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“Can you make pancakes?”
“Yes.” She crouched by the fire as Dan wandered away, then finished mixing the batter and slowly poured it in the griddle for the first batch. Finally, she was being useful. Who wanted to look helpless, even if it were true? But even something as basic as sitting around the campfire had proved challenging, last night’s smoke making breathing—let alone reading her book—difficult.
And then Dan had made that comment about “smoke follows beauty.”
She flipped the pancake carefully. He had to have been joking. Maybe she had a couple of nice features, but most of the time she looked—and felt—like a sloppy mess. It was probably just some old campfire saying, anyway. Stupid to read anything into it.
She gingerly scooped out the first pancake, placed it on a plate, and poured batter for the next. She swiped her hair from her eyes, waiting until small bubbles indicated it was time to flip. Yawned again. WhyhadDan’s comment kept her awake? Did she want him to find her attractive?
“Hey, Princess, you know there’s batter in your hair?”
Great. Attractiveness would have to wait another day—or century. Mess was nothing new. But Dan leaning close to carefully remove the caked-on batter was. As was his fingers in her hair. And the way his eyes crinkled with—amusement? happiness?—when he saw her. And the color of his eyes in the morning light, more like nutmeg than the dark chocolate she’d always assumed. And his impossibly thick, dark lashes…
She swallowed. This wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all.
* * *
Dan rinsedhis fishing gear in the lake and glanced up along the shoreline to where a big pine lay weathered and white on the sand. Georgia leaned against it, chatting with Sarah. His heart eased. For a self-proclaimed non-camper, Sarah had settled in pretty well. He’d kept an eye on her this morning to make sure things went smoothly like he’d promised. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself—and Boyd, who’d looked at him questioningly more than once.
“Hey, Dan, where should I put the fish?” Travis, Georgia’s cousin, looked ready to explode with excitement.
“You did a great job, buddy, catching so many this morning.” Dan nodded to Boyd. “Let’s see what the boss says.”
Boyd led Travis to their makeshift kitchen area, leaving Dan free to study the girls again. How “George”—as apparently she’d always been known—had come to be here was still a mystery, but thank God they hadn’t needed to drive her back to the city. Georgia’s demeanor suggested she’d experienced plenty of rejection. He didn’t want to be responsible for more. She only knew Travis—who wasn’t the most socially adept thirteen-year-old either—but Sarah seemed to have some magical connection to Georgia, drawing her out of herself. Quite ironic, really, considering the frozen princess of several weeks ago.
“Hello? Earth to Walton!” Boyd waved a hand in front of Dan’s nose. “You know you’re supposed to be keeping an eye onallour campers, don’t you?”
“I’m glad things are going okay.”
Boyd frowned. “I’m still not convinced—”
“Hey, she’s a teacher, she’s worked in church ministries before, and the pastor—who just happens to be her uncle—vouches for her. What more do you want?” Dan’s jaw tightened. Despite being one of his best friends, Boyd tended to be pretty hard on people—quick to judge, slow to excuse. Even though he’d pointed Dan to Jesus all those years ago, Boyd lacked a little grace. Maybe because he’d never gone through any personal trauma, and he expected people to think and act like him.
“Maybe you’re right.” Boyd sighed. “At least we didn’t have to drive Georgia home. That wouldn’t have looked right.”
Dan bit back a retort. Why did appearances have to count more than the chance for Georgia to experience God’s amazing creation and hopefully find His love, too?
Nope. It was much better to have Sarah here. He glanced up again. Even though her presence proved personally distracting, as always.
* * *
“What happened to your leg?”
Sarah stopped rubbing sunscreen on her arms. Her knees had caused much comment the first night, even though she’d swapped the puffy white bandages for more discreet skin-colored Band-Aids. She’d worn board shorts today to try and hide the red scars on her legs, but obviously they weren’t quite long enough. She tugged at her shorts, then leaned back against the smooth wood of the tree trunk before finally answering Georgia.
“I was in a car accident a year and a half ago. The car ran off the road into a gum tree, and my leg was pinned in the wreckage. I was trapped for hours, then in hospital for months in a coma, then recovery. It took ages to learn to walk again.”
A beat. Another. She winced. Too much of an overshare?
“I don’t like hospitals,” Georgia muttered.
“Why’s that?”
Georgia picked at her T-shirt’s frayed edge. “My mom died of cancer two years ago.”
Sarah’s breath caught. As terrible as it had been to lose Stephen, she couldn’t imagine being a young girl growing up motherless. Although Boyd had warned her last night about the no-touch policy, she couldn’t let this moment slide. She wrapped an arm around Georgia’s shoulders and lightly hugged her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It’s tough, isn’t it?”
Georgia shrugged.
