Page 11 of Lady and the Camp
The ground clear below, I chucked the garbage bag of old roof tiles over the edge. I gathered my tools and swung my leg to the ladder, carefully lowering with the toolbox in my free hand.
Halfway down, a child’s ear-piercing squeal split the air.
Everything happened in slow motion.
First, my body left its skin.
I jerked my head toward the scream, scanning for hurt or endangered children, and pain shot through my neck.
My foot slipped.
The toolbox left my hand and clambered to the ground.
Gravity pulled me down.
My knee hit a ladder rung. Hard.
Another scream followed, this one closer, louder, overtaking shrieks of laughter in the distance.
Somewhere in there I braced for impact, trying to remember my limited eighth grade martial arts lessons on how to take a fall.
I tried to relax into the fall despite the shooting pain in my neck and knee.
And then I hit…something squishy.
Flat on my back, I looked up. A woman. With pink hair.
She gaped at me. “Are youokay?”
Chapter 4
Hudson
Amanfelloffa ladder. Right in front of me. And I’d been powerless to stop it.
“Are you okay?” I asked a second, no, third time. The guy was blinking at least.
His face scrunched. “Plastic…” He managed to sit upright and pat the bag he landed on. “Is there a blanket in here?”
“A comforter,” I answered. “See, my friend Jillian has this thing about blankets. She insisted I bring one, and well, I’m carrying all this stuff and it’s really hot out, so I set it down. I forgot about the humidity here after being in L.A., which is more of a dry heat—”
The guy scrambled to standing. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oh, hi. I’m Hudson.” I stuck out my hand, and when he reached to shake it, he grunted and instead grabbed for his neck, the muscles seeming to seize in pain. I detoured my unshaken hand to finger comb hair from my face. “I was told to find you to be let into my cottage.”
The man stared as if I’d asked him which way to the day spa.
From the looks of this place, I highly doubted a day spa hid beyond a grassy knoll. At this point, I prayed for indoor plumbing. Something I never imagined required divine intervention.
“Cottage?” he asked.
I shifted my purse to my other shoulder. I should have worn my wide brimmed disguise hat to shield me from this unrelenting sun. “Or cabin. Whatever. Twila in the office said I’d find you out here.”
“Twila.”
Just the one word, he repeated. “Uh huh.”
“Said you’d findme?” he finished.
