The Silken Web

To hell with that! Kathleen told herself emphatically, and swung her legs over the side of the bunk and stamped into the bathroom.

She showered in tepid water with her special moisturizing soap and, after toweling off, laved herself with an after-bath splash. Her heavy hair was released from the restrictive rubber bands and brushed vigorously. She thought of leaving it to hang free, but decided against it. Even after the sun dipped behind the mountains, the evenings could still be warm. She gathered her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and tied a navy-blue ribbon around it. The wisps that framed her face were damp from her shower and curled beguilingly against her dewy skin.

She didn’t wear much makeup while at the camp. A light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and high cheekbones only accented her apricot-tanned skin and called attention to the red highlights in her auburn hair. She smoothed a blushing gel onto the hollows under her cheekbones, gouged out a scoop of peach-flavored lip gloss with the tip of her little finger and applied it to her lips. After whisking her mascara wand along the tips of long black lashes, she was finished.

Kathleen slipped into lacy bikini panties, which was the one feminine luxury she allowed herself during the summer, and the uniform pair of navy shorts. However, for dinner she usually replaced the camp T-shirt with a blouse. What I’d give for an evening to really dress up, Kathleen thought wistfully as she slipped on clean white tennis socks and sneakers.

She crossed the compound in the direction of the mess hall just as the dinner bell sounded. Meals were the one thing the children were eager to line up for, and she joined them at the door.

“Hey, Kathy,” called one of the other counselors. Mike Simpson was a brawny college boy majoring in physical education at the University of Arkansas. His size belied his easygoing manner and gentle patience with the kids. He coached them in the more vigorous sports, like soccer, softball and volleyball.

“Hi, Mike,” Kathleen shouted over the loud racket the children made while they stood in squirming lines waiting to invade the cafeteria.

“The Harrisons asked that you join them in their office before dinner. They’re waiting for you.”

“Okay, thanks,” Kathleen flung over her shoulder as she descended the steps.

Behind her, she heard Mike say, “Very funny. Which one of you wise guys pinched me? Huh?” His question was met with shrill laughter.

She was still smiling as she pushed open the door to the air-conditioned building that housed the administrative offices of Mountain View.

“Kathleen, is that you?” Edna Harrison called out to her as she shut the door behind her.

“Yes,” Kathleen answered. She crossed the outer office toward the Harrisons’ private living quarters.

“Come in, dear. We’ve been waiting for you.”

By now, Kathleen was standing framed in the doorway and she came face-to-face with Erik Gudjonsen. He stood up from his seat on the early-American sofa. His back was to the Harrisons.

“Kathleen Haley, meet Erik Gudjonsen,” Edna said. “He’s the photographer from UBC. Erik, Kathleen is one of our board members. We simply couldn’t run the camp without her.”

“Oh, I’ve met Ms. Haley. We bumped into each other this afternoon.”

Chapter Two

Kathleen wished she didn’t lack the nerve to slap his smug face. For the benefit of her friends, she said politely, “Hello again, Mr. Gudjonsen.”

“Come in and sit down, Kathleen,” B. J. said. “Mr. Gudjonsen was asking some questions about Mountain View, and I told him you were the one who could best explain the concept of the camp, since you had lived it. We’ll go to dinner shortly.”

Because Edna and B. J. Harrison were seated in the only two easy chairs in the room, Kathleen had no choice but to sit beside Erik on the sofa. Self-consciously, she tugged on the legs of her shorts as she sat down.

“How was your day, Edna, B. J.?” she asked.

The couple was as dear to her as parents. In their early sixties, they were still robust and healthy. The love and concern they showed the orphans who came to their camp each summer was inspiring.

Kathleen always thought of the Harrisons as a unit, and oddly enough, they resembled each other. Both were short and plump. While Edna’s eyes were warm brown and her husband’s gray, they both reflected open friendliness. They walked with the same purposeful stride. Their gestures when they talked were almost identical.

Kathleen doubted that either of them had ever had an uncharitable thought about even the most unscrupulous character. They found goodness in everyone and everything. As she thought on it now, Kathleen realized that the similarities that had developed between them weren’t so surprising since they had been married for more than forty years.

“We had a leaky pipe in one of the cabins and I tinkered with that today,” B. J. was saying. “I think I saved a plumber’s fee. We’ll know in a day or so.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, dear.” Edna patted his knee. “Tomorrow you can work on that ornery air conditioner.”

“You see, Erik?” B. J. opened his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “They’re never satisfied.”

“Oh, you!” Edna exclaimed softly, shoving her husband’s shoulder lovingly. She turned her attention back to the photographer, who was enjoying the older couple’s display of affection. “Erik, Kathleen first came to our camp when she was fourteen. I don’t want to embarrass you, Kathleen, but I’m sure Erik would like to hear your story.” Her kind eyes were anxious, but the smile on the young woman’s face

reassured her.