Paige raised her head to scan the group of people socializing on the stone patio. It was the perfect weather to hold the event outdoors today. Lou had provided a light buffet-style breakfast with fresh orange juice, fruit and an assortment of pastries. Some of the kids had already paired up. The girls especially stood grouped together, comparing backpacks. Jerry demonstrated some volleyball moves to the boys, while the parents mingled by the coffee bar.
All except Nathan Porter, who stood alone by the far wall, sunglasses hiding his eyes. From the grim set of his mouth, he didn’t seem at all happy to be here. If Paige hadn’t emphasized the necessity for all parents to participate, she had little doubt he would have remained in his room—alone. At least Zach was mixing with the other boys. Paige prayed he’d make friends easily. That would play a huge role in whether or not he would enjoy the camp experience.
A boy and a woman came into sight, walking hesitantly across the patio toward the crowd.
Ah, the missing camper. Paige strode toward them. The dark-haired woman placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder as Paige approached.
“Hello. This must be Peter.” Paige smiled at the boy.
His blue eyes, framed by black-rimmed glasses, regarded her with a serious gaze.
“Yes,” the woman answered. “I’m Anna O’Brien, Peter’s mom. Sorry we’re late. I got lost on those side roads.” An air of sadness hugged the woman’s features.
“I’m Paige McFarlane, the camp director. Please come and join the rest of us. We have refreshments and coffee on the far table, and we’ll begin the orientation tour in about ten minutes.” Paige wanted to give the newcomers time to meet the others before they started. She ushered the pair over to the group, guiding Peter toward the other boys.
“Hey, guys. This is Peter. Peter, these are some of the other campers. There’s Justin, Bobby, Steven, Kyle and Zach.”
“Hi.” Kyle came forward to greet Peter. He glanced at Peter’s mom hovering behind Paige.
Definitely one of the overprotective types, Paige decided.
“How come your dad didn’t come?” Kyle asked. “Both my parents are here.”
Peter shifted from one sneaker to the other. From the corner of her eye, Paige saw Anna stiffen.
“My dad’s dead.” Peter shrugged. “He died in Iraq.”
Paige gripped her clipboard tighter. Another child who’d lost a parent. Was she destined to open Wyndermere’s Center for Grieving Children?
Kyle scratched his elbow. “Oh, sorry. I thought maybe your parents were divorced like Bobby’s.”
Anna stepped up beside Paige. “I was going to tell you privately,” she said in a quiet voice. “It happened almost a year ago, but Peter can still be withdrawn sometimes.”
Paige gave her arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll take extra care with him.”
The woman’s eyes moistened. “Thank you.”
At the same time, Paige noticed Zach moving closer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his shorts.
“My mom’s dead, too.”
Paige held her breath as Zach looked right at Peter. The whole group seemed to stop talking as if awaiting the boy’s reaction.
Peter pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “Guess we’re both half orphans.”
“Guess so.” Zach pointed to the table of food. “Wanna go get something to eat? The muffins are awesome.”
“Sure.”
As the boys moved off, Paige let out the breath she’d been holding. Lord, You sure answer prayers in unique ways sometimes. Thank You for bringing Peter here for Zach. I think he’s just the friend Zach needs.
“Who can tell me the main point in the story of the prodigal son?” Paige smiled at the twelve eager faces in the meeting room they used as a classroom during camp every summer.
Three days in, and apart from a few minor glitches, the program had been running smoothly. The kids were bright, eager and, for the most part, well behaved. Even Zach had settled in to camp life without incident, due in large part, Page felt, to his budding friendship with Peter. The two had been inseparable since the first morning.
Her gaze settled on Zach and her stomach nose-dived. Make that eleven eager faces and one scowling one. She turned her attention to the four hands waving wildly in the air. “Yes, Felicia?”
The girl’s beaming smile revealed several missing teeth. “If you do bad things but you’re sorry, your parents will forgive you.”
“Very good. Forgiveness is the moral of our story. Like the father in the parable, our Heavenly Father forgives all our sins if we are truly sorry. He’ll always be waiting for us if we decide to come back to Him.” She looked at the clock. “That’s all the time we have for now. I want you all to think about which Bible story you’d like to study on Friday, and we’ll vote on it tomorrow. Now everyone down to the lake.”
A flurry of activity ensued as the group rushed to follow Sandy, eager for their canoe lesson with Jerry. Zach, however, remained in his seat, glaring at the tabletop. Peter hovered in the doorway as though unsure what to do.
“You go on with the others, Peter. Zach will be out in a minute.”
Peter nodded and dashed off to catch up with the campers, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.
Paige turned to study Zach’s profile, and huffed out a small sigh. She hadn’t made any progress with him over the past few days. Other than those few words he’d said to Peter, Zach remained closemouthed about anything to do with his mother. Maybe if Paige pried into whatever had caused his present bad mood, she’d get him to open up.
With casual strokes, she erased the whiteboard. “Didn’t you like today’s story, Zach?” She darted a glance over her shoulder.
“No.” He shredded a strip off the handout she’d given everyone.
She set the eraser down. “May I ask why?”
“Because it’s all a big, fat lie.”
Paige allowed herself no reaction to Zach’s outburst. “Which part exactly is a lie?”
Deep ridges formed between his brows. “The part about fathers always forgiving stuff. You shouldn’t tell everyone they do.”
He turned furious eyes on her, glittering with unshed tears. Sympathy welled in her chest, and the frustration from the past few days melted away. She longed to take him in her arms and promise him everything would be all right. But that would be totally unprofessional and totally unacceptable.
First rule of therapy—no touching the patient.
She took a few steps closer and crouched beside his chair. “What won’t your father forgive?” she asked softly.
Zach shrugged and rubbed a hand across his face. “Not what—who. He wouldn’t forgive my mom.” He waited a minute before continuing. “She took me away, and my dad was real mad about that. But later Mom wanted us to go home again.” His face crumpled, like the paper under his fingers. “She cried and said she was sorry, just like the prodigal son. But Dad didn’t care. He said we couldn’t come home. He hates us.” His voice broke on a stifled sob.
His tears overflowed and dripped down his cheeks. Zach looked