I smile. “Thanks. I’ll text you the number for Jeffrey’s assistant.”
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” she says.
“You, too,” I say, wondering what she’s actually doing with her night. I’ve never seen her at a party, and this is one with people from her school.
I end the call, relieved everything’s in place. Carlyn was the last piece of the puzzle, and now I’m ready to do this. I text Jeffrey to let him know she’s in, and he texts back with a thumbs-up emoji.
I’ve spent my last few summers traveling internationally, staying in hotel rooms, eating foreign food, and playing competitively. And now I’m getting ready to spend this summer sleeping on a cot in a cabin out in the sticks surrounded by a rotation of sixteen kids and a squeaky-clean girl. Something tells me I’m in for an unexpected ride.
Chapter Three
Carlyn
We pull up at the camp, and it’s nothing like what I imagined. This place looks more like someone’s house, which, I guess it is. The log cabin we’re parked in front of must be where the couple who runs the place, Nancy and Fred, live. Two smaller cabins sit to the right of the property, while a covered area with long tables and benches rests behind the house. So far, no sign of tennis courts.
Dad puffs out his chest as he surveys the situation. “I still don’t like it. I don’t even see the tennis courts.” He turns to me. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”
A screen door on the front porch of the log cabin opens, and a couple who must be Nancy and Fred make their way toward us. Nancy has a full head of long white frizzy hair and wears Birkenstocks and cutoff jeans. Fred dons a straw hat with the top cut out and flip-flops that look like they’re in danger of a blowout any minute.
“Carlyn, right?” Nancy comes at me with wide-open arms. She engulfs me in her embrace, and I inhale something herbal, maybe potpourri. “We’re so happy to have you with us this summer.” By the smile on her face, I believe her.
Fred holds up a hand. “I’m not a hugger, but that doesn’t mean I don’t welcome ya.” He smiles with clenched teeth, which hold a gnarled toothpick. He offers a hand to my dad. “Fred Sherman. I assume you’re Alan. Nice to put a face with a voice.”
My dad takes his hand, and they shake on it. “Alan Sadowski.”
Fred tilts his head to the side. “I suppose you might be a little uncomfortable leaving your daughter in the hands of strangers for the summer.”
“Little bit,” my dad says.
I lovingly roll my eyes at my dad. I can’t really blame him for being overprotective. I’ve been all he’s had since my mom died when I was three.
Fred puts his hand on my dad’s shoulder. “How about I take you around the land, and you can drill me with anything we didn’t cover on the phone already.” Before he can argue, Fred has him ushered off.
Nancy tosses up her hands and holds them out, shifting from side to side, glancing around the property. “Well, make yourself at home here. The girls’ cabin is right over there.” She points to a small building on the right side of the property with a pink polka-dotted door. The cabin about twenty feet away from it has a blue-and-green striped door.
Nancy leans in, as if someone out here in the middle of nowhere might hear her. “A few years ago, we had a girl wander into the boys’ cabin, claiming they were too similar and she’d forgotten which was hers. Fred pulled out the paint the next day and went to work on the doors. He tells everyone I did it, so nobody finds out about his artistic side.” She winks, and I give her a courtesy laugh.
I scan the area. “Where are the tennis courts?”
“They’re at the back of the property, behind that pine-tree line,” Nancy says. “Once you get settled into your cabin, feel free to walk the premises. This is your home away from home. Would you like some help unpacking?”
I sort of would. This seems like the ideal moment to share with a mother, but I’ve gotten used to doing this kind of stuff by myself. “I’m all good, thanks.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be right around here if you need me. Just come on in the house. No need to knock.”
I head to the cabin. Finding the pink door unlocked, I push it open, inhaling a whiff of the musky, earthy scent of wood. Four sets of bunk beds line the walls, two in the back, and then one set each on either side wall. A single bed sits perpendicular, framing the bunk beds into a sort of room within the room, so I take that one. I pull out my Rubik’s Cube and place it on my bedside table. I take out all my books and line them up on the shelf below my nightstand. I brought more than will fit, so I put all my academic books in a stack on my nightstand and set the lamp on top of them.
After I get my suitcase unpacked, I find a box of my favorite granola bars in my backpack. That’s my dad. Always thinking of me. A hint of anxiety washes over me, and I start to tear up a little when a knock sounds at the door.
“Hello?” Vaughn’s low voice sends my heartbeat racing, not an unfamiliar feeling when it comes to him, unfortunately.
I swipe at my eyes quickly before turning around. “Hey!”
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just unpacking.” I hold up the box of granola bars. “Want one?”
“No thanks.” He points to the door. “Your dad’s giving Fred the third degree.”
Heat rushes up my neck. I love my dad more than anything on earth, but it’s super embarrassing the way he acts like I’m some sort of princess that’s in need of protecting. “Has he given it to you yet?”
“He was cool. But I think he’s a little suspicious of me.”
“He’s just protective. I guess I better go say bye to him. Where is he?”
He nods at the door. “Come on. I’ll show you the tennis courts.”
