Over Her Head (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 489) Page 10

  Lana waited for hers while one of the parents beckoned a group to follow her to a cabin called Running Deer. Another counselor herded a group toward Sleeping Bear. With her obvious inexperience, she feared her bunkhouse might be called Dying Hawk or Wounded Possum, but she smiled when she heard her cabin assignment: Little Flower. Now that name she liked. In moments, Mark led his crew across the grass toward Soaring Eagle, and Lana eyed the log cabin in the opposite direction and assumed it was hers.

  When she stepped inside, a dank, mildew aroma greeted her, and Lana remembered Flower was the skunk’s name in the children’s tale Bambi. Grasping for optimism, she told herself that mildew was better than skunk smell any day.

  As she peered at the log-walled room with only a narrow walkway between bunk beds, she questioned her sanity. Even a self-respecting mouse would avoid the drafty, damp interior for some cozy nest in a knothole.

  Just like the rodent, Lana wished for such a sanctuary. Instead, she herded eight chattering teenage girls into a twenty-by-sixteen-foot space, no closets, and a makeshift nightstand void of even a candle, let alone a lamp. Five grimy windows and two glaring overhead bulbs served as the only sources of light.

  Forcing her too large suitcase beneath her cot, Lana panicked. Where was the bathroom? With one door at the back and another at the front, the answer to her question did not seem promising. She folded her arms as a war cry sounded in her head. Mark had called this a mini-vacation with a wonderful natural setting. No bathroom was too natural for Lana. She darted outside, ready to wring Mark’s neck.

  The other cabin stood across a stretch of grass and dirt, and Mark stood outside herding in his charges. Catching his eye, she strode toward him, but he turned and appeared to be heading in the opposite direction. “Wait up, Mr. Youth Director,” Lana called.

  Mark stopped while Lana watched his grimace tug into a Cheshire Cat smile that didn’t fool her. “I didn’t know,” he said before she could say a word.

  Her fists jabbed against her waist. “You mean you didn’t check the place out first?”

  His arms flailed out from his sides. “I read their brochures. It sounded typical to me. Rustic cabins, sandy beaches, canoes, hiking, archery. What more could a person want?”

  “How about walls without cracks, a lamp on the nightstands, a hook for clothes, and a door that leads somewhere other than outside.”

  Mark moved toward her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Sounds like you’ve never been camping.”

  She nodded her head voraciously, hoping he sensed her sarcasm. “You can say that again. And what about a restroom?”

  “About fifty yards that way,” he said, his finger aimed at a small, gray building. “I hope you remembered a flashlight.”

  She arched a brow. “And shower?”

  His mouth curled to a sheepish grin. “The camp director said there’s only one shower.” Mark lifted a half-hearted finger toward another less-than-eye-catching building about one hundred yards away. “That means we need a schedule. Women shower at night and men in the morning.”

  “Dandy.” She gave him her best evil eye.

  Mark squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, cheer up. Once you get into the spirit of it all, you’ll think camping’s fun. And things could be worse.”

  “They could? How?”

  He tweaked her cheek and spun on his heel toward his own home-away-from-home. Before Lana took a step, a shriek pealed from her cabin. She raced back and met two teens exiting as she attempted to enter. “What happened?” she asked as she studied their ashen faces.

  “A mouse. . .with wings,” Susan screeched.

  “Bats,” Teri corrected her in a pitch that didn’t sound as confident as her response.

  Wrapping her arm around her hair—just in case—Lana darted inside. As she gaped toward the ceiling, she saw what had panicked the girls. A frightened bat had awakened from its rest in the rafters and was dive-bombing the bunks. Recalling her line about no self-respecting mouse, she realized she hadn’t thought about a lowly bat. Apparently they didn’t care at all where they lived.

  But she did.

  Though she wanted to be a good sport, a bat in her bunk-house wasn’t acceptable. She spun around and marched outside. With one sweeping view of the area, she headed for a building marked “Camp Office.” She would give them a piece of her mind—maybe two pieces while she felt in the mood.

