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Verdict at the River's Edge

By Colleen K Snyder

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FRIDAY
As soon as Collin Walker’s feet hit the bottom step of the bus, she heard it. The low, pounding, distinctive rumble of a river. A river somewhere nearby. She froze, overwhelmed by the panicked impulse to fight her way back upstream through the departing campers, dive under the backbench seat, and not come out until the week ended. A thought kept circling through her head: Dear God in heaven, there’s a river.
A hand on her shoulder interrupted her mental breakdown. A voice dripped sarcasm. “Hey, caseworker lady. You getting off this bus or what? They’s some of us what wants to visit the facilities, you know? Been a long trip. Move it.”
Life returned to Collin’s feet, and she stepped off the bus, moving aside to let the remainder of the forty-odd campers—and their vastly odder counselors—disembark.
Odder? Is that even a word? Collin shut down the internal tormentors before they could continue. Sane. I will be sane for the remainder of this trip. And you all will keep your comments to yourself.
It might be easier to believe without the cursed cackling in her head. Collin would deal with her demons later. She’d been dealing with them all her life. So what’s another day? Collin leaned against the side of the bus to get her bearings and her breath. She wrapped her arms around her chest and began slow breathing to bring herself under the rigid control she learned over the years. In. Out. In. Out. In.
Rob Sider, her ward for the week, stepped in front of her. His eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. “Who you fightin’ in there, huh?”
Collin jiggled her whole body to release the tension. “I’m working on a plan to beat your sorry anatomy in hoops.”
Rob stepped back with half a grin. “No wonder you having a tough time of it.”
Collin held a hand in front of his face. “Watch it, bro. You know the old saying, ‘He who laughs last—’”
Rob interrupted “—didn’t get the joke the first time. I ain’t afraid of you or any plan you got.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Collin felt herself relaxing. She lay a hand on his shoulder. “What say you and me meet on the backcourt tonight about nine and see if this plan I got works?”
“Backcourt? What backcourt?”
Collin sighed. “Rob, if this place has more than one court, it has to have a backcourt. I’ll meet you at nine on the backcourt, and we’ll see if you’re as good as your mouth on foreign soil.”
Rob grinned evilly. “My mouth got nothing to do with it. Be my feet an’ my hands do the talking. You ain’t never beat me yet, and you ain’t never gonna.”
“Never’s a long time, my friend.”
Rob took two sliding steps back. “You’d be the one to know ’bout long times!” He took off running for the lodge.
Collin dropped her head, grinning all the while. Twenty-six made you old in Rob’s world. Somedays, it felt old. She looked around the entrance to Camp Grace, forcing herself to suppress the ominous and omnipresent sound of the river. High in the mountains of West Virginia, planets away from the streets of Oakton, where she worked and lived and fought and died…
The sun lowered itself behind the towering trees, which sheltered the lodge. Even though the evening had barely begun, the valley would soon disappear in darkness. Vibrant green grass grew natural and wild in meadows and patches where the trees relented to allow sunshine. Flowering vines trailed up and around stumps, fence posts, and downspouts. Birds darted in and out of sight; fat crows cawed their superiority yet fled from kamikaze sparrows defending their territory. Paradise. At least for the week, if she could handle it.
For Rob, she would handle it. Collin cast off the shadows and moved slowly toward the entrance to the lodge. A “challenge camp,” the flyer said, offering traditional and extreme sports to entice hardened and jaded youngsters ages ten to fourteen. Rob made the cut-off by four months. The camp presented as state-approved—but not sponsored—which meant the cost needed to be borne by the parents or the counselor.
Collin stopped at a “Welcome to Camp Grace” sign. She drew circles in the dirt with her foot as she looked at the map showing the “You Are Here” arrow.
The flyer stated financial aid or grants were available on request. But when Collin called the camp to request, the cost proved so ridiculously low she wondered if the camp could be real. She sent off the registration and fees to the address in West Virginia, only to have both returned. The registration approved; the fees waived.
Collin quit circling the dust and moved along the path. Quiet and careful inquiries to other attendees revealed they, too, were attending gratis. She determined then to find out all she could about this camp—who owned it and why they would be so interested in street kids. Paradise had its snakes, too.
