Once Upon a Campfire Page 5

  “Looks like time’s up.” She glanced back at the parking lot. “Guess I’m taking the certification test.”

  “You’re ready.”

  She grimaced. “Too bad it’s not my job.”

  She sent a quick text to Taylor, then they walked hand-in-hand back to the lodge, where the Tullys were handing out the policies and procedures test. Michael took one look at them and smirked. Beckett accepted the test and flipped him off. There’d be something to explain later when he didn’t have a thing going with the actual Taylor, but that could wait. They had to get through this stuff first.

  The morning rolled on. They knocked out the written test, passed everyone through final First Aid and CPR certification, and stopped for a quick snack before smaller groups broke off for individual activity certification with the outside instructors who’d been brought in for that purpose. Beckett took his troops, along with Heather,Michael, and the certification instructor, to the equipment shed. No way around it. Sarah was doing the full certification now. Even if Taylor miraculously appeared, there was no easy way to swap them out.

  One-by-one, each of them was asked to demonstrate knowledge of equipment. When her turn came, Sarah rolled through it as if she’d been doing it for years, reciting everything he’d taught her without batting an eye. Then they trooped, en masse to Boulder Mountain for the practical demonstration. As he was already certified for far more challenging climbs than this, Beckett took his position up top to observe and intervene as necessary.

  When her turn rolled around, Sarah started on lead, working seamlessly with Diego as he took the intermediate path up for his own top rope test. Once Diego was back on the ground, they swapped. The whole process went smoothly, and Beckett shot Sarah a grin as she reached the top.

  “Nearly done,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”

  “I’m just ready for this to be over.”

  They took the descent together.

  “Now, for our last test of the day, each of you will be expected to demonstrate the ability to properly and immediately catch at least three simulated falls,” Richard announced. “Beckett has volunteered to be our test dummy. Now who’s first?”

  “Me.” Sarah stepped up immediately.

  They went through the safety check and clipped in.

  “Belay on?” he asked.

  “On belay.”

  “Climbing.”

  “Climb on.”

  Because he could, and because he knew she was anxious to get this over with, Beckett took the ascent fast, mimicking some of the rookie mistakes his people were bound to encounter. She took the first two slips like a champ, stopping his descent exactly as she should. Beckett headed on up to the top for the long drop. He glanced below, judging the distance and pegging the location of the various members of the crowd. And he saw Sarah walking up the trail.

  “Oh sh—”

  He didn’t have to simulate the fall this time. His fingers just went numb. He hurtled down for two, gut-churning seconds before Sarah—actual Sarah—shouted “Gotcha!” and caught him. They both dangled for a bit, his weight having hauled her several feet up the rock face.

  “You okay?” she called.

  “Yep.”

  “Holy shit!” someone exclaimed. “There are two of them!”

  Sarah just closed her eyes.

  “Ready to lower,” Beckett said.

  After a brief hesitation, her voice came back, “Lowering.”

  Time for all of them to face the music.

  ~*~

  This is where it all falls apart, Sarah thought as she strode behind the Tullys up to the office at the lodge.

  She’d expected Taylor to just impersonate her until such a time as they could make the switch. Taylor was dressed in the pre-arranged identical t-shirt and khaki shorts. But she’d come right out and introduced herself, which caused a predictable hubbub among those gathered. So much for all Sarah’s hard work this week. Taylor had asked to meet with the Tullys privately, before the owners could make the request themselves. And maybe that was good. She was clearly intent on taking responsibility for herself. But how were they going to explain Sarah’s presence here?

  Taylor interrupted her train of thought. “That was a nice catch back there.”

  In the second it took to do her job, she’d lost five years off her life seeing Beckett plummet like that.

  “Didn’t know you knew how to do that,” Taylor added.

  “I’ve had a good teacher. And anyway, it shouldn’t have been me. Where the hell have you been?” Sarah hissed.