  ❧

  Mark looked around the quiet cabin and took a full breath. Along with the stale, damp odor, he smelled relief. He’d gotten his nine young men organized and sent them out to enjoy the scenery. The two parent counselors had finished setting up their cabins, and most everyone had drifted off in various directions.

  Though the cabins were a disappointment, he’d spied the water and headed that way, praying he’d find the wide beach he’d admired in the brochure along with a few sturdy canoes and rowboats. Usually optimistic, he smiled when he saw the narrow sandy shoreline. At least one thing in the pamphlet appeared to be somewhat accurate. Canoes and a couple rowboats had been piled along the grassy bank, and he eyed them, looking for telltale holes. Seeing nothing but solid wood, his optimism grew. If they could survive the beyond-rustic cabins, the two weeks might prove to be enjoyable.

  Already teens were sitting cross-legged in the grass, talking, while others waded through the cadet blue water. Some he’d seen heading in the opposite direction, he assumed to investigate the wooded paths and discover where they led.

  Alone for a moment, Mark eased himself down on the grassy bank and stared across the sun-specked water. He hadn’t told Lana the whole story of his struggle with his career. Someday he would. Even today, he wondered sometimes if the job suited him. He enjoyed the teens—cared about them with all his heart—but that was the problem. Would he be a good role model? Could he allow them to grow on their own terms without manipulating them?

  He’d struggled against his parents’ will for the sake of being an individual. Could he allow the students their individuality and still guide them in God’s Word? The responsibility awed him, and he feared it. How much easier to be a coach. To list rules on sportsmanship and not be directing someone in God’s rules. He didn’t feel worthy. Maybe he should have forced his hand to register for the gym teacher and coach classes.

  Why did he question God’s will? Sometimes he wondered if God was forcing his will or if his own need to stay close to the Lord motivated him. Other times, he felt assured that God had led him for His own purposes. With his debut as a youth director at First Church of Holly, Mark prayed that the Lord would validate his decision.

  Lana’s image rose in his mind. He’d pushed her to the limit, but this too he sensed was God’s direction. Since the day he’d watched her strut across her yard, wielding the hedge trimmer, he’d recognized a woman with spirit and a sense of humor. He loved both of those attributes. And despite her sometimes focusing on herself, he believed a compassionate heart beat within her. Obviously, Lana had embraced Jesus and was a true Christian—but a Christian, he feared, who had allowed one of her “fruits of the Spirit” to spoil on the vine. He grinned at his imaginative speculation, wondering how much of his own fruit was decaying.

  He focused heavenward as a feeling of God’s presence washed over him. The sunlight pierced through a billow of cumulus clouds like a heavenly beam striking the rippling water, almost as if God’s spotlight stirred the lake and pinpointed the horizon. Could this camping experience be part of God’s design? He’d already seen Lana change more than his teasing and pushing could have caused. And he felt his own heart moving closer to the Lord. Would being here bring Lana and him new insight into their relationship?

  “Fancy meeting you here.” Surprisingly good-natured, Lana’s voice surged behind him.

  A warm prickle rose on his neck, and he glanced at her over his shoulder.

  “At least the camp manager apologized,” she said, plopping down on the grass at his side. “He promised he’d make
sure the bat found another cave to sleep in. . .since I can’t.” She tilted her head and shifted her body to view his face.

  Mark touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Lana. The place isn’t quite what the brochure said, but for our purpose, I pray it works. God’s here as well as at the Ritz Hotel.”

  Lana covered his fingers with her own, her voice gentle. “To be honest, I prefer this to the Ritz.” She shook her head and gazed around as if stunned. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  “I hope you meant it, because I feel the same way.” Her face shone in the warm sunlight, and his heart skipped, sensing their nearness.

  “In some ways, I do. Though I admit a convenient bathroom would be awfully nice.”

  He agreed wholeheartedly, but he’d never utter the words or else he’d be rewarded with her I-told-you-so smile.

