“Believe me, camping is highly overrated. And I should know.”
“He has a point though. We can’t just leave you defenseless against those bad guys.”
Kerry picked up her bat again. “They’re the ones who need to be worried about me.”
Patrick took a half step backward. “Maybe we’ll just hang out for a while and sing campfire songs and do camping things. Just till Murphy gets back?”
“It’s awful cold out here,” Kerry said. “More snow flurries are possible.”
“My grammy gave me a sleeping bag for my birthday,” Austin said pointedly.
Patrick considered, and then easily caved to his son’s entreaties.
“All right. We’ll run upstairs and get our ‘camping’ gear, such as it is. In the meantime, Kerry, please try not to start World War Three with the new kids on the block.”
She twirled the bat. “I can make no such promises.”
chapter 32
“We’re baaaack.” Austin was loaded down with a backpack that nearly dwarfed him in size, with a rolled-up sleeping bag under his arm. His father was pushing a small shopping cart with a lantern, blankets, a thermos, and a couple of folding soccer chairs.
“You call this camping?” Kerry plucked a bottle of champagne from the cart.
“This is how we do it in our neck of the Village,” Patrick said.
Austin struggled out of his backpack and settled into the smaller of the two chairs.
Patrick unfolded his own chair and sneezed.
“Bless you,” she said.
He sneezed twice more in rapid succession, and she noticed that his eyes were red and watery. “You really are allergic to pine trees,” she said.
“I really am.” He sniffled into a handkerchief he’d produced from his jacket pocket.
“Will you be okay?”
“I took a couple allergy capsules before we came down just now,” he said. “Just warning you, I may get a little drowsy.”
“Me too,” Kerry said, stretching her legs toward the fire in the oil drum.
Patrick unscrewed the cap of the thermos. “Hot cocoa, anyone?”
“I’m good. But I wouldn’t say no to some champagne.”
“Ahhh. A woman after my own heart.”
He made a show of uncorking the bottle, and she held out one of the flutes.
“Very nice,” Kerry said, sipping.
“Will you sing a campfire song?” Austin barely succeeded in stifling a yawn.
“Do you know this one?” Kerry hummed a little, then began to remember the verses.
“Puff, the magic dragon…”
“Lived by the sea,” Patrick chimed in softly.
