Jim dropped him by the church an hour early. Are you sure he’s not there?”
“He could be inside. Let me take a look around and call you back,” Allie told her, thinking that maybe all the excitement had made the boy sick and he was in the restroom.
She stopped at the office first, but Harriet hadn’t seen him. The church was built in an L-shape, with the sanctuary being the short leg of the building.
“Randy!” she called as she went through the church, and checked the restrooms. Allie’s heart sank with disappointment. Maybe the boy had chickened-out and taken off before the bus got there. He could be blocks from the church by now.
She was about to give up when she poked her head into the last classroom, and there was Randy. He stood near one of the opened cupboards carrying a backpack that was so heavy it rounded his slender shoulders. When he saw her, he stiffened like a cornered animal ready to flee.
“Oh, there you are,” Allie greeted him pleasantly, ignoring the guilty look on his face. Caught in the act, she thought. She knew there was nothing of great value in the Sunday school closets. What had he put in the backpack? Whatever it was, he must have really wanted it. She decided not to confront him with evidence of his obvious looting. First things, first. Getting the tough little boy on the bus and up to camp was the first order of business. “Come on, Randy, the bus is about ready to leave.”
As she hurried him out of the church, he kept darting anxious looks at her, but she just chatted about the ride ahead. When she suggested that he let Barry put his backpack with the rest of the luggage, he stubbornly refused.
Trudy raised a questioning eyebrow as Allie turned around to Harriet who had come to see them off. “Will you call Mrs. Sloan and tell her that Randy’s on the bus?”
“Sure thing. You guys have a wonderful time.” She gave both Allie and Trudy a hug. “I’ll say a prayer for you every day.”
“Better say two,” Allie said wryly as she saw Randy’s belligerent face pressed against the window.
They finally got everyone settled in the bus, after much last-minute shifting around in seats. Excitement was almost thick enough to cut as the children laughed and chatted during the two-hour drive.
Allie sat in an aisle seat by Cathy so the quiet, shy little girl could look out the window. Her deep blue eyes were wide with wonder as the bus rolled along past grass-covered meadows, sunflower-lined roads and horse pastures where sleek mares stood by foals only a couple of months old.
Cathy’s parents had been very nervous when they brought her to the bus. Obviously, this was the first time they’d entrusted their daughter’s care to anyone outside the family.
“Cathy has special needs, you know,” her mother had warned Allie as she handed her a list of things to watch for. “If she doesn’t have her hearing aids turned on, she doesn’t hear anything that’s going on, and even with her hearing aids, she misses a lot. Cathy knows how to change the batteries, but sometimes she forgets.”
“I’ll be sure and check on them every morning,” Allie had assured her. Allie impulsively gave Mrs. Crawford a hug and said softly, “Cathy’s going to be fine. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
Allie felt a sudden wash of happiness as she looked down at the beaming eight-year-old who was taking in everything with a kind of wondrous awe. What joy to see the excitement on her face as her narrow world expanded beyond anything she had experienced before.
The O’Tooles were ready and waiting to greet the bus when it rumbled across the bridge and stopped in front of the main building.
Scott was nowhere to be seen, and Allie couldn’t tell from the closed look about the house whether he was there or not. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. He’d already warned them that he was going to be too busy to get involved in any of the camping activities. But that knowledge still didn’t prevent her from hoping he’d show up anyway.
Scott was only vaguely aware of the invasion of the youthful campers during the day. He was ensconced in an upstairs bedroom, working on business matters, using his computer and the telephone. When daylight had faded, and the room was dark except for the radius of light from his desk lamp, he realized it was time to quit.
Weary and stiff from his sitting position, he went downstairs to scramble a couple of eggs and make toast for dinner. He was sitting at the kitchen table, listlessly eating his meal when the haunting beating of tom-tom drums reached his ears. He didn’t need to look out the window to know what was happening.
For a moment it seemed that time had played a trick on him. In his mind’s eye, he could see the leaping fire in the center of the camp where his dad had made an open stone fireplace. The spot was a favorite one for evening songs, stories and prayers. His heart tightened remembering how much Jimmy had liked to join in the evening sing-alongs, and the telling of ghost stories. Every night the two of them had lingered outside, looking up at the stars, reluctant to go to bed and making plans to sleep outside before the summer was over. They loved to pitch a tent near the river, and listen to its mesmerizing roar as the water tripped and fell over rocks in its rush down this side of the Continental Divide. They’d shared boyish secrets and dreams of adventures they would have when they reached manhood.
Scott put his head in his hands, wishing he were anywhere in the world but in this place of torment. He’d never considered himself a coward, but if running away from the past was a weakness, he was ready to give in to it. Why on earth had he allowed himself to be talked into delaying everything for two more weeks? His mother thought he was out of his mind, and he was beginning to believe it himself.
He allowed anger to cover up his loneliness as he strode around the house, sorting out things to be thrown away and making piles of pictures and books that the second-hand man might be interested in buying. Every closet and drawer assaulted him with memories; faint remembered scents teased his nostrils; everything in the house was a trigger to bring back feelings he wanted buried and forgotten.
For about an hour he heard the incessant drumbeats and waves of childish voices raised in Indian chants, and then the night took on an enveloping silence.
Good. He glanced at his watch. Eight-thirty. They’d be bedding the kids down for the night, and all would be quiet until six the next morning. He waited another fifteen minutes before wandering out on the porch. Ignoring the old swing, he leaned up against one of the porch posts and drew in a deep breath as he looked up at an evening sky that was like a velvet drape dotted with star spangles. He’d forgotten how pure and clean the air was at this altitude, away from the city’s spoils. Beginning to feel relaxed, he sat down on the front steps where he had a good view of the center of the camp.
He instantly stiffened. “What?”
The campfire was still burning! Surely they hadn’t forgotten to douse it thoroughly with water, but he couldn’t see any dark figures anywhere near the radius of light.
All was quiet.
Muttering to himself, Scott picked up a bucket from the corner of the porch, hurried down the steps to the house and strode toward the blazing bonfire. Making sure that all of the fires were out had been one of the responsibilities that his father had given him every summer. Sam had lectured them all about unattended campfires.
When he reached the fire, he saw that a ring of rocks contained the blazing wood, but the wind was coming up and sparks were beginning to fly upward. There was always danger that some could be blown away from