  Taylor shot her an assessing look, clearly wondering who that teacher had been, but she answered the question. “They lost my luggage, so I had to stick around and file a claim. And then by the time I got to the car rental place, they’d fouled up my reservation. Then there was construction on the route from the airport…I’m sorry. I got here as soon as I could.”

  “Yeah well, I’m thinking it’s too little, too late, now.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Taylor soothed.

  Sarah doubted it.

  Michael shut the door to the office and turned to them. “Okay, I think I’m well within my rights to ask what the hell is going on?”

  “There’s a very simple explanation for this,” Taylor began.

  Heather crossed her arms. “I’d love to hear it.”

  “I’m Taylor Meadows. The actual Taylor Meadows you hired. This is my sister, Sarah, who’s been impersonating me this week.”

  The Tullys stared, giving them both the hairy eyeball even as they shared the sort of dumbfounded shock at the resemblance. Sarah shifted, wishing she could just sink through the floor. This sounded even worse than when she’d told Beckett.

  Eventually Michael asked, “Why?”

  “Because I was stuck out in Wyoming on my previous job, past when I thought I’d be finished, and I was going to miss orientation, so I asked her to fill in for me.”

  Heather narrowed her eyes. “And you were, what? Going to just swap out after the fact without telling anybody?”

  “That was the original plan yes. I was supposed to be back to take all the certification tests myself, but I ran into travel difficulties.”

  Michael frowned. “And you’re coming clean now, why?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do. I should never have asked Sarah to step in for me. I should’ve come to you directly when the problem arose, even if it meant losing the job. And I realize I’m probably losing it anyway, but at least my conscience will be clear.”

  A part of Sarah wanted to cheer that her sister was taking responsibility. It was the adult thing to do. But did she have to do it like this? Because the likelihood that Sarah would be welcome here ever again was nigh on nil.

  Maybe Beckett really meant what he said about coming to visit her in Brooklyn.

  Please let him have meant it.

  She sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry for the deception. I was just trying to do her a favor.”

  Heather pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should have had more coffee this morning.”

  “You and me both,” Sarah muttered. “Unless there’s anything else?” She started toward the door. “My bag is already packed. I’ll get off the premises immediately.”

  If she was lucky, maybe they’d give her a chance to say goodbye to Beckett.

  Before she could cross the room, a brisk knock sounded and the door swung open without invitation. Beckett barged in. “Don’t make any rash decisions.”

  Presumably he was speaking to the Tullys, but his eyes zeroed straight in on Sarah.

  “Yes, Beck, please join the discussion,” Michael said drily.

  “Sorry. But I have something to say.”

  The determined glint in his eyes had Sarah stepping toward him. “Beckett, don’t.”

  The last thing she wanted was him falling on his metaphoric sword for her and losing his job.

  He just shot her an I’ve got this wave. “I know this is a weird situa
tion, but I didn’t want y’all tossing anybody out without listening. This isn’t on Sarah.”

  Heather went brows up. “Wait, you knew she wasn’t Taylor?”

  “I figured it out pretty fast.”

  “And you chose not to turn her in,” Michael confirmed.

  “I did.” Beckett’s jaw firmed. “You’re the one who kept spouting off about Pinecone Lodge.”

  Huh?

  Whatever that was about clearly meant something to the Tullys. Michael swore and Heather straightened, coming to very focused attention.

  “Please don’t take anything out on Beckett,” Sarah insisted. “None of this was his idea.”

  That chiseled jaw turned to granite. Stubborn through and through. “Training you was my idea. And I stand by it. You can do the job. You just proved that.”

  “By rights we should fire the lot of you,” Michael said. “This whole thing could be an insurance nightmare.”

  “Nobody got hurt,” Beckett insisted. “And Sarah passed all the certifications.”

  “Not the point. The job wasn’t hers.”