We walk toward a thick line of pine trees, not really talking much; I’m a little unsure what to say. Do I apologize for sucking so hard at the doubles tournament a year ago and embarrassing him? Now would be a good time for that, but the words simply aren’t making their way to my lips.
We scoot through a spot in the tree line, and I almost lose my breath. A huge, sparkling lake opens up the space, the outer rim trimmed with lush green woods. A dock jets out in a T into the lake, with a few canoes tied to one side, a pontoon boat resting under a covered port. A sort of stand-alone treehouse-type structure sits to the right side of the dock, and a small beach houses a volleyball net, tetherball, and an old-fashioned corn hole game.
To the left, a black chain-link fence surrounds a swimming pool. A barn separates the pool from two tennis courts, which, from their vibrant green color, look to be in much better shape than I expected.
“You’d never know all this existed from the road,” I say.
“Yeah,” he says. “It’s pretty cool.”
We walk toward the tennis courts and find my dad and Fred standing at the baseline next to a ball machine, Dad with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s typically about five ten, but today he might as well be seven feet tall the way he’s holding himself up all protective and dad-ish.
Fred gives Vaughn a hard pat on the back and grabs his shoulder. “I was just telling your father that Vaughn and I have become well-acquainted these past couple months. I have full confidence that he’s going to take as good care of you this summer as Nancy and I will. We met Jeffrey earlier this morning, as well. I couldn’t help but be a little awestruck,” Fred says, clueless. “I watched that match he played in the quarterfinals at Wimbledon back in the day.”
That’s about as much of the awkward as I can take, so I turn to my dad with raised eyebrows. “Okay, well…I guess Vaughn and I need to get to work.” My dad exhales a reluctant grunt.
Fred offers a hand toward the house. “I’ll let the two of you say your goodbyes, then I’ll meet you back up front, Alan. I want to make sure we’ve got the numbers and emails and all that mess exchanged.” Vaughn makes himself scarce as well.
I wrap my arms around my dad, and he hugs me like
the world’s coming to an end. “Don’t worry about me, Dad,” I say, my lips smashed against his shirt.
He pulls away and gives me a resigned smile. “Look, you know I don’t like this, and you know I can’t stand Jeffrey Lyons, but there’s no denying he’s a far better coach than I could ever be for you.”
“Dad—”
“No, I’m serious. I’m proud, but I’m not naive. I’d give anything if we could have afforded professional coaching for you over the years, but it’s been all I can do to just keep up the dues at the club.”
“I know, Dad, and that’s been plenty.”
“It hasn’t, but if he can work with you this summer and get you a spot on Avery’s team, I can’t stand in the way of that.”
I smile, my heart so swollen with love for this man who has raised me solo and done so much for me. “Thank you.”
Dad glances around. “Now listen. I don’t have any reason to have anything against Vaughn other than his biggest role model for the past few years has been Jeffrey Lyons.” He spits Jeffrey’s name out like a rotten apple.
“Dad.”
“Just keep your eye out for him, okay? Fred tells me there’s a strict no-fraternizing rule at this camp, but I trust that your focus here is these kids and playing tennis.”
“Of course. It’s going to be fine, trust me.”
He lets out a breath the size of fourteen years of my mother’s absence. “If it gets you on that Avery team, I’m on board.”
I squeeze his wrist. “Thanks for trusting me.” He gives a single nod, and then he’s off for good.
Vaughn makes his way back to the court from the storage barn, heading toward the ball machine. I meet him over there. “Sorry about my dad,” I say, realizing I’ve already apologized once for this. I should stop that.
He uncoils the cord. “He’s protective of his daughter. I can only respect him for that.”
His words give my heart a surge of warmth. I glance around the place. “Are your parents here somewhere? Did they already leave?”
His brow creases. “My friend Jamison helped me move in.”
I’m kind of surprised to hear his parents weren’t here, but when I think about it, I haven’t really seen them around him much, if at all.
He smiles, still focused on the cord. “He was disappointed that he had to leave before you got here.”
I still, not sure what that meant, and pretty certain I don’t want to know, so I look for a subject change. “Are you going to be okay staying put in one place all summer?” He gives me a weird look as he hands me a balled-up extension cord. I work at the knots. “I mean, you travel a lot, right? On the circuit and all?”
He frowns. “Yeah. But this is my home.”
“Well, true, but we’re like, an hour and a half from home here.”
“Yeah, but we’re still in Indiana. Indiana’s my home.”
“Mine, too, but I can’t wait to travel to places on my own.”
He fiddles with the adjustments on the ball machine—ball height, speed, frequency, and placement. “Trust me. It’s fine right here.”
He pulls another extension cord from the basket underneath the hopper and walks it over to the outlet. As he switches it on, the machine whirls to life with a high-pitched squeal, and he waits for the first few balls to spit out. With an intense scowl on his face, he adjusts some more with what looks like keen precision as he concentrates on the balls popping out of the machine like little rockets being launched.
He’s such a pro. Even watching him command this old clunky machine like it’s a jet plane is fascinating…and sort of hot. “So is that why you chose Avery?” I ask. “It’s close to home?”
