Everlasting Love (3 page)

Megan nodded. “Why don't you do the heavy work and leave those boxes to me? I can move them by myself if I only lift one or two at a time. I know I can't handle the mattresses.” Pointing, she gifted him with her most convincing smile. “Please?”

“Okay.” James straightened. “Just keep your gloves on and watch out for spiders. We have a lot of brown recluse up here. I fight them all the time in the bunkhouses.”

“You be careful, too. Looks like the wasps have taken over that end of the cabin.”

“Mud daubers. They're everywhere, especially in attics. Chances are they even managed to find a way into some of those boxes you're about to handle.”

“Terrific.” She made a silly face at him.

“Hey, you're the one who insisted on doing this. I'm still willing to be sensible.”

“No way.” It amused Megan to see him giving her a look that said he thought she was dumber than a post. She laughed softly. “I discovered a long time ago that the only way to be sure you'll lose is to quit before you reach your goal. That's why I never give up. It's not in my nature.”

“Not even if you're fighting a losing battle?” James asked as he dragged a huge bundle of dilapidated mattresses toward the door.

“In whose opinion? Yours? Mine? That's not nearly good enough for me.”

Watching him work, Megan couldn't help continuing to appreciate his natural appeal. Not that she ever intended to reveal her thoughts. Or act on them. She simply had an ingrained admiration for all of God's creatures. And she had to admit this particular creature was pretty close to perfect, at least on the outside. What was inside was the problem. He'd looked after her by providing gloves and drinking water, sure, but his lack of open-mindedness spoiled his overall image.

“So,” he asked, “what does it take to influence you? A lightning bolt from heaven?”

“Something like that.”

The dust they'd stirred up was making her nose tickle. She slipped off one glove and pressed her clean forefinger against her upper lip to stifle a sneeze. “Sometimes it feels like the good Lord has to drop a brick on my head to get my attention. Once He does, I try to listen before the second brick comes along.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Fortunately, no,” Megan said, “or I'd have to go into the chimney-building business.” She sneezed twice and sniffled. “As anyone will tell you, I'm just about flawless by now.”

Her quip, coupled with the look of disbelief on his face as he turned away, made her giggle.

James made it as far as the back of the truck before he, too, began to sneeze. Repeatedly. By this time, Megan had joined him on the porch with the first of the storage boxes.

Her next “Achoo!” blew a puff of fine dust off the top of the box and left them standing with their heads in a cloud of it. “Sorry. I guess I must be allergic to whatever's in this dirt.”

“You and me both,” James said. “I should have thought of that. My allergies aren't usually too bad this time of year. It slipped my mind.”

Heaving the bundle of mattresses into the truck bed he followed it with the box Megan had been holding, then jumped down off the porch. “Stay put. Don't move anything else till I get back. I've got a couple of disposable masks left over from when I painted the dorm. Wearing those should help. Anything'll be better than sneezing our heads off like this.”

“Bring a box of tissues, too. And if you run into my sister, tell her I'm just about ready to send her home to face the music.”

“She might like that. She said she didn't want to come with you in the first place.”

“True.” Megan stifled another sneeze. “This
trip was the best of her options though, even if she won't admit it.”

“I don't want any trouble here,” James warned.

“There won't be. Roxy's as sweet-natured as she is pretty. She just needed to get away from home for a while. I expect her to be a lot of help to me.”

James chuckled, glanced down the hill and said, between sneezes, “Oh, yeah? When?”

 

By the time James returned, Megan had discovered an abandoned mouse nest and had deposited it on the porch.

Handing her the box of tissues and one of the white paper masks, he scowled at the matted nest. “I told you to wait for me.”

“I did. Sort of.”

“Then what's that?”

“Well, it's not the latest in porch decor,” she quipped with a smile. “I prefer pots of petunias, myself.”

He eyed the jumbled mass of leaves, twigs, fabric and mattress ticking. “What'd you do with the mice that lived in there, make pets of them?”

There was something about his glib attitude that brought out her sense of rivalry, made her want to best him, wit to wit. “I would have, if
they'd been around when I found their house. I thought I'd teach them to ride tiny bicycles and juggle little balls, maybe made out of dried peas. I could paint the peas bright colors. They'd be lovely. What do you think?”

