by Susan Wiggs
He was heavyset and jovial, with thick glasses and ill-fitting pants pulled up high over his waist, and a short-sleeved shirt in a very strange shade of yellow. Julian was so excited he ricocheted everywhere, tugging his father along as he showed him around.
“You’re going to miss Julian, aren’t you?” Lolly said.
“I’ve been missing him since I was eleven years old,” Connor admitted. “Weird little guy.”
“Then I’m glad you had this summer. Maybe next year, you’ll both come back.”
He grinned at her. “Maybe. Assuming your grandparents—crap.” His grin disappeared.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, but she didn’t need to hear his answer. His own father, Terry Davis, came driving up in the maintenance truck. Julian, who genuinely liked Mr. Davis, pulled Louis over to meet him.
“Excuse me,” Connor said, and went to join his father.
Lolly watched them from a distance, two fathers and two sons, each of them broken in some way. She understood that Connor loved his father, but that his pain and shame over Terry’s drinking had taken a toll on both of them.
“That’s the boy you’ve been seeing all summer?” asked a voice behind Lolly.
Oh, cripes. Lolly turned with slow reluctance. “Hi ya, Mom. When did you get here?”
“An hour ago, but you didn’t notice.” Lolly’s mother had flawlessly styled hair and makeup, and she wore a perfect outfit—a crisp cotton dress and low-heeled sandals, designer shades and a beige Chanel tote bag. Beside her, Lolly felt grubby and unkempt.
She gave her mother a brief hug. “Come and meet Connor.”
Her mother stiffened, radiating resistance from every fiber of her being. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
Lolly gave a little snort of disbelief. “My first real boyfriend, and you don’t want to meet him?”
“Sweetie, there’s really no point. We’re all going our separate ways tomorrow, anyway.”
“I know what you’re really thinking,” she said, affecting a snobbish, boarding-school accent. “You don’t consider it appropriate for your daughter to associate with the likes of Connor Davis.”
“Don’t be snide.”
“Then come and meet him. Mom, he’s so great, I know you’re going to like him.” Lolly stopped when she saw her mother watching Connor, with his long hair and slightly punked-out look, standing next to his father, who was wearing a work coverall and smoking a cigarette. Nearby were the Nutty Professor and his biracial kid. Noting the expression on her mother’s face, Lolly decided to give up. Her mother was never going to like Connor, no matter what, so she might as well not subject him to the awkward introduction.
“I have to go,” she said. “I promised to help with the appetizers for tonight. The kitchen has too many eggs left over, so we’re making a zillion deviled eggs.”
As she headed for the main lodge, she forced herself to shrug off her mother’s skepticism and focus on the coming evening. She was intercepted by Jazzy Simmons, who scuttled over, her posture conspiratorial. “Don’t forget,” she said, “leave the ice machine on, at least until we fill the keg barrels.”
“I said I would,” Lolly told her. Tonight was the traditional farewell dance for the staff and counselors. There would be a bonfire down on the lakeshore. And a ton of contraband beer, of course. Lolly didn’t mind providing the ice. She and Connor were counting on everyone to be caught up in the celebration, because they planned to steal away. With no kids to look after, no bed-check duty to perform, they would finally have some privacy. The two of them had a plan. Tonight, finally, they were going to make love for the first time.
The party wasn’t excruciating. That was something, at least. One thing getting a boyfriend had done for Lolly was that it had given her more confidence in herself. She didn’t stand around at a party as if she were stuck to the wall, unable to get out on the floor and dance. She learned that it was possible to laugh and have a good time and stop worrying about what people thought. She wished her cousins were here, but Dare and Frankie had left the day before because they were going all the way to California for college.
Fortunately, Lolly’s mother wasn’t around. She was spending the night in town at the Turning Maple, a luxury B and B. Tomorrow, she would drive Lolly back to the city. Lolly already knew that no more would be said about Connor Davis. That was her mother’s way. If you didn’t talk about something, it didn’t exist.
