Stay With Me (6 page)

“No sense getting my fingers sticky, too.” His eyes
glimmered like they had last week when he had tickled her. He was playing with
her again. “Mmmm. Superb.” He licked his lips and watched as Rebecca enjoyed
her own marshmallow.

***

Chris moved his seat closer and poked at the fire.
“Why don’t you go to the restroom and brush your teeth and stuff before it gets
too late? I’ll sit here with the fire.”

“Okay.”

Rebecca grabbed her things from the bear box. The
heavy door clanged shut as she turned and headed up the trail. Chris remembered
the soft blush of Rebecca’s cheeks and the self-conscious way she smiled when
he teased her. He hoped he hadn’t gone too far with the marshmallows. He was
just trying to play with her.

He stared at the fire a few minutes longer before
he noticed the flashes in his peripheral vision. Lightning bugs. He scurried
over to the picnic table and took Rebecca’s bug container out of the bag.
Releasing its Velcro strap, he popped it open and ripped off the tag.

The bugs lit in the dark spots at the edges of the
campsite and alongside the larger trees. It was cute that Rebecca still liked
to chase the little bugs. In truth, he did, too. He spent the next twenty
minutes carefully scooping up as many as he could and filling her little
container. Not bad: about fifteen bugs flashed behind the vinyl netting. He set
the container in the middle of the table and slid the empty lantern box in
front of it so he could surprise her with it.

As he took a seat, he noticed a group hauling their
stuff down the trail to the empty campsite nearest theirs. A grown man chasing
lightning bugs with nary a child in sight?  Embarrassing.

The arrival of new neighbors disappointed but
didn’t surprise him. It was a weekend, after all, and these were desirable
sites. He would miss the peace and the privacy though. He watched for ten
minutes or so as five college-aged guys tried to set up their tents using only
the light generated by one Coleman lamp. They shouted directions at one another
punctuated by insults and raucous laughter. He hoped they wouldn’t be loud once
they got settled.

A few minutes later, Rebecca came half-running down
the trail, her headlamp bobbing as she went. “Where’s my bug container? The
lightning bugs are everywhere.”

 “It’s there on the table.” He pointed in the
general direction of her bug holder. He smiled and waited for her to discover
his surprise.

She circled the table once before she spotted it.
Her chin dropped and her eyes widened as she picked it up by the small handle,
looking first at the flashing bugs and then at him. “You’ve been busy.”

He grinned. “I guess you’re not the only one who
hasn’t outgrown catching them.”

She smiled. “I’ll see how many more I can add.” She
chased the flashing bugs around the fringes of the campsite while Chris grabbed
his things and headed to the restroom. Camping with Rebecca was turning out to
be more fun than he’d ever dreamed.

Darkness and quiet had settled over the campsite
during the fifteen minutes he had been gone. Their new neighbors had apparently
set up and then left. A soft glow from the campfire lit the area around the
fire pit, and Chris took the big stick he kept by the campfire and pushed
around the ashes until the glow subsided and only a little smoke rose from the
heated coals.

He returned his things to the bear box, and as he
stepped toward the tent, a light shone through the ceiling.

“Chris?” Rebecca’s voice sounded tentative.

“It’s just me.” He slipped off his boots outside
the tent, unzipped the door, and stepped inside.

Rebecca smiled, then bit her lower lip as she sat
on top of her bag with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re back.”

Had the loud guys setting up their stuff given her
a hard time? “Did something happen?”

“No. It got dark. And quiet. And lonely. And I’ve
never been out in the woods alone at night before.”

Oh. Just a little scared. He had been camping since
he could walk, and he hadn’t thought how it might be frightening to Rebecca. He
zipped the door closed and sat on his sleeping bag. He’d play the role of her
protector if that’s what she wanted.

“There are no locks on this thing.” She looked from
one side of the tent to the other where Chris had unzipped the windows to let
in the cool evening air.

“No, but we won’t need them. It’s safe. I promise
you.”

“But anybody could walk up and—”

Before she could dream up some kind of Blair Witch
Project scenario, he said, “No one has any reason to be back here.”

“But you said the Appalachian Trail runs—” She
gestured in the opposite direction of the trail, but Chris didn’t correct her.

“Rebecca, no one’s going to bother us.”

“What about bears? Did we leave out any trash?”

“I put it in the dumpster on my way to the
restroom. All our food is locked up in the bear box, and we didn’t bring anything
like that in the tent.”