James slowly shook his head and looked down to hide his smile. “Believe me, you don't want to know what I think.”

“You're probably right about that. So, shall we put on our masks and dive in again?”

“No. I'll do it alone,” he said. “You just stand here and hold the door for me.”

“The door is fine. It doesn't need holding.”

“Put on your mask so you don't eat any more dust and do as I say.”

“In a pig's eye.”

“Don't tell me you have a pet pig, too.”

“Nope. Just a horse, a burro, a couple of rabbits, a herding dog and Rocky.”

James had already donned his mask, which muffled his reply, but Megan got a general idea of what he was asking so she explained, “Rocky's a flying squirrel. I rescued him from a tree that had been cut down when he was just a baby. I've tried to release him back into the wild but he keeps coming home and sneaking into the house. Apparently, he likes living in my menagerie.”

“Guess there's no accounting for taste.”

“When you're right, you're right.” Megan put on her paper mask and went back inside.

 

Removing the stored supplies didn't take nearly as long as Megan had thought it would. Cleaning the cabin until it looked and smelled as fresh as a summer breeze, however, took her and James the rest of the afternoon.

Finished, she plopped down on the edge of the small porch and dangled her feet over the side. “Whew! I'm bushed. We used up
all
the cleanser you brought.”

“You should be tired. You worked hard.”

There was a tinge of admiration in his voice. She leaned her head back to glance up at him. “Hey, if I impressed you, it was worth it.”

“You did. So, what's next? When are you going to bring the animals and set up your zoo?”

“It's not a zoo.”

“Whatever. I'd just like to know if I should expect any other big surprises.”

“Big? Like what? An elephant?”

His eyes widened. “Tell me you're kidding.”

“Okay. I'm kidding.”

James heaved a sigh and joined her. “That's a relief.”

Pretending to make room for him, Megan inched farther away for her own sake and feigned a lighthearted attitude. “Sorry if I scared you. Guess you're not used to my crazy sense of humor.”

“Guess not.” He took a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh as he stretched his arms and shoulders. “Why don't you and Roxy stay and have supper with me and the boys? Inez always cooks extra.”

“Looking like this?” Megan eyed her dusty clothing. Her jeans and shirt were filthy. So were her bare arms. She hated to think what her hair looked like, not to mention the grime that had to be all over her face. “I don't want to scare the kids, too.”

“They don't scare as easily as I do,” James quipped. “These are tough little guys. I doubt they'll even look at you funny.”

He gave her a quick once-over, then followed with a lopsided grin. “Well, maybe a
little
funny. I'll get you a new camp shirt and shorts so you'll have clean clothes. You probably should wash up before we eat, though. You must have rubbed your eyes when your hands were dirty. You look like a raccoon.”

“Since animals are my forte, I suppose that's in
character,” Megan replied. “I haven't sneezed so much since I brought home a stray kitten and hid it in my bedroom when I was about Roxy's age.”

“You're allergic to cats? Hey, me, too.”

“And lots of other things, considering all the sneezing you did today. How can you work up here? I'd think all the tree pollen and weeds would finish you off.”

“I'm usually pretty careful,” James explained. “And a few headaches are a small price to pay for the privilege of helping these kids.”

Megan had been studying his expression, had picked up on the poignancy of his tone. “You can't save them all, you know,” she said quietly. “All you can do—all any of us can do—is take one day at a time and give it our best. Then we have to let it go.”

“That's a lot easier said than done.”

“Yes, I know. I've been praying for the wisdom to stop feeling accountable for everybody else's failings for years. I'm still having trouble.”

“Praying?” James gave her a contentious look.

“Why not? I need all the help I can get.” Megan paused, wondering if she should go on. “Don't you believe in God?”

“Sure. I just can't see where He'd be interested in hearing from me. I learned to handle my own
problems a long time ago. I don't need any outside source telling me what to do. I make up my own mind.”

“My father feels the same way,” Megan said. “I never was able to convince him to trust the Lord.”

