Secrets Revealed Pt. I Ch. 03

Part I – History

Chapter 3

"I thought they were building contractors," I said.

"They're architecture students. Trip remodels houses over the summer. That's how he pays for his school."

"Wow," Patrice said.

I nodded in agreement.

"Anyway, that's how Trip's getting here for the weekend. They rented a plane. Paul is flying him down this morning and then flying on to see a friend. Trip goes back home tomorrow morning right before lunch."

I nodded in understanding.

"And you're staying in Natchitoches tonight?" Patrice asked.

Abby looked a little embarrassed at that question.

"Abby, what do you thinkwe did last night?" I asked, earning a punch in the arm from the lovely creature at my side. "Ouch."

Abby and Patrice giggled while I rubbed my arm.

"So you know how to get to the airport, right?" Abby asked, looking at me and deftly changing the subject.

"I've never been there, but it's near the university. We'll find it alright. It should take about half an hour to get there. Will you be able to find your way back tomorrow?"

"I got here, didn't I? I just don't know my way around the town, that's all," Abby told me.

"So when do we have to leave?" Patrice asked.

"I guess about 9:30. Trip told me they were supposed to land at 10:00. Is that okay?"

"Sure, it's fine. We're going to have lunch in town and see a movie. Then I guess we'll come back here and... find something to do." Looking at Patrice, I guarded my arm and hastily added, "Okay, I'll stop. Just don't hit me again."

I rubbed my arm as if she had really hurt me. She laughed at my pathetic attempts at humor.

Abby packed an overnight bag while I waited outside. I didn't want her to feel self-conscious about me seeing what she put in the bag. Abby was cute and Trip was going to be a lucky guy tonight. I knew just how lucky because I was going to be with Patrice.

Abby followed behind us in her car as I headed north. There were signs for the small airport and I had passed by it before so we didn't have any problems finding it. I had never actually been there before—it was across the river from the university—so we didn't know where to go to meet a plane. There were few people hanging around two or three planes. I stopped near a big metal building and got the attention of one of the men. He walked over and asked if we were lost. He was wearing coveralls with the nameJason sewn in script over one pocket.

"I think so. We're looking for a plane."

He nodded, not pointing out how stupid my comment sounded.

"Are you looking for someone?" he asked.

"We're here to meet some friends who are flying in from Tennessee. Where is the terminal?"

He looked funny at me for a minute, and then smiled.

"Oh, you want the pilot's lounge. Go back over there," and he pointed to what looked like a two-story house, complete with dormer windows, at the far end, away from the buildings where people were working on airplanes. "That red brick building," he explained, "someone will be able to help you there."

"Thanks a lot," I told him.

He nodded before turning back to the open building where people were working on an engine.

I pulled up in front of the building that Jason had pointed out, and parked. There wasn't a sign but it was the only place matching his description.

"I guess this is where you can meet your friends," I said to Abby as she got out of her car. I had just about reached the door when someone called out to us. Turning, I saw a dark-haired woman coming our way. She had short hair and olive skin. She didn't so much walk as float. Her gait was light and she seemed tobelong in the air.

"Hi, I'm Lisa. Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly.

"Yes, we're supposed to meet some people here. They're flying in from Tennessee," I explained.

Lisa thought about that and said, "Well, we haven't had anyone land yet this morning. They're probably not here yet. Why don't you come inside the line shack and wait."

She held the door open for us and we all stepped inside. The cool air was a welcome relief from the morning heat. The small room had two brown leather couches in front of a counter. The smell of something Italian cooking was coming from a kitchen in a bigger room off to one side, desperately competing with the scents of stale cigarette smoke and motor oil.

Lisa walked over to the counter and looked at some papers amid a scattering of what looked like maps or brochures. A radio on the counter issued forth cryptic words every few minutes.

"Ah, there's some bad weather over northern Mississippi. Your friends probably had to fly around it. Are they flying VFR or IFR?"

"They're not on an airliner. It's a private plane," Abby explained.

Lisa smiled politely. "You're not pilots, are you?"

We shook our heads.

"I meant, are they flying on instruments?" At the blank expressions on our faces, she continued, "They shouldn't be delayed more than half an hour or so. Where are you from?"

