Kathleen wished she didn’t lack the nerve to slap his smug face. For the benefit of her friends, she said politely, “Hello again, Mr. Gudjonsen.”
“Come in and sit down, Kathleen,” B. J. said. “Mr. Gudjonsen was asking some questions about Mountain View, and I told him you were the one who could best explain the concept of the camp, since you had lived it. We’ll go to dinner shortly.”
Because Edna and B. J. Harrison were seated in the only two easy chairs in the room, Kathleen had no choice but to sit beside Erik on the sofa. Self-consciously, she tugged on the legs of her shorts as she sat down.
“How was your day, Edna, B. J.?” she asked.
The couple was as dear to her as parents. In their early sixties, they were still robust and healthy. The love and concern they showed the orphans who came to their camp each summer was inspiring.
Kathleen always thought of the Harrisons as a unit, and oddly enough, they resembled each other. Both were short and plump. While Edna’s eyes were warm brown and her husband’s gray, they both reflected open friendliness. They walked with the same purposeful stride. Their gestures when they talked were almost identical.
Kathleen doubted that either of them had ever had an uncharitable thought about even the most unscrupulous character. They found goodness in everyone and everything. As she thought on it now, Kathleen realized that the similarities that had developed between them weren’t so surprising since they had been married for more than forty years.
“We had a leaky pipe in one of the cabins and I tinkered with that today,” B. J. was saying. “I think I saved a plumber’s fee. We’ll know in a day or so.” He chuckled.
“Thank you, dear.” Edna patted his knee. “Tomorrow you can work on that ornery air conditioner.”
“You see, Erik?” B. J. opened his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “They’re never satisfied.”
“Oh, you!” Edna exclaimed softly, shoving her husband’s shoulder lovingly. She turned her attention back to the photographer, who was enjoying the older couple’s display of affection. “Erik, Kathleen first came to our camp when she was fourteen. I don’t want to embarrass you, Kathleen, but I’m sure Erik would like to hear your story.” Her kind eyes were anxious, but the smile on the young woman’s face reassured her.
“No. I’m never reluctant to talk about Mountain View.” Kathleen forced herself to face Erik. Sitting so close beside him on the small sofa made her uncomfortably aware of him. His raw masculinity was a tangible quality that touched her and left behind prickly sensations.
“My parents were killed in a boating accident when I was thirteen. They had no living relatives, and I had no brothers or sisters. Friends in our church placed me in an orphanage in Atlanta. It was well run and reputed as one of the best in the country. But having lived in a family environment as an only child, I found it difficult to adjust. My grade average dropped significantly. I became belligerent. In short, I was a brat.”
B. J. laughed, but Edna shot him a reproving look and it subsided.
“The next summer, the orphanage sent me here. I had a terrible attitude toward the idea, as I had about anything at that time. I thought I had been dealt with unjustly by everyone, by God. But that summer, the whole course of my life changed.”
Her voice became charged with emotion and she smiled tremulously at the Harrisons. “B. J. and Edna refused to let me destroy my life with bitterness and hatred. They taught me how to love again by loving me when I was most unlovable. I started acting like a human being again and not a wounded animal. I owe them a debt of gratitude that I can never repay.”
“You’ve repaid us a thousand times over, Kathleen.” Edna turned her tear-laden eyes to Erik. “You see, Mr. Gudjonsen, Kathleen came back to our camp each summer until she grew too old. Then, during her college years, we asked her to serve as a counselor. Since she knows the pain and disillusionment most of our campers harbor, she is better able to relate to them than anyone. We’ve seen her work miracles with even the most maladjusted children. When a position on the Board of Directors came open, we offered it to Kathleen. She was reluctant to accept it, but we insisted. No one has been disappointed. Last year she singlehandedly raised enough money to air condition the mess hall and install two basketball goals.”
Kathleen blushed under what she considered unearned praise. Her discomfort was heightened when she lifted her eyes and saw that Erik was staring at her.
Aware of her embarrassment, he turned his attention to his hosts. “I want to hear more about your success here, but right now I’m starving. May we continue our conversation in the dining room?”
“A boy after my own heart!” B. J. exclaimed jovially as he stood up, slapping his palms against his thighs.