“So?”

“So, I failed.”

James reached over and sympathetically patted the back of her hand. “Hey, like you said, let it go. People do things that disappoint us all the time. It's not your fault. You can't be responsible for their choices.”

Yes, I can,
she told herself. Logic had nothing to do with her feelings about her parents. Not a day went by that she didn't wonder what she could have done—should have done—to somehow keep her fractured family together. Such thoughts might not be sensible, but that didn't keep them from haunting her.

W
hile Megan took a shower in the girls' dorm and got herself spruced up for supper, Roxy helped Inez in the kitchen and James supervised his resident campers' evening chores. Tonight, he'd assigned them to tidy up the area in front of the dining hall.

Several of the boys weren't thrilled to be outside at all, let alone doing yard work, but when James led by example they all pitched in. It was hard to keep any kid interested in a task for long, and he was glad to have genuine outdoor projects for them to do. Learning to work together and respect authority was crucial for their rehabilitation. So was receiving praise when it was due.

“Super job, Mark,” he called. “Now give the rake to Bobby Joe and let him finish up all the way
to the big tree. Kyle, those dead branches go in the wheelbarrow. That's right. Great.”

James let his thoughts drift to Megan as he worked, and he found himself picturing her in surprising detail. Her hair and eyes were dark, like his, but that was where the similarity ended. He already sported a summer tan. She had skin so fair, it would surely burn after only a few hours under the clear Ozark sky. And she was so small that any kid older than nine or ten was probably going to laugh at her if she made any attempt at discipline. The woman was a hard worker, true, but she didn't look as if she could handle a good-sized dog, let alone a horse.

He gritted his teeth. It had been ages since he'd thought about how much he hated horses. The first time he'd seen one up close had been when his parents had sent him to military academy at the age of thirteen. His initial experience in horsemanship had been so traumatic it had left him with a broken arm and a deep-seated loathing of the stupid beasts.

Even before his arm had healed, he'd been assigned to help clean the stalls in the horse barn, which was apparently his instructor's way of pushing him to face his childish fear. Instead, that impossible task had been the equivalent of aver
sion therapy. If he never touched another horse for the rest of his life it would be fine with him. Two weeks of having one in camp was going to feel like two years.

One of the boys squealed, pointing at the door to the women's dorm. “Here she comes!”

The youngest pair, John and Robbie, began jumping up and down hollering, “Yeah!”

James smiled. Megan was wearing the official Camp Refuge T-shirt and shorts. She'd apparently picked the largest of the shirts he'd laid out for her and it was way too big. That, combined with her wet, slicked-back hair, made her look about Roxy's age. Or younger. If didn't know better, he'd doubt she was even old enough to be out of high school, let alone a grad student.

“Okay,” James shouted, gesturing to the boys with a sweep of his arm. “Everybody line up over here with me and I'll introduce you. You, too, Bobby Joe. That's good enough for now. You can finish raking later.”

When the youngster hesitated instead of obeying, a wiry, older boy grabbed the rake handle. A tugging, screaming match ensued.

“Zac! Bobby Joe! Knock it off.”

James pushed the two apart. They immediately dove at each other. He grabbed them both by the
back of the waistband of their jeans to keep them separated.

Zac, whose reach was longer, took immediate advantage. Before James could stop him, he swung his whole body, fist first, and hit Bobby Joe in the face. The little blond urchin let out an earsplitting wail that sounded powerful enough to shake leaves off the trees.

Letting Zac go, James lifted Bobby Joe higher to protect him from further injury. Blood was already dripping from the child's freckled nose and trickling down his face. The minute the boy saw blood on his hands and realized he'd been injured, he began to sob.

Megan hurried to join the group, greeting everyone with a cheery “Hi, guys!” in spite of the racket. Her eyes widened when she saw Bobby Joe. “Ooh. What happened?”

“It's a long story,” James said. “Aaron's busy in the office. Watch the other boys for me while I take care of this, will you?”

“Sure.”

As James walked away, she smiled at the remaining youngsters. They didn't look so bad. A little withdrawn, maybe, but certainly not malicious. Wanting to initiate a conversation and also demonstrate how open-minded she was,
Megan asked lightly, “So, who threw the first punch?”

