Page 26 of Organized Chaos

“I’ll get the blanket if you’ll grab the cooler.” Sarah jogged back to the truck. “Give me your vest.”

Phillip unstrapped the life jacket and passed it to her.

The parking lot had been empty when they arrived, but now people were beginning to filter in. Families unloaded their supplies. Kids ran past Sarah, their shouts and screams of laughter disrupting the quiet. She watched two girls and a boy argue over who got to take the kayak out first while their parents untangled life jackets.

“You’re staring.” Phillip moved to stand beside her. He hefted the cooler to his stomach. “It’s creepy.”

“Is not.” She backhanded his shoulder but turned away and grabbed the blanket from the backseat after throwing hers and Phillip’s vests inside.

The blanket was one her grandmother had made and given to her years ago. Sarah knew most people would have stored such a keepsake, but she couldn’t bear to shove the blanket into some dark corner. It deserved to be used. Loved. She adored the blanket and took it everywhere.

Phillip followed her to a nearby tree and dropped the cooler to help her spread the blanket out across the thick grass.

Sarah flopped onto the blanket belly first and kicked off her sodden shoes. Phillip joined her, laying on his back with his hands behind his head.

Sarah rolled her head to the side and watched him through half-lowered eyelids. “You look happy.” She blurted out the words without thinking them through.

Phillip eyed her without moving his head. “I’m usually happy. This is a normal expression for me.” He eased onto his side and propped his head in his hand, elbow firm on the blanket. “That night in the cellar was not the normal me.”

“Good to know.” She reached for the cooler and dragged it close enough to peer inside. She needed a distraction from Phillip. He saw too much when he looked at her. It made her nerves flutter and threatened to make her want things she could never have. Not with Phillip. “Here.” She shoved a chicken salad sandwich at him and passed him a bottle of water. She maneuvered her way to a seated position and crossed her legs while grabbing her own food.

“Would you like me to pray?” Phillip held out a hand, and she slid her palm against his. At her nod, he closed his eyes. “Lord, we thank you for this day. Thank you for the laughter and the company. We’re grateful for all that you do for us. Amen.”

Sarah repeated the amen and opened her eyes as delight warmed her insides. Phillip hadn’t hesitated to pray. Out loud and in public.

A bird screeched from overhead. Seconds later, a flutter of wings sounded, and the bird swooped closer.

Sarah covered her head with one hand and her food with the other. Phillip flapped his arms and shooed the bird away. It bellowed a complaint and flapped back into the tree. It perched there, head tilting one way, then the other. Beady black eyes watched Sarah as the bird hopped along the branch. Each hop brought it closer.

“Go away.” Sarah grabbed her shoe and chucked it at the bird.

With a caw of protest, the bird flapped hard and lifted into the sky.

Sarah’s shoe pinged around on the branches, then stuck in a fork, the laces tangled amid the leaves. She groaned. “Well, that’s just great.”

Phillip looked from her to the tree and back. “You threw your shoe at a bird.”

“And now it’s stuck in the tree.” Sarah rubbed a hand over her eyes. Her skin stretched taut as it dried in the sun, reminding her she’d forgotten to slather on the sunscreen.

Phillip returned his food and water to the cooler and stood. “I’ll get it.”

“No. It’s okay.” She reached for him, but he stepped back.

“I can do it.” In one smooth motion, he swung himself up into the branches. He stood on the lowest branch and reached overhead for the next one strong enough to hold him.

Sarah stood and moved underneath him.

He moved like he belonged there, climbing hand over hand without effort until he reached the branch where her shoe dangled.

Her pulse skipped when the branch groaned and swayed.

Phillip bounced a little, testing its strength and ability to hold his weight. He stretched out his right hand and his fingertips brushed the sole of her shoe. He inched further down the branch and the tree let out a groan.

“Don’t.” Sarah tried to warn him.

Too late. He was already creeping forward another inch. Then another. He grabbed her shoe and poked it free. It tumbled down the branches and landed at Sarah’s feet.

With a crack, the branch under Phillip gave way. Sarah yelped and jumped out of the way as the branch crashed to the ground on top of her shoe.

---