“Ten days is too long, Mimi,” Lucas whispered in my ear after breaking our kiss.

Lucas, my boyfriend, and I were standing in my dorm parking lot. He’d stopped to see me before I left for my annual spring break retreat and before he headed for his family home in Charleston.

I looked into his dark eyes and smiled. “It’ll fly by, I promise.” I did my best to sound convincing.

“Maybe for you,” he quickly countered. “I’ll be spending spring break doing hard labor.”

“I hardly think working in one of your father’s stores is hard labor, Lucas.” He pulled me closer and gave me an exaggerated sad puppy dog face.

“Any day I don’t get to spend with you is hard labor, Mimi.” He kissed the tip of my nose and sighed, resigned. He picked up the overnight bag I’d set on the ground, and taking my hand, steered me toward my car. Nodding at my Montana license plate he asked, “When will I get to meet your family?”

Like I’d done for the last several months, I expertly avoided his question. This time I did it by using the key remote to open the trunk. I watched as he arranged my overnight bag among two cases of bottled water, jumper cables, a laundry basket filled with clean clothes, a gym bag, and a pile of scattered books. I’d never intended to be so evasive with Lucas.

I was certain he would follow suit and do what every guy I’d ever dated had done. Once I let them know sex was off the table, they couldn’t get away from me fast enough. My original decision to keep my virginity hadn't been so honorable. It had almost been taken without my consent, fueling my decision to hold onto the one thing that was mine and mine alone. There were a few who considered my intact hymen a challenge, but when they realized I was serious, it didn’t take long for them to hightail it away from me and my “closed to the public” lady parts.

Introducing a boy to my family had never been an issue. Then again, no other guy had dated me long enough to want to meet them. Lucas didn’t press me into a sexual relationship and that scared and excited me at the same time. It’s not like he hadn’t tried. We'd messed around a little bit, and he'd attempted to go further, but we never did. And still, when we got to a point I refused, he still stayed. I often struggled, wondering if he could be the one. I’d asked myself this more than once. My heart wanted to believe the answer was yes and I secretly wondered if I may have been falling in love with Lucas Paine.

Glancing at the laundry basket filled with clean clothes, he added, "I know your parents and brothers and sister are in Montana, but your grandfather is only a couple of hours away. You've never asked me once if I wanted to go with you to meet him."

He was right. I'd never invited him, and I'd deliberately chosen to tell a half-truth, letting him and everyone else believe that my grandfather was my nearest relative. It explained how I could leave some weekends with a basket of dirty clothes and return with a clean pile.

The sound of the trunk closing broke through my thoughts. “It's funny you brought up my grandfather. He mentioned having business near the college in a couple of weeks and wanted to take me to lunch. Do you want to come with us?"

He gave me a look that told me he knew I'd just made the lunch date up. “C’mon, Mimi. You’ve met my family. Are you embarrassed by me?” His tone was so sincere, I felt a sliver of guilt.

I shook my head and avoided his gaze as I headed for the driver side door. Opening it, I turned around to look at him. “Of course not. You’re perfect, Lucas.” And he was. With one exception.

“Then what is it, Mimi?” he pleaded.

“This isn’t a conversation I can have right now.” Looking at my watch I quickly added, “A conversation I don’t have time for. Can you just trust me that it’s not you?”

He brushed his hand through his short, dark-blond hair, gave me a crooked smile, and pulled me in for a hug. I welcomed his embrace and his spicy scent. I smiled and explained, “It’s not you. I swear it's not. It’s my family. They’re…” I paused, trying to come up with a description that wouldn’t scare him off. “They’re different.”

Taking my face in his hands, he gave me a long, lingering kiss. He stepped back and let me climb into my car. I started it up and rolled down the window. He rested his forearms on the roof and leaned inside the window.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were harboring fugitives the way you’re so secretive about them.”

“Of course the criminal justice major in you would immediately jump to that conclusion,” I teased as he backed away from the car. I rolled up my window, shifted into reverse and sighed a breath of thanks that he hadn’t probed further.

If you only knew, Lucas, I thought. If you only knew.

It would take me a little over two and a half hours to get to Camp Keowee, the Christian youth camp where I’d volunteered as a counselor for the past three years. I was looking forward to the long drive as it would give me time to collect my thoughts and try to figure out how to bring Lucas into the mystery that had been my life for the past five years.

Lucas assumed, as did everyone else, that I was from Montana. After all, that’s what my vehicle plate said as well as my college ID, Montana driver’s license, and all other forms of identification. As far as everyone was concerned, my name was Miriam D. Hunter. Years ago, I'd left Florida as Miriam Ruth Dillon and began a new life in North Carolina under my new name. It wasn't a stretch as far as aliases went, but it was still an effective deterrent since very few people from my past knew me as Miriam, and none of them knew my biological father's surname, Hunter. In addition to switching that up, I’d purposely stayed off of all social media, and even though I wasn't always successful, I did my best to avoid having my picture taken in the event it might be posted somewhere. I didn’t want anyone finding me.