No one answered. Moreover, all but one of the boys looked away.

“What's your name?” Megan asked him.

The slightly built teen leered at her, then raised his eyebrows and gave her a blatant once-over. “Zac,” he drawled. “What's yours, sweet thing?”

Megan managed to stifle her surprise enough to answer, “You may all call me Miss Megan or Miss White,” then switched her concentration to the others to avoid further eye contact with the outspoken boy.

“My sister and I've been invited to eat with you tonight,” she told the group. “If you'll lead the way, I'd like to see the dining hall.”

“Can't,” Zac announced. “We gotta wash up first or the old man'll have our hide. Don't worry. I'll take care of it.” He then rounded up the smaller boys as if he were their scoutmaster and herded them toward their dorm.

It had occurred to Megan that James might expect her to accompany them but she decided that that much close observation wasn't necessary. Or wise. The boys were just taking a short detour on their way to supper. Besides, she didn't want to give Zac another opportunity to taunt her until
she'd learned more about his background.
Sweet thing, indeed!

She wandered in the general direction everyone else had gone, still chuckling about Zac's ridiculous remarks. Imagine, calling James Harris an old man! If there was ever a guy who
didn't
look or act old, it was the camp director. Then again, he had to be eight or ten years her senior. Making him maybe midthirties.

Which was far from ancient, Megan mused, although right at the moment, her overworked muscles were insisting
she
was at least ninety…and counting.

She rubbed her sore back through the T-shirt. Dressing everyone alike had its advantages, though she would have preferred a color brighter than sky-blue. Oh, well, at least she was clean. The jeans she'd worn during their refurbishing project were so filthy she couldn't have tolerated them much longer.

A melding of wonderful aromas identified the camp kitchen. Looking for her sister, Megan peered through the screen door before opening it. Inside, a middle-aged, obviously harried woman with bright red hair was dashing back and forth between the stove and dining area. Roxy was nowhere to be seen.

“Grab my biscuits out of the oven, will you?” the woman hollered as soon as she spotted Megan. “There's a hot pad over there, on the counter.”

“Sure. By the way, I'm Megan White, Roxy's sister. Is she around?”

“In the bathroom primpin', last I saw her.”

“That figures. You must be Inez Gogerty.”

“In the flesh,” the older woman said. “Forgot my manners for a minute there. Sorry. I got behind when the boss showed up needin' ice.”

“For the little boy's nose? How is he?”

“Fine. Mostly hurt his pride, I 'spect. That kind of thing happens all the time 'round here. You'll get used to it.”

“I'm hoping it won't happen as often after I get my project going.”

“The critters? Yeah, I heard. Ol' James's not exactly tickled pink about that. Course, I 'spect you know that.”

Megan smiled. “He did mention it.”

“I'll just bet he did.” Inez looked her over and chortled. “You must be a lot tougher than you look.”

“I have my moments,” Megan answered. “Have you known Mr. Harris a long time?”

“Since he was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

“What was he like?”

“Oh, he was okay.” The cook scooped hot biscuits into a bowl, covered it, then handed it to Megan. “That goes next to the green beans. I hope everybody gets here before the fried chicken gets cold.”

“The boys are on their way,” Megan said. “Zac took them to wash up first.”

Inez nodded, her short, henna curls bobbing. “That should be interesting. You want to know what James was like as a boy, you just look at that there Zachary.”

“Oh, my.”

“Yup. He was a little smart aleck all right. Good-hearted, though, in spite of all the fixes he got himself into. His folks gave up tryin' to cope with him and packed him off to boarding school just in time to avoid a set-to with the law. Nobody heard from him for years. When he finally showed up back in Serenity, he was all growed up.”

“Are his parents still around?”

“Nope. Whole family left town after they sent him away. Far as I know, he lost touch with everybody, even his brothers. Course, that wasn't no accident.”

Megan was appalled. “You mean, he doesn't want to find them? Why not? They're his family.”

