the kids from participating in all of these cool events waiting for them.”
Raindrops glistened off her poncho as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Daniel Stephens, I cannot believe you said that. Where’s your faith? It’s not like it’s going to rain all week. Matter of fact, I checked the weather app on my phone, and this should be out of here in a few hours.”
“I know. It’s just not the way things were supposed to go. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with alternative ideas.”
“I thought that’s what this was for.” She swung her arms wide, sending a spray of droplets to the floor as she indicated the large open space where they stood. “Don’t you have some sort of backup plan?”
“Yes, however I don’t think watching a movie with a bunch of strangers would be much fun. I’ve been trying to come up with a game or something that would force the kids to interact with each other.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “And thereby get to know one another.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, why don’t we all put our heads together and see what we can come up with.”
“We?”
“Yes. You, me and the rest of this motley crew.”
He eyed the staff and volunteers scattered about the space. “I hate to ask them to give up what little is left of their free time.”
“Are you kidding? These people are invested in this camp. Don’t you know that they want to help?” Walking away, she headed toward the coffee station where Teri was huddled with several other volunteers who ranged from age nineteen to sixty.
He watched as Blythe chatted with them. Seeing the excitement in their eyes, he suddenly realized that he’d underestimated them. These folks had put their own lives on hold for almost three weeks, given up time with friends and family to devote themselves to those kids who would be joining them later today. How could he possibly leave them out?
Cup still in hand, he crossed to where Blythe was gathered with the other companions, feeling more positive about this little change in plans than he would’ve imagined.
“All right, let’s grab some coffee, pull up a chair and do a little brainstorming,” he heard her say as he approached.
Everyone scattered, some heading for coffee while others made themselves comfortable at a table.
Turning, Blythe almost bumped into Daniel. “Oh, you’re here.” Her hazel gaze lifted to his.
“I am. And I think this brainstorming session is a stellar idea.”
“You do?” Her perfectly arched brows lifted in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Well...” She reached for the creamer as though suddenly trying to busy herself. “The great thing about sharing ideas is that one may come up with something the rest of us would never think of.”
“That’s an excellent point.” He refilled his cup, wishing he’d thought of it, instead of allowing the rain to derail him.
Watching her stir her coffee with a little wooden stick, he hoped his momentary lapse hadn’t cost him. Because despite stepping into the role of camp companion, Blythe was still the overseer for the Ridley Foundation. And he was the camp director, the one who was supposed to have everything figured out.
“Shall we?” Touching Blythe’s elbow, he urged her toward the group.
While she sat, he remained standing. “I appreciate each and every one of you, not only for volunteering here at Camp Sneffels, but for offering to help us figure out a way to turn what looks to be a rather damp arrival into something that will start these kids’ camp experience off with a bang.”
“Maybe they could roast marshmallows in the fireplace.”
“Good idea.” Daniel addressed the college-age fellow. “No camping experience is complete without roasted marshmallows.”
“What about some games?” a young woman offered.
“Games are a great idea,” he said. “But not just any game, because if you think about it, this could be a great opportunity for the kids to bond. Instead of going their different ways, they’ll all be together in here. We need to come up with some games that encourage them to talk and get to know one another.”
“Kind of like our team-building exercises yesterday,” said Teri.
“Exactly.” Blythe scanned the group. “Anyone know of some games that would be good for seven-to twelve-year-olds?”
Since Daniel’s internet search hadn’t yielded anything, he listened intently, particularly when Cindy, one of their companions, as well as an elementary school teacher, gave her input. He even made notes on his phone, wishing he had consulted someone like her when he was initially planning things. And if he was fortunate enough to have Camp Sneffels continue next year, he definitely would.
Forty-five minutes later, they had an entire afternoon of fun planned. They’d even given it a name. The Camp Sneffels Welcome Roundup. Juanita had agreed to make some special snacks, Levi was off to gather supplies for the games and Daniel found himself grateful to all of them for helping him on such short notice.
“Thank you.” He moved alongside Blythe as the group dispersed. “You took the bull by the horns and gathered everyone together. Now we’ve created the perfect opportunity for the kids to start bonding right away.”
“And isn’t that what you want?” She peered up at him. “I mean, half the fun of camp is making new friends.”
Her energy made him grin. “Sounds like you went to a camp or two back in your day.”
Her smile faltered a little. “I went once. And the best thing that came out of it was that I made a really good friend.”
“That’s cool. Are the two of you still friends?”
Blythe blinked, her expression suddenly vacant. “We will always be friends.” She drew in a breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
As she turned away, Daniel was pretty sure he saw tears in her eyes.
Blythe had to find a way out of this funk.
Rain continued to trickle from the late-morning sky as she lined up with Daniel, Teri and a handful of volunteers a little more than an hour after their meeting. Shivering beneath her rain poncho, she waited for the first campers to appear.
What was going on with her? First, she’d left her comfort zone by taking a leap of faith on the zip line, then the next thing she knew, she was making a tearful escape from the chow hall. She hadn’t cried in years. Of course, she hadn’t thought of Miranda in years, either.
Blythe peered up at the towering pines, their needles a vibrant green from the moisture. She and Miranda had been in
