whispered.
Rebecca held in a laugh and patted the girl’s hand before prying it off her numb arm and turning to the group. “We’d been waiting to announce this, but cell phone use will be restricted to one hour before bedtime and designated free time. Our focus is on each other and ourselves. We can’t do that if we’re on our phones all the time, so let’s look at this as a positive.”
“But what’ll we do for fun?” said a boy from the back of the group. He pulled off his Yankees’ cap, then replaced it backward. A murmur of agreement pulsed through the crowd.
Judith Sikes shrugged narrow shoulders. “Well. I’m going to teach you how to make jar candles for starters.”
“No!”
“What?”
“I’m allergic to wax.”
Tameya closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting her perfect, long black plaits sweep across her shoulders. “Wake me when this is over.”
“Needlepoint,” continued Judith, undeterred.
“I’m not allowed to touch needles,” called a girl, her hands on her hips.
“These are a different kind, dear,” the woman said kindly.
“Then there’s bird watching,” suggested her husband, setting off another round of groans.
Rebecca glanced around and noted Aiden’s continued efforts to get a signal. Connor propped a foot on the lower rail of a fence, his expression closed off. They couldn’t look less together. Didn’t even seem like they were a part of this group...not that that was a good thing right now.
“Of course, I can show you some of the ones I’ve stuffed,” Marty Sikes added, offhand.
“Eww!” chorused some of the kids.
“I will seriously pass out if I see one of those,” gasped Tameya.
“Cool,” blurted the boy in the baseball cap as he shoved to the front of the throng. “Like taxidermy? I saw that in a movie, except the killer sewed up people he lured to his farm and...”
His voice trailed off and an appalled silence fell as the kids looked at each other, then at the Sikeses.
“And we can’t even call for help,” whispered Tameya between clenched teeth.
Rebecca stepped forward. Enough was enough. “Mr. and Mrs. Sikes are the caretakers for the property and will be supplementing some of our planned activities with other, er, unique tasks that you’ll get to choose.”
The unsettled group hushed and Jeff joined her as they climbed the porch and stood beside the Sikeses. Aiden peered up from his phone and met her gaze, his expression challenging.
“We’ll be leading you on hikes from here nearly every day,” said Jeff.
“Take you canoeing on the Ausable River,” added Rebecca.
“And don’t forget rock climbing. Marty here’s a pro.” Judith patted her husband’s arm and the kids’ eyes widened. “He goes ice climbing, too.”
“Whoa,” someone muttered.
“And those mountains.” Rebecca pointed at two of the tallest. “We’ll be climbing them.”
“No way,” cried another boy, sounding impressed.
“Can we get cell service from up there?”
“Guess we’ll have to find out,” said Rebecca, smiling.
“And camping,” continued Jeff. “We’ve got overnight trips planned. Campfires. S’mores.”
“Mountain biking,” piped another psychologist, looking down at the trip’s itinerary. Journey. Rebecca studied her, remembering her unusual name from their earlier meetings.
“What about TV?”
“Happy to report we’ve got all three channels,” said Marty proudly.
Tameya flipped up her hoodie and pulled the strings. “This is going to suck so bad,” she mumbled, her voice just loud enough for Rebecca to make out.
“We’ll even be catching the fish we eat,” contributed another therapist. Tony. No. Tommy. That was it.
“Lots of trout for you to clean.” Marty rubbed his hands together.
“Eww,” squealed the kids again.
“All right, everyone,” announced Rebecca. Time to move on. “Grab your gear and head inside. Put your stuff next to a bunk. The girls’ rooms have an orange ribbon on the doorknob. The boys have purple. Rooms with only two bunks are for adults. But don’t get too cozy. Our first overnight trip starts tomorrow.”
As they streamed around her, she called, “And no taking off the ribbons.”
Within minutes, the porch cleared, leaving her standing alone at the rail. Or so she thought.
Aiden leaned against a newel post, studying her. “You should have told me about the cell phone situation.”
“Why is that so important?”
He paced along the porch, the wood squeaking beneath his boots. When he stopped, he spoke without looking at her. “It’s everything to me right now.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.” Rebecca drew close and stood beside him. The sun bobbed above the tree line, looking reluctant to be put away for the night. “Work isn’t everything.”
“It’s not a problem—it’s how life is. My life.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Plus you’re working, here.”
“With the kids...”
“But it’s for your tenure, right?”
Her cheeks warmed. “That’s part of it, but helping the children is my focus.” A couple of blue jays battled for turf in a tall pine, squawking as they chased each other among the boughs.
“One of the teachers said something about you not having it...but you’re still a teacher, I mean psychologist. I guess I don’t understand.” Aiden swished his hand, shooing away the voracious blackflies.
She wanted Aiden to open up on the trip. Maybe if she confided in him, he’d let down his guard. “I’m in what’s called a probationary period, which means I can be fired without the school having to provide a reason. It begins the day you get hired and, after about two and a half years, the school board votes if they intend to grant you tenure at the end of your third year. Once you have that, you’re a permanent employee.”
Aiden gave up shooing the bugs and pulled his collar tighter around his neck. “And that means you can’t be fired?”
“No. It means they have to have a valid reason that goes beyond school politics or personal differences.” She wanted that security