That was okay with Lolly, though. She wasn’t really sure she had the words to tell her mother or anyone how she felt about Connor. She called it love, but it felt so much bigger than that. It felt like a tornado inside her, a forest fire. They danced together, and she felt as if she was going to be swept up into the sky by the sheer force of her emotions. At the end of the song, Connor went to get something to drink, and Lolly just stood there in a daze.
Jazzy Simmons showed up, wearing low-slung combat fatigues and a top that exposed her bra straps. Her headlamp boobs preceded her wherever she went. Never one to mince words, Jazzy took one look at Lolly and said, “Omigod, you’re totally going to do it, aren’t you?”
“Shut up, Jazzy.” There was no venom in Lolly. She was still floating.
“Lolly Bellamy, you wicked hussy. You’re going to hook up with Connor Davis.” Jazzy’s nose had been out of joint all summer long because Connor had chosen Lolly instead of her. “Lolly and Connor,” she said, slinging her arm around a boy named Kirk. “That’s something I’d like to see.”
“We all would,” Kirk said, and snickered.
Lolly couldn’t care less. The knowledge that she and Connor were going to steal away was both delicious and terrifying. As people headed down to the lakeshore to light the bonfire, a raft of thin clouds moved in to shroud the moon. She felt a little thrill of apprehension, and an even stronger thrill of anticipation, and went to meet Connor at the appointed spot. They had a favorite place near the waterfall, where a deep pool had been carved out by the cascade. Moonlight spilled through an opening in the forest canopy, and the low roar of the falls battering the rocks created a strange but soothing music. She found Connor there already, and just for a moment, he looked forbidding, his features in shadow and his tall silhouette outlined by moonlight and the mist of the falls in the background.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said when she reached him, a little breathless from the climb.
“Of course I came.” She felt shy and uncertain, though. “Did you, um, bring everything?”
“Right here.” He spread out a thick woolen army blanket and set down two cans of beer and a small, oblong box. The condoms. Oh, God, she thought. We’re really going to do this.
“Have a seat,” he said mildly. “There’s no rush.” He opened a can of beer and handed it to her.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, sitting cross-legged on the blanket.
“Where do you think?” He gave a brief laugh. “My dad’s got an unending supply.”
She nodded and took a sip, grimacing a little. She didn’t really like the taste of beer, but she felt a sudden need to delay this just a little longer. “So, what were you talking about earlier today, you and your father and Professor Gastineaux?”
“I don’t know. Louis was thanking my dad. And my dad, as usual, was all bowing and scraping, saying it was the least he can do.” There was an edge of annoyance in his voice.
“It was nice of your dad.”
“Yeah, he’ll probably really tie one on tonight to celebrate how nice he is. We had this big argument tonight because he wanted to go shoot pool at Hilltop Tavern.”
Lolly didn’t know what do say. She realized shooting pool was not the issue. It was that Mr. Davis was bound to drink too much, and then try to drive. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think of to say.
“It’s okay. It’s not like I’m his keeper.” He took a desultory gulp of his beer. “That was your mom I saw you with earlier today,” he said.
She was startled that he�
��d noticed. “She drove up from the city this morning.”
“You look like her.”
Lolly snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“How do you think I figured out it was your mom?” He took another glug of beer. “Why didn’t you introduce us?”
Uh-oh. Her cheeks started to burn. “My mom’s not exactly the friendly type.”
“You know damn well that’s not the reason. Listen, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me—”
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” she said in a rush. “Ashamed of you? Cripes, Connor, every morning I wake up and pinch myself to make sure I didn’t dream you. I swear, I’m not ashamed of you, but…”
“But what?”
“Of my mom. Of the way she’s so judgmental about people. I didn’t want you to be subjected to that, so I didn’t force her on you. Okay? And anyway, it’s you who should be ashamed to be seen with me.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Come on, Connor. You think I haven’t heard the guys ribbing you about dating the fat chick?”
