Chapter 27

Brooklyn awakened to a sky spattered with wispy clouds turned pink by the rising sun. The morning air was sweet and cool. If the earth hummed in the evening, as Derek said, then it sang with the sunrise. Birds hopped from branch to branch in the trees overhead, chirping and tweeting, a melody that made her wish to join in a song of praise. To think that she’d missed seeing this, hearing this, all these years because she’d been afraid.

Fear not.

Oh, that was a hard command for Brooklyn. She tried not to be afraid, but it still popped up from time to time when she least expected it.

Help me not to be afraid, Lord.

Her daughter wasn’t afraid of anything. Alycia was full of courage at ten. So unlike Brooklyn at any age. Sometimes even now.

I can be proud of that, at least. I haven’t passed on my fears to her. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes again. Maybe I can’t take much credit for how well she’s turned out. Maybe most of it is despite me, not because of me. You’ve been looking out for the both of us, Lord. Long before I knew You, You took care of us.

“Mom?”

Brooklyn opened her eyes as she rolled her head to the side. “Hmm?”

“This was so cool. Best night ever. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo.” She had never used Derek’s particular term of endearment before, and she wondered what it meant that she had now. She could almost see him smiling at her, as if he approved.

“I’m hungry.” Alycia slipped out of the sleeping bag and tent in one fluid movement. “Can we have waffles?”

“Sure.” Brooklyn got out of her tent, her movements not as flexible as her daughter’s. Her body, she realized, was going to make her pay for sleeping on the ground. Derek had offered her a blow-up mattress, but she’d declined, saying she wanted the whole “roughing it” experience. Perhaps not the wisest decision she’d ever made. But seeing Alycia’s face and hearing her delighted chatter helped Brooklyn forget the achy spots on her body.

Inside the house, Alycia pulled the waffle iron from one of the cupboards while Brooklyn prepared the waffle mix. After pouring the batter into the heated iron, Brooklyn laid strips of bacon on a plate covered with paper towels and put it into the microwave. Soon wonderful odors filled the kitchen, increasing their hunger.

A short while later, as they carried plates to the table, Alycia asked, “Do you think I’ll be the only girl who’s never been camping before? You know. Real camping. Not just in the backyard.”

“I don’t know, honey. It’s possible.” Brooklyn sat opposite her daughter. “But even if you are, Mr. Johnson has been camping lots of times, so it won’t matter.”

Alycia munched on a slice of bacon. “Yeah. He’s pretty smart. About a lot of things.”

“I think so too.” Brooklyn marveled once again over her changed opinions of Derek.

“What do you suppose he’s gonna teach me today?” Not waiting for an answer, Alycia speared a large portion of waffle and shoved it into her mouth, leaving traces of maple syrup on her face.

Brooklyn swallowed her amusement. “I haven’t the slightest idea what he’ll teach you. But I am certain you’ll have fun.”

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad we came to Thunder Creek. I like it here. I hope we stay forever.”

Brooklyn drew in a slow breath and released it. “I’m glad you feel that way, honey. I like it here too.” It amazed her how true those words had become.

She heard a knock from the porch, then Derek’s voice asking, “Are the campers up?”

“Yeah!” Alycia answered before Brooklyn could. The girl hopped up from her chair and hurried to meet Derek outside. “Camping is so cool, Mr. Johnson. I can’t wait for Saturday.”

“You’ll have to wait, kiddo. Can’t hurry time.”

The pair of them appeared through the kitchen doorway. Derek, tall and broad, his hand on Alycia’s shoulder. Alycia, beaming with enthusiasm. They looked right together. It felt right for him to be here. With Alycia. With her.

The flutter of Brooklyn’s heart caused her to look away from them.

Was it possible she was falling in love?

From a chair on Brooklyn’s back porch, Derek watched as Alycia filled her backpack with a few articles of clothing and additional camping supplies. Deep in concentration, she had the tip of her tongue poking through one corner of her mouth.

“Why’s it so important to keep those matches dry?” he asked, testing her.

“’Cause if they get wet, they won’t work.”

“Right. And what do we use to make a fire?”

“Not matches unless it’s an emergency.” She crinkled her nose. “You’ve got that starter thingy.”

“Starter thingy”? He grinned. Close enough.

“But I don’t have one of those, Mr. Johnson.”

“No, you don’t have one. If we were headed out into the wilderness, just the two of us, you probably would. But we’re going with a group to a campground, so it isn’t necessary.”