  “Just be grateful,” he said, knowing his comment had a cryptic element.

  “Grateful for what?” She leaned forward and a scowl settled on her face.

  “At least these flush.”

  Her chuckle rose on the quiet breeze. “I didn’t think about that.”

  His attention turned toward the heavenly glow rippling on the lake. “We’ll have our first Bible study after dinner tonight. When we’re finished, I thought you could introduce the team activity you planned. If they’re still not worn out when it’s over, we’ll end with a campfire and sing-along.”

  “That sounds safer than horseback riding.” She turned her head slowly toward him. “I think.” With her last comment, she rose.

  “We could roast a few marshmallows,” he said, as if that made it even safer.

  She only grinned. “I’m heading back to check out the rest of the facilities. I need to know what else I’m in for.”

  ❧

  As Lana approached her cabin, the sound of youthful voices carried across the grass from the activity building, and in the open field, she saw a volleyball game in progress. The playful cheers and boos sailed to her ears and, for once, sounded inviting. Expecting the cabin to be empty, she faltered when she stepped inside. A dark-haired teen Lana didn’t know raised her head from the pillow and looked at her, then lowered it again. The girl’s eyes looked red rimmed, and Lana hesitated, wondering how the girl would react when she approached her.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, then waited in silence for the teen to respond.

  A muffled “I’m fine” rose from the sleeping bag.

  Lana wandered to her own cot and sat, gazing at the girl two bunks over. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  “Doesn’t really matter,” the girl said.

  Lana rose and slid onto the next bunk, facing her. “Sure it does.” She waited a moment before she spoke again. “Sometimes having someone listen helps,” Lana offered again.

  “My parents say I have eternal PMS.” Her voice muffled in her pillow.

  Lana chuckled but couldn’t help the pull of emotion as she looked at the bundle of sadness lying on the bunk. “It’s good to have a sense of humor.”

  With apparent curiosity, the young woman lifted her head.

  Lana smiled into her amazed, wide eyes. “I often laugh at myself. It’s better than crying. . .and much better than getting angry.”

  The girl rolled on her side and propped her cheek against her fist. “I usually get angry. . .at myself. I rarely let other people know I’m upset. It doesn’t do any good.”

  “What’s the use of getting angry at yourself? Laughter’s lots better.” She moved closer to the teen. “For some reason, I haven’t met you before. I’m Lana West.”

  The teenager paused, then nodded. “Janet. Janet Byrd. Or ‘Bird the Nerd’ as they call me.” Her voice rang with sarcasm.

  When she heard Janet’s comment, Lana’s stomach twisted with disappointment. So many times at the high school, she’d heard the taunting remarks of teens to one another. Sometimes they could be so cruel. But she expected Christians to behave better. “Do you mean one of the kids from church called you that?”

  “No. I usually hear it at school.” She stared at her pillow and then added, “My parents insisted that I come here. It wasn’t my idea. Not at all.”

  Lana shifted and sat on the foot of Janet’s bunk. “Ah, I can hear it now. ‘Janet, it’ll be good for you.’ ”

  The girl sat up cross-legged, then grinned for the first time. “Right. I heard that when I was a little girl. ‘Janet, this spanking hurts me more than it hurts you.’ ” She giggled.

  “I remember hearing the same line. Do you think God programs that sentence into parents?”

  “Could be,” she said, taking a strand of hair and twirling it around her finger. “I guess I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’ve always been a loner. I don’t come to the youth activities at church, so I don’t know these kids.”

  “That makes it hard,” Lana said, knowing now why she’d never met the girl.

  “We moved to a rural area last year. I go to Fenton High, and most of the kids from church go to Holly or Davisburg.”

  “It’s hard to get to know new people, isn’t it? Especially if you’re not involved in the activities. You attend church, though?”

  She nodded. “But that’s it. I don’t drive yet, and my parents don’t want to drop me off and pick me up for teen Sunday school and things, so. . .” Her voice faded away.

  Lana gathered her thoughts. “Even though you don’t know them well, Janet, you share something important with these kids.”

