Girl on the Run (24 page)

I
took a long, hot shower. Everything Lacey told me was still tumbling through my head. She didn't like Kirk; she was in love with Ben. But was Kirk only helping her because he wanted me to stay at camp or because he liked Lacey so much he'd do anything for her? It would explain all the tension between him and Ben.

I remembered how Kirk had looked at me in his room; the butterflies were so real. But since this morning, since my confession, I hadn't seen him at all. I brushed out my wet hair, leaving it down for a change, and slipped on my jeans and hoodie. Taking a cue from Lacey, I knew I had my own apology to make.

The smells from the kitchen wafted through the air, greeting me a few steps before the screen door. I peeked through the screen. Lewis had his back to me as he worked at the massive oven. The counter was lined with steaming pans. The Brasseau sisters were in their usual flowered aprons, chopping, dicing, and frying up whatever would be tonight's super, I guessed.

I hesitated at the door frame. Only now did I appreciate how horrible Lacey must have felt standing outside Kirk's cabin with my dish of ice cream. There was a loud clatter followed by stream of swearing. Lewis stepped away from the stove, shaking his hand and blowing on it.

The Brasseau sisters looked up in unison. The heavier one made a motion to go to him, then she saw me through the screen door.

I pushed open the door and ran over to Lewis. “Are you okay?” I asked.

He stared back at me, his hand frozen in the air between us. I could see the red welt along his palm already deepening. A long-handled spoon lay on the floor between us, with bits of mushy looking noodles scattered around our feet. Seeing him made me want to start crying all over again. He had been there for me all these weeks, and all I did was throw his past in his face.

“I'm sorry,” I blurted out. Then I paused because I realize he's said it too, at the same time.

“You have every right to be mad at me,” I said quickly.

Lewis shook his head. “You were never dragging your ass—”

“—you don't hide in the kitchen. You make totally awesome food!”

“Cabin 4A
is
full of little shits—”

“—I love how you listen to all my crap and share your sandwich with me.”

“If you weren't here this summer I'd be so bored.”

“I love that you don't put raisins in cookies.”

“You're my best friend, here.”

I blinked a few times, feeling tears welling up. “Me, too,” I said. He pulled me into a hug, and I knew we were cool again.

“You were totally right,” I said into his chest. “There's a lot about my dad I have to tell you.”

The Brasseau sisters took over supper preparations while I helped Lewis. After he ran cold water over his burn, he let me put one of those stretchy bandages on, but I messed that up too. He ended up putting on a little ointment and blowing on it every few minutes. Slowly, I told him about Dad's heart attack. Everything spilled out; the scholarship, how Mom was getting on with her life, how I'd been pretending all this time, and how I'd seen Dad's body on the trail in the woods. He listened without interrupting.

Every once in a while the sisters would pat my shoulder as they quietly worked around us.

When I was finished Lewis reached out and cupped my cheek with his good hand and leaned in close. For a second I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he said, “You deserve to be happy. Never forget that.”

“Oh, Lewis,” I sighed, trying not to cry again. “You're going to make some man a wonderful husband someday.”

I helped put the pans of tuna casserole and salads out on the buffet. My eyes darted around the main hall, but Kirk was still missing.

I stayed in the kitchen with Lewis and the Brasseau sisters picking at my own plate of supper. True, I'd only had ice cream today, but with Kirk gone, Spencer still in the hospital, and the threat of someone losing their job, my stomach was too busy working itself into knots.

After I helped clean the kitchen, and made sure Lewis saw the nurse to be properly bandaged, I made my way across the darkening lawn to my shed. I took the blanket off the bed and wrapped myself up. I sat down and examined my necklace, finally appreciating the effort that had gone into it sitting in my hands again. If a guy is willing to dive through eelgrass for you, he must like you, right? I closed my eyes and rubbed the silver charm.

There was a soft knock. My heart jumped to my throat. I shuffled over to the door, the blanket dragging behind me.

I couldn't help but smile. Kirk was wearing a navy polo shirt and faded jeans—formal attire for camp. He ran a hand through his hair. A thin rope bracelet stood out against his tan, making his forearms even sexier. “I just got back from the hospital,” he said. “It's not that late, but I didn't know if you'd be sleeping or not.” His tone was careful.

“It's okay,” I said, hastily tucking a wavy strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly aware of how sloppy I must look. “How's Spencer?”

“He's fine,” Kirk said. I noticed he had a package tucked under one arm. “The hospital wants to keep him overnight for observation. Apparently, fresh water in the lungs can lead to infection.”

“So, he's all right?”

“Yeah, just as evil as ever,” he grinned. I let out a relieved sigh. It was good to hear it officially.

“Those poor nurses,” I said.

He nodded a few times, but didn't make any movement. I had the feeling he was killing time, probably putting in his obligatory staff check in, before scooting off to Lacey's cabin.

“I wanted to say thank you for finding my necklace. Lewis said I owe him a new toothbrush.” I laughed nervously at the end.

He solidly stood in the door frame, patiently letting the silence stretch.

“So, thank you,” I repeated. “Very much.”

“You're very welcome.” He took in my hoodie and cape-like blanket ensemble. “This is a new look for you. Are you expecting special company?” The tease in his voice made me smile—again. He really was turning me into a cupette.

I stepped back grandly and opened the door wider for him. “No,” I said. “Anyone will do.”