Alycia put the last item into her backpack and zipped it closed. “Now what?” She looked up at him.

“Let’s go through this book of weeds and other plants you should know about when we’re hiking in the mountains.” He showed the small paperback to her. “Last thing I want is to bring you home with a bad case of poison ivy. Do you know what that is?”

“No. What is it?”

She truly was a city girl. “It’s a plant. If the leaves rub against your skin, they’ll make you break out in a rash and blisters or make you swell up. It’s nasty stuff.”

“Is there gonna be poison ivy where we’re going?”

“Probably. It likes to grow in the mountains and near rivers, and the campground is both in the mountains and near a river.” He leaned toward her. “We have to keep our eyes open when we’re out walking. That’s the main thing about being up in the mountains. You have to be smart. To pay attention to what’s all around you. Like you’re paying attention to me right now.”

Alycia nodded.

“So tell me. What would you do if we got separated?”

“If you got lost, I’d stay with the others.”

Derek chuckled. “Good idea. But what if you and I were out walking by ourselves and we got separated? Then what?”

“I’d stay put. I’m supposed to sit still and wait for somebody to come find me.” She emphasized the last word by bobbing her chin.

“That’s right.” He lifted his right hand, and she high-fived him. “Okay, kiddo, back to my book of plants.” He motioned with his head toward the chair next to him. “Hop up there and we’ll go through it.”

Brooklyn came out of the house at that moment, carrying two large plastic tumblers. “Lemonade, anybody?”

“Yeah, me!” Alycia answered.

Brooklyn’s gaze met with Derek’s, and she smiled. Something told him she’d been listening to their conversation.

“Join us?” he asked, glancing at another chair.

“Are you sure?” She set the glasses of lemonade on the small round table positioned between him and Alycia. “I don’t want to intrude on your survival lesson.”

“Not possible for you to intrude.”

She laughed softly as she settled onto the chair.

When he was a teenager, his mom had told him falling in love was like an intricate dance, taking some steps forward and some steps back, keeping time to the music, watching his partner and matching his moves to hers, trying not to step on her toes while at the same time trying not to stumble over his own feet. At the time, he’d told her it was a dumb analogy, and he hadn’t thought about it through the years. But now his mom’s words came back to him, and the analogy seemed appropriate.

I love you, Brooklyn.

She lowered her eyes, as if to avoid the unspoken words.

Did she understand what he felt for her? Would she ever be ready to hear the words? And how would he know when the right time was to tell her?

“Mr. Johnson.” Alycia opened the paperback book. “Show me the poison ivy.”

He reined in his thoughts about Brooklyn and focused on her daughter. “Sure thing.”

Ruth bid Camila a good evening before shutting the shop door behind her friend. With a weary sigh, she flipped the sign in the window to read Closed. Tonight she would be content with a dinner of cheese and crackers or perhaps a bowl of soup. She was too tired for anything more elaborate.

At the entrance to her kitchen, she paused and turned off the main overhead lights for the shop. Then she set the alarm and entered the house.

She wondered how many times she’d passed through that doorway over more than five decades. She wasn’t a whiz at math, but it had to be at least thirty or forty thousand times. Before she could reach for a pencil and paper to figure a better estimate, the telephone rang. She went to answer it. “Hello.”

“Ruth? It’s Fran.”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she sank onto a nearby chair. “Hello, Fran.”

“Can you talk?” The woman’s voice was soft and shaky.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Mac was fired from his job today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s so angry right now. He scares me.”

Ruth leaned forward on the chair, as if it would draw her closer to the woman on the other end of the call. “If you’re afraid for your safety, Fran, you need to leave. Leave right now. Don’t take anything with you. Just get the car keys and get out.”

“No. I can’t leave.”

“Would you like me to come for you? It wouldn’t take me long to drive out there.”

“No. That wouldn’t be a good idea.” Fran drew an audible breath. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I shouldn’t have called. It’s all right.”

“Oh, Fran,” Ruth whispered.

“I shouldn’t’ve bothered you,” she repeated. “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t a bother. I promise you it isn’t. I’m glad you called me.” Now it was her turn to draw a breath. “Would you like me to call Hank for you? Or Derek?”

“No. No, don’t call them. I’m fine. You know what, I’d better get off the phone. Just . . . just pray Mac will find another job. Will you?”

“Of course.”

“And Ruth? Thanks for offering to help. But I’m all right. Really. Bye.”

The call ended.

Still holding the phone, Ruth closed her eyes and began to pray. And for much more than a job for Fran Tompkins’s husband.