Chapter 12 #2
“Having only a career isn’t good either,” Emma added.
If everyone else was opening up, it felt only right to add her burdens to the fire.
“I have dedicated my life to helping vulnerable teens, to saving lives. Because I can’t change what happened.
” Or forgive herself for what must have been her inaction.
Although she couldn’t piece together those fragmentary memories, she must have missed signs of her sister’s distress.
Perhaps her retrograde amnesia shielded her from more pain.
“But I think, even with all the pain that has happened this weekend, I’ll be leaving with a reconciliation with the past.”
“That’s a brave thing to admit,” Christine said, approaching Margaux with her marshmallows.
Margaux readied the chocolate on the bottom graham cracker and then using the top portion, slid the first marshmallow off the stick. She handed it to Christine as she took the stick.
Christine took a huge bite, devouring almost half the s’more in one bite, clutched her throat, and dropped to the ground.
Daniel leapt off the log. He managed to catch Christine before she hit the earth, potentially smacking her head against the stones, ringing the fire or the log she had been sitting on.
Christine gasped. Her hands clutching her throat. Angry red welts surfaced on the delicate skin of her neck.
“She’s in anaphylaxis,” he shouted. “Does she have an EpiPen?”
Emma scrambled to the women’s shared tent.
She was gone for seconds that stretched to hours. Holding someone struggling to breath, Daniel’s adrenaline kicked in. Christine stared at him with a primal, visceral look of fear. “Stay with me. Shh. Shh. It’s okay.”
“I’ve got her bag,” Emma shrieked, coming out of the tent with Jennifer’s backpack. “Where is your medicine?”
Christine waved a hand.
“Try the front pocket, quick,” he yelled.
Emma unzipped the backpack, the contents spilling onto the ground. “Got it!” She held the EpiPen aloft in triumph.
Christine dropped a hand off her neck, extending the shaky limb to Emma.
Emma shook her head. “No, I know how to use this.” She readied the medicine and without further ado deployed it on Christine’s upper thigh, through her jeans.
Daniel held on to Christine as the medicine entered her system. Up close, he observed her breath evening out and the red rash abating. Her pulse normalized, too. He didn’t let go.
He’d been trained to help people in emergencies but sadly had more experience deploying Narcan than an EpiPen. After five minutes, he held her stare and waited for her nod. Then he helped her back to sitting on her own and grabbed one of the water bottles they’d packed.
“Thanks,” Christine said, opening the water and gulping greedily. “I can’t believe that happened. I know better than to just eat something. I usually avoid chocolate for the risk of contamination. It’s dark, and I’m tired, and I didn’t double check.”
“None of this is your fault,” Emma said.
He was glad she cut off the self-directed, victim blaming. Living with a severe allergy meant a vigilance few could conceive. “Margaux, let me see the chocolate bars.” He waved a hand.
Margaux’s eyes went wide, her face a ghastly pallor. She clutched the bag tight to her chest. She couldn’t have proclaimed her guilt any louder.
“What did you do?” he whispered, shaking his head.
“It wasn’t me.” Margaux’s voice cracked. “Jennifer grabbed the chocolate. I was lookout, remember?”
“She’s right. Let’s not play the blame game.” Emma crossed their semi-circle and snatched the supply bag, pulling out the offending wrapper. Angling the ripped sheet toward the fire, she read. “Chocolate with almonds?”
The tell-tale gold of the packaging glittered in the firelight.
“I didn’t know! I swear. I didn’t pack it,” Margaux pleaded.
Daniel hated the shiver down his spine. What had Jennifer and Christine called her all those years ago?
Maggot? He never liked teasing and especially not name-calling.
But sometimes a person’s true colors showed in their behaviors, and they lived up to childhood taunts.
Not taking responsibility as an adult was reprehensible in his view, the sort of action better suited to an insect feasting on the dead.
“When we were kids, Christine was the only girl at camp with a nut allergy. Everyone knew. The Thomases used to take such care,” Emma said. “I don’t understand.”
The quiet admonishments were often the sharpest. He felt the sting of the rebuke. But were the Thomases to blame for accidental negligence?
“She’s right,” Christine interrupted. “It was a mistake, not malice. This isn’t anyone’s fault.”