Collin sharpened her focus and headed inside. She dodged a lone maintenance man unloading and carting the luggage. He may have smiled at her. He may have even spoken to her, but Collin didn’t notice. Head down, eyes straight ahead. Focused. Something about this set-up read wrong, and she would be the one to find it. For Rob’s sake.
I will not let anyone use these kids to fulfill some philanthropic need to make themselves look good. Not my kids. Collin marched through the lodge doors.
* * *
Collin followed an escort down the corridors to the female side of the building. She noted Rob’s room number and the name of the counselor overseeing him.
The escort explained, “Only one child to a room unless they have requested otherwise.” The escort smiled. “We know some of these children may be sleeping alone in a room for the first time.”
Alone in a room? Some of these kids will be sleeping alone in a bed for the first time.
Collin envisioned a few sleepless nights for some of the younger campers. They’ll work it out.
Luggage sat outside the doors, waiting to be carried into the rooms. Another guide brought two girls down the hall and presented them to her as her charges for the week, then left. Collin knew the girls well. Jill and Marites, both ten, roomed adjacent to Collin. They seemed the giggly, innocent type, not ones you would suspect of being in serious trouble. Certainly not on the verge of being placed in juvenile lockup. But Collin knew their jackets—and their counselors—well. Which explained why the girls were here, and the counselors weren’t.
A sign on the back of the door explained the basics. Collin read the salient features aloud. “Breakfast hours are seven to eight, no exceptions. Latecomers go hungry.”
Jill tossed her head in disgust. “Can’t make me go hungry. Gotta feed me, right? Anytime I want, right?”
Collin shook her head. “Nope. The card says healthy snacks of carrots, celery, apples, raisins, and assorted power foods are freely available at the health bar below the main concourse. Which means they have food available. If you like vegetables and fruit instead of pancakes and eggs.”
Both girls gagged. Collin nodded. “I thought as much.” She turned back to the sign. “It says lunch and dinner hours will depend on whatever the activity of the day is.” She paused. “Which I’m sure they will explain later.”
Jill and Marites looked at each other, then shrugged in unison. Collin mirrored their motion. “It goes on to say you should stow your gear and report back to the room just inside the doors where we came in at the head of the hall.”
Fearing too many directives or instructions would be lost—or ignored— Collin said, “First things first: hand over the phones.” Before the girls could deny the existence of said devices, Collin warned, “Having a phone will get you sent home at your parents’ expense. I know you both have them. Give them up.” Reluctantly the girls handed over the phones. Collin checked her roster to make sure the numbers matched. Once verified, Collin said, “Go store your stuff and wait for me here. I’ll be right out.”
The girls closed the door. Collin shut her door and listened for a moment. Yep, still there. Even with the windows closed and black-out drapes reaching below the jams, she could hear the rumble of the bane of her dreams. It doesn’t matter. Sound can’t hurt you.
Who says you have to go any closer than the lodge? No one. Get over it.
Coward.
Collin escorted the girls to the main hall and looked for Rob. She found him sitting by the window, staring up at the heavens. Rob did not stop staring but acknowledged Collin’s presence by whispering, “I never seen anything this big before. Never been anywhere this big.” Outside, pine trees soared to vast heights. Towering canyon walls marched away out of view to either side, their craggy peaks barely visible to human eyes.
Collin sat down beside him. “Now, you get an idea of what awesome means.”
Rob turned and looked at her for a moment. “I guess so.” He looked back out the window. “Can we go out there?”
“My guess is the next order of business will be introductions, a list of rules to remember, question and answer sessions, and maybe dinner. Then free time and finally bed.”
Rob gave her a curious look. “You been to these camps before?”
“A few.” She motioned toward the crowd gathering in the center of the room. “Let’s join the circle and see if I’m right.”
Rob reluctantly followed Collin to where campers and counselors congregated. They joined in time to hear a man speaking. “If everyone could close in enough to hear and be heard, I would appreciate it.”
