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He nodded. “Yes. The peace of this place feels bigger than anything else.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. I’ve been sitting here thinking about the natives you told me about, the ones who were so brutalized by Hubert Bancroft. You said there are legends about horned devils in these woods seeking revenge.” She shook her head. “But I only feel peace here, the way they must have once upon a time. It’s like it . . . lingers in some supernatural way. I think maybe it’s their gift and their legacy. Not vengeance, or hatred. Just peace.”
He watched his fingers working the grass for a moment. “I like the thought,” he said. “But after what was done to them, who could blame them for wanting vengeance? In one life or another. Don’t they deserve it?”
She tilted her head, her eyes moving over his features as though she’d heard something in his voice he hadn’t meant for her to hear. “I heard this story once about an old Cherokee. He said to his grandson, ‘There is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One wolf is evil and angry. Jealous and resentful. The other wolf is good. It is filled with love and hope, humility and empathy.’” She paused and he leaned toward her unbidden. “The little boy thought about it and asked, ‘Grandpa, which wolf wins?’ And the old man quietly replied, ‘The one you feed.’”
Camden felt an odd rush of breeze move through him as though a door somewhere deep inside had just been opened. The wolf you feed is the one who wins. But was it possible to stop feeding one wolf to feed the other? And was it too late for him? He let out a slow breath. “I like that. I’ll remember it.”
She smiled. “I’ve talked a whole lot about myself. Tell me about you.”
He squinted down at the grass, creating a loop and threading the end through it. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “Not much to tell. I grew up here, moved away for a while, came back, applied for a job at the sheriff’s office, and now here I am.”
He felt her gaze on him but didn’t look up. “That just told me a whole lot of nothing.”
Cam smiled. “I wish I was more interesting but sadly, if I went into all the details of my life, you’d fall asleep right here on the riverbank, risk rolling into the water and drowning. Whatever the opposite of glamorous is, that’s me.”
Scarlett laughed. “That dull, huh?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not sure I’m buying it. Although as you know, I had a bad run-in with ‘glamorous,’ so the opposite sounds like a welcome change.” She paused. “Maybe someday you’ll go into more detail about your terribly mundane existence.”
He chuckled. They were both silent for a moment. Speaking of her bad run-in with glamorous . . . “I looked up that actor,” he admitted after a moment. “Haddie’s father.”
She grimaced. “I was hoping you’d forget I told you all that.”
He hadn’t forgotten. In fact, as he’d googled the guy, jealousy had pumped through his veins. So stupid, so stupid. He didn’t want to feel that way, but he did. He’d wanted to put his fist through the screen when the guy with the megawatt smile had popped up. “I told you your secret’s safe with me.”
“I believe you.” She paused. “Why’d you look him up?”
Camden focused on his fingers for a few beats. “I was curious about what sort of idiot spent time with you, then crawled away like a spineless coward,” he said softly. When he dared look up at her, her expression was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Camden stood up and stepped across the stream, using three exposed rocks for stepping stones. He dropped down on the bank beside her and handed her the grass blade, now formed into something new.
She took it from him, their eyes holding as their fingers brushed. Scarlett’s gaze fell to Cam’s mouth and his gut clenched with need. She was so close. He could see the freckles on her nose and the tiny black dot in the blue of her left eye. He could smell her delicate, sun-drenched scent. She looked at what he’d given her and then back up at him, her expression morphing into utter delight.
“A girl,” she said, drawing in a breath. “Me?”
He nodded, feeling momentarily shy but pleased by her joy.
“How do you do it?” she asked, nodding to the re-formed blade of grass.
He shrugged. “Practice.” Lots of time on my hands when I was younger.
She glanced at it again. “It’s incredible. I’ll cherish it.”
She spoke so seriously, and with so much reverence, that his heart jolted. It was only a blade of grass and she was acting like he’d given her the Hope diamond. Still . . . he’d so seldom in his life been recognized for any accomplishment, he’d so seldom felt seen by anyone, and he couldn’t deny the pleasure that swam inside him at the knowledge that he’d made her happy.
