Emma
That saying about kids being brutally honest? Yep. Brutally true. But she would rather endure the guileless gasps and pointed fingers of her campers than the covert glances and whispers from some of the counselors any day. She hadn’t been back at camp for more than two minutes, and already her first-grade campers had circled her in one scrutinizing little band.
“Wherewereyou?”
“What happened to yourface?”
“Thatlooks like it hurts. Bad.”
The morning was bright, and Emma instinctively shielded her eyes. Much of her swelling had gone down, but the bruising had not. The initial purplish blue that had radiated across her cheek had morphed to a greenish-yellow cast that no amount of concealer she’d tried in the mirror could cover. In the end, she’d pulled a baseball cap on and tugged the brim down low over her forehead. As she walked down the street to the clubhouse, she steeled herself against the onslaught of questions she knew would be waiting for her. Candlewood Cove was a small lakeside community within Lenox, and word of the boating accident had already traveled up and down the lake. She’d have to face the music sometime. And seated here, in front of twelveinquiring sets of eyes and gaping mouths, she realized that time was now.
Six-year-old Maisy Barton had curlicue chestnut pigtails that stuck out due east and west. Now they swung back and forth as she shook her head in awe. “Oh, Miss Emma. You look terr-i-ble!”
Emma managed a smile. “Yeah, I know. But it’ll get better soon.”
“I hope so,” another little girl said. “Does it hurt?”
Emma shook her head, even though it still did, a little. “It looks worse than it feels. I’ll be okay.”
“Were you in a fight?” Taylor Gould asked.
Before Emma could answer, someone else did. “If you thinkshelooks bad, you should see the other guy.”
All the campers turned, as did Emma. Sully McMahon sliced through their tiny circle and slid onto the picnic table seat across from her. He propped his chin on his hands and smiled. “I hope you won.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh.
“I knew it!” Taylor shouted. “Miss Emma was in a fight.” Which set off a buzz through the circle, until the morning meeting bell clanged from up the hill and the campers dispersed.
“How are you, really?” Sully asked when they were alone.
Emma touched her cheek again. “We should probably get up to morning circle before our boss loses it.”
Sully remained seated. “I texted you.” His blue eyes were so intent. She stood up.
“I know. Thanks for checking in. My mom took my phone away.” She pointed to her head. “It’s a concussion thing. No bright lights or screens.”
Sully hopped up and came around the table, matching her stride as she climbed the hill to the clubhouse. “So?”
Emma glanced sideways. “So what?”
“What happened out there?”
She paused. “What did you hear?”
This made Sully shake his head. “Do you ever answer a question directly?” They were almost at the morning meeting spot, and she really wished he’d drop it. She didn’t want to discuss this, period, let alone in front of everyone else.
“All I heard was your boat ran aground. You were with your grandfather?”
“My uncle. And his fiancée’s daughter.” Emma’s throat got tight at the thought of Luci and her little pink cast. “And the boat didn’t run aground, it hit a dock,” she corrected him.
“Okay. The uncle. And the dock. Got it.” Sully held up his hands defensively.
Emma halted. It had come out more strongly than she’d meant it to. But she really didn’t want to get into the accident. It was bad enough that Sully had already studied every bruise and bump on her face close-up. Maybe her father was right. She should’ve stayed home.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just kind of fresh, is all.”
Sully’s expression softened. “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