That hadn’t always been true. There had been one person who I’d hoped might’ve cared enough to find me. I sighed out loud and rolled down my window, hoping the mountain breeze would distract me. I hadn’t let myself think about him for a long time. So why was I allowing myself today?

Shaking my head as if doing so would toss all thoughts of my former teenage heartbreak to the wind, I focused on my current predicament. How was I going to introduce my boyfriend to my family? The family that didn’t live in Montana, but in fact, lived only a couple hours away from my college, just over the North Carolina border.

Having been raised listening to ’60s and ’70s music, I stuck a homemade CD into the player and turned it up. It was an odd mixture of my mother’s bubble gum ballads and both of my fathers’ preferences for hard rock. Metallica’s “I Disappear” blasted through the speakers as I continued to ponder my strange family situation.

My parents harbored a huge secret and I was adamant about protecting them. Lucas was a criminal justice major, making the entire situation more than ironic. It was the only flaw I could see in our relationship. And if I wanted Lucas to become a permanent part of my life, it would have to be dealt with. But not today. Today I would think about how much I’d looked forward to this retreat. I’d stayed in contact with a few friends that I’d met at camp over the past three years. Since our college spring breaks didn’t always match up, I never knew who I’d run into.

It would also be the first time that my second semester midterms coincided with the birthday of my twin brother and sister. Ruthie and Dillon had just turned four and I’d missed their birthday party. Since I was leaving directly for camp, I let my family think I would bring their presents on my next trip home. I intended to leave the retreat a day early and stop at home for a surprise visit to make the special delivery.

Before I knew it, I arrived at my last stop before reaching Camp Keowee. Pumpkin Rest was barely a dot on the map and the last place I’d be able to get a halfway decent cell phone signal. The tiny township consisted of a small grocery store, gas station, pharmacy, and diner, all situated in the same building that sat on the northwest corner of the town’s only named intersection. One so small the local folk referred to it as a crossroad.

I filled my gas tank and headed inside to buy one of my most anticipated guilty pleasures—a homemade biscuit with honey. After paying for my treat and gas, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my mother as I walked toward my car. A sticky biscuit in one hand and my phone in the other, I hit the speed dial and smiled when I heard the worry in her voice when she answered.

Just like I’d done for the last three years, I would be spending the next ten days at a retreat and would have no communication with the outside world. Not only was it the camp’s policy, it was almost an impossibility due to the mountain location and lack of cell towers. Calls rarely made it through, but oddly enough some text messages did. I promised to text my mother as soon as I arrived and reminded her that I would turn in my phone to be locked up for the duration of my camp stay. She could always call the camp's landline in the event of an emergency.

I was still on the phone trying to reassure her when I spotted an old friend.

“Oh my gosh!” I shouted into my mother’s ear as I approached my car. I recognized the bright yellow Miata parked behind my green 2005 Ford SUV and the long blue dreadlocks of the girl whose back was facing me while she pumped gas. The three charms I knew she always wore in her hair, a cross, a dove, and a heart winked at me as the sunlight kissed them.

My outburst startled my mother and I did my best to put her at ease during our crackly connection. I was only hearing every other word when we were disconnected. Trying not to drop what was left of my biscuit, I texted with sticky fingers, “Sorry. Awful service. Will text you later. Love you.”

I smiled when her immediate text reply came through. “Love you too.”

“Bettina!” I shouted as I approached her. She stood up straight and did a swift turnabout, a wide smile lighting up her beautiful face. She quickly walked toward me and we collided, our friendly hug lasting longer than normal. I drank in her familiar scent. Bettina smelled like something clean, fresh and innocent. I had an instant déjà vu from almost four years ago of slathering baby lotion on the twins after their baths. That’s what Bettina smells like, I thought.

It wasn’t until she pulled away from our hug that I noticed she’d been crying. “Bettina?” I asked, my concern obvious. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t heard?” Bettina’s words came out quivering. “You didn’t get a text or phone call from Mrs. Mackie?”

“Heard what?” I asked, my attention solely focused on Bettina. I wondered what was so important that Mrs. Mackie, the camp administrator, would’ve needed to alert campers. I absentmindedly tossed what was left of my biscuit in the trash can we passed as we walked back toward her car.

“I got to the camp about the same time I got the text,” Bettina explained through misty eyes. “Camp Keowee’s been quarantined. Everyone is being turned away and they’re trying to get the news out as quickly as possible.”

She’d barely finished the last word when my phone buzzed and the text from the camp came through. Without reading it, I asked her, “Why?”

She sucked in her breath as she struggled for the words. “It’s Josh.”

Josh was one of the counselors at Camp Keowee. He volunteered every year that I'd attended and was one of the camp’s valued and trusted leaders. Only a little older than me, Josh wanted to go into ministry. Without giving me time to reply, she continued.

“They thought he had the flu. But that’s not what he has. It’s so much worse.” She paused and closed her eyes. I watched her swallow. The click of the gas pump turning off seemed to startle her and her eyes popped open. “It’s meningitis and Josh is in critical condition,” she explained as she robotically disengaged the nozzle from her tank and returned it to the pump. Turning back to face me she said, "He can die from this, Mimi. And it’s highly contagious. The camp has to stay closed until it’s thoroughly disinfected and given the green light by the Department of Health.”