Lisa made polite conversation with us while we waited. She showed us to the bigger room and stopped by the stove to stir the contents of a pot. She pointed to the sofas in this room and we all sat. Abby was a little concerned about the weather but Lisa reassured her that it was nothing to be worried about. While we were talking, a man walked in. He was wiping grease from his hands with a towel.

"Lis, when Dr. Henson calls, tell him when we pulled one of the jugs we saw it's gonna need a ring job. Terry says he can't get it ready until at least Thursday. Oh, hello."

He seemed to notice us all at once, his blue eyes focusing on the women.

"This is my husband, John. We run the FBO," Lisa explained. Then, to John, "They're waiting for some friends who're flying in."

"F-B-O?" Abby asked.

"We manage the airport," Lisa told her. She stood and walked over to John, wiping an errant blob of grease from his tanned face as she smiled at him. "We always dreamed of doing this when we retired. Between him and Terry, our mechanic, there's nothing they can't fix."

John smiled at us and headed back out the door. Abby looked over at Patrice and me.

"Why don't you go on into town. I don't want to make you late for your movie," she urged us.

"Are you sure? We can wait until they get here," Patrice said, squeezing my hand.

I nodded in agreement.

Abby looked to Lisa, who spoke up.

"Sure, everything's going to be fine. Nothing to worry about," she said. "You can wait here with me."

Lisa sat down on the other plush sofa. There was no one else around, but the remains of card games still littered a few small tables. A television played on, unwatched, against one wall. The compressor kicked on inside the Coke machine and that sound seemed to spur Patrice into action.

"Alright," Patrice said.

We stood up and Patrice leaned over to hug Abby.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she told her friend.

"I'm hoping to doexactly what you did," Abby told her and both of them blushed.

Lisa just looked away and smiled. I thanked her for her hospitality and we left. As we were walking out, an older man was walking in. He quickly stood aside to hold the door for us and we heard Lisa greeting him from behind us.

"Hello, George. Heading down to see your son?" she called from behind us.

George nodded politely and smiled as we passed.

* * * * *

"—pass a hot summer day," my wife was saying.

I nodded, not wanting to let on that I had no idea what she was saying. We were walking under the trees, heading from the archery range to the bayou that wrapped lazily around the camp. It was like yesterday when I was last here, yet it was like a thousand years ago. When Laura spied the water glistening through the trees, her eyes lit up.

"Is this where you rode canoes, Daddy?" she asked. "Did you go exploring in the water?"

"Yes, canoes," I answered.

* * * * *

"Canoes! And we camp in tents?" Patrice asked.

I nodded.

"Can we share a tent?"

I shook my head.

"Unfortunately, no. We're still chaperoning, remember?"

"I know. I was just hoping. After last weekend, I can't think of anything else."

I smiled at Patrice's discomfort.

"Tell me about it."

Patrice smiled at something.

"At least Abby is in the same boat," she said. "After Trip's visit, we did a lot of talking."

"Comparing notes?" I asked slyly.

"Girls don't talk about that," she said.

I gave her a hard look.

"Well, not like guys do." Then, with her tone softening, "Don't worry. You were much better than Trip was, from what little she told me."

"We might get a chance to sneak off into the woods late at night, but that depends on what happens," I told her. "We're going to have the kids with us."

"I know. I think it will still be fun."

"In a few weeks, we'll take a canoe trip on the weekend, just counselors. Then, we can share a tent," I told her.

Her eyes lit up at that. Then she got more wistful.

"I don't think Abby had as good a time as she wants me to believe," Patrice said.

"What makes you think that?"

"When she talks about it, they had a great time. They did some stuff around town, and the sex was good, but theway she tells it makes it all sound like she had built up the reunion to be more than it turned out to be."

"Like she was expecting more?" I asked.

"Or Trip was expecting more. Maybe I'm wrong, but I'm worried about the two of them."

"It's hard maintaining a long distance relationship," I lamented.

"I know."

Patrice stopped. When I realized it, I stopped too and turned to face her. Her eyes mirrored the sadness in her soul.

"I've been thinking about us, about when the summer is over. What's going to happen?" she asked.

I could hear tears in her voice, though they were not yet apparent on her face. At the same time, I felt a pain tear through my chest.

"We're going to stay in touch and make it work," I said, her sadness becoming infectious. "Shit, Patrice, I don't know. I want it to last, too. Sometimes you just have to live for the moment, you know?"

