Oh, no,I think, my stomach turning over. This is too much. There is not one single thing that would make me want to bolt more than this moment.
“It’s not a diamond or anything,” he says. “But you should have aring for this.”
“Right,” I say, perfectly calm. I wipe my hands on my jeans, steadying them, before reaching one over to pick up the box. He cannot know how awful a moment like this would be for me, and he never will, so I keep my face as placid as I can as I open it.
It’s a thin, yellow gold band, a plain setting for a small, ivory pearl. It’s beautifully simple, nothing fussy about it. I want to ask him where he got it, why he didn’t spring for some cheap CZ at the department store. This looks like an heirloom, far too personal for what we’re doing here. “Thank you,” is all I manage, and he waits quietly while I take it out and slide it onto my finger, an almost perfect fit. I feel as if I’ve been collared. Brought to heel.
His head snaps up when he hears voices, and he takes the box from my lap, his fingertips briefly touching my thigh, before shoving it under the seat between us. “You’re ready?” he asks, looking out to where an older couple approaches us, waving and smiling broadly.
“Absolutely,” I say, because it seems like offering the exact opposite answer from how I feel is the right way to go here.Warm and polite,I tell myself, again, as I get out of the car. Aiden comes around to my side, and there’s a tense moment where I wonder if he’s going to do something weird, like put an arm around me or try to hold my hand, but he only comes to stand by me, surely closer than he would otherwise, but definitely not in aHi, old friends, this is my fiancéetype way. “These are the Dillards,” he says, low into my ear, so I guess he’s warning me that it’sreallyshowtime.
“Oh, it’s you! It’s you!” says the woman, clasping her hands together as she approaches. She’s short, compact, her dark, curly hair cropped close to her scalp, her boots and khakis and green thermal all about function. Beside her, in an almost identical outfit, is a tall, lanky man, his pale skin a contrast to hers, his eyes kind behind wire-rimmed glasses.
The woman stretches out her arms for a hug, first from Aiden, and then, surprisingly, from me. “I can’tbelievehe waited so long to tell us he’d be bringing you,” she says, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length,smiling widely.
“Lorraine,” the man says, setting a hand on her back. “Let’s give her a minute to get introduced.”
Beside me, Aiden shifts, maybe moves a fraction closer. “Paul, Lorraine—this is Zoe. Zoe, this is Paul and Lorraine Dillard, who—uh. Who I’ve told you about.”
Barely,I think, but I keep my smile pasted on, reaching out a hand to Paul, and then to Lorraine, who merely gives me another hug. “Can you believe he left us amessagesaying he’d gotten engaged?”
“Oh. Um, sure. I can believe that,” I say. “Sort of a—strong and silent type, this one.”
She laughs, steps back to pat his arm. “You sure are right!” I like the drawl in her voice, more pronounced than what I usually hear in the city. “He’s always been a little like that. Wait until I show you the pictures I have of him, from every year he came. You’ll love that—”
“Did you have a cabin picked out for us?” Aiden says, interrupting her, and I stiffen with the awkwardness of it, with the taken-aback expression on Lorraine’s face. He’s being rude to this woman who is so obviously happy to see him, and who is one-half of the couple he needs to impress to buy his precious campground.
“Oh, goodness,” I say, playfully slapping his arm, a gesture I hope I pull off. “That’s my fault, Mrs. Dillard. The whole way up here all I could talk about was seeing one of these cabins! I’ve never been to a camp like this—I’m so excited!” That right there is more exclamations than I’ve ever used inpolite company.
She smiles, points a finger at me. “No Mrs. Dillard stuff. I’m Lorraine to everyone who comes here, even the kids, and I’ll be Lorraine to you too.”
“Yes, of course,” I say, happy that I seem to have defused the situation. Paul tells us we must be tired from the trip up, that most of the other guests won’t be here for another hour or so, and so we might as well go on up to our cabin, settle in a bit beforelunch at 12:30.
“We can catch up then, and you can account for being so out of touch, young man.” Lorraine pats Aiden’s arm again. She takes a lanyard from around her neck and disentangles a key, passing it to him. “Now I set you up in your old cabin, and I hope that’s all right. I realize it might be a little strange for you, but you’ll have lovely Zoe here to keep you company. And we’ve prayed on this, Aiden, Paul and me, and we think it’s right for you to stayin that cabin.”
I look up to catch Aiden’s throat move with a tense swallow as he takes the key, offering a brief nod. “It’ll be all right,” he says quietly. A fiancée, I think, would know what that pained look in his eyes is. A fiancée would reach out, take his hand, or maybe lean intohim in comfort.
I do neither. Next to him, I am so acutely aware of the stance I’ve taken, all business: back straight, shoulders square, my hands clasped loosely in front of me.I’m blowing it,I think, even as Lorraine turns to me,smiling widely.
“If you’ve never been to a camp like this one, I should warn you that the accommodations are spartan. But that’s as it should be. Keeps our campers in the great outdoors as much as possible. And I think you’ll find you’ve got everything you need, though it can take a bit to get used to at first.”
Lorraine is so welcoming, such a contrast to the last two hours in the truck that I kind of want to ask her if she’ll take me in, let me stay in that nice lodge with her and Paul. But Aiden and this spartan cabin are part of my penance, I guess, so I return her smile and say, “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m pretty mentally tough.”
Beside me, Aiden makes an unfamiliar noise.
I think it might’ve been a laugh.
* * * *
It was cool when we’d set off this morning, but as we make our way to our cabin—a not-insignificant hike through narrow, wooded trails, it heats up quick—the sun peeks through the cracks in the trees, starting to turn for the autumn season. By the time we reach a clearing, my back is damp with sweat where my pack has pressed against it, my shoulders are sore from its weight. No surprise that before last week I’d never owned a backpack of this size, and I suspect the woman at the outdoor sports store was trolling me when she sold me this one.
“Right up ahead,” Aiden says as we trudge on, and a small cul-de-sac of four cabins comes into view, a wooden sign announcing them as theGoodNews 1cabins.
“Good News?” I ask, trying to make my stride look natural as I rush to keep up with him. I’m tall, but Aiden’s legs eat up this ground liketractor wheels.
“Gospels. There’s four cabin sites like this, each with four cabins.”
“You’re sure it’s okay with Lorraine and Paul that we’re staying together in here? With us not being married and all?”
