After dinner, at Cal’s tent deep in the darkening woods, Zeke asked Cal to get out his flashlight and a bandana. Then he showed him how to tie the bandana around the lens, to create a filter so that the light was a fine, rose-colored mist.
“Easier to fall asleep if it’s not so bright, I reckon.” He handed the flashlight back to Cal, handle first, and said, “You know you can always ask—if you’re struggling, you can always ask.”
As to what Cal might ask, Zeke wasn’t sure how to define that. Only that, throughout their first week together, though Cal seemed more at ease around him, he still maintained that self-reliant air, as if admitting any weakness or lack of knowledge would bring him under more scrutiny than he cared for.
He made a mental note to ask Gabe whether there was more that could be learned about Cal’s case, then stepped back and watched Cal place the flashlight, bulb up, on the little white shelf between the cots.
They should be heading to the campfire. That’s what they should be doing, but Zeke had a feeling that Cal wanted to ask him something.
Cal took up the flashlight again and fiddled with the bandana, and Zeke sat on the unmade spare cot. Cal sat on his cot.
While he waited for Cal to work out what he wanted to say. Zeke mentally kicked himself for thinking simply to rush off. And, if he was honest with himself, the quiet, semi-darkness of the green canvas tent was peaceful.
There was something about this young man, whether Cal reminded him of a younger version of himself, or whether he was finding that he enjoyed it when Cal would look at him, his eyes so very blue and wide. Maybe it was both.
“So—?” asked Zeke. He leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs, hands gently clasped. “How was your first week?”
“Good.”
A single-word response from Cal, as Zeke was coming to learn, was Cal showing his hesitation. Given enough patience and time, that hesitation would blossom into something more confident.
“I mean—” Cal clasped the flashlight tightly. “This is good. I wasn’t expecting it, though.”
“Expecting what?”
“All of it.” Cal waved his hand in the direction of the open tent flap, through which a collection of early evening moths had made their way. “I expected it to be like working on a chain gang, not like summer camp. Not that I’ve ever been to summer camp.”
“We get that a lot, I think,” said Zeke. “That’s what Gabe tells me. That the description of the program might be a little misleading. Which might be why the size of the teams seems to be shrinking.”
“And then there’s—” With another wave, Cal seemed to include Zeke in the collection of things he’d not been expecting. “You.”
Cal coughed, like he’d not meant to say that. But he had, and Zeke couldn’t even begin to fathom what he meant. Or could he? He’d been blindsided by Galen asking him out, but this had to be different.
“Me?” asked Zeke.
The back of his neck grew warm while he waited for Cal’s answer. He sat up, brushing his palms along his thighs. That wasn’t a question he should have asked. Cal probably meant that, in general, he had been surprised by how nice the team leads were.
Cal stood up and fiddled again with the bandana around the flashlight, and ended up undoing the knots. The bandana fluttered to the floor, and Zeke pushed up and grabbed it. And then winced as his thigh decided, then and there, that he’d moved too fast. Just too damn fast. And cramped up.
Zeke sat down, wincing, straightening his leg and flexing his heel in his boot to increase the blood flow. This didn’t happen often, and he’d been following the doctor’s exercises faithfully, at least until the past week.
“That ought to teach me,” he said out loud, and then he looked up at Cal, who’d come close, hands held out in concern, his big blue eyes enormous. “Here,” said Zeke, pretending he was unaffected by this nearness, and handed the bandana to Cal.
Cal, ignoring the bandana, sat on the cot next to Zeke, creating a close circle of intimacy, shocking and warm. And kind.
“You okay?” asked Cal. “Do you need me to get someone?”
“No,” said Zeke, gasping the word out, still flexing his foot, still waiting for the cramp to end. “I’m fine. Too much riding and standing, not enough stretching. That’s all. It’ll pass.”
The cramp did pass with a sudden sharpness, the pain gone in an instant, like it was already a memory from long ago. As if it’d not even happened.
He let out a whoosh of air and allowed himself to collapse forward, fingers clasping and unclasping his knees. Sweat sprang to life along the back of his neck.
Cal took the bandana, and then Zeke felt the softness of Cal wiping the sweat away.
Betty Lou—and he hated to think of her amidst such tenderness—would have walked away and left Zeke to deal with his leg on his own.
“Just stay still,” said Cal, low. “The pain will get better soon if you just stay still.”
