“Oh, I plan on it.” I glance back toward the stairs. The group of retirees looks to be growing restless behind me, so I wave at Ashlie before making my way to the second floor.
I weave in and out of rooms filled with taxidermy, sea fossils, and local plants before I find Kayla. She’s standing in front of a large black and white portrait of an older woman whose short curly hair forms neatly around the deep wrinkles in her face. It looks like the entire exhibit is pottery and sculptures by this woman—Pearle Harris. I watch as Kayla stares at the portrait for several minutes before she moves on to look at some of the pottery.
“So you’re into ceramics…” I say from behind her.
Kayla jumps, whipping her head around. “Oh, God! Do you sneak up on everyone like that?” She holds her hands to her chest, taking a deep breath to regulate herself. The rose gold ring on her thumb glints under the track lighting overhead as she lowers her hand.
“Sorry.” I chuckle as I walk across the small room to stand next to her. “So…ceramics?” I try again.
Kayla glances at the door behind me, trying, I assume, to plot an escape. She’s good at that, finding ways to avoid me. But instead of leaving, she sighs and squints at me. “Yeah, I guess youcould say I like ceramics.” She turns back to the exhibit and walks slowly from the wall of pottery to the tall displays showcasing sculptures. I follow along next to her, focusing my attention on the intricate formations of clay.
“Like…youmakeceramics?” I ask, trying to get her to engage with me.
“No.” She snorts. “I’m not any good at sculpting. I’m strictly an admirer.” A soft smile lands on her face, and she glances back at the portrait on the wall.
Behind us, a small group of retirees pile into the room, talking loudly as they fill the space. An overzealous couple sweeps in near us to peer at a sculpture, and my hand instinctively presses to the small of Kayla’s back as we step closer. She goes rigid, and our eyes lock, both of us holding our breath at the intimacy. I didn’t mean to do it, but when the couple moves on to the next display, I have a hard time moving my hand away. Just the act of this innocent touch sends an electric jolt through me that makes me want to savor it.
“Hey, you two,” Claire walks toward us quickly. Kayla clears her throat and steps sideways, looking down into the display case in front of her, making my hand fall limply to my side. “I knew I’d find you in here, Kayla. Has she told you all about this exhibit yet?”
“Um, no.” I turn to Kayla, raising my eyebrows expectantly. She grimaces as she taps her fingers on the glass display case.
“Of course not. Really, Kayla, you’re so modest,” Claire says before turning back toward me. “This was all made by her grandma. Kayla’s basically Bender royalty.”
“My great-grandma, actually…” Kayla says quietly. A wistful look falls over her face as she looks at the portrait again.
“Oh, that’s right. Anyway, she could probably tell you all about Pearle’s sculpting process. I have to go check on the other counselors. Enjoy!” Claire swirls on her heel and bounces out of the room, her long braid swinging behind her.
“Well, your highness,were you going to tell me you were famous?” I tease.
She rolls her eyes and wrinkles her nose. “I’m not famous…” Shaking her head, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Or Bender royalty, whatever that means.”
“Local celebrity is still celebrity,” I say, smirking. “So tell me about Pearle’s process. What put her on the map?”
Kayla looks at me for several seconds, pressing her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip as she decides whether she’s going to take the bait. Finally, she drops her hands and moves back toward the vases. “Okay, look up here at these.” She points to a collection of simple, unglazed ceramic vessels, ranging in color from light gray to a rich rusted red with intricate designs carved into the earthenware. “These are her earlier pieces—simple and delicate. Compare them to these over here,” she says, moving around me and a few stragglers to the wall behind us. The stoneware on the display shelves is much more colorful. Shiny blues, greens, and whites swirl through the vases and platters, reminiscent of the waves crashing into the ocean bluffs outside.
“Wow, it looks like the ocean.”
“Exactly. She ground up the sea glass from Crystal Beach to get the colors, and heating up the glass during the firing process would melt it down. That’s where the pooling and swirls of colors come from.” A faint smile teases her lips as she looks back at the pieces, seemingly lost in a memory while she fiddles with the rose gold band on her thumb.
“Did you spend a lot of time with her?” I ask softly, not wanting to disrupt the nostalgic expression on her face.
Kayla nods, looking down at her hands. “She helped raise me. I used to collect the glass for her when she couldn’t make it down to the beach anymore. She tried to show me how to do it all, but I was too young to be any good. And I…” Her voice trails as she looks back at the portrait.
I wait, hoping she’ll continue. This glimpse of vulnerability, the first I’m learning anything about her besides thebare basics, leaves me intrigued with this mystery girl. I sense pushing will only make it harder to get to know her, and Idefinitelywant to get to know her. So I wait.
She takes another look at me, and her eyes have shifted back to the cool mask she wears. “I should go grab the lunches from Patti’s,” she says.
“Do you need any help?”
“No…no. I’m good.” She moves around me and walks right out the door. As frustrated as I feel that she ran again, I can be patient with this. With her. I think I’ll have to be if I want to make any kind of progress.
CHAPTER NINE
KAYLA
After a full week of camp training and a weekend of diner shifts, it’s nice to get into the woods. It’s still work, but being out in nature makes the job a little more peaceful. I pull through the Camp Bender entrance gate and follow the winding dirt road to the cabins. The tinge of nostalgia I feel from my days as a camper makes me smile as I park. A large activity building sits front and center, wooden logs stained dark, giving it the perfect summer camp aesthetic. The boys’ and girls’ cabins flank either side of the main hall, set back farther into the redwood forest and stained the same dark hue.
I step from behind the wheel, breathing in the relief of the fresh mountain air before grabbing my bags from the trunk of my silver sedan. When I walk into the mess hall, Claire is standing on a table, trying to hook an oversized Welcome banner on the wall.
