Page 8

“Seven-thirty AM is reveille. The campers have thirty minutes to brush their teeth, etc., until it’s time to meet at the dining hall for breakfast. After the tables are cleared, we have morning assembly where we discuss the activities of the day, then everyone participates in a craft of choice.
“We normally have three different stations set up with things that range from painting, to jewelry making, to a new offering this year, cooking.”
“Then I see there’s morning swim,” Cisco interjected as he followed along. “And after that, canoeing and kayaking.”
“Yeah. We tend to keep the getting-wet sports together,” Hilly confirmed, showing the first signs of animation as she spoke of her curriculum. “Then they all dry off and head back in for lunch at noon, after which they have a free hour to do whatever they please…within reason,” she added with a slight twitch upward of her top lip.
Cisco was seeing a way to get through Hilly’s barriers. She obviously ate, slept, and breathed her camp, so he had to keep his comments and insights in that realm. “That’s when they write letters home, and stare at the sky, daydreaming?”
“Or run around like banshees,” she said with a half-hearted grin. “A time for their minds and bodies to soar.”
Cisco felt that sharing might loosen her up even more. “I used to spend hours in my yard when I was a kid, staring at the clouds, finding all kinds of things. Animals, trucks, mountain ranges…”
“I used to see faces,” she offered back. “Friendly faces in all shapes and sizes.”
Huh. Were there not enough smiles in her young life that she had to make them up in the sky? That was a stretch on his part, but he could already tell that Hilly had a cautious way about her that spoke of being hurt sometime in the past.
She went on as if she hadn’t just revealed something about herself. “After free time, that’s when we have our physical challenges.”
“Such as…?” Cisco asked, letting her get away with the subject change. For now.
“We have archery, a ropes course, a climbing tower, gymnastics. This is the time slot, from one-thirty to two-thirty, where I see adding you in twice a week.”
Cisco saw the efficacy in that.
She was brainstorming now. “During nice weather, you can hold your classes in the open-air pavilion by the lake. And when it’s too cold or windy outside, we can clear an area in here for you. I don’t know how long your sessions normally last, but we have one hundred campers, and I was envisioning twenty-five for each of four, half-hour instruction periods.”
Cisco thought it over, and wasn’t sure he could fit everything he wanted to show and tell into thirty minutes. “Do you have another fitness session during the day? I could do two more, later on.”
“We do. One more, from five to six just before dinner,” she told him. “After their early afternoon physical challenge is complete, the kids go into the dining hall for drama club, followed by an afternoon swim if its nice out, or some kind of semi-indoor sport if it’s not. Next is snack break, and more crafts, then another sports session like they had earlier in the day, with the kids rotating through the various offerings. But you don’t have to do the extra classes,” she assured him.
“But I want to.” Cisco would have to clear it with Chief Ildavorg, but he didn’t think the man would have any problems with his impromptu offer. “What if I do two, one-hour sessions with twenty-five campers each day I’m here? Two, one-thirty to two-thirty classes, and two from five to six, Tuesday and Thursday. Would that work for you?”
Hilly scowled. “Well, I…um… That’s a generous offer of your time, but… With that commitment, what would you do with yourself to fill your time? Between sessions I mean,” she clarified.
Cisco tried not to let his excitement show over possibly being within Hilly’s sphere for several hours at a time. “Oh. I think I can keep myself occupied. I’ve never been a huge drama guy, but I love snacks,” he quipped. “And swim and sports outings sound like they could be a lot of fun.” What would Hilly look like in a bathing suit? “As for craft hour? I can paint a little, and I throw a mean, clay pot. But if you don’t have oils or a wheel, you could still probably use another set of hands to set up supplies, or clean up messes.” He attempted an innocent look.
Say yes. Say yes.
Cisco couldn’t figure out why it was suddenly so important that Hilly give him this. It must be that he hadn’t felt challenged by a woman’s indifference in… Well, ever, if he were honest.
He couldn’t recall a time where a female hadn’t been swayed by his natural charm, and he wasn’t about to have his winning streak halted now.
At least that’s what he told himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
Huh.
It was clear that Cisco didn’t recognize her.
Hilly didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. Not that she’d fill the man in on who she was…who she’d been. Nope. If he’d chosen to forget the chubby girl named Kay who’d dogged his footsteps throughout middle school, it was definitely for the best. She didn’t do hero-worship anymore.
Since that time, twenty-one years ago, Hilly had come a long way, and although Cisco’s presence had thrown her for a moment—with scenes of her younger years momentarily flashing through her head—she could let the past go and pretend they were strangers. Which, if he’d remembered her, would have been impossible.
Back then, when they’d traversed the same hallways, her name had been Kay Smittfield, the Kay being short for Kayhill, and the last name being the one with which she’d been blessed by her prick of a sperm donor. When, in sixth grade, her mother had finally kicked the asshole to the curb, then two years later married her current hubby, Jenson Duncan, Kay had gladly changed her first name to Hilly. And with her new Papa Jenson’s blessing, she’d swapped her last name for his.
She’d never looked back.