Because they were all in New England and had mostly shown up just to set up their campers for the summer, the other seasonals had left for the week. She knew when it warmed up and they were open to the general public, that would change, but for now she looked forward to quiet weekdays.
Today felt like a good day for a walk. She’d come here to clear her head, and nothing accomplished that for her like spending time outdoors. Before going to bed, she’d checked the weather forecast and it was going to be on the cool and breezy side—which would help with the bugs—but the sun would be shining.
But first, coffee. After setting the Keurig to brew, she went into the tiny bathroom. Then she looked at her phone, still plugged into the charging cord. Usually she’d scroll through social media while she drank her coffee, but the signal wasn’t strong enough for that. And it was probably for the best because scrolling social media would funnel her straight into her email inbox, and she wasn’t awake enough for Erika yet.
She also didn’t want her partner’s thoughts and projections and business plans in her head before she set off on her walk. Instead, she took her coffee and the pocket notebook she usually had within arm’s reach and sat at the dinette.
Flipping the pages, she skimmed the bullet points she’d transferred from the very extensive binder she kept about Elizabeth Cook Whaley. The woman had disappeared in 1872 and considering how diligently her family had maintained records and how extensively they’d journaled, the fact nobody knew what had happened to her was remarkable. Also remarkable was the fact she had lived here, on the campground’s land, and it was the last place she’d been seen.
Several hours later, Hannah had to admit defeat. She was soaked to the knees, had tangled with some pucker brush, and she hadn’t found a single stone she thought might have been the remains of the Whaley house’s foundation.
Not that she expected to find much, of course. But finding old foundations in the woods wasn’t uncommon in New England, and she’d known from historical documents where Elizabeth’s husband had built their house. So when she’d set out for what was going to be a leisurely walk and had become quite the trek, she’d been hoping to find the homesite of the young woman who’d captured Hannah’s interest when she was in college and sent her into the rabbit hole of historical true crime.
She was picking some kind of burrs out of her ponytail when her phone rang. It was in silent mode and she’d interacted with enough insects already so she jumped when it buzzed in her back pocket.
Then, laughing at herself and thankful nobody else was around to hear the high-pitched squeaking noise she’d made, Hannah pulled out the phone. For whatever reason, she had almost full bars in this spot, and Erika was calling her. This time, she decided to answer it.
“Hey, Erika.”
“Hannah! You actually answered!”
“I’m out in the woods, so you can keep me company while I walk. Unless I lose cell signal because it’s kind of spotty here.”
“You’re in the woods alone?”
Even over the phone, Hannah could hear her friend’s concern. “It’s not the wilderness. It’s just some woods in the back of the campground.”
“Have you had a chance to read my emails yet? I mean, I’m not trying to be pushy but—”
“And yet you’re being pushy.” There was affection in her tone, and she knew Erika wouldn’t be offended. She was a full-steam-ahead kind of person, and as soon as an idea popped into her head, she wanted to act on it. Hannah served as a good counterpoint to her, but it meant being firm about her boundaries sometimes. “I’m here to think things over, and I can’t think and talk to you at the same time.”
“But you’ll think better if you have all the data,” Erika pointed out. “You can’t make an informed decision without the information.”
“Good point.” She let her friend have the win, even though it wasn’t actually a good point. No amount of data or information was going to help Hannah with this decision because it was about her own sense of right and wrong, and it had nothing to do with money or numbers. “I’ll read the emails when I get back to the camper and shower off the mud and bug spray.”
“Mud?” Hannah knew her friend wrinkled her nose after she said it. Erika was an inside cat, and preferred city streets to country roads.
“I’ll send you a pic, but it’s not for the socials.”
“Unless it’s cute?”
“Trust me, it won’t be cute, but even if you think it is, it’s just for you.”
“Fine. Not for socials even though it’s hard to be interesting across all the platforms when we’re in between seasons.”
The last few words Erika said were broken up, so Hannah took a couple of steps backward and then stopped moving. “I’m going to lose you if I keep walking and I have to pee, so I’m not going to stand here long.”
Erika laughed. “You’re the outdoorsy type. Can’t you just pee on a log or something?”
“I’m not hanging my naked butt over a log. You wouldn’t believe the mosquitoes here, and I’m doused in enough bug spray to strip the paint off a car, but none of it is inside the underwear zone.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll let you go so you don’t get a bunch of bug bites on your butt because scratching them would besoawkward. Maybe we can talk next week, when you’re not walking around in the woods covered in chemicals and mud.”
“I’ll read your emails today,” Hannah promised, and after they disconnected, she continued her walk back.
The closer she got to the top of the campground, the faster she walked. She was itchy all over and she wasn’t sure if it was bug bites or the bug spray. Luckily, her mother had taught them all the various plants and leaves to avoid contact with when they were kids—even the ones that weren’t indigenous to where they were camping—so she wasn’t worried about poison ivy and the like.
But maybe she should have gotten a stronger bug spray because she was pretty sure she did, indeed, have a bug bite on her butt.
