening air kisses my cheeks and nips at my nose, but I don’t mind. I love everything about autumn, from the crunching of leaves underfoot to the damp, earthy smell of rain as it mists around me. The view from the little mountain town nestled in the Rockies isn’t too shabby either.
As I make my way to my car, something shifts in the atmosphere. It’s almost imperceptible, but I feel it all the same. I don’t feel threatened; it’s more like I’m aware of every single thing around me.
And then I see him. The man from last week, whose stern blue eyes and midnight black hair followed me to sleep every single night since the last time our gazes locked.
He steps out from behind the corner of the building, hands up as if to show he’s not a threat. I have no reason to trust him, but everything in me relaxes in his presence.
“I’m not a creep,” he states. The man winces at his introduction, which endears me to him even more.
“I-I just mean… It’s not weird that I was waiting for you.
” He curses under his breath and wipes a hand down his face in frustration.
“I wanted to make sure you got to your car okay,” the confusing and flustered man tries again.
“There have been some break-ins around town and shady people doing shady shit, and I don’t like the idea of you walking out here in the dark on your own. ”
I nod my head at his explanation, but I’m stunned into silence. He’s watching out for me? Protecting me? Or, he could be cornering me and angling to steal my car or attack me. That’s probably what someone smarter and more worldly than me would think.
However, looking at him now, how his shoulders are drooped and his head is tipped down, I don’t think he means me any harm.
Though he has muscles for days and tattoos crawling up one arm, he’s not intimidating.
Sexy as hell, yes, but not a danger. If anything, I want to give him a hug and tell him it’s okay to take up space and exist. I don’t know why I feel so strongly that he needs to hear those words, but I feel it in my bones.
The mystery man must take my silence as skepticism. “I was a soldier,” he blurts out. “And then a bodyguard. So, it’s not weird for me to want to… look out for you. Er, for everyone.”
“Thank you for your service,” I tell him sincerely.
I wonder if he goes to the veteran’s support group on Thursdays.
My heart hurts for the trauma he’s undoubtedly been through and the sacrifices he’s made.
“Who are you now?” I ask before I can think any better of it.
He furrows his brow, those blue eyes narrowing in question.
“You said you were a soldier, and then a bodyguard. But, who are you now?”
The man blinks a few times, his mouth opening and then closing before his jaw tenses. I can tell I crossed a line, and I immediately start backtracking. God, why can’t I just have a normal conversation? Kids ask intrusive questions all the time, but I’m an adult and I should know better.
“Sorry, that was rude and none of my business,” I apologize. “I’m Cami,” I introduce myself, holding out my hand. My handsome stranger stares at it for a moment, and I worry he’s going to leave me hanging.
When his large, calloused hand wraps around mine, warmth travels up my arm and spreads throughout my chest and body. He doesn’t shake my hand; he simply holds it, his piercing blue eyes capturing mine as he gently caresses my knuckles with the pad of his thumb.
“Oh,” I whisper, unable to form any thoughts at the moment. He makes me feel both safe and on edge, my entire body thrumming in anticipation of… I’m not even sure. I just know I’ve never had this reaction to another soul in my whole life.
“Hayden,” he grunts before withdrawing his hand and shoving it into his pocket.
“Go on, I’ll make sure you get to your car safely.
” Hayden nods toward my car, and it should probably concern me that he already knows which one is mine.
This must not be the first time he’s observed me walking in the parking lot alone at night.
With anyone else, I’d grab my pepper spray and let them know that I don’t appreciate stalkers.
But Hayden… I don’t sense any malice or ill intent.
In fact, he seems to be holding himself back, covering up something.
Maybe his past or his pain, but something tells me it’s deeper than that.
It’s like he doesn’t trust himself around me, though I don’t know why.
“Thank you, Hayden,” I whisper before turning around and walking the rest of the way to my car.
When I look at him over my shoulder, he’s staring at me in disbelief.
Is it so hard to believe I’d thank him for watching out for me?
It cracks my heart in two and makes me more determined to get to know him. I think Hayden could use a friend.