Chapter 8: Jill
After Karen and I herd the fifteen bleary-eyed teenagers back down the footpath to the ranch for breakfast, I double back to go find Griffin. He can eat something and then be on his way, wherever that might be.
But he’s not there when I return. I look down the beach, but there are only some gulls, and, in the very far distance, a person walking a dog. The waves slide up the beach and back, and I wonder if Griffin disappeared just like how he had arrived.
I break down my tent and check the area for any debris that the campers might not have picked up before they had left and only find one empty beer can and a lollypop wrapper. They’re a decent bunch of kids, I think, as I carry my stuff back to the ranch.
I’m heading over to the barn, debating whether or not to mention anything to Bill and Lorrie about Griffin. A small part of me wonders about him, but if he’s truly gone, then what’s the point in bringing him up? Oh, guess what, last night some guy washed ashore and I let him sleep in my tent and then when I went back this morning he was gone. Uh-huh.
But then I hear Bill calling my name. He’s standing on the porch of their house, a little Craftsman bungalow, built atop a gently sloping hill that overlooks the barn.
“Jill!” he says, waving. “Can I steal you for a moment?”
“Sure,” I call back. I dump my gear and turn and walk toward the house. He waits for me on the porch, and as I approach, I try to read his expression. He seems as affable as always.
“Sounds like last night was a success,” he says. “Everyone seems happy. Let’s go into my office for a minute.”
We walk inside and down a short hallway to his office. And there, sitting on the faded blue couch, is Allison. Next to her is Griffin. He looks a little more put together than he did last night, though that isn’t saying much. His hair is messy and black and flecked with sand. He’s got probably a week-old beard going. But underneath all that dark hair you can see he’s got this perfectly square cut jaw and his eyes are large and bright blue, framed by those thick black lashes.
Bill goes and sits behind his desk, leans back in the chair. “Allison came to me with an interesting proposition this morning, but I thought we should talk to you about it. It seems her friend—Griffin, is it?”
Griffin nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Bill, please. None of this ‘sir’ business. Griffin is interested in joining our team for the summer.”
“One of Allison’s friends,” I say slowly. I can see Allison out of the corner of my eye, arms crossed, foot tapping. I can practically feel her glare boring a hole into my side. “Actually, I don’t think that would be the best—”
“It would be good if there’s another guy around,” Allison cut in. “Especially since Brandon’s not here this year. It would be good for the guy campers.” She gives me a level stare and in that moment there is nothing more I’d rather do than reach over and slap her across the face.
“I do have some outdoor experience,” Griffin says. “I actually used to go to a camp like this myself, when I was younger. In the Catskills. I’d love the opportunity to have some new outdoor experiences. This seems like a great place.”
Bill looks from me to Griffin to Allison, then back to me again. “Jill,” he says. “If this young man would like to stay on with us, I don’t see a problem with that. A friend of Allison’s, after all, is a friend of ours.”
My mouth falls open and I shoot a look at Allison, who is now staring straight at her father, a tiny smirk on her face.
“That’s not—” I start to say.
“Of course, if any problems arise,” Bill is saying to Griffin, “we’re going to have to ask you to leave immediately, but we like to be inclusive here at Sea Horse Ranch. We don’t like to turn people away. Especially if you’re eager for some new outdoor experiences, as you say you are.” Bill smiles broadly at the three of us, like he wants to gather us all in a big group hug. “Why don’t you get back out there and help Lorrie and Karen get everyone ready for the trail ride. It’s the perfect day for it.”
Allison is elated, and can barely keep herself from jumping up and down.
“This might work out,” I hear Bill say to himself as we file out. “Not that Karen isn’t working out, but it’d be nice to have another male around, since Brandon’s not here.”
Griffin gives me an apologetic smile but then Allison pulls on his hand and he turns and follows her. I watch them walk off. A scrub jay screeches from the branch of one of the live oak trees. The grating noise seems an appropriate soundtrack for how I imagine the rest of this day—the rest of this summer—is going to go.
*
On Sunday, I drive back home to see Mom. The whole way back, my hands clench the steering wheel, my shoulders inch up closer and closer to my ears until I have to consciously remind myself to relax. Still, by the time I actually get to the house and am inside, I can feel how tight my shoulders have gotten again.
“Is camp not going well this year?” she asks after we talk for a few minutes. I thought I’d been doing a good job disguising my irritation, but apparently not. “Did something happen?”
I debate not telling her. What, after all, is there that she could do about it? If anything, it will just upset her, and she doesn’t need that right now. So I give her a modified version.
“There’s this guy there who I’m not really getting along with,” I say. “I just . . . I wasn’t expecting him to be there.”
“You can get along with anyone, Jilly,” Mom says. “You’re a very friendly person. Can you try to see the good qualities in him? I’m sure he must have one or two.”
“It’s not even that I’m not getting along with him, per se; he reminds of Sean, I guess.”
“Ah.” Mom smiles faintly and looks over at the orchid. “You really should give him another chance, sweetie. He clearly cares about you so much.”
“Why? Because he sends flowers?” I rub my eyes. “Can we talk about something else?”
I leave some time after dinner, when Sharon shows up for the night shift. I give Mom a kiss and tell her I’ll see her next week.
“Drive safely,” she says. “And don’t forget that your uncle will be out here Sunday. I think he’d like to take us out. Something simple, brunch maybe. I think I might be up for that. It’s been a while since I last went out, but I think I feel up for it.”