Susan Wiggs - Summer at Willow Lake

Philip and Mariska kept walking. “Never mind him,” Philip said. “He probably won’t remember anything tomorrow, anyway.” Despite the conviction in his words, he felt a thrum of apprehension in his chest. Over the summer, he and Mariska had grown increasingly inventive when it came to finding places to make love. They’d done it not just in the boathouse, but in some of the boats. In the panel van Mariska drove on her bread deliveries. On the bridge over Meerskill Falls.

Tonight, they decided to risk sneaking into the bungalow. As a senior counselor, he had private quarters, and there, illuminated only by a single night-light, he took her in his arms, leaning down to bury his face in her fragrant hair. “I can’t wait to be with you forever.”

“You’re going to have to. I better not stay out too late tonight. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning.”

He pulled back, studied her face. “Are you okay?”

“Just a checkup,” she said.

A sigh gusted from him. “Whew. I’m going to miss you so much.”

With delicate fingers, she unbuttoned the front of his shirt. “How much?”

“More than you know.” He caught his breath as she parted his shirt and pressed her lips to his throat.

“You’ll probably forget all about me once you’re back at college with your rich fiancée and high society friends.”

“Don’t talk like that. You know it’s not true.”

“All I have is your word for it.” Despite the accusation, a teasing note lightened her voice. “The rich boy’s word. What do rich girls do all the time, anyway?”

“They let rich boys make love to them,” he said, unzipping her dress in a smooth, practiced motion. He was excited now, but forced himself to slow down. He undid one cuff link and slipped it in his pocket.

“Those are pretty,” she said, admiring the glint of silver.

“They were my grandfather’s.” He removed the second one and placed it in her hand. “Tell you what. You keep one, I’ll keep the other. After I … when I come back for you, I’ll wear them again at our wedding.”

“Philip.”

“I mean it. I want to marry you. I’m giving you this little hunk of silver now. After this is all straightened out, it’ll be a diamond ring.”

Her eyes sparkled up at him as she dropped the cuff link into her handbag. “I’ll hold you to that, too. In fact, I’ve got my dream ring all picked out.”

“At Palmquist’s, where you work?”

“Very funny. At Tiffany’s.”

“Ha. I can’t afford Tiffany’s.”

“Sure you can. Your parents are loaded.”

“But I’m not. In this family, we make our own way in the world.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

He laughed and skimmed her dress down over her shoulders, watching it pool on the floor. Then he reached around and unfastened her bra. “You’re going to be the bride of a poor but noble public defender.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

He caught his breath as the bra came away; then he found his voice again. “The only thing that scares me is leaving you tomorrow.”

CAMP KIOGA SONGBOOK

The bear went over the mountain,

The bear went over the mountain,

The bear went over the mountain,

And what do you think he saw?

“Why do I keep flashing on scenes from The Shining?” asked Freddy Delgado. He hummed an ominous sound track as Olivia drove their leased SUV up the narrow, patchwork-paved country road toward the town of Avalon.

“Believe me,” she said, “that’s not as horrific as the flashbacks I’m having. I spent a lot of excruciating summers here.” She still couldn’t quite believe she was doing this. The simple act of driving felt foreign to her, since she never drove in the city. Right up to the last minute, her mother had tried to talk her out of the renovation project, but Olivia was determined. Her father had been more supportive. When she’d told him goodbye the previous night, he’d held her close and wished her luck.

“Why excruciating?” asked Freddy. “It looks like the perfect place for summer.”

She eased up on the accelerator as a chipmunk darted across the road. There were things she’d never told Freddy—or anyone—about her life. “I was sort of a misfit.”

“You?” He snorted with a disbelief that made her feel flattered. “What is this, a camp for freaks and geeks?”

She gestured at the photo album, which lay on the seat between them. The thought of him getting a glimpse of her past was discomfiting, but she had to trust him. Who besides Freddy would drop everything and agree to spend the summer at a remote Catskills camp, trying to bring back the charm of a bygone time? Of course, being jobless and homeless was a clear incentive, but now it was too late. He was already flipping through the old photos.

“Find the group shot from 1993. Saratoga Cabin, Eagle Lodge,” she instructed him.

He flipped it open and scanned the collection of photos. “Looks like a breeding program for the Aryan nation. Geez, did everybody have to be tall, blond and hot to go to camp here?”

“Look closer. Back row, on the end,” she said.

“Oh.” The tone of Freddy’s voice indicated that he had spotted her. “Went through an awkward phase, did you?”

“I wouldn’t call it a phase, I’d call it my entire adolescence. And I wasn’t awkward. I was fat. The Coke-bottle glasses and braces were just kind of a bonus.”

Freddy let out a low whistle. “And look at you now. The ugly duckling became a swan.”

“The ugly duckling got contacts, went blond and did year-round intramural swimming in college. The ugly duckling worked for two years to get to her ideal weight. And you don’t have to be polite. I was horrible. I was an unhappy kid and I took it out on myself. Once I figured out how to be happy, everything got better.”

“Kids aren’t supposed to have to figure out how to be happy. They just are.”

“Some families are different,” she told him. “And that’s all I’m going to say about the Bellamys, so don’t bother to pry.”

“Ha. I’ve got you to myself the entire summer. I’ll learn all your secrets.”

“I have no secrets.”

“Bullshit. I think you’re keeping secrets even from yourself.”

“It’s going to be a real picnic, spending the summer with Dr. Freud.”

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this project. And I’m glad Rand Whitney is history now.”

“Thanks,” she said, her voice sharp with sarcasm. “That means a lot, coming from you, Freddy. You wanted me to fail.”

“Olivia. You set yourself up for failure every time. Ever wonder why that is?”

Ouch.

“You have a habit of picking the wrong guy,” he went on. “I think it’s because you wouldn’t know what to do if you actually found the right guy. You say you figured out how to be happy. Why don’t I believe that?” She didn’t want to discuss this. “I think Barkis needs a bathroom break.”

“No, he doesn’t. He just peed in Kingston. According to the map, we’re almost there. I’ll shut up, I promise.” True to his word, Freddy fell silent and went back to studying the photos. Olivia had already done so, poring over the old Kodachromes and black-and-white photographs in order to remind herself what the place used to look like. Fortunately, her grandmother kept a concise history of the camp, from its humble beginnings in the 1930s to its heyday in the late 1950s, which was the time period she wanted to replicate in honor of the golden anniversary. She hoped to evoke the simple pleasures of summers past, to make Camp Kioga look like the sort of place people used to go—or wish they had.