The speaker waited as the crowd moved in closer. “Good. Welcome to Camp Grace. I am Steve Parks, camp director. I won’t bore you with our history; if you’re interested, we have literature at the office. If you’re not, we’ll save a few trees. Our mission is simple and is directly for you campers.”
Collin eyed the man. This is where it gets real. What do they really want?
Most of the youngsters raised their heads, curious. Rob kept his eyes fixed on the floor, feigning non-interest. The director continued, “Our goal is to teach you one thing: you can.”
A girl spoke up. “Can what?” General murmurs echoed the question.
“You can. Can do anything you set yourself to do.”
An older boy snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I can jump like Michael Jordan.”
Mr. Parks smiled. “Maybe. Have you tried?”
“Sure, man. I can’t do it.”
“Have you practiced the steps he takes? Have you exercised and worked out and jogged? Do you sweat like he does?”
The boy snorted again. “No.”
“Then, you won’t jump like he does.” Mr. Parks looked around the room. “Doing isn’t something magic. It’s something you make happen using all the resources and talents and abilities you have.”
Some heads nodded. Some dropped. Collin sensed they all listened, though.
Mr. Parks continued, “This week is to show you you can. We’re going to give you opportunities to do and try things you’ve thought about, dreamed about, had nightmares about, or just wanted to see.”
A nightmare or two flashed through Collin’s mind. She shuddered. Not now.
“None of them will be simple. All will require thought, sweat, practice, and in some cases, teamwork. In the morning, we have a camp tour for anyone who can greet the daylight without a snarl. Snarlers can go in the afternoon.” Laughs and catcalls followed, with elbows thrown for effect.
Mr. Parks glanced around the room at the campers. His eyes sparkled with what Collin took to be enjoyment. “You’ll have the opportunity to sample some of our offerings this weekend, weather permitting. There is a partial list of activities on the board at the end of the hall to give you—I started to say ‘fodder to chew on’”—the director chuckled—“but most of you would have no idea what I meant. So let’s put it this way: it will give you something to think about.”
He looked pointedly at the adults in the room. “A word to you, counselors.” A grown-up head or two came to attention. “Show your kids you believe, too. Sign up with them. Show them it works.”
As a means of closing, he said, “There are a few important people you will get to know. The first, we hope you never see: our camp physician, Dr. Wallace.” A casual-looking gentleman in blue jeans, khaki shirt, knee-high cowboy boots, with sandy-blond shoulder-length hair pulled back in a ponytail, waved from his seat on the front desk.
Director Parks pointed to the side of the hall. “My assistant, Leeann Baker, will make any arrangements in case of emergencies either here or at home.” An older woman, slightly overweight, wearing a red business dress, waved from her position against the wall. “Ted Johnson is our activities director.”
Another wave from another strategically placed employee. Collin noted they seemed to be surrounding the group. Sizing up the kids? Watching group dynamics?
Mr. Parks continued, “Jeff Farrell staffs our maintenance crew.” The director looked around then added, “And he appears to be missing.” He looked at the activities director, who mouthed, “Generators.” Mr. Parks nodded slightly.
The director finished with, “Our chief cook, Chef Michael, is downstairs preparing dinner. Enjoy your meal. Afterward, you may walk around outside or use the ball courts and recreation rooms. There is an indoor pool, or you can sample the library. Relax, and have fun. Enjoy your weekend, because come Monday, you’re mine.” He grinned evilly, rubbing his hands together. “Any questions?”
If there were, no one felt inclined to offer them. “You may consider yourselves dismissed.”
The crowd moved off toward the dining hall. Collin caught Rob’s sleeve. She warned, “Remember we’ve got an appointment tonight. Don’t eat too much.”
As they rounded the corner to the cafeteria, Rob sneered, “Caseworker lady, I could eat everything they got and still beat you.”
The size of the buffet staggered them both. Rob did a double-take. Collin’s mouth dropped. Grilled chicken. Beef tips. Fish. Pasta. Hamburgers. Fries. Pizza. Vegetables of every kind. Fruit. Gelatins. Pastries. Puddings.
Rob looked at Collin, his eyes wide. “Okay, I lied. Maybe not this time.” He grabbed a tray and began loading it down. When his tray could hold no more, Rob headed off to a corner with some friends.