  “Not school.” A look of frustration crossed her face.

  “No, not school. Something much better and more important.”

  The teen’s expression shifted to curiosity.

  “Jesus. That’s much more important than everything. Give the kids a chance, Janet. I can’t promise you miracles. You know as well as I do that teenagers can be great or they can be unkind, but hopefully, the kids at church camp will be an improvement over the high school students. The problem is you have to give a little too.”

  “They seem to look past me,” she said, stretching her legs out and lowering her feet to the floor.

  “It’s because they don’t know you, and when you look away or look uneasy, they protect their own feelings by not taking a chance to talk with you.”

  With a thoughtful look on her face, Janet shrugged.

  Before Lana could pursue the subject any further, noise sounded outside the door. In a heartbeat, Susan and Teri bounded into the cabin and came to a screeching halt.

  Teri looked from Lana to Janet. “Are you sick?” she asked Janet.

  Janet gave Lana a nervous look, then turned her attention to the girls. “No. Just lazy.”

  “Lazy? That’s better than being sick. I hate to be away from home and get sick.” She plopped onto her bunk. “You should have been out with us. Then you’d really be nauseated.”

  Susan laughed. “Our volleyball score was terrible.”

  Teri eyed Janet from head to toe, then narrowed her eyes. “How tall are you?”

  Janet looked at her long legs and stood. “Five-nine. Why?”

  “Can you play volleyball?”

  Janet nodded.

  Teri turned to Susan and motioned to Janet. “The next game, huh?”

  “For sure,” Susan said.

  Shifting her attention back, she folded her arms over her chest and looked at Janet. “Promise you’ll be on our volleyball team tomorrow. Okay? We need someone tall like you.”

  With a sheepish grin, Janet looked at Lana before giving her answer. “Sure. Promise.”

  “Great,” Teri said, crossing to her side and lopping her arm over Janet’s shoulder. “Next time, we’ll beat the pants off them.”

  Nine

  With Mark’s help, Lana spent part of the afternoon trying to hide clues for the camp road rally without anyone seeing her. She’d dodged the campers numerous times, tucking eight clue packets into the haystack at the archery range, hiding another set in one of the canoes, hanging a plastic bag holding the n
ext set in the shower, and putting the last ones in a coffee can behind an unoccupied cabin.

  When the dinner bell sounded, Lana headed for the dining hall, praying for something tolerable. If the meals were as rustic as the setting, she’d beg Mark to find a small town nearby with a fast-food restaurant. As she stepped into the dining hall, the aroma of grease and hot dogs filled the room. What else should she have expected but frankfurters and French fries? While the fare may have pleased the teenagers, Lana hoped she’d brought along some antacid.

  Mark signaled to her from across the room. She joined him and slid onto the bench at one of the long plank tables. When all the teens were accounted for, Mark rose. “Before we eat, who’d like to ask the blessing?”

  No one spoke. “Okay, tonight I’ll take a turn, but someone else can be ready tomorrow. Let’s join hands.”

  Lana rose and was amazed as table after table of teens joined together until they had formed one big zigzag circle around the room.

  Mark bowed his head, and his pleasant, resonant voice filled the room. “We thank You, Lord, for our safe journey here today, and we give thanks for the food prepared by our able chefs. We ask You to bless our two weeks together. Help us to learn to give up our own control over situations and trust solely in You. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

  “And patience, Lord,” Lana whispered, inserting her personal need into the prayer.

  When the teens moved forward to fill their plates, cafeteria-style, chatter, and the clink of dishes filled the room. Lana sat and waited with Mark, unmotivated by the menu, yet hungry.

  “Before you all go back for seconds,” Mark said as a general announcement, “please let the camp counselors have some food too.”

  Laughter and taunting echoed around the room, and when the clamor faded, Lana rose and followed Mark to the food counter. After taking a healthy portion of salad, for which she was grateful, Lana accepted a hot dog and a portion of soggy fries. She decided to forgo dessert.