When the group arrived to the camp site, the reactions of the would be campers was exactly what David and I had assumed they would be. Based on last night's dinner, we believe we had a good idea on how most people would react to sleeping outdoors tonight. Jimbo was psyched and jacked about it sleeping by the lake. He seems like the kind of guy who could move into a trailer by the lake and be happy for the rest of his life. Nicolas on the other had, despite his cadet experience, was the polar opposite of Jimbo. He looked rather unwell during our hike, and for a moment I thought he was going to have a stroke. David explained to me his situation, and I had no idea what was bothering him based on how he was acting. He was very good at hiding his condition. The exhaustion of the hike just made it harder for him to hide. I watched as Jimbo grabbed a Pepsi and handed it to Nicolas who was already in one of the more comfortable seats. Usually I'd get mad when someone would steal one of those, but if it keep Nicholas out of having to be med-evaced to the nearest hospital, I was willing to let it pass.

"Are you alright, dear?" David asked as he walked closer. He knew I was thinking about something and curiosity always got the best of him. I swear he was a cat in a past life.

"I'm okay," I said, smiling at him. "I was just a little worried about Nicholas. He was looking pretty bad back there."

"I know, I was worried too." David said, looking over at him. "He seems better now. We'll go easier on him tomorrow."

"How so?" I asked, even thought I suspected what the answer might be.

"I'll have you drive him back to the house," David said, "Jimbo and I can handle walking everyone else back to the house."

"I think there's been enough hiking," I told my husband, "We're all driving back tomorrow and that's that. Understood."

"Yes, ma'am." David said, making a half assed salute.

"Now I suggest you and Jimbo bait those lines and get to work," I suggested, "Those fish aren't going to catch themselves. Don't make me order Dominoes again."

"Alright, alright," David said as he got the message, "Jimbo is eager to catch them, so I suspect we'll have more catches than usual. There's no need for pizza, anyway. There are steaks and burgers in the trailer fridge. We're cooking something tonight regardless of what or how many fish Jimbo and I manage to catch."

"Very good," I said, even giving out a small sigh of relief. I hated ordering pizza last time but they were the only place willing to deliver to the campsite.

I watched as David and Jimbo grabbed the fishing gear and took it all out to the small pier by the lake. It looked weird watching the two men as they easily set things up and were casting their lines out in no time at all. They seemed to content, easy going, and enjoy themselves. Well definitely a lot more than everyone else was. The ladies were in their tents and resting, while Nicholas sat by the unlit fire pit and just vegged out. I considered speaking to Nicholas and even asked if he wanted to help with prep, but I found a better person to assign the job to as Angie emerged from her tent, even wearing a new shirt that had no sweat stains from the hike. That woman just packs so much for any situation, to the point where it's borderline overkill. When Angie looked over in my direction, I waved at her, which was my way of summoning her to come over and help with whatever I wanted her to do. She quickly took the hint and jogged over.

"What's up, Mrs. Parsons?"

I paused for a moment and let the fact that she refused to use my first name pass. She was trained well, probably by her strict parents, so I didn't have the time to deprogram her.

"I could use some help," I started, "Making salads and other things to go with the supper Jim and David are going to bring out of the lake."

"Oh, I see." Angie said, looking at the men fishing. "Is it safe to eat them?"

"Quite," I assured her, "This lake is very clean compared to others in this part of the country. We eat from the lake all the time. Some very tasty fish out there."

"Alright, I was just curious." Angie said as she took a station and started to help with the chopping.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, as I could tell she was distracted.

"I'm just thinking about Josh," Angie answered.

"I'm sure he's fine," I assured her again, "He's got the castle to himself."

"I'm not worried," Angie said, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. "I just hope you locked up the liquor cabinet."

"Does Josh have a drinking problem?" I asked her, "He seemed alright last night when he was drinking wine and what not."

"I don't think so," Angie said, concentrating on her veggies. "But when the Red Bull runs out, he might turn to something stronger like whiskey to keep the writing going."

"That's rather interesting," I said, smiling at her. "The Hemingway method."

"Excuse me?" Angie said, as she didn't know what that was.

"Ernest Hemingway," I explained to her, "One of his more infamous quotes is to write drink, but edit sober. There are a lot of writers that took his advice quite literally."

"I see," Angie said, thinking about it. "Some things make more sense now actually."

"Some writers believe that drinking strips them of their hesitation," I continued, "That they will write with less fear, and then edit it out later if it doesn't work out. Trying to open the flood gates, I suppose."

"Josh doesn't do that every often," Angie said, "I just hope he restrains himself. There's no deadline or pressure on him right now. I hope he just relaxes and writes with a clear head."

"There's leftovers in the fridge," I reminded her, "He'll have plenty to nibble on while he does his work. I hope that will help."

"That will help," Angie confirmed, "Josh loves to nibble on snacks while writing. It helps him think when composing new works."

"What about his sleeping patterns?" I asked her. "Does he stay up that late a lot?"

"He does," Angie admitted. "Josh finds the dead of night the most peaceful time to write. He gets a lot more work done when there's nothing on TV and everyone is already in bed. The difference is ten fold. He also gets to hog the bed after I take off for work."

"So sleeping in and hogging the sheets?" I asked, "I guess the writer's life is pretty cool."

Angie smiled. "It is when you put it that way."

Both of us had a good laugh.

"Alright, enough chit chat." I informed my slow helper. "These salads aren't going to make themselves, are they?"

"No ma'am," Angie said, as she got back to work and started to move a little faster.

I could tell she was worried about Josh, but I had experience helping me with my anxiety. The longer they're together, the more trust they'll have in each other. They still had a long way to go if you asked me. They'll need a lot of work.