Page 17 of Camp Help Falling

Oliver is waiting with a smile for me when I get back to him. “I’m going to change. Do you think you can handle getting the campers to lunch?” I look up into Oliver’s face, an eyebrow raised in challenge. This is probably the easiest thing he’ll do today. I know he can manage.

He nods and drops his head. “I’ll see you at lunch, Sadie,” he says quietly, even though it’s just the two of us this far up the shore. A few teenagers have made it back and are pulling their canoes up, but they’re far out of earshot.

He stands up straight and shoots me another wink and smile, and as I turn toward the path that will take me back to my cabin, the memory of his low, quiet voice sends a wave of goosebumps down my arms.

It’s just harmless flirting.

Chapter Ten

Oliver

Wednesday morning, I’m greeted by another cup of coffee with my name on it. Literally. And a note on top of the box of espresso coffee pods that reads, “I hope this is close enough. Sorry about yesterday’s bad coffee. SM”

Signed by Sadie herself.

It’s no coffee shop espresso, but it’s leaps and bounds better than yesterday’s vanilla French roast.

As I sip on my hot drink, quietly falling into the breakfast line with the rest of the staff, I give myself a moment to mull things over.

The coffee maker wasn’t here the first morning, and it appeared like magic by the second. By Sadie’s hand, according to yesterday morning’s conversation. But Sadie was with me all day on Monday. And all day yesterday, but yet again, she surprised me with my preferred coffee.

So either she’s a literal coffee fairy, pulling this stuff out of thin air, or she’s sacrificed her sleep two nights in a row to drive to the nearest town to pick them up.

Is this the backwoods version of taking someone on a coffee shop date?

Whether she got up early or stayed up late to do this kind thing for me, she doesn’t comment on it when she sits down next to me. She eyes the half-empty cup, her bright smile fading into something more pleased, and then digs into her own breakfast.

I open my mouth to thank her for the coffee—again—when Tyler, the assistant director, sits across the table from us and starts up a conversation with her about the more intricate details of running the camp. I shut my mouth and zone out, content to be a glorified babysitter and find some way to properly thank her for the coffee later.

The day passes similar to yesterday, with the exception of Tyler accompanying me on the out-of-camp excursion to a local ice cave. The youth counselors do most of the work with the participants, relegating me to “adult supervision” and “driver.” And although I’m happy to sit back and watch them work, I’m a little sad that I don’t have Sadie to chat with—Tyler isn’t nearly as talkative, happy to chill with me in a mutually agreed upon bro silence.

Sadie is the first face I find when I pull into the camp parking lot, just in time to see the other half of the participants lining up at the door to the lodge for lunch. But she’s there, waiting by the opening in the split-rail fence with a smile on her face. She gives high-fives and fist bumps to the kids who pass her, but her eyes stay on me as I come around the front of the camp van.

“How’d you do?” she asks casually as I fall into step behind her, heading toward the back of the lunch line.

“No blood, no bones, no bruises,” I tell her, repeating what Tyler told me while we watched two dozen teenagers go spelunking.

A pretty smile stretches across her face, and I’m struck again at how magnetic this woman is. Her beauty and her confidence are enough to knock me off balance, but that genuine concern with how I’m doing with my unexpected job is nearly enough to knock me on my butt.

We reach the lodge, and I motion for Sadie to take the space in front of me. Ladies first, or my mom—who is in the next room—would have my hide. We chat about the excursion while we shuffle forward a few inches at a time. Sadie offers Danielle and Mom a warm smile as she takes her lunch and files toward one of the benches. One of the kids behind me bumps me with his tray, and I realize I’ve been staring.

“Hey there, Oliver,” Mom says with a sly smirk as she deposits whatever’s for lunch onto my tray. “I’ve got a few questions for you.”

“Sure, shoot,” I say as I move down to take the next thing from Danielle.

Mom waves her hand around. “We’ll chat after you’re done eating. It might take a minute.”

She’s being incredibly cryptic. Worry grows and settles like a lead weight in my stomach. Am I doing such a horrible job that I’m being fired by my own mother? While the thought brings a grim smile to my face, like I just made a morbid little joke, some part of me revolts at the idea of being sent away from this place.

I eat lunch with a thundercloud of thoughts looming over me, and get up to take care of my tray as soon as everyone in line has been served and Mom comes out of the kitchen. Meeting her in the hallway, I follow her down into the camp office.

“Your dad and I have been talking,” Mom begins as she sits in the chair in front of the computer. I lean on the wall next to the door, preparing myself to make a hasty departure with an excuse about getting back to my groups if this conversation goes south. “About the direction we want to take Camp Brower in.”

My forehead wrinkles as I scowl. “Are you saying you don’t want camp to be like this anymore?” That worry in my stomach grows, but not for me. For Sadie. I’ll be here and gone, back to my regular life whenever my apartment is done with repairs and I find another job.

But Sadie…

Extrapolating from the information she’s given me over the last few days, camp is her life. Or at least, it’s been a huge part of her life. I’d hate for Mom and Dad to change Camp Brower so much that it’s unrecognizable to her.

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