“Don’t count on being able to conduct a conversation over dinner, Erik,” Edna cautioned. Using his first name came quite easily. “Our dining room isn’t exactly conducive to serious debate.”
He laughed as he casually took Kathleen’s arm and steered her through the outer office to the front door. “It doesn’t matter. I want to capture the spirit of the camp, anyway.”
“Oh, well, if it’s spirit you’re after, you’re at the right place.” B. J. laughed.
“Would it be against the rules to take my camera in there?” Erik asked.
“It wouldn’t matter to us,” Edna said. “You’re making the rules for as long as you’re here.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harrison.”
“Edna,” she corrected.
The smile he gave her could have graced the cover of GQ. “Edna. I’ll just run to my car and join you in a minute. Save me a place in line, B. J.”
“Sure thing. Kathleen, why don’t you go along with Erik and make sure he doesn’t get lost.”
She started to object, but what could she say that wouldn’t sound ungracious? For some reason, she was hesitant to be alone with him. Perhaps his easy charm was disturbingly reminiscent of David Ross’s. Or maybe, as Erik himself had suggested, she was suspicious of journalists. Mountain View’s program had no hidden agendas, and, because the camp was so dear to her, she would naturally resent anyone poking around looking for scandal where none existed.
“You two hurry up now, or all the food will be gone. We won’t let anyone go back for seconds until you have gone through the line,” Edna said.
The older couple strolled off arm in arm in the direction of the dining hall. “Where is your car?” Kathleen asked.
“Parked by my cabin.”
She turned around and struck off on the path through the trees that led to the cabins reserved for visitors.
It wasn’t far, but by the time they reached his parked Blazer, she was winded. Probably because she had covered the distance in record time. He seemed to know that she was uncomfortable with him. As he lowered the tailgate, she thought she detected a dimple partially hidden by his mustache.
He opened a black plastic box and removed a videotape cartridge. He then loaded it into the video camera. Kathleen had never seen one of the complicated cameras up close, and in spite of herself, she was intrigued.
“Can you carry that?” Nodding his head, he indicated a long tubular carrying case.
“Sure,” she said, reaching in. Her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket when she tried to lift it. She hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.
“What’s in here?”
“A tripod.”
“It weighs a ton,” she complained.
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I asked you to carry it.” He winked. “Besides, no one but me touches my camera.”
Deftly, he raised the tailgate with one hand and they started back toward the compound. They didn’t speak. Kathleen doubted she could. The weight of the tripod case had her puffing by the time they reached the dining hall.
Gallantly, Erik held the door for her and she gave him a withering glare as she stumbled past him and went inside. The dull roar of two hundred children’s voices greeted them.
“Where can I stick this?” he asked as he surveyed the room.
“That’s a loaded question, Mr. Gudjonsen,” she muttered under her breath.
“Tsk-tsk, Ms. Haley.”
“There you are.” Edna interrupted Kathleen’s well-chosen comeback by bustling up to them. “Erik, why don’t you put your equipment on the dais. No one will bother it there. Hurry up and get your food and join us at the far table. It’s marginally quieter over there.”
Erik retrieved the case from Kathleen and placed it and his camera where Edna had indicated.
“Shall we?” Erik enthused, rubbing his hands together and nodding toward the cafeteria line.
“By all means,” Kathleen said coolly. “I think you’ll be surprised by the food. It’s better than most home cooking.”
“Right now, anything sounds good. I haven’t eaten today.”
“Watching your figure?” she asked snidely, for if anyone didn’t need to worry about his shape, it was Erik Gudjonsen.
His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. “No. It’s a helluva lot more fun to watch yours.”
She bit her lip to keep from saying what she thought of his sexist comment. She was obliged to introduce him to the ladies who ran the kitchen for Mountain View and managed to provide the campers and staff with three delicious meals a day. Most of them were old enough to be Erik’s mother, but they simpered and basked under his inordinate commendation of the meal.
Their plates were heaped with pot roast and vegetables as they passed down the line. Kathleen was reaching for a glass of mint-sprigged iced tea when Erik caught her hand and sniffed the air.
“Do you smell peaches?”
Peaches? Her lip gloss? She fought her impulse to lick her lips nervously. His eyes raked her face, as if trying to detect something elusive.
