“No. I’m never reluctant to talk about Mountain View.” Kathleen forced herself to face Erik. Sitting so close beside him on the small sofa made her uncomfortably aware of him. His raw masculinity was a tangible quality that touched her and left behind prickly sensations.
“My parents were killed in a boating accident when I was thirteen. They had no living relatives, and I had no brothers or sisters. Friends in our church placed me in an orphanage in Atlanta. It was well run and reputed as one of the best in the country. But having lived in a family environment as an only child, I found it difficult to adjust. My grade average dropped significantly. I became belligerent. In short, I was a brat.”
B. J. laughed, but Edna shot him a reproving look and it subsided.
“The next summer, the orphanage sent me here. I had a terrible attitude toward the idea, as I had about anything at that time. I thought I had been dealt with unjustly by everyone, by God. But that summer, the whole course of my life changed.”
Her voice became charged with emotion and she smiled tremulously at the Harrisons. “B. J. and Edna refused to let me destroy my life with bitterness and hatred. They taught me how to love again by loving me when I was most unlovable. I started acting like a human being again and not a wounded animal. I owe them a debt of gratitude that I can never repay.”
“You’ve repaid us a thousand times over, Kathleen.” Edna turned her tear-laden eyes to Erik. “You see, Mr. Gudjonsen, Kathleen came back to our camp each summer until she grew too old. Then, during her college years, we asked her to serve as a counselor. Since she knows the pain and disillusionment most of our campers harbor, she is better able to relate to them than anyone. We’ve seen her work miracles with even the most maladjusted children. When a position on the Board of Directors came open, we offered it to Kathleen. She was reluctant to accept it, but we insisted. No one has been disappointed. Last year she singlehandedly raised enough money to air condition the mess hall and install two basketball goals.”
Kathleen blushed under what she considered unearned praise. Her discomfort was heightened when she lifted her eyes and saw that Erik was staring at her.
Aware of her embarrassment, he turned his attention to his hosts. “I want to hear more about your success here, but right now I’m starving. May we continue our conversation in the dining room?”
“A boy after my own heart!” B. J. exclaimed jovially as he stood up, slapping his palms against his thighs.
“Don’t count on being able to conduct a conversation over dinner, Erik,” Edna cautioned. Using his first name came quite easily. “Our dining room isn’t exactly conducive to serious debate.”
He laughed as he casually took Kathleen’s arm and steered her through the outer office to the front door. “It doesn’t matter. I want to capture the spirit of the camp, anyway.”
“Oh, well, if it’s spirit you’re after, you’re at the right place.” B. J. laughed.
“Would it be against the rules to take my camera in there?” Erik asked.
“It wouldn’t matter to us,” Edna said. “You’re making the rules for as long as you’re here.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Harrison.”
“Edna,” she corrected.
The smile he gave her could have graced the cover of GQ. “Edna. I’ll just run to my car and join you in a minute. Save me a place in line, B. J.”
“Sure thing. Kathleen, why don’t you go along with Erik and make sure he doesn’t get lost.”
She started to object, but what could she say that wouldn’t sound ungracious? For some reason, she was hesitant to be alone with him. Perhaps his easy charm was disturbingly reminiscent of David Ross’s. Or maybe, as Erik himself had suggested, she was suspicious of journalists. Mountain View’s program had no hidden agendas, and, because the camp was so dear to her, she would naturally resent anyone poking around looking for scandal where none existed.
“You two hurry up now, or all the food will be gone. We won’t let anyone go back for seconds until you have gone through the line,” Edna said.
The older couple strolled off arm in arm in the direction of the dining hall. “Where is your car?” Kathleen asked.
“Parked by my cabin.”
She turned around and struck off on the path through the trees that led to the cabins reserved for visitors.
It wasn’t far, but by the time they reached his parked Blazer, she was winded. Probably because she had covered the distance in record time. He seemed to know that she was uncomfortable with him. As he lowered the tailgate, she thought she detected a dimple partially hidden by his mustache.
He opened a black plastic box and removed a videotape cartridge. He then loaded it into the video camera. Kathleen had never seen one of the complicated cameras up close, and in spite of herself, she was intrigued.
“Can you carry that?” Nodding his head, he indicated a long tubular carrying case.
“Sure,” she said, reaching in. Her arm was nearly wrenched from its socket when she tried to lift it. She hadn’t expected it to be so heavy.
“What’s in here?”
“A tripod.”
“It weighs a ton,” she complained.