He came in and handed me the paper bag that had been tucked under his arm. My insides did a little dance, thinking that he'd brought me a present. “I didn't know if you wanted it back or not,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. My stomach plummeted. It was my sneaker, still wet and full of sand. It was also missing the shoelace. Kirk apparently is one of those guys who likes to go the unconventional route for gifts. I bet Lacey got something better. “You really didn't have to go diving for my sneaker.”

“This was the one you left in my room.”

“Oh,” I said, again. Wow. Call the charm police.

I stared down at my sneaker, now forever separated from its mate. “Um…thanks,” I said. “One is kind of useless, but yeah, they are…I mean, it's kind of sentimental.” Even though I'd made some peace with Dad's death, I still knew I wasn't going to run track again. But at least I could face my unknown future free of guilt.

Kirk took the sneaker and placed it on the floor with the paper bag. I stood watching him, like a dummy. I wasn't sure what to do next. His eyes fell on my necklace on the bed. I picked it up and started to ramble. “I can't believe you actually found this. I had no idea how dark and gross the bottom was. And those eels…I really appreciate what you did. I can't imagine how many hours you spent.”

Wordlessly, he took the necklace from my hands and placed it around my neck. My heart sped up on automatic Kirk control. He stepped back and frowned. “It still needs work,” he said. “The charm is off-centre.”

I swallowed, the blanket starting to feel super warm. “Are you disappointed?” I asked.

“No,” he laughed. He gently unwrapped the necklace and sat on the edge of my bed, trying to straighten the silver wire.

I watched his fingers work the delicate beads. I couldn't help but wonder if he was delaying the inevitable. “What's going to happen now?” I asked him.

He looked up at me, confused. I curled my toes under my feet, wishing I didn't have to hear him say it. “Lacey thought she might be fired,” I said. I didn't want to mention my own possible punishment in this whole mess.

His expression relaxed. “I think Susan would like everything to stay the same. All the cabins are covered, and she hopes you'll replace Alicia for the last month of camp,” he said, watching me carefully. His voice didn't give me any clues.

“So Lacey doesn't have to pay for what she did?” I felt I was entitled to that jab.

“She had no idea he couldn't swim. And she had no idea of the stunts he was going to pull.”

I rolled my eyes.

Kirk gave me a serious look. “Do you want her cabin?” he asked. “Because if she leaves, that's your new post.”

I imagined myself in charge of the cupettes. “No,” I grumbled.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked quietly, no teasing this time.

I tightened the blanket around me, then walked over and sat down on my bed beside him. “Hell no,” I said. “I want to see this through to the finish.”

He nudged me with his elbow, just like a friend would do. “Good, because I want you to stay.”

Sure, pal
.

The atmosphere in my little shed deflated a bit. I studied him, desperately looking for a clue as to where his head was. His eyebrows were knit in concentration, still working my necklace.

Finally, I just had to spit it out. “About my dad,” I started. He immediately stopped working and gave me all of his attention. His gaze was so intense I almost forgot what I wanted to say. “I'm glad I told you. I've been carrying that around for a while, and I hope you don't…well I don't know, think less of me somehow.”

Kirk placed my necklace off to the side. He looked like he was carefully considering what he would say. “There's a lot of words I would use to describe you, but
less
is definitely not one of them.” He inched closer to me till our knees were touching. “I'm glad you told me. It's not your fault.” There was a pause and then he added, “I hope you see that now.”

I nodded. Although I knew letting go of the full amount of guilt would take longer than one day.

His voice dropped to a softer, more cautious tone. “And I hope you run again.”

I slightly shook my head, and gave a nervous chuckle. “It's been a big day. One thing at a time.”

He stayed serious. “This has nothing to do with the triathlon cup. It's about you getting back to what you're meant to do. You're too good to stop, Jesse. Not now, not after everything you've been through.”

My lips parted slightly, but no words came out. It was like Kirk was reading my heart. I swallowed and looked down. I couldn't cry all over his shirt again. Is this why he came here? Doing his civic duty to encourage young athletes? I was touched and disappointed all at once.

It stayed painfully quiet for what seemed like a hundred years. I felt his weight shift. “I stand by my original offer to run with you, if you want.” His lighter tone got my attention. When we locked eyes, the corner of his mouth curled up. “Um…look,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “About last night…what I said about Ben. I lied. I don't want you to go for him.”

This was new. My heart sputtered. “I don't like Ben,” I said.

Kirk looked surprised. “No?”

“He's not my type.” I paused for dramatic purposes. “I like tall brunettes.”

He smiled at me in a way that made everything start to tingle. “What's not to like?” he said.

We gazed at each other. My heart was preparing to smash through my ribs, and my armpits were beginning to feel sticky with anticipation. If I didn't do something soon, I'd have a complete meltdown. I pushed off the blanket and squirmed closer to him. “My grandma taught me how to read fortunes,” I said, reaching for his hand. I ran my fingers over the braided bracelet on his wrist. My breath caught in my throat. “Is that my—”

He actually blushed. “Shoelace? Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “I supervised arts and crafts today. One of the cupettes made it for me.” He paused and winked when he said the nickname I'd christened them. “I guess I like the idea of having something of yours close to me.”

“Much better than roses,” I said, ignoring the confused look on his face.

The back of his hand rested on my thigh, burning through my jeans. I looked down, mesmerized by the patterns the lines made. “Hmm.” I traced his palm with my finger. “This is interesting,” I said, paying particular attention to the pad by his thumb.

“What?” He sounded anxious.

“Look at this mark,” I said, totally making it up as I went along. “I've never seen one that shape before.”

He moved closer and bent over our hands. “What does it mean?” he squinted.