Page 34 of Camp Help Falling

I roughly brush away my tears, gearing up to head out and lead the campers up to the fire bowl for the final campfire of the week—and of the year—but Linda’s soft hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Let Tyler handle the campfire,” Paul, who has been mostly silent through the whole exchange, says. He’s smiling down at me in the same warm way his wife is, and I nod, letting myself settle back into my seat. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and we want to answer them while they’re all fresh in your mind.”

Paul and Linda pull up two folding chairs, and for every question I have for them, they have an answer.

I’m very late for the final campfire, but Paul assures me Tyler has it handled. I don’t doubt him—by the end of the summer, the staffers can usually do their skits blindfolded. I feel like I’m floating, barely noticing my surroundings, as I lead the way for Paul and Linda. The sounds of the campfire grow louder as we get closer, but I’m too in my head, swimming through the possibilities the Evanses presented to me, to notice what’s right in front of me.

Which is why I don’t recognize the familiar voice singing, “There was a great big moose!” until I see him.

Chapter Twenty

Oliver

I’m hyper aware of Sadie stopping just beyond the edge of the fire bowl stage. I’ve been out here, leading the campers and staff in songs for nearly fifteen minutes now, and I’m running low in my repertoire of songs.

It was easy to get the campers in on my plan. After Tyler gave me the green light when Sadie stepped into the office with my parents, I snuck out of their room upstairs and led the congregated campers and youth staff up to the fire bowl.

Once everyone was seated, I explained that I was surprising the girl I like, who hasn’t seen me in over a month, and they all agreed to the sing-along until she showed up. Who knew the teenagers at Camp Brower were so romantic?

I’m sure I look like a sight leading a group of dusty campers in the “Moose Juice” song while still in my button up and slacks, but I didn’t have time to change into more camp appropriate attire. I was so excited to bring the news to my parents that the firm I’m now working at is officially taking on the Camp Brower project. And I knew that would give me the excuse to come back to talk to Sadie.

To apologize.

And to hopefully win her back.

When the song finishes to a huge cheer from the camp, I step off to the side, letting the two youth staffers who run the fire-lighting skit finally take the stage.

My parents grin wildly at me from behind where Sadie has rooted to the ground. As I step closer, they step around her, joining the rest of the staff at the edge of the fire bowl, waiting their turn for their skits.

“What are you doing here?” Sadie asks when she finally finds her voice.

A round of raucous laughter interrupts before I can explain, and I peek back over my shoulder to see that everyone has forgotten about me and Sadie and are fully invested in watching the campfire program.

“Can I talk to you? Somewhere less likely to be interrupted?”

A mixture of surprise and wariness crosses Sadie’s face. She leans around me, and I turn, trying to catch a glimpse of who she’s looking for. Mom waves away whatever Sadie is saying with her facial expression. She clearly mouths, “GO, I’VE GOT YOUR GOODBYE SPEECH,” and shoos her hands at the two of us. When I look back at Sadie, her expression is set. Hopeful, yet wary.

“Alright, let’s go.” She reaches for my hand, and I give it willingly, letting her pull me back down the slope toward the main trail. When we reach the larger trail that circles the lake, she lets go of my hand and turns to the left, toward the waterfront and the girls’ cabins.

I follow Sadie to the waterfront, where the trees around the curve of the lake block the majority of the sound coming from the fire bowl, casting us into a pocket of stillness.

Sadie wanders all the way down to where the lake is lapping at the shore, but I stop a few feet away from the water’s edge.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing I say. Sadie stills and stands facing the water for a moment longer before turning to face me. I take a step toward her. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I encouraged you to break the rules. If I could go back and change what happened, I would.”

Sadie nods and I take another step toward her. She doesn’t turn away.

“I was coming up to Cell Phone Rock that night to tell you about the email I got from an old mentor of mine about a job opening. He works for an architecture firm based in Salt Lake City that specializes in restoration and renovation. He offered me a job, and I took it.”

I take another step, and Sadie allows it.

“I took it and moved to Salt Lake City. That’s why I was gone for so long. And the firm was still ironing out the specifics on the contract with my parents for the renovations to Camp Brower.”

“I know about the renovations,” Sadie finally says, taking her first step toward me, putting us close enough that we could reach out and touch hands. “Paul and Linda told me about them tonight. And they offered me a full-time, year-round position with the Foundation to be a lead for the new programs Camp Brower’s going to be putting on in the fall.”

Sadie takes another step, her wariness overpowering her hopefulness.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” she says, closing the distance with a third step. I could reach out and touch her if I wanted, but I keep my hands at my sides. “My emotions were high that day, and I meant to talk to you the next day. But then you left.” She pauses for a moment, looking into my eyes and finding the right words. “I made my choice the day we took that sunrise hike. I chose to bend and break the rules. And I shouldn’t have blamed you because it was my choice, too.”

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