Chapter 2

Sam snuck a glance at Charlie and Don. They had arrived yesterday, almost a full year since Charlie had spent the better part of six weeks camping with Sam and his wife, Jenna. Charlie had hitchhiked from his home in Pasadena to Southern Oregon, and it was clear from the night they met over the campfire that Charlie was unhappy with whatever life he had. After he had come clean with them — at least about where he was from, what he diid — and started communicating with his father again, he had seemed more at peace. He had enjoyed fishing, and hitting some of popular recreational spots with his two new friends.

But up until he left their camp at Lost Creek for a trip to the Oregon Coast with another friend, Sam had still seen him, sometimes, staring out at the water or sitting alone in his tent, looking like his head wasn't even in the same neighborhood as his body. Sam wasn't sure what had happened at the Coast; Charlie had never returned to the Lost Creek camp. He had sent them a message, and gone home to Pasadena.

All Sam knew for sure was that Charlie was a lot more relaxed the last time he'd seen him than he had been the first time he'd seen him — and Charlie had been sleeping, that first time! He had to admit, Charlie still looked happy. Lines of fatigue and stress showed around his eyes, and he said that he had been busier than usual lately trying to clear the time for this brief return to Oregon. He wanted his brother to see the river, and he had written Sam and Jenna and asked them to meet them there for a few days. Management at the Lost Creek Marina, were they both worked, was happy to let them have a few days before the next tourist season started Memorial Day weekend, but pretty much thought they were crazy to leave one campground for another an hour downriver.

The brothers Eppes, clutching their freshly minted Oregon fishing licenses, had arrived yesterday afternoon at Rogue Elk campground. At least Charlie was better outfitted this time, wouldn't be reduced to picking up a tent at a yard sale. They even brought their own fishing gear. Stuff that looked like it came from California, and had never seen an Oregon Spring Chinook Salmon in its life, but still…the guys made an effort.

By the time they had set up camp, Sam and Jenna had arrived with their RV — a gift from Charlie, actually, and a far cry from the car they had been living in when they met him. That's probably one reason he didn't like Don, right there. They had all eaten together in the RV last night — no fish for a campfire, yet — and Jenna had remarked on what a pleasure it had been, spending the winter in the RV. She had thanked Charlie again, the three of them had reminisced some about leaking tents in rainstorms and Bill, the old man who had sold Charlie the RV— and Don had no idea what they were talking about. Sam and Jenna had filled Don in on more of Charlie's earlier time in Oregon than Charlie had, in a whole year. If he didn't want to share that kid of stuff, there must be a reason, Sam figured.

He watched from the step of the RV as the Ranger approached the Eppes' campsite, probably to check for their "paid" stub in the car. Don and Charlie were outside the tent, trying to put on their fishing gear, and Don casually rotated his position. That was another thing, right there. The way Don put himself between Charlie and anyone else. He had done it last night, with them. It seemed like a habit, something he did without thinking. It was automatic enough that the gesture must have years of practice behind it. Jenna thought it was endearing, an older brother protecting the younger one. Sam thought it was insulting. Charlie was more than capable of taking care of himself.

When he had arrived last year, he had been so "taken care of" that he didn't even have his driver's license. Sam taught him how to drive, and Charlie got it as soon as he got home. He even sent them a picture of his car. It was a '65 Mustang convertible, a choice that reflected the relaxed spirit he was in fresh from his return from Oregon, more than a college professor.

There was number three. Charlie referred to himself as a "teacher". It was obvious he loved both teaching and anything he could wrap his numbers around. Titles weren't important to him. But in the middle of their reminiscing, last night, Don had asked how they had reacted to learning about his doctorates. Seemed more important to him than it did to Charlie, exactly what kind of teacher he was…Sam shook his head. Doctorates. As in more than one. Hard to believe someone with that kind of education sitting in the rain all night until Jenna dragged him into their tent.

Sam finally hopped off the step and headed for their camp. They should be in the river, already. Last year, he and Charlie would have been, by this time. Probably couldn't get his brother awake.

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"He keeps trying to give me dirty looks," Don complained as they pulled on their hip boots. "Who tries to give an FBI agent dirty looks?"

Charlie laughed. "He is not. He's just curious." He sobered, stopped pulling on the boot. "I didn't exactly talk about you much, last year. He probably wonders why."

Don took the opportunity to look at the ground, herd a few stray logs back into the pile of firewood. "You didn't talk about me at all, though, right?"

Charlie looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he hasn't heard a lot of 'I've-got-a-terrible-brother' stories." He met Charlie's eyes. "Has he? Has he got some reason to dislike me?"

Charlie's face shadowed. He and Charlie had come a long way since Charlie came back from Oregon, but there was still a ways to go, too, and Don hoped he wasn't treading somewhere he wasn't supposed to. Charlie hadn't shared very much about that time at all, though. He hadn't known until last night that Sam had been the one to teach Charlie to drive.

"No," Charlie said simply, and he gave his boot one final tug. It popped on like a suction cup, thowing him off-balance and into Don's shoulder. Don reached out to steady him. "Thanks." He looked back at Don. "I didn't say bad things about you." He looked embarrassed, then. "Honestly, I can't even remember if I told them I had a brother."

Don turned to the river, pretending to take it in. "It is beautiful, here," he said, but he was thinking about what Charlie had said. So, he hadn't just been angry at him last year, or even a little hurt.

He really had almost lost him.