“He told me
they'd
disowned
him,
not the other
way around. That's good enough for me,” Inez said flatly. “Just because somebody's born into a family doesn't mean they have to stay in it if they're not wanted.”

“Don't you think they're worried about him?”

From behind her a deep voice said, “No.”

Startled, Megan whirled. James was standing in the doorway, a clean-faced Bobby Joe half-hidden behind him. She forced a smile. “Hi. We were just talking about you.”

“So I gathered.”

“I wasn't being nosy,” Megan explained. “I just wanted to understand what motivates you, what makes you the person you are.”

“Hard knocks,” he said. “Any other questions?”

“Only why you choose to hold a grudge and cut yourself off from your family,” she blurted, before taking time to fully censor her thoughts.

James huffed. “It wasn't my decision to go away in the first place, and it wasn't me who didn't leave a forwarding address. If my folks don't care, why should I?”

“How about your brothers?” Megan asked. “Have you done a search on the Internet? I'll be bringing a laptop with me when I move in. You're welcome to borrow it if you want.”

“Believe it or not, Camp Refuge not only has
electricity, a telephone and indoor plumbing, it also has its own computer system. Your notion of us being dumb, backward hillbillies is outdated, Ms. White.”

“I didn't mean anything like that. I was just trying to make a sensible suggestion.”

“I know.” He spoke with resignation and a quiet sigh. “That's a big part of our problem. You're determined to help me in spite of everything I've told you, and I don't need or want any help. It's as simple as that.”

“I'd hardly call my work simple,” she countered. “You may not take this project seriously, but I do. I don't care how long it takes. I'm going to convince you I'm right and you're wrong.” In the background, Megan heard the cook's quick intake of breath.

James, however, began to laugh and shake his head. “I don't suppose it's occurred to you that we might both be a little right, has it? No, I didn't think so.” He glanced past her into the dining hall. “Where are the rest of the boys? Did you leave them with Aaron?”

“No. Zac took them to wash up,” Megan said. The moment the words were out of her mouth and she saw the look of disbelief on James's face, she knew she'd made a mistake.

“
What?
I told you to watch them.”

“You don't have to raise your voice. They're fine. They just went to wash their hands, that's all.”

“You'd better hope that's all.”

Stomping past her on his way out the front door, James was mumbling to himself. Megan couldn't make out most of what he was saying but she did manage to catch a word or two. That was plenty.

Chagrined, she looked around the kitchen for something to keep her busy till he got back. “Can I help you with anything else?” she asked Inez.

“Nope. Everything's ready. Why don't you take Bobby Joe into the dining room?”

“What a wonderful idea.” Megan crouched down to be on the child's eye level and asked, “How about it? I don't know how you do things around here. Will you show me?”

To her delight, the fair-haired boy nodded.

Straightening, Megan took his hand. “Good. Let's start with where we're supposed to sit to eat, shall we? I want to be ready when Mr. Harris comes back.”

“Zac hit me,” Bobby Joe said.

“I know. That was too bad. You look fine now, though.”

“I bleeded on my shirt,” he announced, sounding proud. “Bunches. It was gross.”

“I saw. Why were you fighting with Zac?”

“'Cause he's mean. I hate him.”

“That's too bad. Well, maybe you'll get to go home soon and you won't have to see him anymore.”

“Uh-uh.”

Megan suddenly realized she'd gotten so caught up in their conversation, she'd spoken out of turn. To glean the most from her project, she knew she'd have to rely on facts, not supposition. Like James Harris, some of the children she'd be working with would never be welcomed at home—if they even had a home. Perhaps Bobby Joe was one of those.

Rather than make things worse, she tried to change the subject by pointing to one of the long tables. “So, do we sit here?”

“Yeah.” He clambered onto the bench and folded his hands while Megan joined him. Then he said, “Zac gave me a swirly yesterday.”

“A what?”

“He dunked me. My hair got all wet.”

“Oh.” Megan was starting to relax till the child added, “Yeah. Then he flushed.”

 

By the time James returned with the other five boys plus Aaron and Roxy, Megan had had time
to imagine lots of scenarios, most of them bad. She breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, her previous work hadn't prepared her for the challenges she was going to encounter here.