He held the compass, its shine worn from ten years of my anxious hands clutching it. “Heavy for hiking,” he said. “Also, I have an innate sense of direction.”

“Lucky you.” I took it back and rubbed the brass. “This is my sense of direction.”

“But you could lose it.”

“You could lose yours.”

“I…” He smiled. So much smiling. He was making it hard not to smile back, which kind of hurt; my smile muscles were severely underdeveloped.

The kids lined up. Sean led our group (including the tree climbers and my Zola) into and safely out of the woods, on a path that did not need the help of a compass, except to show the kids what true north looks like; over boulders, across a creek, and I brought the last of the stragglers to where he stood beneath the shade of a giant cedar.

We got the kids hydrated and back on the bus as the late-afternoon sun was still high and hot above the trees—hot for the Pacific Northwest. Seventy-five degrees and we lose our collective minds. Sean walked to the lodge, and I said goodbye to Zola.

“Will you be here if we come again?”

“I think so,” I said. “Probably.”

“Can I write you emails now because I’m home?”

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

“When will you be?”

I have no idea.

The buses were ready to go, teachers lining up the kids, and I sent Zola to join them. I waved and walked behind as they pulled slowly away through the trees.

I breathed in the forest air, sunbeams slanting through the evergreen boughs, owls and woodpeckers and black-capped chickadees rustling and singing, unseen. I closed my eyes and exhaled. No sign of Sean, so I collected my pack, said goodbye to Jane, and started down the road to the bus stop.

The whir and click of a bicycle, and there he was beside me.

I smiled into my backpack strap.

“Walking?” he said.

“To the bus stop.”

“Join you?”

“Sure.”

Good, good, sounds normal, casual, except my breathing is all jacked up—calm the hell down; he’s just a person…an incredibly handsome person who loves the forest and understands foster care for some reason and seems to like you a lot, no big deal, so keep breathing—no, not like that, not so fast, just breathe like a normal person…God!

He got off his bike and walked it. “Where do you live?”

“It’s…I think at the end of the road the bus turns right—no, left, and then on this one path up a hill past a farm and two more lefts? Then a right down the drive. Toward the water. I think.”

He smiled. “You’re right, that compass works great.”

“I’ll know it when I see it,” I said.

“Okay.”

“I usually walk, but I’m helping with dinner tonight, so…bus.”

“Too bad. Perfect day for a walk.”