Page 13 of The Souls of Lost Lake
“Good.” Wren nodded. They maneuvered the wooden steps onto the sprawling front porch of the canteen. Eddie opened the screen door, and they were met by an assault on the senses. Hot fudge smells mixed with popcorn, and someone had ordered a pizza.
One of the high-school summer staff bobbed to the counter, herponytail wagging back and forth. She was too happy. Too perky. Wait. Wren reined in her emotions. No, the girl was exactly what she should be. Deer Lake Bible Camp hadn’t closed just because Jasmine had gone missing. There were oodles of campers and camp counselors roaming around, and they needed a sense of normalcy.
“Hey, Eddie!” The girl had braces that spanned her teeth. Wren noted the sparkle in her brown eyes. Crushing on the kitchen manager. She wanted to chuckle. Camp was like that. First, there was summer fun, and second, there were summer crushes. And always for the older staff because, well, they were older.
“Hey, Abby. Wren needs a cherry slushie.”
Wren hadn’t told him. It was just Eddie’s way. He knew.
“Okey-dokey!” Abby tossed Wren a toothy smile and spun around, her ponytail slapping her cheek. “Did you want anything, Ed?”
Ed?
He didn’t seem to notice the little flirt. “No thanks.” Ever polite. Unassuming. Really, Eddie was sort of boring, if Wren was being honest. His primary pastime, outside of mastering casserole concoctions out of leftovers, was reading exegetical books that rivaled the dictionary for length and for their interesting content. He was a thinker. Sort of like her own dad, only Eddie didn’t live in the fictional world of Hobbiton, but in the spiritual world of Christendom.
“You’re not going to Lost Lake.” Eddie’s words penetrated her thoughts, and Wren shot him an incredulous look.
“Wha—?”
“Pippin texted me.”
“Snitch.”
“You can’t take on the responsibility of Jasmine’s well-being by assuming your dream was a premonition.” Eddie dragged a wooden picnic table–style bench from one of the canteen tables and plopped down on it. He didn’t motion for Wren to join him, but she did anyway.
“So, no one in the Bible was told anything important through a dream?” Wren countered, knowing he’d bite.
Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “Unfair.”
“Why?”
“Fine.” He smiled a little, but she noted the depth in the corners of his eyes. A sadness that had been there for months now. He was a mama’s boy—in the best of ways—and his mama was dying.
“So maybe thereiscredence to my dream?” Wren ventured.
Eddie shrugged in his typical blasé way of dealing with serious issues. “I wouldn’t discredit anything God might deem to use. All I’m saying is to be cautious that you don’t put too much emphasis on emotional outputs versus factual ones.”
Whatever that meant. “So then weshouldcheck it out.”
“It’s a two-and-a-half-hour hike.”
“Then let’s get going!” Wren leaned forward.
Eddie pulled away. He shook his head. “No go. It’s already four p.m. By the time we get there—assuming the trail isn’t all grown over—it’ll be almost seven. We’d be hiking back in the dark.”
“I’m not scared of the dark,” Wren argued. “Not to mention, Jasmine is out there alone in it!”
“I have over a hundred campers to feed.”
“Esther can do it.” Wren’s reference to Eddie’s assistant brought a grin to his face.
“Yeah, she could manage the entire Marines if needed.”
“I’m sure she’d be willing to.” Wren knew Esther well enough—they’d been friends for the past two years, since the day Esther first came to camp as a member of the paid staff. Wren didn’t make friends with females very well. Her upbringing at the camp, coupled with literary parents who ran in administrative circles, had made her socialization attempts awkward.
“Here you are!” Abby’s chirpy voice interrupted them. The slushie looked fabulous and Wren told her so, and was rewarded with a beaming, metallic smile.
Eddie appeared to be caving. Wren could see it in his eyes.