“What about. . .us? Don’t we smell like food to
bears?”

“We bagged all our toiletries, and you didn’t use
any perfume or lotion tonight, did you?’

She shook her head. He had told her to leave all
that stuff at home.

“Then there’s no need to worry.” She must have been
suffering some serious anxiety while he was gone.

“But what about if I’m…well, if it’s that time…”
Her cheeks were getting pink.

Chris wrinkled his brow and tried to figure out why
she was being so reticent. “What time?”

She let out a breath and allowed her head to fall
down against her knees. When she spoke it was no louder than the whisper of the
wind through the trees.

“What if I’m menstruating?”

He hadn’t seen
that
one coming. “Uh, the
bears won’t mind.”
Awkward
.

She peeked out from under her folded arms. “But I
heard bears were attracted to . . .”

He knew what people said, and he had Googled it
once. “No, not black bears, and that’s what’s here in the park. The research
only shows that polar bears may be attracted to…to that scent.”

“You’re sure?”

She really was scared. He wanted to gather her up
in his arms and offer to hold her all night long. “Yes, I’m sure.”

After studying his face a few more seconds she
dropped her knees and readjusted herself in her bag. “Okay. You’re the expert.
If you say we’re safe, I’m going to trust you.”

“Thank you.” He switched off his head lamp before
breaking into a smile and sliding down into his bag. Rebecca turned her light
off, too, and as he lay on his back, he peered through the skylight panel at
the top of the tent. There was no moonlight, and the stars shone brilliantly.

A loud screech rang out in the distance and grew
louder as it passed directly over their heads.

Rebecca shot up from her bag. “Chris, what was
that?”

Talk about bad timing. If she weren’t scared she
would probably realize how cool that had been. “An owl. Probably a barred owl.”
As if on cue, a faint hoot sounded in the direction the owl had flown.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you sleep a little closer to me?”

He knew she couldn’t see his expression, but he
smiled. He hoped she couldn’t hear it in his voice. “How close?” He dragged his
bag and sleeping pad with him as he scooched across the tent floor towards
Rebecca.

“Next to me.”

He repositioned his sleeping pad, bag, and pillow
alongside hers, lying on his stomach while she remained on her back.

“Still scared?”

“Just a little. I’m not used to this.”

Raising himself onto his elbows, he leaned over her
and tenderly kissed her taut lips once and then again before scooting back down
into his bag.

“I thought you promised no fooling around.” She was
smiling. He was sure of it; he could hear it in her voice. The kiss he had
given her was reserved and controlled. She could not construe that as
threatening.

“Kissing’s not fooling around. At least not that
kind of kissing.”

He had been desperate to kiss her earlier when they
were setting up the tent but had resisted. She had turned toward him and was
tucked perfectly against his chest. His heart rate had sped up and his hands
had ached to pull her to him and kiss her like crazy, but he wouldn’t break his
promise to her. He wanted her to trust him.

“Chris?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you pray at night?”

Good—a change of subject. If she could get her mind
off of being scared he knew she’d be fine. “I do.”

“What do you say?”

“Well, I thank God for the day, and I do an
examination of conscience and say an Act of Contrition.”

“You do what and say what?”

“I think about the sins I committed that day and
ask God to forgive me.”

“Oh . . . Can I pray with you tonight?”

“Sure.”

The polyester sack crinkled as she shifted onto her
belly and folded her hands on her pillow. “I’ll start and then you do your act
of whatever it was there.”

Chris chuckled. “Okay.”

Her gaze followed his right hand as he made the
sign of the cross. She waited, so he nodded for her to begin.

“Lord, thank you for our safe trip here today.
Thank you for the beauty you’ve created here—the mountains, the trees, the
wildflowers, and the animals. Thank you for Chris and for all he’s done to make
me comfortable here. Please keep us safe from harm.”

She looked up, signaling she was done, so he spoke.
“Now I take a minute to think about my sins.” He bowed his head over his folded
hands, so he didn’t see if she did the same. Then he thought about his day. How
he had been short-tempered with his mom when she pressed him for information
about Rebecca. How he had thought himself better than the sloppy obese man at
the campsite near the road. And how his eyes and his imagination had lingered a
little too long on Rebecca’s curves while she helped him put up the tent. He
looked back up, and she had an earnest expression on her face. She gave him a
small smile, and then he recited an Act of Contrition from memory. She joined
him in the “amen” and then watched as he blessed himself again.

