Chapter 18

Meeting again at Bible Camp for the beginning of Intermediate I was not as awkward as Jesse thought it might. Michael arrived late, having attended his aunt’s funeral, but he was the same Michael. Sweet, funny, infallible Michael. He knew things about her now that no other person knew, but he didn’t act any differently towards her. He was attentive, caring, thoughtful, but he had always been those things. Though last night hadn’t been planned, it wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t already have faith in him. These days, she didn’t trust easily, but Michael was earning it, gaining more of her trust almost daily. She leaned on him now almost without realizing it.
She was also beginning to trust a more unlikely character: Samantha, the older and intimidating head hospitality hostess who had never liked her. She might have saved her life, but Jesse was convinced she barely tolerated her even now. If only she could earn Sam’s trust in return.
One person she really didn’t trust was Jasmine. She knew the girl was out to get her, though she couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t just a general, vague dislike either, like Sam’s had been. This was a real, deep-seated dislike, the kind that had a reason and a purpose. She had already demonstrated that she would act on that feeling, and the summer was barely half over. Jesse didn’t want to think about what the young perjurer might still have in store for her.
She checked on Chris and Jasmine’s cabin that night during quiet time. She liked to come in, as unobtrusively as possible, and sit in on a few minutes of devotions every once in a while, to see how the different cabin leaders handled this challenging task. Chris and Jasmine’s campers were a rambunctious lot this week, and their leaders were having a hard time getting them to settle down. Five minutes after loud time had officially ended, she was still hearing noises from their cabin, so she knocked on the door and walked in with her head cabin leader face on.
Much as she tried to present herself as an authority figure, her severe look and tone went unheeded. Too many of the campers recognized her from years past, and her appearance caused more of a renewed ruckus, rather than an awed hush. After the cries of “I remember her!”, “She was my cabin leader, she was sooo fun!” and “Hey Jesse, remember me?” died out, and she had hugged some of them and tried to remember their names, she managed, along with their cabin leaders, to herd the giggling, rambunctious lot into their bunks.
“Wow, they sure do like you,” Chris observed between shouting commands.
“A little too much, I think. This sort of thing happens far too often. Being their friend was fine when I was a cabin leader, but it’s not so great now that I’m supposed to be the one laying down the law.”
When the girls were finally settled down, and she was sure they were listening to Chris’s devotions, Jesse left.
She missed being a cabin leader. She had been good at it, she knew. She’d been in her element. She missed connecting with the campers individually, having devotions with them, going through all the ups and downs of a week in a cabin. She wasn’t that effective as an authority figure: she didn’t have enough confidence in herself, and the campers picked up on that when she had to deal with discipline issues. Too often she had to go to Michael, or even Bob, for help.
She didn’t know what she’d have done without Michael, especially. They’d made a sort of habit of talking together by the beach after lights out, discussing the day and making plans for tomorrow, and often delving into more abstract topics of philosophy and theology. She enjoyed these evening conversations, even if she was a little more tired for it the next morning. Last week hadn’t been a problem, but this week lights out wasn’t until 11:00 pm, and one or the other of them was often delayed another five or ten minutes after that.
Tonight was one of those nights. It was already 11:10 and Michael hadn’t shown up. It was chilly, and everything was still damp from the rain earlier that day. She decided to see where Michael was, and discovered that her walkie-talkie was turned off - she must have forgotten to turn it on again after leaving Moose Canoe. When she paged him, Keith answered: one of Peter’s campers had gotten sick, and Michael had gone with them to the hospital in Hanger. Michael had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t answered.
“Where are you?” Keith asked.
“By the lake. Just finished the rounds.”
“Stay there, and I’ll be down in a minute.”
True to his word, Keith joined her on the picnic table, literally within seconds. He’d only had to walk from the office, where he’d been spending a lot of time lately, working on what he called, when asked by nosy passers-by, “stuff”. Tonight, though, he needed to get away from his desk. He wanted to talk to Jesse.
For the past couple of weeks, Jesse had been helping him with his project: piecing together the details surrounding May’s death. When he first asked her for help, she’d shaken her head sadly: everything possible had been done to find out why May had been killed, and there were no answers. He was wasting his time, she told him. Then he had showed her the research he’d already done, and she’d become interested. He was really serious about this, she realized. He had facts that she hadn’t known, and even more theories that he couldn’t prove, yet.