“They’re full of shit,” he said.
“And so is my mom.” She sighed. “I wish…” She wasn’t sure what she wished. That she had a different mother? That Terry Davis had been a better dad to him? She fell silent, and they sat quietly for a few minutes and let the tension of the previous moments dissolve. She drank a little more of her beer. It didn’t take much for her to start feeling the subtle warmth of its effects. “You know the scariest thing to me about going to college?” she said. “Being away from you.”
“We’ll see each other.”
“We, uh, we never really talked about how.” They hadn’t discussed the details of the way this relationship would work, once they were away from camp. She wished time would stop and the world would go away, leaving her and Connor alone forever, like Adam and Eve. Then she fantasized about what life would be like in the city. She would go to classes, and Connor would get work and they’d see each other every night. It would be perfect.
He shrugged. “People tend to do the things that are important to them.”
“You’re important to me,” she told him. “You’re everything to me. I love you, Connor.” A pause. Oh, man. She’d gone and said it. Now if he said it back, it wouldn’t mean anything except that she’d put him on the spot.
But he didn’t say it back. He said something that was, if possible, even better. “I never did anything to deserve you,” he said. “I want to, though. The thing about you, Lolly, is that you’ve got all these expectations of me. I’m not used to that. Nobody in the world ever expected anything of me, except to get out of their hair. And now here you are, wanting me in your life. That’s huge to me. You have no idea how huge.”
“I don’t mean to pressure you,” she said.
“You don’t get it. This kind of pressure…it’s okay. The way I see it, in order for someone to have expectations of you, they have to believe in you. And all my life, only one person has ever done that—you, Lolly.”
He kissed her hard and searchingly, and she was on fire, on the verge of exploding. All summer long, they had been building to this inevitable, planned-for and dreamed-of moment, and she was terrified. She told herself not to be. This was Connor, after all, and it was time, past time. Everybody always said to save yourself for the one you love. Well, if what she felt for Connor wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was.
Still, even feeling the burn of that in her heart didn’t make things easier and somehow, he could sense that. He stopped kissing her and leaned back. “Look, if you don’t—”
“I do. I swear it. Just…give me a minute.” She slid her arms around his neck and took a deep breath. His hair smelled clean and fresh, like the night air. A warm breeze swept through the forest, parting the treetops. She could just make out the glow of the bonfire on the lakeshore below, and felt a flicker of unease. What if someone noticed she and Connor were gone?
He pulled back again. “Now you’re even more tense,” he said. “If you changed your mind, I’ll understand.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I’m, um…bashful, a little. A lot, actually.” It was the best she could do. It was impossible to explain precisely how self-conscious she truly felt.
“You know what I think?” he said, a funny grin on his face. “I think we should go swimming.”
“You mean skinny-dipping.” She gulped. “Right here? Right now?”
“Sure.”
Skinny-dipping at Camp Kioga was an unwritten tradition, performed under dark of night in a hail of giggles. “I never took part,” Lolly admitted. “Too self-conscious.” He ought to know, she thought. Hadn’t he heard the teasing? She used to lie there alone in the sticky heat, smoldering with yearning as she imagined what it must feel like, swimming naked, with the water flowing over her.
He took a gulp of beer, shook his head. “Believe me, we weren’t checking each other out. It was all about speed and stealth and getting away with something. So what do you say?” His voice was soft and low, almost a whisper. “How about now?”
“What about now?” She knew what he was asking, though. She knew exactly what he was asking.
“Would you feel self-conscious now?” He sat up, set down his can of beer.
“I don’t think a person ever gets over that.”
Without taking his eyes off her, he reached over and undid the top button of her blouse. “It’s dark, Lolly. There’s nobody here but us.”
She couldn’t move. Forgot to breathe for a second. He went on to the next button.
