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Caitlyn
Caitlyn stopped at the second row of picnic tables, cradling four bottles of ketchup and one of mustard, two saltshakers and a hot sauce, ready to complete the condiment arrangements . . . when her eye caught him.
Roland stood with the others. Practically everybody in the campground had gathered around the campfire. Roland smiled.
Her heart swelled with emotion. A saltshaker rolled from her arms to the table. She sighed. If only he’d meant the smile for her. People blocked her view, so she couldn’t see whom he looked at. Probably Jarret. Roland must have felt pride and admiration. They all did.
On the way back from the river, Zoe had walked beside Jarret, asking him questions and hanging on his every word. Mya ran ahead to get towels—Zoe’s idea. Roland had given Jarret his jacket then carried Jarret’s wet shirt. As the other searchers got word of Toby’s rescue, they converged by the campfire, flocking around Jarret and wanting the details. Jarret must’ve retold the story ten times, each time with a little more enthusiasm, an added joke, or a detail he’d neglected to mention earlier. He finally put his hands up and said he needed a shower.
Poor Toby. He’d clung to Peter’s arm all the way from the river to the campsite, repeating in a sorrowful voice, “Toby go home.” Mrs. Brandt finally took him home.
Somewhere in her mind, Caitlyn knew that God had been with Toby, keeping him safe. God must’ve had a reason for letting him wander off. He knew they would find Toby and that Jarret would rescue him. He knew all things.
Caitlyn carried salad bowls to the picnic table and found herself scanning the group by the campfire. God knew all things. He already knew her future husband. Her gaze flitted from face to face.
Being two months shy of fifteen and four years from graduation, she really shouldn’t have, but she thought about it all the time. She loved children and wanted to be a mother. She knew, for a fact, someday she would marry.
Mindlessly, she reached for a bag of barbequed potato chips and ripped it open. Please, Lord, direct the steps of my future husband.
Roland had been glued to his brother’s side since the rescue, but she couldn’t find him now. Half a dozen boys, all from the Fire Starters, stood in a circle talking. Mya’s laughter carried over the chatter. Where was she? Girls sat in lawn chairs around the campfire. Other teens walked nearby. Someone ran. Zoe and Jarret stood amongst the trees just outside the campsite, deep in conversation.
When Mya laughed again, Caitlyn saw her. Blonde curls shimmering under a patch of sunlight. Eyes lit with joy. She and Roland stood together behind the group of Fire Starters. His back was to Caitlyn, so she couldn’t see the expression on his face. Did Mya’s flirting embarrass him, or did he like it? If he liked flirty girls like Mya, he wouldn’t like Caitlyn.
Caitlyn sighed. Maybe she wasn’t his type.
She carried the open bag of chips to the end of the row of tables, hoping for a better view. If only she could see his face.
“Caitlyn,” Dad hollered from the grill.
The bag slipped from her hands, chips spilling onto the picnic table. Caitlyn blushed as if caught doing something wrong. “Yes?”
Mr. Brandt and Father Carston, their parish priest, stood with Dad, each of them holding a red plastic cup. “Why don’t you get our guest of honor?” Dad used a spatula to point to Jarret.
“Okay.” Caitlyn scooped chips back into the bag, rounded the picnic tables, and weaved through the crowd. Her gaze drifted to Roland and Mya.
Mya giggled. Roland stood with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. They both stared at something on the ground.
A few steps later, Caitlyn saw what held their attention. Peter. The goofball lay on the ground, squirming, clutching his chest, and moaning ridiculously. Mya’s laughter reached hysteria. Roland laughed, too, in his own restrained way. Then he turned his head.
His eye caught Caitlyn.
Her face warmed and she tripped. She couldn’t play it off—they were less than ten feet apart—so she came over.
Roland gave the hint of a smile. “Peter’s telling us how his father rescued a man from a coyote last year.”
“Peter exaggerates,” Caitlyn said.
Peter continued to tell his story, from the ground, but Roland looked at her.
“We’re ready for lunch,” Caitlyn said. “I’m getting your brother.”
“Oh.” He glanced toward the strip of trees between campsites, to where Jarret and Zoe stood.
Caitlyn walked away to fulfill her task, watching her step this time. She imagined she felt Roland’s gaze, but he could’ve been staring at his brother.
Jarret leaned a shoulder against a tree. Zoe rested a palm, shoulder high on the same tree. Her eyes shifted to Caitlyn. Jarret glanced over his shoulder, his hand swinging to his side. Had they been holding hands? She hardly knew him.
“Are you guys hungry for lunch?” Caitlyn said. “We’re waiting for the guest of honor.”
Jarret grinned and pushed off the tree. “I guess that’s me.”
“I’m starved.” Zoe slunk past Jarret, giving him a subtle smile, and linked arms with Caitlyn. “After lunch we’re going on the paddleboats.”
“We are? Who’s we?” They cut through the crowd.
Zoe glanced over her shoulder. Jarret strutted along behind them. “All of us,” she said then she whispered, “Remember the plan.”
“But look . . .” Caitlyn nodded to indicate Roland and Mya. Mya motioned for Roland to follow her to the table. Roland—Caitlyn could gag—obeyed.
“Hurry.” Zoe walked faster. “You’ll sit next to him.”
Zoe and Caitlyn had almost reached the picnic tables. People pushed past them, someone bumping Caitlyn. Groups of friends took seats together, filling up the closest row of tables within seconds.
“Don’t worry. We’ll sit over there.” Zoe dragged Caitlyn to the other row. The parents had already claimed the tables nearest the grill. Little kids climbed onto the benches near them. Caitlyn’s sister Stacey sat towards the middle of the row, inching over every time another friend joined her.
Caitlyn turned to find Roland.
Zoe jerked her hand. “Sit. Quick.”
