Unlikely Allies (2 page)

I flushed at the praise. It seemed surreal to be talking about my college plans with my dad. “I guess it’s because I’ve been doing it for years,” I said, trying not to brag.

“Talent is talent,” he said. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I’m hoping to see some of your talent this summer,” he added.

“Sure,” I said, liking the idea of being able to draw the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Maybe living so far from town wasn’t as bad as I first imagined it would be. I’d even give hiking a shot, so I might have a chance at seeing some wildlife. My specialty was murals, but I’d wanted to broaden my portfolio for a while. I felt
lighthearted at the thought.
I wouldn’t be spending the summer in my art studio or on the beach, but lounging around in the mountains might not be all that bad either.

The drive continued on in awkward fashion as Rick and I did our best, considering the situation, to get to know each other. He would pepper me with several questions in a row about my childhood, wait for me to respond and then fall silent again. I wasn’t doing much better. Back home, I had a whole list of things I wanted to know about him, but now that I was sitting here, my brain was freezing up on me.
The conversation loosened up when he asked about my past birthdays. He chuckled as I explained Mom’s almost manic behavior each time my birthday would roll around. How she would flutter around like a bee on acid the weeks leading up to my parties, only to drop into a heap of exhaustion once the party ended. As I chatted, I tried to keep my apprehension at bay as civilization slowly faded away behind us. Shopping malls, restaurants, and
even gas
stations became few and far
between the cl
oser we got to the massive snow-
covered mountains in front of us.

“Wow, there’s still snow on the mountains,” I exclaimed.

“It’s been a rough winter and an even rougher spring. Just last week we had a storm blow in that dropped a foot of snow. It's melted since then, but it's definitely been an uncharacteristically cold start to the summer," he said.

“But, it’s June," I protested.

“Guess Mother Nature didn’t get that memo,” he said.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t melted,” I said, recalling the warmer temperatures outside when we left the terminal.

“It’s a tad bit colder up where you see the snow. That's even higher than were we’re headed, but
it’s
still been pretty chilly at camp for the past couple of weeks,” he said, which explained his warm clothing. “You bring anything warmer?” he added, taking
in my sandal-
clad feet and long dress.

“Um, no, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said, figuring it couldn’t be much colder than California weather during the winter. For the most part
,
I wore sandals year round.

He chuckled as he veered off the highway and pulled into the first shopping plaza I’d seen for the last twenty minutes.

“I think we need to get you some proper duds,” he said, opening his door as I looked at him questioningly.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tried t
o argue as he led me to the wome
n’s section of the store.

“Trust me, you need these,” he said, propelling me toward the jeans. “The average temperature during the day has been
running in the high fifties and at night
it’s
fifteen degrees cooler.”

“Get out,” I said, not quite believing him.

“Belie
ve me, you’ll freeze
your
a…” he cut off.

“I’ve heard the word
ass
before, Rick."

I turned to him, liking the sound of his sudden laughter.
“No doubt.
I just try to keep swearing to a minim
um around the campers. It’s
become a habit to correct myself.”

“How many campers do you have?” I asked, no
ticing the half-dozen or so God-
awful flannel shirts he had tossed into the buggy. Even in colder weather, I usually wore oversized cable-knit sweaters and thick leggings under my long skirts. I put half of the flannel shirts back and picked out several hooded sweatshirts instead since I didn't see any sweaters to speak of.

“I cap it at fifty, twenty-five boys and twenty-five girls.”

“Wow, fifty?
Your place must be huge.”

“Just under fifty acres,” he said, smiling at my shock. “I plan to acquire another ten acres next year.”

“How much do you charge for camp?” I asked, amazed at his enterprise.

“We’re non
profit. The campers pay nothing. The state kicks in a few bucks, but I panhandle for the rest,” he teased.

I smiled, conjuring up a mental picture of him begging for loose change on the corner somewhere.

“I’d better go try these on,” I said, grabbing the overflowing stack of jeans and leggings I had added to the cart.

“Sounds good.
I’ll pick up a few more necessities for you
,
and then we should be good to go.”

“More?” I asked, mentally calculating the bill in my head. I saw half the money I had saved for dorm room shopping disappearing.

“Just a few things,” he said, disappearing around the corner with the cart.

The first couple pairs of jeans fit perfectly, but I decided to only get one pair since I wasn't a huge fan of jeans anyway. I figured I could supplement the rest of
my wardrobe with leggings
I could wear under the long skirts I had packed, and if I was a little frugal, I could salvage some of my savings. Of course, the thought of trying
to make it in the mountains with
one pair of jeans and a couple pairs of leggings for six weeks was stupid. Sighing in resignation, I tried on the remaining jeans and picked the three pairs I liked the best. Maybe if I begged Chuck at the art supply store for extra hours he might throw me a bone. I still had four weeks to earn extra money once I was
back
home.

Rick was waiting for me outside the dressing room holding a heavy jacket, gloves and a hat.

“No way,” I said shaking my head. “We’re not going to Antarctica. That stuff will just go to waste,” I said, drawing the line at spending my hard-earned cash on something I didn’t need.

“Trust me, Kimberly, you’ll thank me by tomorrow,” he said, holding out the black jacket for me to try on.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But I’m leaving the tag on. If I don’t need it
,
we can return it.”
At least he had a knack for finding the ri
ght size
, I thought.