“Why do you do that?” she asked, setting off a half
hour or more of conversation about the practice of his faith. She was
respectful and inquisitive, and her questions were sincere. Chris found that
they helped him refine his own thoughts about why he did what he did. Finally,
she said, “I like the Act of—what was it?”

“Contrition.”

“Yeah. It says it all. I’m sorry, here’s why, and
this is what I’m going to do about it so it doesn’t happen again.”

“That’s pretty much it.”

“Maybe you can teach it to me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

After that, they must have both drifted off to
sleep. The next thing Chris knew he was awakened by an ear-splitting crack of
thunder that reverberated in the ground beneath them. Rebecca shrieked and
called out to him.

His own heart thundered from the shock of it, but
he had been in storms at the park before and knew that this wasn’t out of the
ordinary. Because of their elevation, the clouds were closer and heightened the
storm’s intensity.

“It’s just a thunderstorm. It’ll pass.”

Her bag rustled as she shifted onto her side to
face him. Despite the fact that it had cooled, even inside the tent, she
wrestled her arm out from her twisted sleeping bag and groped for his hand.
Lying on his side now, too, he took her hand in his and held it lightly,
rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

Lightning flashed, followed immediately by another
loud crack of thunder. They were right in the thick of it.  Her hand tightened
around his.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I like thunderstorms, but this one is
fierce, and it caught me off guard.”

For a half hour or more they laid awake, their
hands squeezed together, talking only about the storm and whether it was
letting up. By the time the thunder had stopped and the rain had diminished to
a steady patter on the tent, Rebecca’s soft, even breaths told him she had
fallen asleep.

6

Crash Into Me

Chris didn’t know which had woken him—the sunlight
streaming through the skylight, the birds chattering in the treetops, or the
persistent rustling outside the tent. Maybe it was the faint odor of skunk
lingering in the air. After studying the shadows of the leaves, twigs and other
debris the night’s storm left on the outside of the tent, he looked at Rebecca,
who faced away from him now. Sometime during the night their hands must have
separated.

He pushed down his sleeping bag and crept to the
tent door, careful to make as little noise as possible. After unzipping the
door, he slipped into his unlaced boots and stepped around the side of the
tent. He discovered the source of the rustling: a fat raccoon. It nudged aside
the base of the tent, searching for something.

Chris kept his distance and waved the raccoon off.
The last thing he needed was to wake Rebecca and have her pepper him with
questions about raccoons, rabies, and God forbid—menstruation.

“Shoo, shoo. Get out of here.”

“Chris?”

Uh-oh.
“I’m right out here. Just a pesky
little varmint.” He shooed the masked rodent one more time, and it scurried off
into the weeds.

Chris went back into the tent to find Rebecca wide
awake. She had rolled back over so that she faced his empty bag.

Sleep had mussed her wavy brown hair, making it
look even fuller and giving her a natural, slightly-untamed look. Her wide,
brown eyes looked like matching pools of melted milk chocolate. The sleeping
bag silhouetted the gentle slope from her feet to her hips, the dramatic dip of
her waist, and the rise to her shoulder. She took his breath away and had him
rethinking his whole “no fooling around” promise.

What would it be like to wake up to that every
morning? He doubted he’d ever get to work on time again. Chris didn’t know if
he could manage a coherent conversation or whether he should even try. It would
probably be better if he left.

“Everything okay?” She tilted her head as if it
would help her understand, but it just made her hair fall from her shoulder to
her bust line.

Sure, everything’s fine if you
think spontaneous human combustion is okay.
“Yep...Just, uh, a...” He jerked
his thumb toward the side of the tent. “A, uh, an animal. Got rid of it.” He
forced himself to look away and slipped back out the door. “I’m going to get
some dry wood and start a fire for breakfast.”

***

Rebecca shoved down her bag and folded her legs in
front of her. She pulled a hair ribbon from the pocket on the tent wall,
dragged her fingers through her hair, and pulled it back into a messy ponytail.

Nothing like having a cute guy that you’re falling
for see you first thing in the morning. That should dispel any illusions he
might have about her. With her wild hair, tired eyes, and oily face maybe he
wouldn’t notice her worn, baggy, makeshift pajamas. She remembered what a
scaredy cat she had been the night before, and then that she had basically told
him she had her period. She groaned and pushed herself to her feet. There was
only one way out of the tent, but maybe she could kill some time by cleaning up
inside first.