She nodded. She was looking to me for answers that I wasn't sure I had.

"You have to enjoy what you have now instead of worrying about the future. We'll deal with it when it comes. We'll make it work out."

She fell into my arms, crying on my shoulder. I could feel the outline of her plastic nametag as her breast pushed it into my chest. She sobbed and I was trying hard not to cry along with her.

"I love you, Patrice. You know that."

"I know," she said, her words muffled by my shirt.

"I'm not going to let you go that easily," I finished.

"Thank you," she said, looking up to me with a tear streaked face but still holding her arms around my neck. "I love you, too."

We stood there smiling until another counselor walked past.

"PDA," he reminded us as he walked past.

"Sometimes I hate rules," Patrice muttered loud enough for only me to hear. Then, after a sigh, "I have to get back to the kids."

"Yeah, me too."

I planted a kiss on her nose.

"Now stop crying. Think happy thoughts. Don't try to solve everyone's problems."

She smiled at that and then she was gone. I watched her walk away in the summer sunshine. It was probably at that moment that it hit me. It wasn't a surprise. I knew it was coming. I had just never faced it head-on before. I was very much in love with Patrice. I wasn't falling in love. I had been there already for a long time.

* * * * *

"-long time since you've been here, hasn't it, Daddy?" Laura asked.

Shaking my head (and still feeling that pain in my heart), I struggled back to the present.

"Yes, it has been a long time, dear. Daddy was still in college back then."

"Oh, so you were old when you were here."

I heard a delightful sound, the sound of my wife's laughter. She put her arms around me from behind and hugged me.

"Yes, you wereold back then," she said, continuing to laugh.

The sound of her laughter brought another memory crashing down upon me from the past, but the laughter came later. First came the crying.

* * * * *

It was about the middle of our summer at camp. Patrice and I were inseparable, as much as our jobs allowed, and Abby was missing Trip something fierce. We were just finishing lunch with our charges when one of the kitchen staff, back from a run into town, was working his way around the dining hall passing out mail. A whoop rang out from Patrice's table. There's no other way to describe it.

I looked over in alarm, as did probably everybody else in the building. The sound came from Abby, who was holding an open letter in her hand.

"He's coming!" she shouted.

Suddenly she realized what she had done, and that she was now the center of attention. She looked up as she blushed crimson, all eyes upon her. She looked around and abruptly sat down but her enthusiasm reappeared seconds later.

"Patrice, he's coming! In two weeks, he's coming back for another visit!"

Patrice and I were probably the first two to catch on to what Abby was carrying on about. Trip was coming back for another visit. I was glad to hear it. His last visit cheered up Abby a lot. She again had something really good to look forward to. Patrice looked like she was sharing Abby's joy. Some of the older girls at their table seemed to have figured out that the letter was from Abby's boyfriend.

Later that day, I had a chance to talk to Patrice and, after a quick kiss, brought up the subject of Trip.

"I'm not so sure Trip's visit will be a good thing," she told me.

"Not a good thing? Why not?" I inquired.

"Well, a few days after Trip left last time, Abby was going on about how he didn't seem to have a really good time, not as good as she did. She was worried she didn't, uh," and Patrice looked around to confirm we were still alone. Now whispering, she continued, "She is worried she didn'tsatisfy him."

"If he's coming back for more, it couldn't have been all bad," I said with a grin. "I mean, the guy's flying here from Tennessee just to see her."

"I guess so." After a deep sigh, "Ihope so. I really do for her. She's sweet and she really deserves someone special"

"It will all work out fine," I reassured Patrice.

I didn't give much more thought to Trip's visit after that. From the occasional look of concern Patrice showed, I think she was still worried. I wondered if she and Abby were talking about the upcoming visit.

On Wednesday morning, Patrice and I, along with four other counselors, did our stint as chaperones on the weekly overnight canoe trip for the older campers. After breakfast, we spent two hours making sure our charges had all the things they would need to survive a night in the wilderness. Jim was going to be taking care of the bunkhouse by himself while I was gone, as I would do the same when his turn came up. Abby would also be on her own. It was with much difficulty that I arranged for my week to coincide with Patrice's.

