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After an hour of fun and games in the river, I was ready to dig into the coolers looking for treats. Maple and I pretended to be raccoons rubbing our fingers together as we pried open the snack cooler. “I’m ready for a sweet treat. Are you ready for a sweet treat?” I gave my best impression of a neurotic raccoon on the hunt.
“I love sweet treats.” Maple’s voice was a squeaky whisper.
When I pulled out a bag of Nutter Butter cookies, we performed a happy jig, hopping from one foot to the other. Dial stood on the sidelines taking the scene in with a puzzled face. We both inched closer to her, rubbing our fingers while shouting, “Sweet treat! Sweet treat!”
She pretended to cry out for somebody to rescue her. “Don’t come any closer. Help, I’m being attacked by weirdo raccoons!”
“Too late; no one can help you. You have to join our raccoon crew, where you’ll be destined to scrounge the woods for tasty treats forever,” I teased.
“Join us,” Maple demanded.
“What are the rules?” Dial asked.
“That we always stick together and we eat things,” Maple informed her.
“Who’s the leader?” Dial’s eyes shifted from Maple then to me.
“I am!” Maple shouted.
“Well then, of course I’m in.” Dial grabbed a cookie and took a bite.
We enjoyed sandwiches while Maple told us a story she swore was true but sounded made up. I couldn’t want for more than I had right now. A woodpecker chipping away at a tree. The howl of an animal, too far away to cause alarm. Insects that loved taking bites at my skin, humming their intentions. An upbeat country tune played in the background, but if you listened to the lyrics, you’d know the crooner’s heart had just been broken. The gurgling flow of the river provided a calming effect. If you grew up in the country, it was damn near impossible to hate nature, because when you stepped outside your door, there it was, smacking you in the face.
I preferred the outdoors most days. Crisp morning air helped blow away my worries, the sun shining on my face its subtle way of saying hello. Shit, I even appreciated the less-savory smells around the ranch, because for me, that was a reminder of home.
And then there was Dial. She was like an eastern redbud who, when in bloom, was the most beautiful tree in the entire state. When she wasn’t sneaking glances at me, I was eyeing her, trying to suss out what she was thinking. My mind was on getting fitted for a tux and being fed wedding cake.
Maple ate in a hurry and headed back to the river. “No swimming,” Dial yelled after her.
“I’m not. Just collecting rocks.”
Dial opened the cooler, pulling out a container of hard-boiled eggs.
“Are these—”
“Yes, with pepper, light salt, and some Old Bay seasoning.” Dial’s idea of snacking was next level. I liked chips or jerky, and she liked hardboiled eggs or pickles with cream cheese topped with a jalapeno. Her palate was that of a person who was seven months pregnant. She removed the lid and took a deep inhale. “Shit, if only I’d brought some hot sauce.”
I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out a bottle. “Here you go.”
Dial’s gaze settled on me as if she were trying to work out a WordBop puzzle. “Thank you. This is… perfect.”
“Of course.”
She shook the hot sauce vigorously. “It was nice seeing your mom yesterday. Your dad, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding people.”
I wished I’d been able to steer clear of him at the party. “You know Ernest doesn’t do crowds.”
“How does an introvert raise two attention-seeking kids?”
“Hey, not too much on me and Fancy. Our father tolerated us. I bet if he could swap me for Edison, he would.”
Dial adjusted her legs in her folding chair. “Your dad doesn’t say it, but I’m sure he’s very proud of you.”
“You have no idea. I’m coping with serious daddy issues.”
She wagged her fork at me. “Okay, I see your daddy issues and raise you with my own personal mommy issues.”
“What do you mean?”