She fluffed their pillows, rolled the sleeping
bags, and let the air seep out of the sleeping mats. She took the little whisk
broom and dustpan that sat in the corner and swept the bits of leaves and tree
needles they had tracked in on their feet.

After dumping the debris outside of the tent, she
slipped her hiking boots onto her bare feet and walked toward the picnic table
where the smell of bacon hung in the air.

Chris cracked eggs into a cast iron skillet
alongside thick slices of sizzling bacon. If he kept feeding her like this,
they’d have to do another hike.

“Smells delicious. Are you sure you only cook in
the outdoors?”

“Positive.” He smiled, but he didn’t look at her.
That was odd.

She took a seat in her camp chair next to the fire
and pulled her sleeves down over her hands while she listened to the small fire
crackle and pop. The sun hung low in the sky, and the air carried a chill. “So,
what did you find outside the tent?”

“Just a raccoon.” He still didn’t look at her.
Weird.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

She didn’t respond, and finally he looked away from
the skillet and up at her.

“There. Is something wrong? I didn’t think you
wanted to look at me.”

He laughed, but it didn’t sound genuine. “Why
wouldn’t I want to see you?”

“Well, I know I look ratty in the morning, but I
pulled my hair back, and as soon as I can get to the showers, I can make myself
presentable.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what
she said and stood up. He pointed his greasy spatula at her. “You...you look
fabulous. Better than anyone has a right to after a restless night in a tent.”

He was just trying to make her feel good, and it
worked. She smiled. “Is it almost ready? I just realized I’m starving.”

“You and me both.”

***

Once they finished breakfast, Chris offered to
clean the dishes and tear down the tent while she showered.

“You’ll need to take the car since the showers are
all the way up by the amphitheater. And make sure you have quarters. They’re
pay showers.”

“Please tell me there’s hot water.”

He smiled. “There is. I’ll go when you get back,
and by then it will almost be time for the church service.”

As Rebecca gathered her things and left the
campsite, Chris noticed their neighbors were back and all seated around their
fire pit. A heap of wet logs billowed white smoke, and he assumed they were
attempting a campfire. Thankfully whenever they had returned to camp last
night—and it must have been late—they hadn’t made noise. They were a curious
bunch. Cheap model tents from a big box store didn’t denote serious hikers or
campers. Their bulky coolers looked as if they were designed more for holding
beer at a tailgate party than efficient packing. Instead of bagged and hanging
from a tree limb, their trash was strewn around an overflowing box that,
wouldn’t you know it, had the name of a major brewery on the side. More than
likely they were drinking buddies, not hiking companions.

Chris stopped scraping the bits of egg from his
skillet when one of the guys called to Rebecca. Chris couldn’t hear what he
said, but she responded with a few words and a nervous laugh and continued on
her way. He couldn’t say the guy had done anything improper, but he had a gut
feeling about it, and it wasn’t good. He took comfort in the fact that he and
Rebecca would be packing up and heading out soon.

After smearing some bacon grease on the skillet and
setting it down to season over the coals, he brought all of their gear out of
the tent and set it on the picnic table. Then using the metal hook on the back
of his mallet, he removed the stakes from the tent fly and then the tent. Once
the ends of the tent poles were lifted from their pockets, the tent collapsed
in front of him. Chris grabbed a wad of paper towels and dried some of the
parts that were still wet and dirty from last night’s storm. He nearly jumped
when a man’s voice rumbled no more than a yard over his left shoulder.

“You packin’ up?”

The guy who had spoken to Rebecca stood behind him.
He wore a white undershirt and dirty jeans with a threadbare red plaid flannel
shirt. He looked more like a man coming off a bender than someone who had spent
the night in a tent.

“Yep. We’re heading out this morning.”

“You mind if we take whatever wood you have left?”

There wouldn’t be much left, but he wasn’t hauling
the cheap pine out of the park in Alan’s car.

“No problem. There’s a little left under the table.
I can’t say it’s completely dry, but I did have a tarp over it last night.”

“Thanks, man.”

Chris turned over his damp wad of paper towels and
wiped the tent in preparation for folding it. He figured the guy would leave,
but apparently he had more to say.

“That was some storm.” He motioned back to the guys
still circling the stinky, white cloud emanating from the fire pit at his site.
“We decided to ride it out at the bar up at the lodge.”