  “Michael,” Heather chided. “We’ve already lost two instructors, one to a broken leg, the other to a family emergency. And our nutritionist up and eloped to Bora Bora. We can’t afford to lose more. Beckett, you’re not going anywhere. And Taylor, as long as you actually pass the certifications, you can stay.”

  “Thank you. Seriously,” Taylor gushed. “That’s more than I was expecting.”

  “What about Sarah?” Beckett asked.

  “What about her? She’s not in any kind of trouble,” Heather said. “What would we charge her with? Conspiracy to do a good job? She aced everything.”

  “Of course, she did,” Taylor muttered, but she softened it with a grin.

  “You said you lost your nutritionist,” Beckett interrupted. “Sarah has a degree in nutrition.”

  Heather’s gaze sharpened. “Really?”

  “Just a bachelor’s degree. I’m not licensed or anything.”

  “But you could probably handle coordinating with the chef and her staff to deal with any special dietary restrictions of guests, right?” Heather pressed.

  “Well, yeah, that’s easy. But—”

  “We could use you,” Michael admitted.

  Sarah’s head spun. Work here? Stay the summer? She looked to Beckett.

  He angled his head. “Different path.”

  “I still have to finish my thesis by the end of the summer.”

  “Yeah, but think about it, Sarah. You said you were having trouble writing in Brooklyn. The guests wouldn’t take up that much of her time, would they?” Beckett asked, turning to Michael.

  “Some sessions more than others, but no, it wouldn’t be that bad. We might ask you to pinch hit occasionally, but it certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you to write around that.”

  “You’d have time to write up here. Time and quiet,” Taylor pointed out. “And plenty of fodder for your camera.”

  And Beckett. I could have Beckett.

  Sarah didn’t know what she wanted for a career. She didn’t know if she really wanted her PhD. She didn’t know if she’d change her mind about the path she was on. But she knew she wanted more than this week with him.

  She let the smile come, and warmed as she watched the matching curve of Beckett’s lips. “Then I guess I’m here for the summer.”

  When he stretched out his hand, she took it.

  “I told you we’d figure it out,” he said.

  “So you did.” Sarah moved into him, pressing her cheek to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. All the tension she’d been carrying around for the past week simply drained out of her. Taylor would, no doubt, be looking for explanations, but that could wait. Right this second, she just wanted to stand here and bask.

  The digitized camera noise had her lifting her head in time to see Michael lining up for another shot with his phone.

  “Look over here and smile now. For the bulletin board at Pinecone Lodge.”

  ~*~

  Beckett set his feet for the last climb of the day. Frasier, a CPA out of California, who’d come with his husband for Grease Week, had decided to branch out from the musical-themed activities for something a little more outdoorsy. Of course, the rest of the Pink Gaydies had come to watch. Tavi, Harley, and Everett—Frasier’s more outgoing half—stood back from Boulder Mountain shouting encouragement.

  “You’ve got this, honey!”

  “Piece of cake.”

  “That harness does amazing things for your ass,” Everett said.

  “I’m much more concerned with how well it keeps my ass from falling off the mountain,” Frasier shot back.

  “You’re all tied in properly,” Beckett assured him. “Anything happens, I’m right here to catch you.”

  “With all those muscles, you can catch me anytime,” Tavi announced.

  Beckett held in a snort. These guys had been some of the most entertaining campers of the summer.

  “Too late,” Taylor interjected. “He got caught months ago by my sister.”

  “Who should have been back by now,” Beckett groused.

  Sarah had left yesterday for New York. Her thesis defense had been scheduled for nine o’clock this morning. Even with the expectation that the defense could take a few hours, he’d expected to hear from her by lunchtime about how it went. Now it was coming up on dinner. Even taking into account the spotty cell service up here, she should have been back to camp. The lack of word was making him twitchy. What if the familiarity of academia had her jumping at the PhD program?

  “Relax. She probably had lunch with her committee and then stopped by her apartment in Brooklyn on her way out of town. It’s Friday. Traffic getting out of the city will be a bitch.”

