They weren’t the first group to use the site. He was glad to find a spot ready for a fire.
Christine offloaded her backpack and pulled over a fallen log as a seat while she sorted through her supplies.
Emma stood at his side. She opened her mouth and quickly shut it, returning to the others to set up camp. “Good idea, Christine. Come on, Margaux. Help me with these other logs, and then we can gather sticks.”
He was glad for her even temper and ability to quickly cool rising ire in others. But he longed for a moment alone to pull her aside and discuss the journal. And to establish an around the clock watch of their camp. Someone was watching them. And he didn’t know who or why.
Twelve
With the two tents assembled, a fire built, and fallen timbers dragged over to form a seating semi-circle, the beach campsite looked warm and welcoming. Intentional. Like spending the night had always been part of the adventure and not the eventuality Emma had wanted to avoid.
Under normal circumstances, she enjoyed camping. Fresh air helped her fall into a sound slumber. Waking up early with the summer dawn meant soft, quiet mornings for reflection before the rush of the day. But camping also included wood smoke permeating every strand of her hair and aching muscles from sleeping on the ground.
As she approached the campsite with another bundle of twigs to add to the fire, she felt conflict rising in her again.
She was glad for any chance to spend time with Daniel. He must sense the same ticking clock on their rekindled friendship. Because she’d go home, and he’d stay here. And after this weekend, she couldn’t imagine coming back. She’d find closure and move on for good. He deserved someone who could stay.
“Oh, great,” Margaux said. “Can we use those for roasting the hot dogs and marshmallows?”
Emma hadn’t thought about food when she’d headed into the tree line. But now her stomach growled. She chuckled. “Good idea.”
Margaux grabbed the bundle of sticks and with Christine’s help, stuck a hot dog on each one.
Emma approached Daniel, sitting opposite the fire out of the breeze. “Can I join you?”
“Please.” He smiled and patted the log.
She rubbed her hands together and held her palms out to the fire. The sun started to set, but it wasn’t particularly chilly yet. She just needed something to do with her hands before she did something wild and reckless, like reach for one of his. “Sorry about my carelessness today.”
He shrugged. “Accidents happen. Not your fault.”
She studied his profile, unable to read his expression as he gazed into the flames. Her throat squeezed tight. Maybe this wasn’t the right moment to ask about the journal or revisit the I like you conversation. Or discuss next steps.
Christine handed them a pair of sticks. “If we want to eat before midnight, everyone has to cook. Like Korean barbecue.”
Daniel stared at her, unblinking.
Emma snorted. He really hadn’t left their small town if he was confused by a very popular dining option.
“Thanks.” She accepted her stick and lowered her hot dog into the fire.
Christine and Margaux took logs on opposite sides of the flames from each other. Not out of malice but habit. The silence was almost companionable, surprising given the arduous day. Only the crackle of the burning wood and the occasional pop punctuated the quiet.
“This is such a beautiful piece of land,” Christine said. “It’s a shame to think about what will happen.”
Emma frowned. “Do you know something?”
“I don’t know any specifics about a sale. I can make an educated guess about the inevitable changes. My husband is a developer. I’ve seen how he takes acreage and reshapes the landscape into something…else,” Christine said.
Her tone was tense and short. When the land was nondescript farmland in the middle of nowhere, building a subdivision must seem like magic. Creating a community from nothing for people to build their lives. But losing a part of her childhood, along with old growth forests, was a personal tragedy. Emma longed for the teens she worked with to experience a place like Camp Promise. Being in nature healed the soul and fostered a reconnection with the world.
“The Thomases will be set up for the rest of their lives from a sale,” Margaux said.
Emma cringed. “I don’t think that’s what they wanted. I think they’d have been happy to live out the rest of their lives knowing their son had a legacy.”
Daniel inched his hand closer on the log, his pinkie nearly next to hers and a reminder he could be someone to lean on. After shielding herself from the world so successfully for so many years, she could crumble at anything now. Was she exhausted? Overwrought from the emotions of the day or never fully processing her pain? Daniel was the answer, but he couldn’t be.
“Should we tell ghost stories?” Margaux asked.
