River’s End

then looked back at her out-of-breath husband. “He’s bleeding. He’s scraped his knees.”
    “Damn it. How bad? Let’s see, buddy.”
    As the boy screamed and sobbed, Olivia slipped off her pack. “You’ll need to wash his cuts. I have some bottled water and a first-aid kit.”
    She went to work so efficiently, Frank signaled Celia back.
    “You’ll have to hold him still,” Olivia said. “I can’t clean it if he’s kicking.”
    “I know it hurts, honey, I know. We’re going to make it all better.” The mother kissed Scotty’s cheeks. “Here, let me clean off the cuts. Thanks so much.” She took the cloth Olivia had dampened and struggled with her husband to keep the child still long enough to see the damage.
    “Just scrapes. Knocked the bark off, buddy.” The father kept his voice light, but his face was very pale as his wife cleaned the blood away.
    Olivia handed over antiseptic, and one glance at the little bottle had Scotty switching from wails to ear-piercing screams.
    “Hey, you know what you need.” Noah pulled a candy bar out of his back pocket, waved it in front of Scotty’s face. “You need to spoil your lunch.”
    Scotty eyed the chocolate bar through fat tears. His lips trembled, but instead of a screech he let out a pitiful whimper. “Candy.”
    “You bet. You like candy? This is pretty special candy. It’s only for brave boys. I bet you’re brave.”
    Scotty sniffled, reached out, too intent on the bar to notice his mother quickly bandaging his knees. “ ‘kay.”
    “Here you go, then.” Noah held it out, then tugged it just out of reach with a grin. “I forgot. I can only give this candy to somebody named Scotty.”
    “I’m Scotty.”
    “No kidding? Then this must be yours.”
    “Thanks. Thanks so much.” The mother shifted the now-delighted child to her hip and shoved back her hair with her free hand. “You’re lifesavers.”
    Olivia glanced up from where she was repacking her first-aid kit. “You should make sure you pick up one of these if you’re going to do much hiking. The River’s End Lodge gift shop carries them, or you can get them in town.”
    “First on my list. Along with emergency chocolate. Thanks again.” She looked over to Frank and Celia. “You’ve got great kids.”
    Olivia started to speak, then ducked her head and said nothing. But not so quickly that Celia hadn’t seen the look of unhappiness. “You two make a good team,” she said cheerfully. “And that little adventure worked up my appetite. When’s lunch, Liv?”
    Olivia looked up, blinked. Liv, she thought. It sounded strong and sure and smart. “
    There’s a nice area just a little farther down. We might get lucky and see a couple of beavers instead of just their dams.”
    She picked her spot, a shady area just off the trail where they could sit and watch the water, or gaze off toward the mountains. The air was warm, the sky clear in one of those perfect summer days the peninsula could offer.
    Olivia nibbled at her chicken and held herself back just a little. She wanted to watch the Bradys together. They seemed so easy, so meshed. Later, when she was older and looked back on that comfortable hour, she would call it a rhythm. They had a rhythm of movement, of speech, of silences. Little bits of humor that were intimately their own, tossed-off comments, teasing, body language.
    And she would realize, remembering, that however much she and her grandparents loved one another, they didn’t have quite that same connection. A generation stood between them. Her mother’s life, and her death. But just then all she knew was that she felt a tug of longing, an ache of envy. It made her ashamed. “I’m going to walk down a little more.” She got up, ordering herself to do so casually. “I’ll see if I can spot some beavers. If I do, I’ll come back and get you.”
    “Poor little thing,” Celia murmured when Olivia walked down the trail. “She’s lonely. I don’t even think she knows how lonely she is.”
    “Her grandparents are good people, Celia.”
    “I’m sure they are. But where are the other kids? The ones her age she should be playing with on a beautiful day like this?”
    “She doesn’t even go to school,” Noah put in. “She told me her grandmother teaches her at home.”
    “They’ve put her in a bubble. A spectacular one,” Celia added as she looked around, “but it’s still closed.”
    “They’re afraid. They have reason to be.”
    “I know, but