Margaux hunched forward. “I’m sorry it happened at all. I should have paid more attention before I started assembling. It’s so dark out here, and I don’t have my readers.”
Emma sorted through the rest of the plastic food bag, lifting each to the fire for better light. “There are regular chocolate bars here, too,” she announced. “It’s strange that the Thomases would even have the almond bars at all.”
Daniel agreed but kept that to himself. Christine might have been one of the few at the time who suffered from a nut allergy, but in the years since it had become much more common.
He really wouldn’t peg the Thomases as having anything on hand that could potentially kill someone.
With their business focused on children, they’d know to be extra careful.
Unless… He hated where his mind was heading but had to consider all aspects.
They knew the land better than anyone. They could have set the trap earlier and planted the food.
Anyone could have shut the refrigerator door on Emma.
They could be watching right now and waiting for the next moment to strike someone down.
Was there a clue in the time capsule? They had means and opportunity, bringing everyone back. Why? What was the motivation?
Was it better to get their son out of the way? The one involved with re-opening the case that nearly destroyed them once. They were trapped with a business they could no longer properly manage and their son’s investigation dragging them down.
His train of thought derailed. The real villain would cast doubt and sow suspicion on anyone. The Thomases loved their son and their campers. The two trail accidents were coincidental. Bad timing didn’t indicate a conspiracy.
“What do you want to do?” Daniel asked. “Stay the night out or go back?”
Christine drank the last of her water, plastic crinkling. “I’d better stay until morning. I can’t take a chance in the dark. I know the trails but not that well.”
Daniel nodded and studied the others in the quiet. He’d learned to listen not just to words but to movements and expressions.
Emma sat ramrod straight, unmoving and unblinking. Was she thinking about the trails at night and what happened to her sister? Liz was a confident teen who trusted her ability to navigate to tragic results.
Margaux stared into the flames, her posture poor and her eyes glassy. She twisted her fingers together. After a long day and the heart pounding accidents, anyone would be nervous and anxious.
“Let’s call it a night,” he announced. “I’ll stay with the fire until it’s out. You all get some rest.”
“Thanks…for everything,” Christine said. “Good night.”
Good nights were murmured, and Margaux and Christine retreated to their shared tent. Emma lingered.
For a long moment, he focused his attention on the fire, waiting until he heard the zip of the tent’s door. He was glad to catch her alone, so many questions burning inside of him. But when he turned to her, he forgot every single one.
She looked like a ghost.
“Emma? Talk to me. Do you want to go back? We can all turn around in the morning,” he whispered, hurrying every syllable.
“No, I’m okay. I’m starting to have flashes of that night,” she murmured.
She lifted her face, and his heart ached at the pain etched in the sharp, fine lines around her eyes and mouth.
“I don’t want to remember. I pushed everything down.
But I came back to force myself to deal with what happened.
I’ve been trapped within myself. Unable to move forward because I can’t find peace with what I did. ”
“What you did?” he asked.
“We didn’t have a good goodbye. Fragments of the last night are coming back to me. We argued.”
His pulse pounded in his throat. “Did you follow her? Do you know what happened?”
She shook her head. “I put on my CD player and slept through the night. A good twin would have chased after her sister.”
He let her pause, searching the silence on her own. Pushing her would only shove her away. As the beat stretched, he decided to go a different tactic to help, even if he worried it would only hurt him in the long run. “I don’t know that I’ve moved forward either. At least not in my personal life.”
“You haven’t?” she asked, her voice soft and tender.
“When you meet the right person, it’s hard to spare a glance for the wrong ones,” he murmured.
She approached him then, cautious as a rabbit hopping across an open field.
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until she sat next to him, her side pressing against his. He exhaled a heavy sigh as she leaned into him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“I want to come home.”
“I want that too,” he murmured.
“How?” she asked.
He had no answer. He wouldn’t sway her to do what he wanted. She had needs he couldn’t fathom. “I don’t know. I’ll be here though.”
She shuddered. “I need to get some sleep.”
“Good night,” he murmured, fighting the urge to lean over and press a soft kiss to her head.
As she stood, he kept still. He’d stay by the fire as he promised but was in no rush for bed. Not with someone after them. He’d be on watch forever if necessary to keep her safe.