“Um, no, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said, figuring it couldn’t be much colder than California weather during the winter. For the most part, I wore sandals year round.

He chuckled as he veered off the highway and pulled into the first shopping plaza I’d seen for the last twenty minutes.

“I think we need to get you some proper duds,” he said, opening his door as I looked at him questioningly.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tried to argue as he led me to the women’s section of the store.

“Trust me, you need these,” he said, propelling me toward the jeans. “The average temperature during the day has been running in the high fifties and at night it’s fifteen degrees cooler.”

“Get out,” I said, not quite believing him.

“Believe me, you’ll freeze your a…” he cut off.

“I’ve heard the word ass before, Rick."

I turned to him, liking the sound of his sudden laughter. “No doubt. I just try to keep swearing to a minimum around the campers. It’s become a habit to correct myself.”

“How many campers do you have?” I asked, noticing the half-dozen or so God-awful flannel shirts he had tossed into the buggy. Even in colder weather, I usually wore oversized cable-knit sweaters and thick leggings under my long skirts. I put half of the flannel shirts back and picked out several hooded sweatshirts instead since I didn't see any sweaters to speak of.

“I cap it at fifty, twenty-five boys and twenty-five girls.”

“Wow, fifty? Your place must be huge.”

“Just under fifty acres,” he said, smiling at my shock. “I plan to acquire another ten acres next year.”

“How much do you charge for camp?” I asked, amazed at his enterprise.

“We’re nonprofit. The campers pay nothing. The state kicks in a few bucks, but I panhandle for the rest,” he teased.

I smiled, conjuring up a mental picture of him begging for loose change on the corner somewhere.

“I’d better go try these on,” I said, grabbing the overflowing stack of jeans and leggings I had added to the cart.

“Sounds good. I’ll pick up a few more necessities for you, and then we should be good to go.”

“More?” I asked, mentally calculating the bill in my head. I saw half the money I had saved for dorm room shopping disappearing.

“Just a few things,” he said, disappearing around the corner with the cart.

The first couple pairs of jeans fit perfectly, but I decided to only get one pair since I wasn't a huge fan of jeans anyway. I figured I could supplement the rest of my wardrobe with leggings I could wear under the long skirts I had packed, and if I was a little frugal, I could salvage some of my savings. Of course, the thought of trying to make it in the mountains with one pair of jeans and a couple pairs of leggings for six weeks was stupid. Sighing in resignation, I tried on the remaining jeans and picked the three pairs I liked the best. Maybe if I begged Chuck at the art supply store for extra hours he might throw me a bone. I still had four weeks to earn extra money once I was back home.

Rick was waiting for me outside the dressing room holding a heavy jacket, gloves and a hat.

“No way,” I said shaking my head. “We’re not going to Antarctica. That stuff will just go to waste,” I said, drawing the line at spending my hard-earned cash on something I didn’t need.

“Trust me, Kimberly, you’ll thank me by tomorrow,” he said, holding out the black jacket for me to try on.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But I’m leaving the tag on. If I don’t need it, we can return it.” At least he had a knack for finding the right size, I thought.

“I should. I’ve been doing it for years. A lot of the foster kids come to camp with only a few things to their name. I keep a lot of stuff on hand, but it’s mostly for the younger crowd,” he said, pushing the buggy to an open register.

That certainly put things in perspective. Rick was obviously an all-around great guy, helping those less fortunate. I guess worrying about having the money for some throw rug for my dorm room didn’t seem as important when you looked at things that way.

Together Rick and I piled my new wardrobe onto the conveyor belt. Once the cart was emptied, I reached for my wallet.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” Rick asked incredulously.

“What?” I asked.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d make you pay?” he asked, shaking his head in obvious bafflement.

“Of course I’m going to pay,” I said.

“Kimmie, I’ve missed your whole life. The least I can do is properly outfit you while you’re visiting me.”

His words touched me. I’d never been a fan of the nickname Kimmie, but coming from him, it made me feel special.

“That’s not your fault,” I reminded him.

“And it’s not yours,” he countered. “Please, let me,” he added.

“Seriously, Rick, you don’t have to,” I said, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of him paying.

“I want to,” he said, handing over his credit card to the girl behind the counter who was watching us with interest.

“Thanks,” I said as a warm tingle spread through me. When I was little, I used to dream about my father showing up and buying me surprises. As I got older, my dreams shifted to just wishing he would show up and want to get to know me. It seemed surreal having Rick standing before me now, doing both.

Once my bags were stowed in the back of the SUV with my luggage, Rick tuned the radio to a country station and we were back on the road. The long twisty roads of the mountain quickly took a toll on me and my eyes began to droop until they eventually closed.

I jerked awake when the vehicle shuddered to a stop. Blinking my eyes in the afternoon sun, I took in the sight of my temporary home. A massive log cabin-looking building dominated the space in front of us. A rustic screened-in patio with multiple seating areas ran the length of the front exterior. I could see smaller log buildings peeking out behind the large structure. There were a few girls that looked to be my age chatting in the screened-in space. Above us stood a large wooden sign with words burned into it welcoming visitors to Camp Unlikely Allies.

“Unlikely Allies?” I asked.

“Figured it was the best name for all the misfits we get here,” he answered affectionately. “Seriously, since everyone comes from such diverse backgrounds, normally it would be unlikely that they would ever think to work together or help each other. My goal here is to teach them that despite differences, we all must all be allies,” he added passionately.

Some of my misgivings at being so far removed from civilization began to dissipate as the magnitude of what Rick was doing here hit me. He was changing the lives of kids. It was such an admirable cause that my whining about missing the beach and my art studio seemed utterly ridiculous.

“It’s a perfect name,” I said, smiling at him.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, I sometimes think I get overzealous when I explain the name,” he added, chuckling.

“You just sound proud, which you should be. This is amazing,” I said, taking in my surroundings. I wasn’t a nature buff, but I had to admit, the towering trees overhead with the sun streaming through the breaks in the branches gave the aura of an enchanting hideaway.

“It’s always a work in progress. We just updated the mess hall this winter,” Rick said, indicating the building in front of us. “The girls' dorms over there are only a couple years old,” he added, pointing at two cabins on the right side of the building. “We plan on updating the boys' dorms this winter if my panhandling comes together in the fall,” he joked, pointing toward the two identical cabins on the left.

I looked at him curiously, wondering about his "panhandling" comments. I wasn’t sure how much it cost to keep a venture like this floating, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t cheap.