Page 9 of A Summer of Chances

“Really?” His face registered surprise. “But then I’m not drawing about nature.”

“Sure you are,” I said. “A big part of nature is color. Your art can just be nature colors, like the dark gray river, or the green trees,” I said, pointing,

“What would you draw if you were doing something different from everyone else?”

His question took me by surprise. But I answered honestly. “Probably a cartoon of some kind.” I focused on the horizon, trying to find a way to bring the focus back to his work. “What about the sky? What color would you use for that?”

CHAPTER 5

Iwas pleased with my first class. My second group was just as rewarding. The five and six year olds were adorable and drew flowers in the beach-club garden.

I walked the group over to swimming, where I’d be dropping them off in Rachel’s care—well, and that of her co-lifeguard Peter, with whom she was getting well acquainted. Rachel was the model flirt. She was wearing her red, one-piece bathing suit, talking to Peter, laughing with an occasional spritz of her sunblock. She spotted me and cheerfully waved me over.

“How’s it going?” she called.

“Oh, we had a great time today. I even got them to talk about what inspired them in their outdoor surroundings.” Rachel was eagerly listening and nodding. Too eagerly, in fact. I caught her shoot a glance over at Peter and that’s when I realized that I could have been reciting my literature paper on War and Peace; she wouldn’t have known the difference. I wrapped up my story and turned my head in the direction of the kids.

And there he was again: Rick.

It seemed he was dropping off his campers at swimming too. This was the morning session, where three of the smaller groups get dropped off after their midmorning activities. I hadn’t realized one of the other ones could be Rick’s. And it was just my luck that he was standing by the gate, talking to one of the other counselors. I could have just waited with Rachel, but she’d needed to get back to the kids.

I said good-bye to Rachel and headed toward the gate, silently praying that I could sneak by undetected through what was, unfortunately, the only exit. As I walked through, I heard him wrap up a conversation with one of the other counselors.

Since this was now my break, I started walking toward the beach in hopes of getting some rays and relaxing before the afternoon activities. Just as I was convinced I’d made a clean escape, I heard a voice behind me.

“Man, I am not looking good here, am I?” Rick snuck up behind me.

“What is it now?” I said, turning around slowly with an exhausted look, as if I’d been babysitting a toddler who’d finally fallen asleep until I walked out of the room.

“Oh, let’s see—first I disturbed your peaceful walk by the pool at night, where, I’d like to remind, you had no right to be wandering. Then I complicated your clean break out of the staff lounge. And just now—back there,” he said pointing in the direction of the pool gate, “I clearly caused some major discomfort in your shoulders,” he said, stiffening and pulling his own shoulders to his ears and widening his eyes.

“There was no discomfort.”

“I’m a water sports instructor,” he said calmly. “I know body tension when I see it.”

I wondered if he was going anywhere with this. I was already feeling irritated with this guy. At the sudden realization, I relaxed my shoulders and noticed him smirk at my efforts. “There’s got to besomethingelse you can turn your focus on…hmm…a camp full of kids eager to try some of those water sports you keep bragging about.” Okay, it wasn’t a strong blow, but I was tired of being bullied by this guy.

“You’re probably right,” he said without looking away. It was a look I couldn’t quite name. For the first time in all of our encounters, I noticed his green eyes. They seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, which might explain why I had just noticed them. “A pleasure as always, Amy.” He turned to walk back to the pool.

Strange, I thought as he walked back in the direction he came from. Had he come back out here just for me?

Saturday morning, Rachel and I decided to have breakfast at Bays Grille again. While my roommate, never knowing who you might run into, chose to a wear a miniskirt and a pink blouse, I opted for my heather-gray sweat pants and black tank.

“I guess we have different views of what Saturday morning should be,” I murmured before we left.

We walked in to the café and chose the same outdoor table in the back facing the beach.

“What can I get you girls?” A tall and thin girl who appeared to be close to our age asked. She had wavy red hair and her name tag read “Haley.” I recognized the waitress from last Sunday.

“Black coffee with cream on the side please, and two over easy eggs,” I asked politely.

She looked at Rachel. “Might want to order light in case she runs off again.”

I offered a small, ingenuous laugh. “I’ll be sticking around this time—promise.”

While Rachel was ordering her breakfast, I noticed Rick walk in with another member of the camp staff. They sat a few tables over on the opposite side.

“Oh, and can I ask you to bring a cup of coffee in a large to-go cup?” I asked.

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