Then clouds moved in, threatening rain. As they dressed and began the long hike back to Camp 4, Mitch knew he was in trouble.
He was head-over-heels in love with Megs.
Megs closedthe journal and took a bathroom break. As she washed her hands, she stared at her reflection. “Damn, girl, you were clueless.”
Mitch had always been so perceptive. She’d wanted to seem like an adult, a sophisticated woman who knew what she was doing, like one of those naked women in thePlayboymagazines her stepfather had left in her room. But Mitch had seen through her façade to the confused teenager inside.
Megs had never been close to her mother. After her father’s death when Megs was seven, her mother had become distant. All she’d taught Megs was that a man’s penis went into a woman’s vagina, and then a baby came out—as if a woman’s body were a vending machine that took dicks instead of dimes.
Megs had been nine when her mother remarried. Wayne, her new husband, hadn’t paid Megs much attention at first, though he hadn’t been shy about using his belt when he thought she’d done something wrong. But then she’d gotten older, and Wayne’s attitude had changed. By the time she was twelve, she was doing all she could to avoid him.
Rot in hell, Wayne.
The girl Mitch had met had been caught between unwelcome knowledge—and the complete lack of it. Megs had heard of rubbers at school, of course, but she didn’t understand how they prevented pregnancy. She’d known what an erection was but not that it could serve her enjoyment. She’d known that men could be dangerous. But when it came to the emotional and physical nuances of sex—consent, foreplay, the many ways to give and receive pleasure—she’d known nothing.
Luckily for her, Mitch had been an excellent teacher.
Megs dried her hands, left the restroom, and made her way to the cafeteria for a late lunch. The sun was shining, so she decided to sit outside. She wasn’t used to being cooped up indoors for so long.
The fresh air was invigorating, the grilled chicken salad not so much. She picked at it, trying to decide whether she could stand another bite of wilted lettuce or prefabricated grilled chicken strips when her phone buzzed.
Rain.
Megs took the call. “How’s my favorite Deadhead?”
“I’m doing well. Thanks. We’re all doing well. We’re just worried about you and Mitch. I don’t want to take too much of your time, but I thought you’d like an update.”
“Sure.”
“Everyone here wants to help somehow, so Joe has set up a kind of fundraiser.”
Megs started to object, but Rain cut her off.
“I know you’re about to tell me that the two of you have savings and you don’t need the help. But you don’t know where this will end—how long Mitch will be in the hospital and rehab or whether you’ll need to modify your home.”
Hell, Megs hadn’t even thought of that. “Shit.”
“I know. It’s a lot to handle. But if you don’t end up needing the money, you can donate it to the Team or St. Barbara’s or go on a vacation to the Bahamas.”
Megs was touched. “I guess I’ve just been focused on the moment. Thanks for thinking ahead for us.”
“You bet. Everyone wants to get in on it. Frank put up a jar at his filling station. Father Ted at St. Barbara’s passed the plate a second time at Mass, asking for donations. Sasha, Conrad, and Gabe Rossiter are giving climbing lessons at the rock gym in exchange for donations. I think Sasha’s schedule filled up the first five minutes. The Timberline Mudbugs made a mixtape of Mitch’s favorite tunes that I’ll bring when I come to see you next. They’re doing a special concert in Boulder next week. All of the proceeds will go to Mitch.”
“Wow.”
But there was more.
Rain told her how Kenzie, Conrad’s wife, a professional search dog trainer, was doing a raffle for free puppy training. Jason Chiago, a former Shadow Wolf, was working with the US Marshals on their own fundraiser, offering tracking classes.
“He hasn’t forgotten that the Team saved Winona’s life last year,” Rain said.
Naomi Belcourt, a Lakota artist and Chaska’s wife, was running an auction for a few of her signature jewelry pieces. And Bear had put money someone had given him for a meal into the donation jar on the bar.
“We fed him anyway.”
Of course, they had.
Megs was overwhelmed. She knew that the people of Scarlet Springs were big-hearted, but she hadn’t grown up in Scarlet like Mitch had. She’d never experienced this kind of close community until they’d moved there in the early Nineties to start the Team.