Collin filled a plate and looked for a place to sit. The cafeteria had plenty of room. Many of the tables remained unoccupied.
Maybe now would be a good time to start her investigation of the camp. Who here might tell her what she needed to know? Or—more important—what she wanted to know?
Collin saw a man sitting alone toward the back. A man by no means—well, maybe by some means—okay…some might call him handsome. Sandy brown—bordering on red—hair, late twenties, early thirties…honest features.
What does the expression mean, anyhow? How can a nose be dishonest? Eyes, now, those can tell a tale. Except his head is down. Good thing. He might catch you staring.
Sort of. A little.
The man wore the garb of a maintenance worker. Collin vaguely remembered passing someone in a uniform earlier this evening. The bus. He unloaded the bus. He’d spoken to her. And you walked right past him.
Collin’s eyes widened at the memory. Her heart sank.
Maybe he won’t remember. Maybe he won’t remember you. Maybe…
The man had a book propped up in front of his tray, reading as he ate. Collin felt embarrassed at the thought of walking up and saying, “Hi. I’m the rude woman who ignored you earlier. Can I join you now?”
Shameless much? Maybe he doesn’t want company. Maybe he doesn’t want your company. Maybe…
Collin growled, Shut up! She straightened her back and walked purposefully across the room, only to slow to a stop again as she neared his table. Campers rushed past her, determined on emptying as much of the buffet as possible. Collin dodged and weaved while she tried to make up her mind. She couldn’t walk up to a perfect stranger and force herself on him, could she? Could she?
The man looked at her and smiled. The eyes did, indeed, tell a story.
Collin rebuked the coward inside. You bet I can. She advanced to the table, smiled, and asked, “Mind if I sit down?”
The man waved gallantly, moving his books aside. “Of course not. It took you long enough to make up your mind, though.”
So he’d been watching her? Did he remember the bus? Collin demurred slightly at the challenge. “I promise I won’t disturb you.”
“Good. People tell me I’m disturbed enough as it is.” He grinned.
Collin sat. She needed to take charge of this situation and fast. She extended her hand. “I’m Collin Walker.”
The man reached out his hand but drew it back slightly. Collin noted his hands, though clean, bore the stains from oil, grease, and other lubricants of his trade. She reached out further and took his hand firmly. “Hi, I’m Collin Walker.”
“Jeff Farrell.” He pointed to the name on his shirt. “My reminder.”
“I need something to remind me where I am, not who I am.” There are too many whos anyhow.
Which we will not discuss now.
“Do you travel a lot?”
“More than I’d like but probably less than I should.” She let Jeff chew on her statement while she bowed her head and gave thanks for her food.
When she looked up, the man wore a different look on his face, a look Collin couldn’t read. Did she offend him? Better to find out now than later.
He smiled. “A woman who’s not afraid to practice what she believes even in a crowd. You are a rare find.”
Collin deflected the subject. She pointed to her plate. “I’m not sure what I’ve got here. What’s good?”
“Everything Chef Michael fixes. He’s a fantastic cook. Your kids will go home fat and happy—well, they will if we don’t run the calories off them first.”
Collin ducked her head. “We hope you do.” She picked up one of the books sitting on the table. “What are you studying? Why are you studying? It’s Friday night.”
“Electrical wiring. So I can make sure we have power Saturday morning.” He looked at her. “You know anything about electrical wiring?”
“I know enough to call an electrician when I have a problem.”
Jeff stared at her as if floored. He closed his eyes, lowered his head in disbelief, and slammed the book shut. A grin appeared, and he let out a satisfied, “Yes!” He nodded to Collin. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Lastly, he looked skyward. “And thank You!” He grinned. “No, I’m not nuts. I’ve been fighting for two days trying to solve this problem, and it’s not mine. I need to call an expert.” He laughed. “I get so wrapped up trying to do things on my own.” He stopped, straightened, and turned sober. “I’m sure you’ve never experienced anything like that. You wouldn’t know.”
Collin waggled her head. “Of course not. Never. Not even once.” She looked at the ceiling. “You have lightning rods on your roof?”
“No. Do we need them?”
