“Thanks, Clint,” Jenny said. She grabbed Brad’s arm and pulled him a few feet away.
She stretched up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “I need the keys to the van.” He gave her a curious look.
“Why? Are you taking off already?” Brad grinned, but to Jenny’s embarrassment, he didn’t whisper. She cast Clint a quick red-faced look, hoping he hadn’t heard.
“Shhhh...” She put a warning finger to her lips. “I just need them.” She dropped her eyes for a moment and shuffled her feet. “I’m going to sleep in the van.”
“What?” Brad had the most irritating habit of not whispering.
“Shhh...” she said in a sibilant whisper. “You don’t have to shout. I don’t think I can sleep with all those women in one tiny cabin. It’s not going to matter if I sleep in the van. No one’s going to know.”
“Well, I’ll know,” he jabbed a thumb at his chest and stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Tim will know.”
“So what? I’ll be safe. I’ll lock it and cover the windows. Can you get the keys from Tim and bring them down to the meeting at three?” She threw Clint a quick glance, but he remained in his nonchalant pose, arms now crossed, apparently with nothing more on his mind than enjoying the mountain air.
“I’ve got them with me. I didn’t trust Tim not to lose them.” He dug them out of his pocket and shook his head. “You’re weird, you know that? Sleep tight, because I’m going to be out there knocking on the van and scaring you to death...just to see if you’re all right.” He grinned, patted her on the shoulder, and turned away.
“Thanks, Brad.”
He lifted a hand in farewell, nodded at Clint, and went back inside.
Jenny pocketed the keys and turned away, hoping Clint would remain where he was, but that was not to be. He appeared at her side in an instant.
“What’s with the keys? You’re not leaving, are you?”
Jenny stepped down off the porch and refused to look at him. He fell into step beside her.
“No, I just need something from the van.”
“Oh. It sounded like you were either leaving or planning on camping out in your van.”
Jenny stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at him. He shoved his hands in his blue-jeaned pockets and met her eyes with a twinkle in his own.
“Not that it’s any of your business, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I
am
going to sleep in the van. I don’t think I can do the dormitory thing. I don’t know why.”
To her surprise, Clint nodded as if what she suggested was perfectly normal.
“I know what you mean. I’ve done it myself. Luckily, I’ve got a cabin to myself this year, so I won’t have to put up with other folks snoring or whatever they do in their sleep.”
“Oh,” Jenny replied, nonplussed. She resumed walking toward her cabin. “Well, I’m glad someone understands. My coworkers think I’m neurotic.” She managed a chuckle in his presence.
“In a charming way, I’m sure.”
She twisted her head to look at him with suspicious eyes. A deep dimple marked his cheek as he grinned.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not,” he returned, as he tried to pull his lips into a straight line. “Not completely. I’m laughing
with
you.”
“I’m not laughing,” Jenny countered with a raised brow and a mock glare in his direction.
“Sure you are. I can see it in the way your eyes tilt when you’re happy and in the lift at the corners of your mouth when you try to hold back a smile.”
Jenny paused at the foot of the path leading to her cabin. She ran a shaking hand over her mouth and wished she wore a Mardi Gras mask to cover her eyes.
“Uh...I...”
Clint pulled her hand from her face and held it in his for a moment. She stared down at his warm, brown hand in a dreamlike state.
“Let’s not fight, Jenny. We don’t have that kind of time,” he said on a husky note. He cleared his throat and raised her hand to his lips for an instant before he let it go, turned away, and strode down the hill with a long-legged stride, his long black hair gleaming like obsidian under the afternoon sun while Jenny stared after him, dumbfounded.
****
Clint resisted the urge to turn around. He was pretty sure Jenny must have thought he was insane. What a stupid thing to say! He bit his lips and shook his head as he kept his head down.
“Hey, man. Welcome back!” Clint looked up to see George, a lanky, blond, blue-eyed Cherokee from Oklahoma who made the annual trek to the West every year for the camp.
Clint grinned and grabbed George’s hand. “George. It’s good to see you. When did you get in?”
“Yesterday afternoon. I came up to camp yesterday and spent the night up here last night.” George flipped his wispy single braid over his shoulder, the leather and beads laced into it clacking with the motion. “So, who’s that on the hill?”
