can hire someone to run it."
"I'm selling it. I have a career to concentrate on."
"You can't! Really, Kevin, it's part of your family history. Besides, people still come back every year."
"I'll bet that makes the local undertaker happy."
"What was that? Oh, dear… I have to go or I'll be late to my watercolor class."
She hung up before he could tell her about his marriage. Just as well. Talking about the campground darkened an already black mood.
God, those summers had been agonizing. While his friends at home played baseball and hung out, he was stuck with a bunch of old people and a million rules.
Not so much splashing when you're in the water, dear. The ladies don't like getting their hair wet.
Worship starts in half an hour, son. Get cleaned up.
Were you throwing your ball against the Tabernacle again? There are marks all over the paint.
When he'd turned fifteen, he'd finally rebelled and nearly broken their hearts.
I'm not going back, and you can't make me! It's so damn boring there! I hate it! I'll run away if you try to make me go back! I mean it!
They'd given in, and he'd spent the next three summers in Grand Rapids with his friend Matt. Mart's dad was young and tough. He'd played college football for the Spartans, and every evening he threw the ball around with them. Kevin had worshipped him.
Eventually John Tucker had grown too old to minister, the Tabernacle had burned down, and the religious purpose of the campgrounds had come to an end. His Aunt Judith had moved into the bleak old house on the grounds where Kevin and his parents used to stay, and she'd continued to rent out the cottages in the summer. Kevin had never returned.
He didn't want to think anymore about those endless, boring summers filled with old people shushing him, so he cranked up the volume on his new CD. But just as he left the interstate behind, he spotted a familiar chartreuse Beetle on the shoulder of the road. Gravel clicked against the under-carriage as he pulled over. It was Molly's car, all right. She was leaning against the steering wheel.
Great. Just what he needed. A hysterical female. What right did she have to be hysterical? He was the one who should be howling.
He debated driving away, but she'd probably already spotted him, so he got out and walked toward the car.
The pain stole her breath, or maybe it was the fear. Molly knew she had to get to a hospital, but she was afraid to move. Afraid if she moved, the hot, sticky wetness that had already seeped through the skirt of her white woolen wedding dress would become a flood that would sweep away her baby.
She'd attributed the first cramps to hunger pangs from forgetting to eat all day. Then a spasm had gripped her that was so strong she'd barely been able to pull the car over.
She folded her hands over her stomach and curled in on herself. Please don't let me lose this baby. Please, God .
"Molly?"
Through the haze of her tears, she saw Kevin peering through the car window. When she didn't move, he rapped on the glass. "Molly, what's wrong?"
She tried to respond but couldn't.
He jiggled the handle. "Unlock the door."
She began to reach for it, but another cramp hit. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around her thighs to hold them together.
He rapped again, harder this time. "Hit the lock! Just hit it!"
Somehow she managed to do as he asked.
A wave of bitterly cold air struck her as he jerked open the door, and his breath made a frosty cloud in the air. "What's wrong?"
Fear clogged her throat. All she could do was bite her lip and squeeze her thighs more tightly.
"Is it the baby?"
She managed a jerky nod.
"Do you think you're having a miscarriage?"
" No !" She fought the pain and tried to speak more calmly. "No, it's not a miscarriage. Just—just some cramps."
She could see that he didn't believe her, and she hated him for it.
"Let's get you to a hospital."
He ran to the other side of the car, opened the door, and reached through to shift her
"I'm selling it. I have a career to concentrate on."
"You can't! Really, Kevin, it's part of your family history. Besides, people still come back every year."
"I'll bet that makes the local undertaker happy."
"What was that? Oh, dear… I have to go or I'll be late to my watercolor class."
She hung up before he could tell her about his marriage. Just as well. Talking about the campground darkened an already black mood.
God, those summers had been agonizing. While his friends at home played baseball and hung out, he was stuck with a bunch of old people and a million rules.
Not so much splashing when you're in the water, dear. The ladies don't like getting their hair wet.
Worship starts in half an hour, son. Get cleaned up.
Were you throwing your ball against the Tabernacle again? There are marks all over the paint.
When he'd turned fifteen, he'd finally rebelled and nearly broken their hearts.
I'm not going back, and you can't make me! It's so damn boring there! I hate it! I'll run away if you try to make me go back! I mean it!
They'd given in, and he'd spent the next three summers in Grand Rapids with his friend Matt. Mart's dad was young and tough. He'd played college football for the Spartans, and every evening he threw the ball around with them. Kevin had worshipped him.
Eventually John Tucker had grown too old to minister, the Tabernacle had burned down, and the religious purpose of the campgrounds had come to an end. His Aunt Judith had moved into the bleak old house on the grounds where Kevin and his parents used to stay, and she'd continued to rent out the cottages in the summer. Kevin had never returned.
He didn't want to think anymore about those endless, boring summers filled with old people shushing him, so he cranked up the volume on his new CD. But just as he left the interstate behind, he spotted a familiar chartreuse Beetle on the shoulder of the road. Gravel clicked against the under-carriage as he pulled over. It was Molly's car, all right. She was leaning against the steering wheel.
Great. Just what he needed. A hysterical female. What right did she have to be hysterical? He was the one who should be howling.
He debated driving away, but she'd probably already spotted him, so he got out and walked toward the car.
The pain stole her breath, or maybe it was the fear. Molly knew she had to get to a hospital, but she was afraid to move. Afraid if she moved, the hot, sticky wetness that had already seeped through the skirt of her white woolen wedding dress would become a flood that would sweep away her baby.
She'd attributed the first cramps to hunger pangs from forgetting to eat all day. Then a spasm had gripped her that was so strong she'd barely been able to pull the car over.
She folded her hands over her stomach and curled in on herself. Please don't let me lose this baby. Please, God .
"Molly?"
Through the haze of her tears, she saw Kevin peering through the car window. When she didn't move, he rapped on the glass. "Molly, what's wrong?"
She tried to respond but couldn't.
He jiggled the handle. "Unlock the door."
She began to reach for it, but another cramp hit. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around her thighs to hold them together.
He rapped again, harder this time. "Hit the lock! Just hit it!"
Somehow she managed to do as he asked.
A wave of bitterly cold air struck her as he jerked open the door, and his breath made a frosty cloud in the air. "What's wrong?"
Fear clogged her throat. All she could do was bite her lip and squeeze her thighs more tightly.
"Is it the baby?"
She managed a jerky nod.
"Do you think you're having a miscarriage?"
" No !" She fought the pain and tried to speak more calmly. "No, it's not a miscarriage. Just—just some cramps."
She could see that he didn't believe her, and she hated him for it.
"Let's get you to a hospital."
He ran to the other side of the car, opened the door, and reached through to shift her
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