“I should. I’ve been doing it for years. A lot of the foster kids come to camp with only a few things to their name. I keep a lot of stuff on hand, but it’s mostly for the younger crowd,” he said, pushing the buggy to an open register.

That certainly put things in perspective. Ric
k was obviously an all-
around great guy, helping those less fortunate. I guess worrying about having the money for some throw rug for my dorm room didn’t seem as important when you look
ed
at things that way.

Together Rick and I piled my new wardrobe onto the conveyor belt. Once the cart was emptied, I reached for my wallet.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Rick asked incredulously.

“What?” I asked.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d make you pay?” he asked, shaking his head in obvious bafflement.

“Of course I’m going to pay,” I said.

“
Kimmie
, I’ve missed your whole life. The least I can do is properly
outfit
you while you’re visiting me.”

His words touched me. I’d never been a fan of the nickname
Kimmie
, but coming from him
,
it made me feel special.

“That’s not your fault,” I reminded him.

“And it’s not yours,” he countered. “Please, let me,” he added.

“Seriously, Rick, you don’t have to,” I said, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of him paying.

“I want to,” he said, handing over his credit card to the girl behind the counter who was watching us with interest.

“Thanks,” I said as a warm tingle spread through me. When I was little, I used to dream about my father showing up and buying me surprises. As I got older, my dreams shifted to just wishing he would show up and want to get to know me. It seemed surreal having
Rick standing before me now,
doing both.

Once my bags were stowed in the back of the SUV with my luggage, Rick tuned the radio to a country station and we were back on the road. The long twisty roads of the mountain quickly took a toll on me and my eyes began to droop until they eventually closed.

I jerked awake when the vehicle shuddered to a stop. Blinking my eyes in the afternoon sun, I took in the sight of my temporary home. A massive log
cabin-
looking building dominated the space in
front of us. A rustic screened-
in patio with multiple seating areas ran the length of the front exterior. I could see smaller log buildings peeking out behind the large structure. There were a few girls that looked to be
my age chatting in the screened-
in space. Above us stood a large wooden sign with words burned into it welcoming visitors to Camp Unlikely Allies.

“Unlikely Allies?”
I asked.

“Figured it was the best name for all the misfits we get here,” he answered affectionately. “Seriously, since everyone comes from such diverse backgrounds, normally it would be unlikely that they would ever think to work together or help each other. My goal here is to teach them that despite differences
,
we all must all be allies,” he added passionately.

Some of my misgivings at being so far removed from civilization began to dissipate as the magnitude of what Rick was doing here hit me. He was changing the lives of kids. It was such an admirable cause that my whining about missing the beach and my art studio seemed utterly ridiculous.

“It’s a perfect name,” I said, smiling at him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I sometimes think I get overzealous when I explain the name,” he added, chuckling.

“You just sound proud, which you should be. This is amazing,” I said, taking in my
surroundings. I wasn’t a nature
buff, but I
had to admit, the towering tree
s overhead with the sun streaming through the breaks in the branches gave the aura of an enchanting hideaway.

“It’s always a work in progress. We just updated the mess hall this winter,” Rick said, indicating the bui
lding in front of us. “The girl
s
'
dorms over there are only a couple years old,” he added, pointing at two cabins on the right side of the
building. “W
e plan on updating
the boys' dorms
this winter if my
panhandling comes together in the fall,” he joked, pointing toward the two identical cabins on the left.

I looked at him
curiously, wondering about his "panhandling"
comments. I wasn’t sure how much it cost to keep a venture like this floating, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t cheap.

I climbed out of the vehicle and shivered in the cooler temperatures. Rick hadn’t been kidding, it was easily twenty degrees cooler here than when we left the airport.

I rubbed my hand
s over my arms that had a multi
layer of goose bumps already popping up on them.

“The room I stay in is right outside my office,” Rick said as he opened the hatch of the vehi
cle. “You’ll be sharing the ten-to-twelve-year-
old dorm with Amy,” he added, dragging my heavy suitcase from the cargo bay.

Share a cabin?
“What?” I asked, not sure I had heard him right. I didn’t have much experience with kids since I was never one to babysit. Mom was the one who was good with kids, not me. I liked them okay, but always found conversations with them stilted since I never knew what to say, and being with them in such close quarters made me want to hightail it back to the airport as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels.

My train of thought was derailed when I heard the swing of an ax.

Turning around to find the source of the noise, I felt all the air le
ave my lungs when I saw a blond-haired, shirtless, oh-
my-god-he’s-too-hot-for-words stud cutting wood in the clearing just beyond the boys’ cabins. I watched in awe as his muscles rippled while he swung the ax to cut clean through the small log on the tree stump in front of him. His shirtless back glistened with sweat that slowly trickled beyond the jeans that rode low on his hips. My eyes followed the trail and I felt myself flush at the direction my thoughts were taking. I’d spent half my life around half-dressed surfer boys, but I was pretty sure none of their abs came close to the ones I was openly admiring. The artist in me yearned to grab a ske
tch
pad and immortalize him on paper before the moment disappeared. A pair of dog tags hung down his back so they wouldn't get in the way as he swung the ax. For some reason, the sight of the dog tags made his glistening back even sexier. He exuded hotness and I couldn't help responding.