Lifting his chin in acknowledgement, Chris didn’t
want to encourage more conversation. Something about this dude unsettled him.

“’Course if there had been something to interest me
back at the tent, that would be a different story.”

Chris spared him a glance. He didn’t know what that
remark meant, but from the tone of his voice and the lascivious look in his
eye, he guessed it had to do with a woman.

“The chick you brought. She’s hot.”

So, his instincts were right. This guy was a dirt
bag, and he had an interest in Rebecca. “She’s beautiful.”

“Nothing’ like getting laid in the fresh mountain
air, is there?”

Whoa. Where did that come from? Chris’s uneasy
feeling ratcheted up to mild fear. “It’s not like that. We just shared the
tent. She’s a really nice girl.”

The next thing that came out of the guy’s mouth
made Chris’s blood boil. A stream of crude words and implications made him fear
for Rebecca’s safety. Had he put her in danger? He’d camped here himself at
least a dozen times and never had a problem with other campers. If anything,
they were decent and polite. Not this guy. When his filthy words ended with a
lightly-veiled threat of bodily harm if Chris didn’t “share” Rebecca with him,
all his internal alarms went off. He hoped there was a long line at the
showers, and Rebecca wouldn’t come strolling into this. It might be five on
one, but Chris wouldn’t let them harm Rebecca. He brought her here, and he felt
responsible for her safety.

Chris stood and realized with dismay that the guy
had a good three inches on him, not to mention being just plain bigger.
Lord,
give me strength. And wisdom.

He looked into the slightly-dilated eyes that were
now trained on him. “How about you take the wood and go back to your campsite?
We’re going to pack and leave. And you’re not going to say a word to my friend.
In fact, I don’t even want to see you or your buddies looking at her.”

Not much of a threat, but he didn’t have anything
to back it up with, so it would have to suffice. He hoped.

The guy laughed—a mocking snort that made a knot
twist in Chris’s stomach and his fists clench at his sides. The damp towels he
held dripped as he inadvertently squeezed the excess rainwater from them.

“What’s the matter? Afraid she might realize you’re
a lousy lay?”

When that didn’t provoke the response the guy
wanted, he took a swing at Chris.

Chris darted to his right, missing the hit by inches.

He had never hit anyone in his life, not even Alan
when he deserved it, but in that instant a surge of adrenaline rushed through
his veins, and he punched the guy in the jaw. His knuckles felt more like they
had slammed into a brick wall than a face, and they hurt so badly his instinct
was to pace and try rubbing out the pain. Instead, he shook out his hand and
waited for the retaliation.

The guy fell back a step, rubbing his bloodied lip
and cheek. Chris spied movement in the distance. One of his buddies leapt to
his feet.

“Darryl, you need a hand?”

Darryl didn’t turn or answer. He waved his buddy
off and gave Chris a slow, seedy smile before he hauled off and took a swing.

Chris darted to the right again, effectively
dodging the fist aimed at his face but, in stepping to the side, he twisted his
ankle on the tent pole lying at his feet.

He broke his fall with his right hand, but he
lacked the agility to avoid the boot that landed in his side. Darryl could’ve
pummeled him, but for some reason he allowed Chris to get back on his feet
before he took another swing.

This one hit its intended target, and Chris winced
at the flash of pain in his left cheek and behind his eye.

He cursed as the metallic taste of blood reached
his tongue, then he steadied himself.

Weaker and less skilled, Chris’s only advantage was
his desperate desire to defend Rebecca, and that wasn’t turning out to be an
advantage at all. With a guttural growl, he charged at Darryl’s middle and
hoped he could at least knock him off balance. Darryl’s meaty hands gripped his
waist, and Chris tried to get better purchase on the wet ground as a yell came
from the trail.

“Hey, break it up!”

Darryl’s hands fell away, and when Chris lifted his
head, he glimpsed a park ranger jogging toward them. Thank you, Lord. He didn’t
know who had alerted the rangers, but he’d be forever grateful to whoever did.
Now he had to convince the ranger he hadn’t instigated this; he wanted to
safeguard Rebecca.

***

Rebecca ran her fingers over her damp braid as she
walked from the showers to the car. The warm water soothed her aching muscles;
she only wished it weren’t a race against an invisible clock before the water
stopped. She rubbed a hand over the prickly stubble on her left shin. She had
been afraid to even try shaving her legs; she hoped Chris wouldn’t get too
close.