Her heart was pounding so hard, it was about to leap right out of her. Yet when she looked down at his hand, everything looked normal. Well, as normal as it could look, the first time a boy took off your shirt and then your bra. Don’t panic, she told herself. Just feel. Lolly felt protected by the darkness and by Connor, and she knew that as long as she was in his arms, nothing bad could happen to her. She was safe with him, and she knew everything would be all right, even though there were moments of tremendous awkwardness and embarrassment. She wanted to die when he whispered, “Stand up, Lolly, so I can get these off,” and he peeled away her shorts. These moments were tempered by an intensity that stole her breath, and a feeling that made her forget to be embarrassed or bashful. She forgot everything except that she loved Connor Davis with every bit of her heart.
The crazy thing was, standing naked before him didn’t quite push her over the edge of panic. No, what caused that was when Connor started to undress. She’d seen him with his shirt off a million times, but when he undid his fly, the panic kicked in.
He must have sensed that, because he got in the water fast and slipped under the surface, then came up, the water spraying around him like stars. All right, thought Lolly, my turn. But before she could make a move, she saw a confusing flash, like a stroke of heat lightning. Connor looked around, as though he’d expected some interruption.
Almost as though it had been planned.
Seconds later, a drunk and rowdy gang of counselors burst from the woods, yodeling war whoops and aiming their flashlight beams with blinding accuracy, right at Lolly. Everything unfolded in a blur after that. She remembered screaming, scrambling for something, anything, with which to cover herself. Somehow a scratchy blanket appeared, swept around her shoulders. The laughter was deafening. She lost track of Connor, or maybe he didn’t want to be found. It didn’t matter now. She didn’t want to see him, or anyone, ever again. She was so mortified that she simply ran, barefoot, over the rocky ground.
AVALON TROUBADOR
SEPTEMBER 15, 1997
Camp Kioga To Close Its Gates Forever
Camp Kioga, an Avalon landmark since 1932, is about to close its gates permanently. Originally founded by Angus Neil Gordon as a rustic nature camp for city families, Kioga earned a reputation for providing challenging and rewarding outdoor experiences for generations of campers. The property is famous for its unparalleled beauty, which encompasses a pristi
ne lake, a waterfall and forested mountains.
The hundred-acre wilderness property has been under the stewardship of Jane Gordon Bellamy and husband Charles Bellamy. When asked about future plans for the property, Mrs. Bellamy was quoted as saying, “We hope to keep it in the family, if that’s possible.”
Thirty-One
Misgivings poured over Olivia. She shouldn’t have come here tonight, looking for him, looking for…what? Closure to the past or a new beginning? Or maybe just answers to a fresh set of questions.
“You know, the last time we tried this, things didn’t work out so well for us,” she reminded him.
“And here we are, getting a second chance.” He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, almost chastely.
Except that her response was anything but chaste. “Lucky us.”
He kept going and the blouse fell open, exposing her to the warm night air and to his frankly tender gaze. She wondered if he could tell her heart was racing. Wondered if he could see the single trickle of sweat that slipped down her throat, into the cleft between her breasts. He could. He reached over and traced its path with his finger.
“Hot night,” he said as he undid the front hook of her bra.
“Yes,” she agreed, making absolutely no move to stop him. If there was one thing she had learned from all her dating mishaps of the past, it was that you didn’t mess with something that felt this good. You just let it happen. The time for thinking and analyzing and rationalizing was past. Now was a time to simply feel.
“You should never, ever wear clothes,” he said. “Ever.”
“Excuse me?”
“Why would you cover this up?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to do this, Connor.”
“Why the hell would you think that?”
She couldn’t believe he had to ask. The night after their trip to the city, he’d practically had her begging for sex, then stopped without explanation, leaving her to fill in the blanks. She had filled them in with nothing good—doubt and suspicion, mistrust, unsettling memories. But it was all eclipsed by a piercing need, not just for closeness and intimacy, but for him—his strong embrace and the press of his lips against hers. She wondered what he remembered of that night, if he thought of it at all. One thing she had figured out this summer was that memory was a tenuous thing, easily shaped by perception.