Clint started for a moment. “Who?” he asked without turning around.
“That white lady up there. The one who’s still staring at you.”
Clint laughed but still did not turn around. “Look who’s talking white. You couldn’t be any more pale, Kemosabe.”
George’s light cheeks brightened with a reddish hue.
“It ain’t for lack of sunning myself, that’s for sure. Not all us Indians can have your tan, brother.”
Clint felt immediately contrite. George may not have much Native American in him, certainly not enough to qualify as an enrolled tribal member, but in his heart, he truly believed he was Indian.
Clint laid a hand on his back and ushered him toward the dining room. He was in desperate need of a cup of coffee, hopefully so hot it would burn his tongue and keep him from talking any more. Talking just wasn’t one of his best skills today.
“You’re right, man. That was a stupid thing to say. I’ve been busy saying a lot of stupid things today.”
“Clint, Clint! Wait up!” a voice called out from behind.
Clint stiffened. He and George came to a halt and turned around at the sound of the female voice.
“Uh-oh,” George said under his breath. “She’s back.”
“Yup,” Clint ground out between lips thinned into the semblance of a smile. He watched as the tall blonde woman in white shorts and a pink strappy top approached. Luckily, Jenny was nowhere in sight.
“Think I’ll take off,” George mumbled and took a step back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Clint said firmly.
Celia sauntered up to the two men.
“Hi again. Hi,” she gave George a curious look.
“Celia, you remember George, don’t you? He was here last year.”
“No, I’m sorry I don’t.” She grinned at Clint while she reached out a hand to George, who hastily wiped his hand on his jeans and shook hers.
“Yeah, he’s from Oklahoma. Cherokee.”
“Oh, really?” Celia’s eyes widened as she regarded George. Clint barely suppressed a chuckle. “I wouldn’t have thought.”
“I already gave him a hard time about that,” Clint said as he watched George squirm under Celia’s gaze. George self-consciously pulled his braid forward, such as it was.
“Yup, my great-great grandmother was full-blooded.”
“Really,” Celia said in a tone of renewed interest. She tilted her head and favored him with a wide smile.
“Well, we were just about to go get some coffee, so if you’ll excuse us…” Clint started to turn away.
“Can I come with you? I could use a cup of coffee.”
“Well, I’m not sure the kitchen is open,” Clint hesitated. By now, he’d already noted the women hired to clean the bathrooms, leaning on the rails of the shower house to their right and ogling them. As a single man in a small community, he was used to having rumors spread about him, but somehow he just wasn’t in the mood this year.
“They’ve got a pot of coffee going, Clint. I was just in there.” George threw Celia a hapless grin, and Clint turned away to roll his eyes.
“Oh, good, let’s go.” Celia made a concerted effort to link her right arm under Clint’s left arm, but he sidestepped her easily, and she settled for walking between them. George threw Clint a wide-eyed look over her head, and Clint shook his head and gritted his teeth. He fervently hoped he could shake Celia before Jenny came down to the community area.
At the foot of the steps leading to the kitchen, Clint stood back to let Celia precede them. The screen door creaked as he reached around her to pull it open. He could swear she actually batted her eyes when she looked over her shoulder at him. He held the door open to allow George to follow Celia in.
The cooks in the well-appointed restaurant-style kitchen behind the steel serving line were already busy preparing the evening meal. Though they were disguised by aprons, hair nets and scarves, Clint recognized some of the women who’d worked in the kitchen last summer. He saw them off and on in town through the year, too. He sniffed at the tantalizing aroma of cooking, unable to distinguish any particular smell, but dinner promised to be delicious.
“Hi, everyone. Smells good.” He waved. Several of the middle-aged women looked up and waved back. Celia stood by idly and stared.
“This way,” Clint gestured. “Looks like it’s in the same place as last year.” He moved toward a commercial-grade silver coffeepot on the far end of the serving counter and poured Celia and George each a cup of coffee before taking one for himself. Unwilling to disrupt the kitchen staff any longer than necessary, and anxious to get back out into the open, he pushed open the screen door nearest the coffeepot and exited on the side of the building near the community area.