They plopped down onto a half-empty bench, staking their claim at a table. Zoe gave a triumphant grin. But they still didn’t have Roland at the table.
Jarret stooped over a cooler then sat across from Zoe. “Wanna Coke?” He slid dripping cans to her and Caitlyn.
Teenage boys with the Fire Starters sat on either side of him, one of them patting his back, the one directly across from Caitlyn. The one in Roland’s seat.
Caitlyn frowned. Still . . . no one had taken the seat next to her, on the side opposite Zoe. Roland could sit—
Someone bumped her on that side.
“Sorry, Caitlyn.” Stacey had scooted all the way to her, friends on her other side, leaving no space for Roland.
Lips pursed and a scheming look in her eyes, Zoe glanced up and down the table. Few empty seats remained.
Then along came Roland, Mya at his heels.
“Hey, have seat,” the Fire Starter across from Caitlyn said to Roland. “You probably want to sit by your brother.” He jumped up.
“Well, that was nice,” Caitlyn said aloud to no one in particular.
Zoe leaned on her shoulder. “Perfect.”
Roland stared at the empty seat then looked at Mya.
No! Caitlyn could’ve screamed! No chivalry. Let her find her own seat.
“There’s room for us both,” Mya said, lifting a bare leg over the bench.
An uncharitable thought concerning splinters and bare skin came to Caitlyn’s mind. She dismissed it at once. She wasn’t like that. She really wasn’t. Oh, why did Mya have to sit there?
~ ~ ~
“COME. ON. WHAT ARE you doing?” Zoe opened her eyes so wide the whites showed around her honey-brown irises. She glanced over her shoulder at Jarret as he walked away. “Remember the plan?”
Caitlyn shrugged. She had an armful of dirty serving dishes, a pan of soapy water in her scope, and no intention of joining the group. “I told Mom I’d help clean up.”
Zoe’s eyes grew wider. “Can’t we do that later?”
Jarret shouted, “Come on, Zoe,” and disappeared down a trail. Most of the kids had gone off, some to play football, others to the paddleboats. Roland got swept away with the Fire Starters . . . and Mya.
“You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Zoe huffed, flipped her hair as she turned away, and sauntered toward the trail Jarret had taken.
Caitlyn strolled to the dishwashing station and stooped to position her armload on a stack of dirty dishes. A serving spoon slipped from the table, smacked against her skirt, and landed on the ground.
Today, for the first time ever, she had not enjoyed lunch. Why had she invited Mya? Mya spent the whole time bumping into Roland, giggling at every little joke, and speaking in her whispery Marilyn Monroe voice. Caitlyn couldn’t bear another moment of Mya and Roland.
She couldn’t compete with Mya. She wasn’t bubbly and flirty, and she didn’t dress to draw attention to her body. Caitlyn brushed her skirt where the spoon had touched it, glad she’d slipped away and changed out of the jeans. Long ago, she’d made up her mind: she wanted a guy to like her, knowing the real her.
Her foot kicked something on the ground. Oh yeah, the serving spoon. As she squatted for it, the hair on her neck bristled.
A hand latched onto the spoon and snatched it before her finger touched it.
“Can I help?” A voice in her ear. Breath on her neck.
She gasped, and her heart flopped in her chest.
Roland squatted beside her, his gray eyes sparkling in a mottled beam of sunlight. He handed her the spoon.
“You want to help me?” She glanced to either side, expecting to see Mya.
They stood up together. Alone.
“Yeah.” He lowered his head and spoke in a low, spellbinding voice while peering up at her through magnetic steel-gray eyes. “Actually, I’ve got an ulterior motive.” Without explaining, he broke the connection and stepped to the tub of rinse water.
“You can help, but you have to tell me your ulterior motive.” Caitlyn dunked a few dirty dishes into the soapy dishwater and grabbed the scrubber.
“Okay, but you can’t tell.”
Her heart fluttered. He wanted to share a secret with her! “I won’t tell.” She scrubbed a plate in the warm sudsy water.
“I’m hiding.” He took the soapy plate from her hands and plunged it into the rinse water.
Although he was a guy of few words, Caitlyn expected him to say more. She scrubbed and scrubbed the hotdog plate, waiting for the rest of his explanation. “Aren’t you going to tell me who you’re hiding from? I am, after all, letting you help me wash dishes.”
Roland glanced at her. “Okay, well . . .” He set the first plate on the towel next to the rinse tub and took the hotdog plate, even though she was still scrubbing it. “I’m sure she’s very nice.”
She listened, waiting for him to go on, dying for him to say her name. Mya. You’re hiding from Mya! You don’t like her!
“Who do you mean by she?” Caitlyn dared to say.
He stared blankly into her eyes for a moment. Then he looked away. “I don’t want to say.” He took the spatula from her, but she had only been holding it. He glanced at it, at the black charred gunk on the blade, and gave it back.
Gazing at the spatula, she debated pressing him further. Could he mean Mya? Or did some other girl like him, too?
He took the spatula from her again and the scrubber. “I’m sure she’s nice. I’m sure she’d be a good friend.” He leaned close, not making eye contact but bumping her arm, and submerged the dirty spatula in the soapy water. “But I think she wants to be more than friends.”
Caitlyn sucked in a breath. She flashed back to the Finn’s house, to eavesdropping on Peter and Roland. Peter’s voice: “Why not make her your girlfriend . . .” Roland saying, “I don’t want a girlfriend.”
She frowned. “And you don’t? You don’t want to be more than friends?”
“Not really. I’m not . . . I’m not ready for that.” He faced her, a playful glint in his eyes. “You want to hide out with me?”
. . . not ready for that. . . . hide out with . . . ? She stared at him, her mind reeling as she tried to understand his motives. “I . . . um . . . sure.”