Randy was trying to look anywhere except at Jillian. He couldn’t believe what she’d just said.
He watched the gentle flames on the birch logs in the campfire.
He looked up at three kids who were pushing each other around on top of the Thumb, a twenty-five-foot-tall rock on the shoreline, most likely an erratic brought down to North Dakota from Canada by glacial ice.
He followed a pair of mature bald eagles floating in the thermals directly above the Thumb.
And he noticed the gathering storm clouds and the growing midday darkness.
He was doing anything to avoid making eye contact with Jillian. He could feel her watching him out of the corner of her eye.
He noticed that one of the two eagles often moved off by itself.
He wondered if he should be doing the same, but he was too curious. He wanted to know where all this was going.
He looked up at the Thumb again. One of the kids was pushing his friend dangerously close to the edge.
And he could feel the pressure of the impending storm.
And he noticed that the one eagle was moving even further away.
Again, he wondered.
What she was suggesting seemed absolutely insane.
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