“If I don’t quit lying, you will. What kind of problem are you having?” An orange missiled from one side of the room to the other. Collin stood, glared at the offending parties, and yelled, “Knock it off! You’re not at school.”
A chorus of voices called, “Sorry, Ms. Walker.” She sat back down. “Your problem?”
Jeff looked surprised. “You actually want to know?”
“I actually want to know.”
Jeff settled back in his chair. “Okay, it started Wednesday when we lost power to the horse barn. We thought a breaker might have gone out, but they all tested good. The power came back on while we tried the lines themselves, which proved a great shock to all of us.”
Collin smiled at the joke and sampled her food. She tried the tuna casserole first. It smelled and tasted like what she remembered from home in Fort Newton.
The smell cracked open the door on a gaping black hole. Memories came flooding back, ones she thought she’d closed years ago. Collin stared into the depths, feeling the familiar death grip on her awareness. “You’re useless! You’re stupid! You’re a waste of time! No one loves you. The world is better off without you. Don’t come back. Don’t ever come back…”
Collin sat paralyzed. Unable to think, unable to move, unable to shut down the memories, she stared into the abyss of her past.
A roar of laughter from across the cafeteria startled Collin back to life. She realized she’d blacked out when Jeff finished his story, “And why we used the elephants.”
Busted. She tried to cover anyhow. “Fascinating. I thought you used kangaroos.” She looked Jeff in the eyes as if nothing happened.
He leaned forward and looked at her sideways. “Where did you go? I’ve never seen someone zone out so completely. I didn’t mean to bore you, but you did ask.”
She fumbled for an answer—or an explanation. “I’m sorry. It’s not personal. Trust me.” She smiled and shrugged. “It happens.”
The man sat back in his chair. “Don’t apologize. Teach me how to do it. I’ve got some professors I’d like to try it on. It would make their lectures a lot less boring. Or at least tolerable.”
Collin gave him a half-smile. She followed his rabbit trail. “So you’re in school? Where?”
He shrugged. “Grad school. Back in Oakton. Studying electrical engineering. But I think it’s hopeless.” He smiled. “And useless. All I need to know is to call the expert, right?”
“Right.” She banished the shadows.
A raucous game of handball began across the way. Collin looked over to see if there were any other adults in the room. She saw Mr. Tremont accost the boys throwing the ball. Good. His turn to be monitor. Jeers rewarded his confiscation of the toy. Several of the diners headed out of the room, back to the top floor. Collin noted Rob wasn’t with them.
Investigate the camp. Investigate the camp. “Are you from around here?”
“No. I commute from Oakton. I work the challenge camps and set up and tear down for the handicap sessions we offer in the late fall. I love to watch what this place can do for a kid.”
“Camp Grace isn’t just for kids?”
“We do about four challenge camps for the inner city crowd in the summer. Spring and fall, we’re a regular for-hire camp. Winter, we’re a ski resort.”
“It must keep you busy.”
“It does.” He looked at her tray. “You stopped eating.”
Collin’s appetite vanished. She pushed her tray away. “I’m done.”
Jeff frowned. “You can’t be done. You never even started.”
Collin ignored the comment, though his concern interested her. She changed the subject. “What do you do when you’re not at camp, and you’re not in school? Isn’t it tough on your family with you gone all the time?”
One corner of Jeff’s smile lifted. “You mean like a wife-and-child-kind of family? Is that what you’re asking?”
Collin shrugged. “Not exactly. But are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Married?”
“Would it make a difference?”
Collin said sharply—more sharply than she intended—“Yes.”
“Good. It should. No, I’m not. No children, either. And I hope that makes a difference, too.”
The man intrigued her. She couldn’t read him at all except for his eyes. And she dare not look there too long, nor too deep. “It does.” She challenged, “It means you at least have the decency to consider someone else before subjecting them to your harebrained lifestyle.”
Jeff grinned. “Touché. It’s not forever. One day I hope to work here full time. But now, economics play a big part in the decision. I have commitments in Oakton.”
“Like what?”
“You are nosy, aren’t you?”
