Mending Places

Mending Places by Denise Hunter

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Authors: Denise Hunter
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their A-frame tents. Hanna and Micah laughed when the boys’ tent collapsed on them, then Hanna went to help.
    After dinner Micah showed them how to use biodegradable soap and a scrub pad to scour the pots and utensils. By the time they’d cleaned up, the pudding was set, and they ate it as they watched the sun slip over the horizon.
    After dessert Hanna removed her boots and socks. The red spot on her heel burned hot, but the blister had already burst.
    “Blisters?” Micah had sneaked up behind her.
    “So much for two pairs of socks.”
    “You might want to wash it off.” He dug the first-aid kit from his backpack and knelt down beside her. “Ever used moleskin?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds gross.”
    He cut a circle from the material while she washed her heel with the leftover water and soap, then she returned to her log. Turning her heel out, she showed him the sore spot, and he cut a smaller hole in the center of the circle, making a donut shape. Hanna felt awkward letting him treat her sweaty feet, but consoled herself that no one else smelled any better than she did.
    Micah peeled off the plastic backing and placed the moleskin on her heel, pressing hard to ensure a tight grip. His hands felt cool on her warm feet. “This should keep the friction off. If you develop anothersore spot tomorrow, let me know, and I can treat it before a blister forms.”
    She smiled her thanks, then he went to doctor one of the boys’ blisters.
    Hanna didn’t know about everyone else, but fatigue began to claim her body once she finally relaxed. Micah prepared a fire as dusk settled quickly around them. The adults discussed their hometowns and occupations while the boys talked among themselves, mostly about girls, from what Hanna could gather. The Thompsons cuddled up on a log, sharing secret glances and whispers.
    When darkness covered the land and the fire crackled with life, Hanna fished in her backpack for the marshmallows she’d brought.
    “Anyone for roasted marshmallows?”
    The youngest boy’s eyes lit up, but his parents announced it was time for all of them to turn in.
    Groans and complaints sounded, but Mr. Schaeffer reminded them they’d be rising at dawn, and that seemed to smother further argument.
    Hanna and Micah said good night as the Thompsons rose, arm and arm, and announced they were retiring too.
    The night air, already abuzz with crickets and cicadas, was filled with the zipping of tent flaps and the rumble of muted conversation.
    Hanna found a long, skinny stick, slipped two marshmallows on the end, and held it out over the fire with Micah’s.
    The heat warmed her face and arms, and she slipped out of her light jacket.
    “It’s burning,” Micah said from across the fire.
    She pulled it out and blew at the flames. “Actually, I like them burned.” She pulled off a gooey, char-crusted confection and tasted. “Umm. It’s been years since I’ve had roasted marshmallows.”
    “Too bad we don’t have some chocolate and graham crackers.”
    She gave him a mock glare. “Don’t even get me going.”
    The first ones tasted so good, she thought she could eat half the bag, but by the time she’d had four, the sweet taste had grown old.
    “I think I’ll turn in now,” she said. “Want me to help put out the fire?”
    “No, you go on. I’m going to stay up a bit longer.”
    Taking her flashlight, she slipped into the pup tent and unrolled her sleeping bag. She settled into it, then grabbed her clothing bag and flattened it for a pillow. Night sounds seeped through the tent fabric, lulling her mind and her already-weary body. She left the flashlight on, flipping it upside down, then turned to her back.
    Thank You, Lord, for the beauty of nature. Thank You for Your protection and provision.
She closed her eyes, and moments later she succumbed to the beckoning call of sleep.
    The next morning Hanna woke to the faint light of dawn. She pulled the bag up over her shoulders, seeking warmth in the

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