  Taylor was probably right. But he’d feel better once he laid eyes on her himself.

  “You ready, Frasier?” Beckett asked.

  “Belay on.”

  “On belay.”

  Frasier made his climb with minimal trouble, only losing his footing once and catching himself before Beckett had to intervene. By the time he headed off with the rest of the Pink Gaydies for evening drinks at the boathouse, he was enjoying the rank of conquering hero.

  Beckett began checking and coiling the ropes.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Taylor assured him.

  He only grunted.

  “Beck.”

  In the expectant silence, he lifted his eyes to Taylor’s—eyes the same color and shape as Sarah’s, but with a sharpness he’d learned to recognize over the summer.

  “She’s crazy about you. She didn’t change her mind.”

  He sure as hell hoped not because he was all in with Sarah. Not pressing these past couple of months had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But Beckett knew she had to come to a decision on her own or she’d always doubt herself. “Guess we’ll see.”

  They hauled equipment back to the shed and stowed it.

  “I’m headed up to the boathouse. You coming?” Taylor asked.

  “Nah. I’m headed back to my cabin, grabbing a shower. See you at dinner, maybe.”

  As she headed on up the trail, someone knocked on the doorframe. Beckett whipped around, expecting to see Sarah. The balding guy in the doorway was a severe disappointment. Shaking off his mood, Beckett worked up a smile. “Hey Trent. How was the hike today?”

  “A welcome relief from all the fifties-themed everything. I love my wife, but dear God, a man can only take so much.”

  Beckett’s lips twitched. Trent Cunningham had given his wife this week at camp for an anniversary present because Grease was her favorite movie. He hadn’t realized exactly how hard-core the theme would be when he agreed to come along. In between all the dance classes, fifties makeovers, and karaoke, he’d ended up spending every day in Beckett’s neck of the woods, climbing, ziplining, and hiking in the nearby state park. Beckett liked the guy.

  “Looking for more escape
activities for tomorrow?” Beckett asked.

  “No, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “All right. Come on in.”

  Trent made himself at home, sitting at the table. “I had a chat about you with Michael Tully today.”

  Beckett frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to see if his impression of you matched mine. And it does. He gave you a glowing recommendation.”

  “Recommendation for what, exactly?”

  Trent smiled. “I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m CEO of The Balanos Society. We’re a non-profit dedicated to wilderness conservation.”

  The name was familiar. Beckett wracked his brain. “Out of…North Carolina?”

  “Yeah. We’re based in Raleigh, though we’ve got projects stretching through most of the Appalachian Trail. We’re spearheading some of the efforts toward reforestation in the Gatlinburg area after the fires down there. It’s a big job, and we could use someone who can liaise with the National Park Services and other key stakeholders in the area. Someone with experience in that world, who would also be qualified to get out and get his hands dirty on site to document progress of the project. I think you’d be great in that role.”

  Beckett stared at him. “You’re offering me a job?”

  “Yeah. We’re in early stages of the project, and there are numerous positions to fill, but I’d love to get you in on the ground floor. You interested?”

  “I’d certainly like to hear more about it.”

  Trent filled him in, and the more Beckett heard, the more the thought this job was tailor-made just for him. But he wasn’t thinking just about himself now.

  “You said you wanted someone to document progress of the project. What kind of documentation are you talking? Photographs? Reports?”

  “Definitely. We want pictures of the efforts we’re making and also documentation of what survived.”

  “So, might you have a position for a full-time photographer? Or a position that’s predominantly photography with room to expand into other areas with training?”

  Trent’s gaze sharpened. “You’ve got someone in mind.”

  “I do. And she’s damned good.”

  Before he could say more, the shed door flew open and Sarah danced through. “I passed!” She did a victory boogie before realizing Beckett wasn’t alone. She laughed. “Sorry about that. I’ve been celebrating for the past few hours. I just passed my master’s thesis defense. My degree shall be conferred in October, and I am officially done with school.”