“I’m a counselor. It’s what we do. We ask questions. We make observations. We evaluate. We dig around, we…” Warning bells clanged in her head. Too much truth for this weekend. Collin sat up straighter and tried to smile.
Jeff rolled his eyes. “My turn to ask questions. I know you’re a counselor. I know you’re a very dedicated counselor because you’re either using your vacation time to be here, or taking the week off without pay, which would mean you’re a very wealthy counselor, and you wouldn’t be in this line of work unless you really, really loved kids. In which case, you’d be the one bankrolling this trip.”
Collin started to correct the man’s impressions of her, but he continued without a breath. “Do you have any family? Meaning besides the obligatory mother, father, siblings, and yes, I’m asking specifically, are you married? I see no ring or ring shadow, but that doesn’t mean what it used to. Married women don’t wear rings, and unmarried women have them on every finger. How’s a guy supposed to know the difference?”
Collin chuckled. “Did you have a question in there?”
“Several. One, are you married? Two, do you have a family? Three, what do you do to enjoy yourself?”
“One, no. Two, no. Three…um…I am enjoying myself.”
“You are?”
Someone must have announced closing. Campers jumped up and made a mad rush to empty the buffet line of as much food as they could carry. Collin nodded. “Yes, I am. It’s been a while since I’ve conversed with someone older than seventeen. Not on this level anyhow.”
Jeff looked around. “What, down in the basement?”
Collin tapped the table lightly. “Stop before you hurt yourself. You know what I mean.”
Jeff spread his hands in acquiescence. “Okay.”
Collin went back on the offensive. “When you’re not in school, and you’re not up here, what do you do for fun?”
“I’m a paramedic.”
Collin grew solemn. “Oh, this is the fun stuff.”
His eyes softened. “This is the fun stuff. It’s not always intense, and I love what I do. But coming here gives me a break.”
The maintenance worker stretched. “It also gives me a break from my dad. I manage some properties for him, and he’s death on details.”
Collin stomped the door to the black hole. No memories. Not now. “I see. How long—”
Rob sauntered up to the table with his “I be cool” act. But Collin read the excitement under the surface. At least him, she could still decipher. “Yes?”
“A bunch of us is gonna walk to the canyon floor to see the river. You want to come, caseworker lady?”
Collin waved him off. “No, Rob. You go. I’d slow you down, seeing as you’re always telling me I’m ‘old folk,’ you know.”
Jeff supported Rob. “It’s beautiful. You ought to go.”
Collin continued to refuse. “Maybe later.”
Rob protested, “Aw, come on, caseworker lady. I promise, ain’t none of us gonna fall in.” The boy bounced on the toes of his shoes.
Jeff added, “The trail’s well marked, and there’s a turn out with benches. We keep it lit in the evenings. It’s a great spot.”
Collin studied the maintenance man. Why would he dismiss her so soon? Seen what he wanted, and she’d failed the test? What did she say this time?
Jeff stood. “I’ll be here all week. I’d like it if we could talk again.” He grinned. “Maybe you can explain about the kangaroos.” He carried both his and Collin’s tray to the counter and deposited them.
Somewhat encouraged, Collin nodded. “I hope so.” She looked at Rob. “Okay, man. Do you know how to get there? More important, do you know how to get back?” Collin stood and pushed in her chair.
Rob laughed. “Lady, have I ever got lost?”
Collin glared. “Not the question. You’ve got me lost plenty of times telling me how to get someplace to pick you up or drop you off. I refuse to be a den mate with some grizzly because you can’t remember the way home.”
Rob chuckled. “Ain’t no grizzlies in West Virginia.”
“How do you know?”
“I learnt it in school.”
Collin put a hand on her heart. “You learned it in school? You mean they taught you something you remembered? Will wonders never cease?”
Rob pulled her arm. “Yeah, yeah, I know. So maybe it wasn’t all a waste of time. Maybe some stuff stuck. Let’s go.”
Collin waved at Jeff as Rob dragged her off. “I hope I see you around, Jeff.”
As Rob pulled Collin out of earshot, she heard his assuring, “You will.”
* * *
As ten kids—and one counselor—hiked ever downward toward the riverbank, Collin’s fear grew. Even the jostling and jesting of the group couldn’t keep the shadows at bay.