“Peaches?” she asked innocently. “Oh, there are your peaches. Peach cobbler for dessert,” she said, relieved.
Turning back to him triumphantly, she was startled to find that he wasn’t so ready to accept her explanation. His warm stare on her face was alarming, and she tugged on her hand several times before he released it.
“Good. I love peaches,” he said. Kathleen was uneasy at the tone of his voice, for in some way it held a threat to her.
They joined the other counselors and the Harrisons at a separate table off-limits to the children. Introductions were made all around, and Erik apologized in advance if he couldn’t remember everyone’s name for the first few days.
He ate heartily, but courteously answered any questions directed to him. Kathleen thought the other female counselors sickeningly attentive, but Erik treated them all, no matter how homely or pretty, in a friendly manner.
A real ladies’ man, she thought snidely.
“Tell us about yourself, Erik,” B. J. said around a mouthful of potatoes.
Erik shrugged modestly. “There’s really not much to tell.”
“Now, Erik, we all know that you’re well known in your field. Weren’t you in Asia?” Edna asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “I’ve had some good assignments. I was in Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm.”
“Have you ever been in danger?” asked one of the younger girl counselors breathlessly.
He smiled. “A few times. Usually, I shoot just run-of-the-mill stuff.”
Try as they did, no one could get him to recount any tale of valiant struggle, though they were sure there had been some. Before he was sent to the camp, Edna had been told by the network officials that Erik Gudjonsen was one of their most accomplished photographers, as well as one who could add a human-interest touch to any story, no matter how mundane or extraordinary.
When he had finished eating, Erik stood up and excused himself. “I’d better do some shooting before the natives get too restless,” he said, indicating the children.
“Good idea,” B. J. agreed. “Anything we can do to help?”
“No, just act normally. I really hope I don’t attract the kids’ attention. I want them to behave just as they are now. I could use the able assistance of my key grip here, though.”
Kathleen didn’t realize he was referring to her until a silence fell on the group. She looked up at him. “Me?” she asked in astonishment.
“If you don’t mind. Now that you’re familiar with the equipment.”
“But I only—”
“Please, Kathleen, time is of the essence,” he cut in.
She glanced around at the expectant faces and realized she had no choice but to get up and follow him.
“What are you trying to pull?” she asked out of the corner of her mouth as they crossed the large room. “I’m not at all familiar with the equipment.”
“No, but I need you anyway.”
“Why?”
They had reached the small dais that B. J. used whenever he had to make important announcements to the whole group. Erik turned on the camera, slung it upon his right shoulder and placed his eye to the viewfinder. Kathleen noticed that he didn’t shut his left eye. That must be hard to do, she thought objectively. How could he focus his vision?
“Just stand still a minute,” he said as he turned toward her.
She was appalled when he placed the lens of the camera to within inches of her breasts and began turning the awesome dials that ringed the lens.
“What—” She jumped back in shock.
“Just stand still, I said.” He reached out with his spare hand and drew her close again.
“Would you get that thing away from me? I know you think you’re very funny, but I don’t.”
He took his eye away from the viewfinder and fixed her with an exasperated expression. “I’m only using your white blouse for my color balance.”
“Exactly what does that mean?” She was partially pacified, but still suspicious.
“It means,” he said with the slow, measured tone one would use on a simpleton, “that I have a meter built into the camera. Each time I shoot a scene, I have to check my lighting and balance the color level against something solid white. I promise you my motives for using your blouse are honorable.”
“Why didn’t you use a tablecloth?”
One corner of his mouth tilted into a sardonic grin. “I only promised that I was honorable. I’m not stupid.”
Kathleen shoved past him and strode back to the table. When she had flopped into her chair, B. J. turned to her and asked, “Everything all right? Is Erik set to shoot?”
“I think so,” she mumbled, and didn’t add that Mr. Gudjonsen’s actions were no bloody concern of hers!
For the next half-hour, she chatted with the other members of the staff and studiously kept her eyes off Erik, who managed, despite his size, to remain almost invisible as he moved among the tables recording the antics of the children as they launched into a series of organized games. When he finished, he whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. His voice boomed out across the room. “My name is Erik. Would any of you like to be on television?”