When I was sure we were all ready, we moved our gear outside. Brian and the old blue school bus pulled up. The bus had already picked up some of the other campers. Patrice gave me a wave and a smile from her open window.

We got loaded up and moved a little further along to pick up the last group. I was able to sit with Patrice and she grabbed my hand as I sat down.

"Ready to go camping?" she asked.

The two girls sitting behind her cheered when she said that.

"I think someone is," I said, looking over the seatback and smiling at the girls.

They nodded eagerly.

Once everyone going on the overnight trip was on board, Brian stood up, holding onto the shiny post to steady himself as the driver started moving the bus out towards the parking lot and to the road beyond. Brian held up his hand for silence.

"Listen up, campers. We're going to have about a thirty minute ride before we get off the bus so I'm going to go over our trip."

Someone started talking and Brian interrupted him with a hard stare.

"I need you to listen to me. Your safety depends on it."

The boy blushed and stopped talking.

"When we get off the bus, we're going to unload our gear. There's more gear in the back of the bus that we need to take with us. Next, we'll take the canoes off the trailer and the counselors will put them in the water. I need each of you to carry your gear down to the canoes. We'll load up your gear in the canoe you'll be riding in. We also need to put the camping gear on board, so the canoes will be really full when we're done. If you forget your gear, you will be the one doing without tonight.

"We are going to be paddling downstream back to the camp and we should make it back before dinnertime tomorrow night. We will be stopping to make camp about five o'clock this afternoon so we have enough time to setup camp and cook dinner before dark."

"What about lunch?" one of the boys asked.

"I'm getting to that. We have sandwiches packed for lunch and we'll stop along the way to eat. The only meals we'll be cooking are dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Can we catch our own food?" another boy asked, accompanied by groans from most of the girls.

"Listen up and you will have all your questions answered. We have all the food with us that we're going to need.

"Some of you will be sharing a canoe with a counselor. I am sure they will appreciate it if you don't tip the canoe over so they don't have to sleep in a wet sleeping bag."

The kids laughed at that.

"You will have to wear life jackets the entire time you are on the water. This is for your safety. I don't want to see anyone taking their life jacket off in the boat, alright?"

One girl raised her hand, looking timid. Brian pointed to her.

"What do we do if we have to go to the bathroom?" she asked, blushing.

"Do it behind a bush!" a boy shouted and some of the kids laughed.

Patrice walked over to her and told her something quietly. The girl nodded, her blush only slightly fading.

As Brian predicted, the bus pulled over at a deserted boat landing about a half hour later. We got off the bus and the guys put the boats in the water while the girls helped the kids move their gear off the bus.

With that, we started getting into our boats. The counselors watched the kids very carefully. The kids who had less experience in the canoes shared a canoe with a counselor. Brian took up the lead. I was about midway in the pack, sitting in the back of my canoe and doing most of the work as my young camper did his best to paddle. With the current, it didn't take much work. We mostly steered and helped the canoe along a little. As the morning wore on, we caught up to Patrice's canoe and ended up side by side. She gave me a brilliant smile as we came alongside. The girl in the front of her canoe, Elaine, saw us and looked back to Patrice. She studied the look on Patrice's face for a few moments before asking a question. She spoke quietly so only the four of us could hear.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Elaine asked Patrice.

I looked to Patrice for her answer. She gave me a quick glance, then looked back to Elaine as she countered, "Do you think he's cute enough?"

Patrick, the boy in my canoe, spoke up next.

"Ugh! Boyfriend! Counselor Tim would never do that. Right, Counselor Tim?"

Patrice looked to me, as did Elaine, but Patrice was smiling broadly. I gave Patrice an appraising look like I'd give a car I was thinking of buying.

"I don't know, Patrick. She's very pretty."

Patrick grimaced.

"Yes, I think I'd like to be her boyfriend."

Patrice looked to Elaine and said quietly, "Yes, he's my boyfriend."

"Hooray!" Elaine shouted.

"Gross!" yelled Patrick.

"Give it time, Patrick," I assured him.

"Never!" he declared.

As he made sickly sounds, the rest of us laughed. After that, we were mostly quiet. The canoes slipped almost silently through the water. A paddle made an occasional bump against the aluminum side of a canoe, or water dripping from a paddle made a tiny trickling sound. While the kids were looking forward and trying to paddle, Patrice and I kept giving each other side glances.