Finally, she reached her breaking—and braking—point. Collin stopped as they neared the lookout. They were still maybe fifty yards from where the river would be visible. Close enough to feel the throbbing pulse in her being, but not close enough to feel the spray in her face. On her face. Over her face...
Collin told Rob, “You guys go on. I’ll wait here.”
Rob looked at her, confused. “What? Why?”
“I got my reasons. You young guns forget what goes down easy goes back up exponentially harder. I’ll rest up here and beat you all back up the hill. Go on.”
She saw disappointment in his eyes. But he put on his tough-guy facade. “Suit yourself. We be back later.”
Collin sighed as he turned and followed the crowd. She needed to come up with an explanation. One near enough to the truth so it wouldn’t be a lie, but dull enough to keep anyone from asking questions. Collin sat back against a tree, set her mind on reviewing praise hymns she knew. It would occupy the time—and her brain—until the kids returned.
Half an hour later, a subdued group returned. Collin guessed the reason but decided to make them put it into words to help crystallize the experience. She asked, “How was it, Luke?”
The ten-year-old shook his head. “I never seen anything like it. Nothing. It’s so…so...” He faltered.
Jeshua bailed him out. “So powerful. So big. Only running water I’ve ever seen comes out in the tub. I didn’t know there could be something so...”
As the young teen ran out of words, twelve-year-old Awana picked up the torch. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve seen rivers on those nature shows my folks make me watch.” She grimaced. “But seeing it on a little screen doesn’t give you any idea how...”
No one filled in the blank. No one could. Collin understood their feelings. “And this is only the first night. What else do you think they have out here?”
Silence met her as ten teens and teen wannabes considered the possibilities ahead. Finally, someone—Collin couldn’t be sure who—whispered, “Wow.”
Suddenly someone else, equally anonymous, quipped, “Hey, I can say it backward! Wowww.” He dragged the word out for emphasis.
Several someones slugged the jokester, who ran off, jeering at his jury. Swift pursuit followed and swiftly halted, as the steepness of the hill overcame even their youthful exuberance. A mid-range walk became the gait of choice, and talking gave way to simply breathing.
As the group returned to the lodge, Rob pulled Collin aside. “Caseworker lady, you mind not getting whooped in hoops tonight? It ain’t gonna spoil your day or nothing, will it?”
“Why, Rob?”
“I don’t know.” Collin rarely saw Rob this subdued or contemplative. “I think I want to be alone for a while. Be alone and jus’ think. Something ’bout the river jus’ make me wanna think.”
Collin nodded. “I understand.” She let out a somewhat shaky breath. “Tomorrow night.”
They came to the parting of the sexes: boys’ rooms to the left, girls’ rooms to the right, with a staffed entry hall between them. Collin stopped, turned, and faced Rob. “You okay, bro?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s everything out there is so…so...” Collin waited for him to get his thought out. He apparently couldn’t find the words any more than the other teens, so finished lamely, “…so big, I guess. I mean, city buildings is big, but man built them. I could build one of them. But the trees and the river, all of it...it’s huge, and it got that way without me being here, without no man being here helping it or telling it what to do. Like we don’t even matter or nothing.”
Collin ached to hug the boy but knew better than to cross forbidden territory. “You matter, Rob. More than you know, you matter. Goodnight, bro. Get some sleep.” At least one of us should.
“Night, caseworker lady.”
The two parted company and went to their respective rooms. Collin checked on her two charges, who lay in the same bed. She set an eleven p.m. curfew on giggling and a midnight cut-off on talking. Probably a waste of time; the girls would be asleep within the hour anyhow.
Collin went back to her room. She debated whether to shower now or in the morning. The six a.m. alarm came early. But the thought of running water cascading over her head added more fuel to an already-glowing ember she meant to extinguish. Collin changed into her nightshirt, took her Bible from her backpack, and settled into bed. She muttered, “Numbers. Genealogies. If those can’t put me to sleep, nothing can.” She looked at the first page of the chapter. “I hope.”
Outside the windows, the heartbeat of the river pulsed along. 

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