Jackson drove up to the store in his dad’s truck. He got out, still wearing his climbing harness, and began to put the accoutrements of his favorite hobby, rock climbing, into the back of the truck—harness, ropes, ascenders, pulley, lightweight backpack. He pulled off his sweaty shirt and grabbed a fresh shirt out of the front seat. He changed from his climbing shoes into dry socks and hiking boots. He tossed the clean shirt over his shoulder and headed for the store, obviously planning to do a little wash up in the bathroom before putting on his clean shirt. His canvas cargo shorts rode low on his hips. He was about six feet, his arms and shoulders powerful and strong from months of working out with the rescue team, his grin infectious. He had a tattoo on one bicep.

“Hey, Cal. Hey, Maggie.” He walked past them into the store to get to work.

Cal was looking toward the lake, a secret smile on his face. Maggie followed his gaze and started to laugh. All four of those girls were gazing after Jackson. They started to swoon, giggle and one of them pretended to faint.

“He’s gotten so manly,” Maggie said. “He even smells manly.”

“That he does,” Cal agreed with a laugh.

It wasn’t long after that that the girls were back in the store. Jackson was working the counter, Cal was stocking, Beau was hanging out in the storeroom with Sully. There was a lot of excited talking and laughing and it was a long time before the girls were leaving and Jackson was getting back to work.

Cal peered around the end of a grocery aisle at Jackson. Jackson chuckled a little in embarrassment and blushed. But Cal had a feeling there would be more than fireworks over the lake that evening.

It was an exhausting weekend but just what everyone needed. On Saturday night Tom came to the camp with his kids and as soon as the sun was down, he and Jackson shot off some fireworks.

The rest of the weekend was more of the same. It was busy and there was plenty of work to do but Cal enjoyed the friendly, happy energy of the crossing. There was a lot of cleaning up on Tuesday after the bulk of the campers had headed home. In the afternoon, Cal sat on the front porch of Sully’s house, out of reach and earshot, and called Becky.

“We have court at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I thought I’d touch base, make sure you’re ready and know what to wear.”

“You don’t have to tell me what to wear, Cal. I know I should be conservative.”

“Not Amish, just conservative. That trick of trying to look like a Sunday school teacher usually has the opposite effect. Be prepared for the judge to ask you a few questions about what happened. Answer just as you explained to me.”

“Is it going to be okay, Cal?”

“There are no guarantees but it’s my educated guess that you’re not going to spend any time in jail.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said.

He pulled his suit, the only one he’d brought with him, out of the back of his truck. The day he met Becky, he took it to the cleaners. It was covered in blue dry-cleaning plastic. He dressed early in the morning. His shirt was starched, his tie was probably still in style. He’d shined his dress shoes.

“Can I borrow your briefcase so I look like a real lawyer?” he asked Maggie.

“You didn’t bring a briefcase?”

“I packed everything. I only brought a suit and a couple of shirts and ties in case I had to dress for some reason, but I honestly didn’t think it would be for a court appearance.”

“That is a fine suit, California,” she said. Maggie sat cross-legged on the bed. Her long, brown legs stuck out of her khaki shorts and a white shirt covered a blue tank. “Did you go to work looking like that every day?” she asked.