My eyes went wide as I felt the impact of what she told me. A horn interrupted us and we both turned to see an old man who’d pulled in behind Bettina’s car. He gave us a kind look and indicated that he’d like for us to move so he could use the pumps. We both got in our cars and drove the short distance to the front of the grocery store entrance. Getting out of our vehicles, we stood behind mine and continued our conversation. After about ten minutes we’d calmed down enough to exchange hugs and say our goodbyes.

I was about to text my mother the change of plans and that I would be heading home, when Bettina whispered, “Hot guy alert." She nodded toward the grocery store entrance. "He got out of his truck and has been leaning there, staring at us the entire time,” she informed me. Not feeling any inclination to care about a random ogler, I returned my attention to my phone when her next words stopped me cold. “I guess we’re closer to the Cherokee Indian Reservation in North Carolina than I thought.”

I knew it was him. I don’t know how I knew it or how it was even possible, but I could feel the heat from his eyes as they penetrated my back. As if in a dream I turned around slowly. I aimed my gaze toward the entrance of the store and saw Christian Bear.

The next few minutes were a blur as I once again hugged Bettina goodbye and tucked my phone in my pocket, completely forgetting I was going to call or text my mother. After waving to Bettina's retreating Miata, I turned back to the store entrance convincing myself that what I'd seen couldn't have been real—I was wrong. When I made eye contact with Christian, he walked toward me, his intense gaze mesmerizing me. He looked exactly as I remembered him from over five years ago, except he was much wider and taller. His vivid blue eyes stood out in stark contrast to his black hair which he still wore long, and I noticed a lot of tattoos as he got closer. I didn’t remember him having so many when he was a teenager.

This couldn’t be happening, I kept telling myself. Couldn’t be real. It was almost as if thinking about him on the drive I’d somehow conjured him up out of nowhere. And speaking of nowhere, that’s exactly where we were. In the middle of nowhere.

“Mimi?” He smiled hesitantly. “Is that you?”

Before I could answer, he asked, “It is you, isn’t it? Mimi Dillon?”

“C-Christian?” I stuttered. “What in the world are you doing here?” Captivated by his intense stare, I had to concentrate on not allowing my knees to buckle.

“It is you!” His tentative smile turned brighter than the sun. He came at me for a hug and before I knew it my face was pressed into his chest. He smelled so good. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Memories of his rejection rescued me from the moment, forcing me to tear myself away from him and look up. I didn’t hold a grudge, but I also knew I wouldn’t let myself get sucked back in. I knew the moment he recognized the change in my attitude as I nervously fiddled with my earring and looked around.

“So,” I said as I rolled back on my heels and thrust my hands into my pockets. “Fancy meeting you here.” I had to remind myself that we were both adults now, and he’d obviously forgotten what had transpired between us. I’d been able to move past it as well, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that seeing him brought memories back from that place in my heart where they lay dormant for years. Unlike my earlier musings during my drive, seeing him in the flesh added a dimension to those memories I hadn’t expected. It felt like a hundred raw nerves had been exposed and with them my humiliation. I felt a blush creeping up my neck. I hoped it wouldn’t reach my face.

“I’m here on vacation with my family.” He rolled his eyes as if he found the admission embarrassing. “We're staying at a house by the lake.” He nodded toward a gray pickup truck that was parked a few cars down. I noticed the bed was filled with bicycles, a small kayak, and fishing poles. “I didn’t want to come but now I’m glad I did. Mom sent me out for a bag of ice. Damn, I wish she’d come with me. I know she’d love to see you. What are you doing in South Carolina?” His voice was deeper than I remembered. "I thought you said your family was moving to Montana."

Warm memories of Christian’s family replaced the angst I was feeling. I couldn’t help but smile. “I go to college here. I spend my spring break at a camp up the mountain.” I nodded toward the intersection and one of the roads that led away from Pumpkin Rest. “I always stop here for gas before I head there.” I was so shocked by his sudden appearance that I forgot to mention the camp was under quarantine.

“Come back to the house with me before you head to your camp.” His eyes were sincere. “Please, Mimi,” he pleaded. “Ten minutes. It’ll take ten minutes to see my family and say hello. You can follow me and be on your way after you see them.”

I looked away nervously. Christian’s parents knew my family’s secret. Seeing them for a quick visit wouldn’t be revealing anything they weren’t already aware of. Except, of course, they believed we’d moved to Montana. There was no reason to say anything different to them. It was totally believable that I drove my car from Montana to attend college in South Carolina.

I made the quick decision that I would accept Christian’s offer, convincing myself it was only because I wanted to see his family. I was so engrossed in watching the sway of his long hair against his wide shoulders as he strode confidently toward his truck, I missed the slight clenching of his jaw when he’d turned away from me. I’d also missed that he didn’t stop for ice from the machine that sat just a few feet away.