“But then there’d never be ayou.”
Scout stilled. His words landed deep, warm, and steady in a way she wasn’t prepared for. Tears pricked her eyes. Her whole body felt wrung out from the last few days, topped off by this emotional blowup with her parents. And now this. This lovely, kind, and—dare she say it?—romantic response from him. She turned to him, their eyes catching, holding. And just for a second, the exhaustion, the frustration, all of it faded into something quieter. Softer.
But then he lifted his hand, and she saw blood seeping through the butterfly bandages. “Scout, I think ...”
She finished for him. “We’d better get you to the hospital.” Just then, with a final blink of red, the temporary traffic light switched to green—and they were off again.
Voicemail from Chase to Scout:
Hey,Scout. I waited foryou at your cabin as long as I could. Hada lovely chat with your mother in the meantime. She’s every bit the Southern belle—gracious,charming,polished,andvery particular about her tea. I’ve never had sweettea before. I’m still jittery.
He coughed a laugh.
Anyway,now that the gold’s been found,I washoping we could finally sit down and talk. Really talk. These last few days have been a whirlwind,and there’s a lot we need to sort through.
Long pause.
I’d love to take you out for a properlobster dinner—something slow,no rushing off to chase shipwrecksor dodge danger. Just you and me,a little timeto breathe. What do you say? I promise—I’llnever call you Magnolia Pearl. Ever.
He hesitated.
I’mfree for dinner tomorrow. No,wait—scratch that. Maybe theday after? No,that won’t work either. Let’sshoot for the Fourth of July. Fireworks,lobster,good company—you can’t say no to that,right?
A beat of silence.
Then, softer—
Scout,you’re special to me. More than I can put into words. I haven’tfelt this way about anyone since ... well,maybe ever. So,call me,okay?
Twenty
The radiance in some places is so great as to be fairly dazzling, keen lance rays of every color flashing, sparkling in glorious abundance, joining the plants in their fine, brave beauty-work—every crystal, every flower a window opening into heaven, a mirror reflecting the Creator.
—John Muir, conservationist
Early the next morning, Tim leaned back in his wooden chair, the creak louder than he wanted it to be. His office felt unusually crowded today. He’d had to bring in extra chairs to fit everyone. Scout and Naki were seated side by side. Something must have happened to Naki’s hand, which bore thick bandages, but there wasn’t time to ask and find out. Too much on the agenda for this meeting that he had called everyone to—with the exception of Frankie and Maisie, who seemed to think they were included anyway—and a very full day of work ahead.
Plus, he was still hoping there might be time to visit with Becky later that night. They had talked until late the previous evening, reminiscing, laughing, telling stories ... until even Maisie’d had enough listening and wanted to go to bed.With some reluctance, Tim had trudged off to the tent, where Frankie’s snores were in full chorus.
Chase Fletcher sat on the opposite side of Tim’s desk, his notepad balanced on one knee, pen at the ready, eyes on Scout. Next to him sat Dr. James H. Johnson, Scout’s father, radiating the calm authority of someone who was used to being the smartest person in the room. No chairs for Frankie and Maisie—they had to squeeze in against the wall.
Tim took a deep breath. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” He looked directly at Chase. “So, you’ve created a great deal of chaos.”
Chase straightened in the chair. “Hold up a minute. Acadia’s in the national news. Sure, gold hunters will come and go, but the good publicity for the park will continue for a long time.”
“Good publicity?” Tim said, leaning forward. “For the last two days, this park has been overrun with visitors. And we’re expecting record crowds over the Fourth of July weekend.”
“I have it on good authority that concessionaires are thrilled,” Chase said.
“What about the rangers? We’re drowning in complaints, traffic jams, and search-and-rescue calls from folks who think they can hike off-trail to find the gold.”
“Like I said, Ranger Rivers, that kind of thing will die down now that the story’s been told.”
“Wrong. That’s why you’re all here today. Fletcher, your story is unfinished.”
“How so?” Chase said, leaning back in his chair. “The gold has been found.”
Tim lifted his hand in the air toward Dr. Johnson. “Would you like to fill in the rest?”
