AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER1
JARRED
“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this!”
I resist the urge to throw my phone against the wall. My frustration is seeping out of me in waves, darkening the bright and shiny mood I woke up in. I swear, it’s like pulling teeth with her.
“Jenny, I’m doing this because youcheatedon me,” I try to explain to my soon-to-be ex-wife who doesn’t seem to understand that this is going to happen, whether she likes it or not.
It’s been three months of this, and the wound is still sore. Three months since I found her in bed in our Asheville apartment with a member of our church. Since then, I’ve started the process of getting an annulment through the church, but she isn’t making it easy. All I want is to wash my hands of her, but she’s determined to make our marriage work despite her betrayal.
“I already gave Father Matteo the copy of our baptismal certificates, the church marriage certificate, and the formal annulment petition. The only thing I’m waiting for is for you to sign those fucking divorce papers.”
“Jarred Charles Walker! Watch your mouth!”she screeches, and I imagine she’s grabbing her imaginary pearls at my language.“What has gotten into you?”
I’ve never in our twenty-five years of marriage cursed at her. It’s no wonder she’s shocked, but what is she expecting? Is she expecting that I’ll forgive her just like she wants? Does she think that I want to be with someone who jumped into bed with another man after more than two decades of being together?
I hate to admit that during our marriage, I had been a doormat. I let her talk to me however she wanted, and I never complained. I set the precedent that she could do and say whatever she wanted to me without repercussions. Even after she cheated on me, we attended marriage counseling through the church with our priest, but I couldn’t move past her infidelity. I was okay with her dictating our every choice—where we got married, where we went to church, how we raised our twins—but I draw the line at sleeping with another man.
All I want is for her to sign the divorce papers, so I can get an annulment through the church. The Catholic church believes that marriage is a life-long bond, a sacred pact that’s made in the eyes of the Lord that is never meant to be broken. Technically speaking, I can’t get married through the church again unless I get this annulment. Now, I don’t have any plans to get married again at forty-five years old, but I want to be free and clear of her. In the eyes of the law and the eyes of God.
“You, Jenny. You have gotten into me,” I say, gritting my teeth and asking the Lord for restraint so I don’t throttle her through the phone. “I’m sorry if I upset you, but we’re over. There is no making amends. There is no more marriage counseling with Father Matteo. We’ve said all we need to say, and I’m ready to move on with my life.”
“But Jarred—”
“The only thing I want to hear from you is that you’re signing the papers and mailing them over. Until then, goodbye, Jenny.”
I hang up the phone before I can say the nasty words that are on the tip of my tongue. Today started off as such a good day. Today, the camp counselors finally show up—one week before the camp officially begins—and this is usually one of my favorite days.
I established Camp Trinity twenty years ago and, in twenty years, it’s turned into something I can really be proud of. My twins were the inspiration behind setting up Camp Trinity. I wanted to give them a place where they could get in touch with their spirituality and get closer to God. Since then, it’s become a place for kids of all ages to come and experience a peaceful and religious environment that helps them strengthen their faith and their character. The twins are now twenty-five and have grown out of the camp age, but I’ll always hold the memories of them growing up here close to my heart.
Camp Trinity is hidden in beautiful Mount George, four hours outside of Asheville, and surrounded by nothing but forest and lakes. During the school year, we hold little events—corporate team bonding, church retreats, and day camps—but summer is my favorite time of the year.
I stretch as I get out of bed, my joints popping and aching as I make my way to the dresser. I pull out the nicest Camp Trinity polo I own and a pair of tan slacks. I want to put my best foot forward with the counselors today. I don’t want them to see a bitter old man who’s going through a messy annulment with his bitch (forgive me, Lord) of a wife. I want them to see someone they can count on, someone they can lean on, someone they can trust to lead them.
I dress quickly and take a look in the mirror when I’m done. I don’tthinkI look my age. Sure, my blonde hair has a few streaks of grey and there are little wrinkles around my brown eyes, but apart from that, I seem young enough. I’m only forty-five. I have my whole life ahead of me. But it doesn’t seem like that some days. It seems like my life is exactly what it’s destined to be.
Lonely and disappointing.
I head to the kitchen and fill up my thermos with the automatic coffee that brewed a few minutes ago, grab my clipboard with the camp counselor information, and head out of the door. The deep breath I take once I leave my cabin does make me feel better. The sun is just starting to rise, so there’s a pretty pink hue to the sky as I make my way to the camp entrance that’s just a short walk away from my cabin.
I’m happy and rejuvenated when I see that all my camp counselors are already here and waiting for me. It makes me even happier to see the familiar faces who decided to come back for another summer. There are twenty of them in total and most of them have been campers themselves. Their ages range from eighteen to twenty-two years old, and they’re from all over the country. They’re good Catholic children—polite and respectful, kind and generous—and everything I want our younger campers to be.
“Good morning!” I say, adding an extra skip to my step as I approach them. All eyes and all smiles get directed my way. I try to match that youthful energy this early in the morning as I stop in front of them. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jarred. I’m the director here at Camp Trinity. I want to say how happy I am that all of you have decided to come and join us this summer. For my returners, I want to welcome you back. I expect that this summer is going to be the best we’ve ever had!”
Sure, that might seem like an exaggeration, but I mean it. It’s the twentieth anniversary of the camp and I want it to be the greatest season. If anything, Ineedit to be. With my upcoming divorce and the prospect of an entirely different life, I want this one constant to remain special to me. When all the counselors start applauding, I have a feeling that my wish is going to be granted.
“Thank you! Settle down, settle down!” I yell, my voice drowned out by their applause and cheers. “Okay, so those of you who have been here before know the drill. I’ll start off by calling roll, we’ll get you sorted into your bunks, and then we’ll have a tour of the camp. Your assigned positions will be given later after you all fill out the sign-up sheet.”
“Mr. Walker!”
“Kendall, I’ve told you to call me Jarred for the last four summers,” I joke, turning to the overly caffeinated, overly preppy girl with the dirty-blond pigtails whom I’ve known since she was ten. “What is it?”
She smiles brightly as she takes a step forward. “When are you going to choose bunk leaders?”
Kendall, ever the perfectionist, has been a bunk leader for the last two years. It’s a simple job. With around a hundred kids to watch over, I can’t be expected to supervise all the counselors as well. Bunk leaders are in charge of around five camp counselors, and they report directly to me with any questions or concerns.
Kendall has been a good bunk leader, so I smile tenderly at her youthful optimism as I address her. “Thank you for reminding me. I’ll appoint the bunk leaders at the end of the week before the campers get here. Any other questions?”