From then on Jesse answered every question he put to her, trying very hard to remember details. She didn’t feel she had much to give him, but Keith was interested in many things she would have thought were insignificant - the postmarks on May’s letters, the precise wording of certain statements, the different villages she had visited and the people she’d met. Jesse eventually wrote home asking for May’s letters to be mailed to her, and graciously loaned them to Keith, who spent hours pouring over them. Every once in a while he would come to her, asking for insight into personal references and intimations he might have missed.
Tonight, though, he wanted to know more about May herself - her likes and dislikes, her personality, her characteristics. He wanted to get into her head, to understand how she thought and therefore, how she would act. For Jesse it was a difficult, and emotional conversation, but not altogether unpleasant. She was finding she knew more about her sister than she’d formerly thought.

Intermediate was always a hectic, but rewarding week. Nine to twelve was the most popular age group for camping, and although there were two weeks devoted to them, they were usually the largest groups of the summer. This week was filled almost to capacity, at 109. Even Grassy Knoll was put into commission to accommodate them all. The hospitality hostesses had to be moved into the basement of Bob and Kim’s house, which hadn’t been done in years. Jesse could remember spending her first summer as a kitchen girl living in that basement. Cool even on hot days, with their own entrance, two bathrooms, four bedrooms, and a large common room with comfy couches and a bay window looking out at the lake, it was in fact much nicer than a cabin. She almost envied them.
The sheer number of campers meant that everyone had to step it up. The hospitality hostesses had more dishes to do, cabin leaders were stretched to the limit, and every activity, from games to lunch lines, required efficient crowd control. The campers themselves had a blast. They were at the age where being away from their parents for a week was the coolest thing in the world, homesickness was absolutely out of the question, and while they recognized the opposite sex, their hormones weren’t completely in control yet. They were generally much more enthusiastic about camp activities than older groups, and more independent than younger ones.
There were, of course, some difficult characters, especially among the twelve-year-old girls, some of whom were already dressing trashy and were there to have fun on their own terms. Jesse picked them out at Monday morning flag raising. There were about three or four of them, by far the minority, but who would probably cause the most problems and take up most of her time. They wore spaghetti-straps tops, tried to show their midriffs, dyed their hair (usually with horrendous results), and flirted with the boys, who might otherwise have turned out ok.
Michael was also sizing up his half of the campers. He liked this age group too, but almost wished that the girls and guys could be separated this week. Girls did, indeed, mature faster than boys, and some of them were making some of his boys a little uncomfortable. Many were embarrassed, but some enjoyed the attention they received. Their heads were being turned, and not in a good way. What made girls act like this, he wondered? How could they not realize that these boys didn’t care about them? They were just kids: dirty, snot-nosed, rough and tumble kids who wanted to run and play and beat each other up. They didn’t need to start worrying about girls already.
Then he looked at Jesse, on the other side of the flagpole. Wait, he wanted to tell these boys. Wait for that one good woman, because when she comes along, you’ll want to deserve her.
The thought plagued him throughout the day. He knew that he was somewhat enamoured with Jesse. At first, he’d told himself it was just protectiveness. With this pregnancy, and then everything that had happened since - falling down stairs, outrunning trains – how could he not be concerned? She was so young, so alone, she seemed to need someone to take care of her. There was just no question in his mind that it should be him. He hadn’t thought beyond that.
But in watching her, or watching out for her, his protectiveness had grown into affection. In the office, he’d peek over his computer screen and see her working away at the opposite desk. Serenely, patiently filing paperwork, humming to herself, never complaining. In fact, that Saturday night at her camp had been the only time he’d ever witnessed any real discontent in her. That in itself was amazing, even without considering the ordeal she was going through. There were so many little things like that about her that baffled him. Sometimes he tried to look for a flaw, but he’d yet to find one. The more he learned about her, the more he loved - and somewhere along the way, he realized that he didn’t just love all these little things about her; he loved her. He wanted her, not just as a partner here at camp. He wanted her for himself, to keep.
He wanted to deserve her, but she seemed very much out of his reach. Though she liked him, he couldn’t see that she liked him more than she liked anyone else, or as more than a friend. Was it possible that she ever could? He was afraid to hope, but he was also starting to dread the day he had to say goodbye to her. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do it.