Clint paused to observe the activity at the picnic area while Celia and George followed.
“Looks like folks are piling up down there.” Clint glanced at his watch. “Don’t you want to join your friends from Portland, Celia?”
She moved up to stand beside him as he surveyed the new group of camp attendees.
“Oh, no. They’re not really my friends. I only met them on the ride up here.”
“Oh,” Clint replied, stymied. He looked over her head to George for help, but the tall blond Indian suddenly seemed to find the coffee in his cup intensely interesting. Clint sighed.
“So, who was that woman who rode up with you?” Celia’s question did not sound casual.
“Umm...a gal from the Boise VA, I think.” Clint played it off.
“Well, it didn’t seem like she needed a ride. I saw her get out of her van and go into the building.”
He kept his eyes on the group below. “Yeah, that was weird. I thought I was supposed to give her a ride. Big mix-up, I guess. It happens.” He felt Celia’s eyes on him, but refused to look at her.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Clint nodded. “Nope, it didn’t make sense to me, either. Well, it’s just one of those things, you know?” He wanted to look at the unhelpful George again but felt certain Celia would manage to catch his eye.
“Not really,” she said skeptically.
Clint fell silent. He checked his watch again. More and more people were coming down to the community area. His instincts told him he needed to put distance between himself and Celia before Jenny arrived. He wasn’t quite sure why Jenny’s opinion should matter so much to him, but it did, and he went with his instincts.
“Well, listen, I’m going to return my coffee cup to the kitchen and make a pit stop. So, I’ll see you two in a few minutes down there.” Clint indicated the community area. He turned away.
“I’ll go with you,” Celia piped up.
Clint stopped and turned around. “Well, actually, Celia, I’m going to the bathroom.” He looked at George over her head. Seen only by Clint, George grinned widely.
“That’s okay. I need to use the ladies’ room, too.” Celia smiled and headed into the kitchen.
Clint lingered. “Well, you were no help, pal,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t believe this is going to start all over. I can’t go through this stalking thing again this year. I’d rather quit!”
George clapped a hand on Clint’s back and pushed him toward the kitchen. “Aw, come on, Clint. I’ll protect you.”
Clint reluctantly entered the kitchen and found Celia waiting patiently. They left their cups on the counter and went out the other door, closest to the restrooms. George and Clint parted from Celia at the wooden steps of the shower building.
“I’ll meet you back here,” Celia sang out as she hurried off to the ladies’ room.
“Not if I’m clever,” Clint said. He waited for a moment until she disappeared inside one of the doors. “Okay, that’s it, George. I’m not waiting. I’m going back to my cabin for a minute. Are you coming or going?”
George’s eyes lingered on the entrance/exit of the women’s restroom.
“I’ll wait for her, Clint.”
“You will?” Clint squeezed his hand gratefully. “Aw, thank you, man. I owe you. She likes Indians, George, any kind. Just tell her some of your great-great grandmother’s stories.”
George grinned and gave Clint a thumbs-up signal. “Will do.”
Clint hurried around the building and up the hill to the cabins set aside for staff. He opened the door of his small room, shut it behind him, and dropped onto the narrow single bed. The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling held his attention for only a second. He jumped up restlessly and moved over to the single vinyl-cushioned chair in the room, in front of the window. He dropped into the chair and stared through the dusty window at the community area below. Movement caught his eye. He leaned forward. Celia and George strolled into the area to stand next to the large fire pit which would be lit later tonight.
He relaxed into his chair and checked his watch. Ten minutes before camp officially began. He scanned the scene before him. His eyes lit on the van from Boise, the one where Jenny would be sleeping tonight. He could see it plainly, though it was some distance away. With a sigh, he turned to look at the single bed in his room. Only room for one. No hope of inviting her up here, he thought, unable to suppress the smile that accompanied the thought. As if he would... A stranger. Not likely.
He wondered how he was going to sleep at night, knowing she was down there in the van. Would she keep a light on, some sort of flashlight, to ward off the darkness? She said she’d keep the windows covered. He hoped so. He thought she’d be safe, but he didn’t put it past any red-blooded male not to try to peek inside.