The response was deafening. Kathleen knew a smug satisfaction when he was stampeded by clamoring children all demanding equal time to cavort idiotically before the camera. As he did everything, he handled the mob with aplomb.
For another half-hour, he let the children ham in front of him. When he called it quits, he safely returned his camera to the dais and strolled to the staff table, wiping a perspiring forehead with his sleeve.
“You are either a saint or a glutton for punishment.” Edna laughed. “Why would you put yourself through such torture?”
“I’ve learned that there is nothing more intimidating than the lens of a camera. Even the most gregarious become tongue-tied and inhibited in front of it. So, I thought I’d let them act as foolish as they wanted to, let some of the mystique wear off. Tomorrow night, I’ll show them the tape on the monitor. Hopefully, the magic will have worn off and they’ll start ignoring me. That’s the only way I’ll get candid reactions.”
“You missed your calling, my boy,” B. J. said. “You should have been a child psychologist.”
The night bell sounded and the children began to grumble objections and pleas for a fifteen-minute extension. As they knew it would be, it was denied, and they didn’t need much persuasion to troop off to their cabins.
Each counselor, except Kathleen, who again was saved by her seniority, was responsible for checking to see that everyone was properly tucked in. Goodnights were called across the compound, and gradually the crowd dwindled down to the Harrisons, Kathleen and Erik.
“Erik, we start early,” Edna warned. “Breakfast is at seven-thirty.”
“I’ll be here. Do you think one of the ladies in the kitchen would brew me a thermos of coffee to take along tomorrow?”
“Sure,” B. J. said. “How do you like it?”
His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “Black as pitch and hotter than hell.”
B. J. slapped him on the shoulders and laughed. “I’m beginning to like you better and better, my boy. Come on, honey, I’m tired.”
Edna rose. “Kathleen, I’m assigning you to Erik, since you know more about the camp than anyone. He’ll stay with your group for the next few days and observe. Any problems with that?”
An awkward silence ensued, with only the cicadas in the trees brave enough to break it. Kathleen wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being observed by either the camera or the photographer.
“Kathleen?” Edna’s worried voice penetrated the darkness.
“No, there are no problems. I was only trying to think of… uh… of interesting things we could do.”
“I’ve given that some thought,” Erik said. “I’ve typed up a very loose script. It’s in the car. Walk back with me and I’ll give it to you tonight. We can talk about the feasibility of my ideas in the morning.”
“That’s a good idea,” B. J. said. “Now, let us old folks go to bed. Edna?”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Kathleen and Erik said in unison.
The couple was swallowed up by the blackness that was almost absolute. Here, on the mountaintop, there was nothing to interfere with the night. No city lights robbed the darkness of its glory or the sky of its truly infinite scope. It was blanketed with stars that one forgot were there when they were obscured by man-made light.
Kathleen was seething inside, but she refused to let her anger show and give Erik Gudjonsen the pleasure of knowing he had upset her. She walked by his side, surefooted in the darkness, and stifled a gratified giggle when she heard his muffled curse as he bumped his head on a low limb.
He was carrying both the camera and the tripod case, but she noticed that his breathing remained normal. Apparently, he was accustomed to that particular exertion. Just wait until she put some of her plans into action! That would show quick enough who was hale and hearty.
“Let me open the car door so we’ll have some light,” he said as he opened the passenger side of the Blazer. “I think that script is back here,” he said, going to the rear of the truck and lowering the tailgate. He replaced his camera in its padded case with the care of a mother toward her infant.
He straightened up and faced Kathleen. Before she realized his intention, he splayed his hands on her back and pulled her close. Ducking his head, he let his tongue lightly trace her lower lip. Then he kissed her hard and quick.
She was aghast. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“That much should be obvious.”
“I’m not amused or interested, Mr. Gudjonsen. And if this video didn’t mean so much to the camp, I’d send you packing. As it is, I’m forced to cooperate.”
“Just what I thought. Peaches!”
“Where is that damned script?”
“There isn’t one. I lied about that just to get you alone in the dark woods.”
Kathleen turned her back on him and stalked away.
Like a taunting challenge—or a sweet promise—he called to her, “I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Kathleen.”