That day after lights out, he approached their picnic table on the beach like a nervous schoolboy, sure that she would be able to read his thoughts.
All she noticed, however, was that he was quieter than usual.
“Tired?” she asked.
“Hmm? Oh, no, no. Why would I be?”
“Oh, just being up at the hospital all last night.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, well, you know me, I’m used to late nights. I slept in a bit this morning.”
“Well that’s not unusual.”
“Not all of us like waking up before the sun,” he said to defend himself. “But how did you find out where I was last night? I tried to radio you, but you never answered.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, I’d turned it off. I guess I can’t handle the responsibility. Keith told me.”
“Keith?”
“Mm hmm. He even came out and kept me company.”
“Keith, really?” Michael tried to keep his voice jovial. “I didn’t know it was possible to pry him out of the office these days.”
Jesse smiled. “Oh, not impossible. You just have to know how to ask,” she teased.
They didn’t talk much longer. Jesse was tired, and Michael wasn’t sure how to handle his emotions. They parted ways in front of Ingleside, but instead of continuing to the office as usual, Michael doubled back to his own cabin. He needed time to think, alone.

Jasmine had decided what to do with her information. She’d thought it out all weekend, weighing her options, and she knew how to use it to her best advantage. Michael was the one who needed to hear what she had to say, and the simplest way for him to receive it was for her to tell him directly. No more sneaking around, starting rumours that may or may not get back to him. Now she had something real to back up her story, and she was just going to come right out and say it - if she ever got up the nerve to actually speak to him. She’d tried yesterday. She had been in the perfect situation: they were co-leaders of the same team for Team Time. He’d even talked to her for a minute or two afterwards, but she’d chickened out. Not today, though. This morning, he sat across from her at breakfast. She could hardly believe her good luck! It was the absolute perfect opportunity.
The problem was, how to make it appear casual? The subject had to come up in conversation. Well, she could start by answering his questions.
“Cream of wheat?” he asked, holding the bowl out for her.
She quickly smiled. “Yes, thanks,” she said as she took it from him. Not exactly a conversation starter, she thought as she spooned some of the mush into her dish. He passed her the brown sugar before she had to ask for it. She had to think of something to say.
“It’s a nice day out,” she offered.
He looked surprised, and happy, that she’d spoken.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “It’s been pretty rainy lately. It’s nice to get a day like this.”
“We’ve had a good summer though, even with the rain, don’t you think?”
“Oh, sure,” he replied. “It could be a lot worse. I could be at home right now, in the middle of a drought.”
“Really?” she said, surprised. “Where are you from?”
“Saskatchewan,” he said. “No shortage of sunshine there. Rain is a Godsend.”
She couldn’t believe it. This was an actual conversation - and it was happening so easily! “How did you end up here?” she asked.
He accepted a tray of orange slices from Iris Peterson, and passed them to the kids down the table before answering. “I met Keith last spring, planting trees in northern Alberta. He convinced me to come out to camp with him that summer. My mom grew up around here, so she was pretty excited about me seeing the place.”
“Keith seems very friendly.”
“Yeah, he’s great. But how did you end up here? You’re from down south, I think?” he asked, before she could pursue the topic of Keith.
“My parents used to come here. They met here,” she added quickly, before he could change the subject on her again.
He looked interested. “I guess a lot of couples probably met at camp,” he said. “I wonder how many of them ended up getting married?”
“Oh, tons, probably. The camp’s been running for 60 years, after all.” She couldn’t believe how well this was going! If only she didn’t mess it up at the crucial moment.
“I guess it’s bound to happen in a place like this,” he said. “A lot of young people, all Christians. We’ve all got a common interest in kids and camping, and we’re working together all summer sometimes...”
“And sometimes for years,” Jasmine said when he trailed off. “I mean, even if two people come from different places, they can be friends for years if they keep coming back. I’m almost jealous,” she said with calculated wistfulness, “so many of the staff here are so close, it’s as if they’ve grown up together. Just look at Keith and Jesse.”
Michael put his coffee cup down. His face looked white. “Keith and Jesse?”
Jasmine feigned a look of surprise. “You didn’t know?” But at the look in his eyes, she backtracked. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s official,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but something is definitely going on there. I think it’s wonderful, with her having a baby and all.”
She stopped there, smiling sweetly. But in her mind she was pleading for him to ask her how she knew.
He swallowed, looking as if his mind were doing somersaults in rapid succession. “I knew they’d been friends for a long time,” he began weakly, unable to finish.
Jasmine smiled slyly, and put a lilt in her voice. “Amazing, isn’t it, how easily friends can become kissing friends?”

If Michael had been distracted yesterday, it was nothing compared to the struggle he had getting through today. He kept hearing Jasmine Denis’s voice in his mind...Jesse and Keith...kissing friends…over and over her words played back to him. He replayed in his mind every time Keith had walked in between them, every conversation that had turned to the years long before Michael had ever come to camp, leaving him out of the loop. He saw his friend comforting Jesse, holding her on her sister’s birthday. What he didn’t remember, he imagined. He saw them alone, talking on the picnic table by the beach...he saw them kissing...
He had to stop. He couldn’t go on like this. He had a job to do. His staff needed him, the campers needed him…and Jesse needed him, as a partner in work, if nothing else. He had to push these tormenting thoughts to the side. He could deal with them later.
So he got through the day. Minute by agonizingly slow minute, he forced himself to concentrate on his job. Was it true? Were they really a couple? The questions sneaked into his mind during every moment of idleness, so he kept himself busy.
In the evening, though, while doing his nightly rounds, his mind was free to wander. If it were true, wouldn’t she have told him? Wouldn’t Keith at least have given him a hint? They might not want everyone at camp to know about their relationship, but he had thought he was close enough to both of them to be privy to information like this. Maybe Jasmine had been right about it not being ‘official’...maybe they didn’t even know their own minds yet. It could just be the beginnings of a long friendship slowly turning into something else, and there really wasn’t anything to tell. Sort of like what he’d thought he might have with Jesse. How stupid could he have been to think that? When had she ever given him any indication that she wanted to be more than friends? Never. But oh, how he’d hoped.

“Michael’s acting strangely,” Jesse said to Keith while making some photocopies on Thursday morning. “Do you know if anything’s wrong with him?”
Keith looked up from the poster he was making. “I haven’t noticed anything,” he said, then turned his attention back to colouring between the lines with a fat marker.
Jesse was silent for a minute or so before trying again. “Are you sure? He’s gone to bed early two nights in a row.”
Keith shrugged, not bothering to stop colouring. “So he’s tired. Halfway through the summer, it happens.”
Jesse looked down. Yeah, that could be it, but it wasn’t like him, and there was more than just that. He’d been acting distant, distracted. Not unfriendly or unkind, by any standard, but maybe just a little less personal. Jesse got the impression that he might be going through something that he couldn’t talk to her about, so she tried to give him some room, while letting him know she was there for him. But if Keith knew anything about it, he was giving her no hints, and was a better liar than she thought him to be.
The outside door opened and Zeb walked in wearing purple shorts and an orange t-shirt that matched his hair, which was pointing in all directions.
“Anyone seen Mark?” he asked, as though he didn’t expect that anyone had.
“Uh, it’s cabin cleanup time, buddy. You might wanna check his cabin,” said Keith, a little patronizingly.
“Oh, yeah. Well, see you all later,” Zeb returned groggily.
Keith stopped him, though, just as he opened the door to leave. “Hey Zeb, you noticed anything strange about Michael lately?”
Zeb stopped to think. “Well, he left his underwear on the floor this morning,” he said thoughtfully. “He doesn’t usually do that.”
Jesse rolled her eyes. “Oh, gross. I didn’t need to know that.”
“No, no,” Zeb said in his usual slur, “not his dirty underwear, I meant his clean underwear. He just did his laundry. He usually folds it all nicely and puts it in his dresser, but today,” he gestured with his hands, “he just left it all over the floor. Not like him at all.”
“That it?” asked Keith.
Zeb looked up and around, as if searching the recesses of his brain. “Yeah, nothin’ else I can think of. I’ll be going now,” and he left. But a second later the door opened again, and he stuck his head in. “I hope you don’t hold that against him though, Jesse. He’s usually a very clean person; a very clean person. Oh and don’t tell him that I told you that.” Then he was gone.
“Does Zeb drink?” Jesse asked, almost seriously.
Keith sighed. “If only it were that simple.”