He shrugs. “It’s not too close. About an hour drive.”
“Well, yeah, but you could have gone anywhere, surely.”
He shuts off the machine, the absence of the noise tightening the space between us. “I’m tired of going places.” He looks at me, really, for the first time during this conversation. “What about you? If you want to travel and get out of here, why are you going to Avery?”
I rub my finger up and down my forehead, sort of cringing. I don’t like talking about my dead mom. It makes people uncomfortable, and they don’t know how to react, then they look really sorry for me, then I end up overcompensating so it’s not awkward, telling them I was really little and it’s absolutely fine, and I’ve never really known what life is like with a mom so it’s all good. This method has worked really well my whole life. They usually end up smiling with a nod like the matter is settled into a neat comfortable box.
“It’s a good school,” I say.
“But there’s good schools everywhere, and you’re really smart, aren’t you? You could have gone anywhere, surely,” he says, tossing my words right back at me.
“Money’s tight at my house,” I say.
“If you can get a full academic ride to Avery, you could have gotten one somewhere else.”
I’m not sure why, but I’m still not ready to tell him about my mom. “Like I said. Money’s tight. We can’t afford all that traveling, plane tickets and stuff. And there’s nowhere within decent driving distance that felt right.”
He shrugs. “I’ll give you that. Avery’s a good school. Do they have a solid math program? Is that what you’re studying there?”
I stare at him, feeling a little paranoid. “Yeah, how did you…” I trail off.
“You had like five math books on your nightstand when I was in your room earlier. That’s what you read for fun?”
I feel momentarily silly for thinking he looked into me or something stupid like that. “What do you read?” I ask, admittedly, a little defensive.
He bounces a ball on the ground and catches it. “I finished Andre Agassi’s autobiography a couple of weeks ago.”
“I mean books that have nothing to do with tennis?”
He gives me a look. “There are books that have nothing to do with tennis?”
I roll my eyes and glance around the camp. “So what’s on the schedule for today?”
He shrugs. “You’re looking at it. We mainly just needed to be here so we could get moved in and settled. Jeffrey will show up at the ass-crack of dawn to work us out, then we’ll have campers coming soon after that.”
“Really? We can do whatever this afternoon?” I ask.
“Sure.”
I glance over at the lake. “Want to go swimming?”
“In there?” he asks.
I giggle. “Yeah. Have you never been swimming in a lake?” His face colors. “Wow. You’ve never been swimming in a lake.”
“I’m always playing goddamned tennis. When have I had a chance to go to the lake?”
I smile. Suddenly, I don’t feel as intimidated by him. He’s never swum in a lake, and I think he’s a little nervous about it. What else has he been missing out on, playing tennis? “Let’s go, then.”
He considers me, and then walks over to the socket and unplugs the machine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
He wraps the cord around the brackets on the machine. “It’s just not.”
“Hang on…can you swim?”
He gives me a look. “Of course I can swim. You’ve seen me at the club.”
“Hardly. You’re always gone.”
He shifts his glance at me and then back to the machine. “I’ve seen you.”
A sweet sensation fills my belly. I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “So how about we swim in the pool, if that’s more comfortable for you.”
He wraps the extension cord from his hand to his elbow over and over. “That’s not a good idea, either.”
“How come?”
He glances at the tree line in the direction of the house. “There are very strict rules here.”
“About swimming?”
He drops his posture, closing his eyes for a second like he’s exhausted with me. “No, Carlyn. Not about swimming.”
I know he’s mi
ster hotshot international circuit world traveler, untouchable tennis god, but he’s starting to get on my nerves. “Then what, Vaughn?” I say, stressing his name as much as he did mine.
He grasps the handle on the machine, leaning his weight into it, and meets my gaze, straight on. “About fraternizing.”
“Does that include just hanging out?”
He rolls his eyes, his neck starting to color a little, but he looks me dead in the eye again, lifting his eyebrow.
A strange sensation moves through the middle of me as I start to catch on to what he’s suggesting. “Hang on…do you think I was hitting on you just then?” My stomach freaks out a little.
“I didn’t say that.” He pushes away from the machine and heads to the other side of the court.
I follow him. “Then what did you say?”
“I said swimming wasn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?”
He reaches down and puts a ball in his pocket. “Because Fred’s watching.”
“Fred’s watching us swim? I wasn’t suggesting skinny dipping.”
He smiles and picks up two more, filling his other pocket. “That’d really get us kicked out of here.”
“Are you going to tell me why swimming is a bad idea or not?”
He picks up three more balls, but he’s out of room in his pockets for them, so he lifts up his shirt, making a little pouch for them, giving me a peek at his abs. I’ve seen them from afar at the pool, but never so up close. Ahem.
He faces me. “Fred’s watching me like a hawk. If I come near you, he’ll have my ass. I don’t need anything messing this up for me.”
“We’d just be swimming.”
“Alone.” He heads back out to pick up more balls.
I follow, a little embarrassed. “For the record, I wasn’t asking you to hookup. I had asked you to go swimming, but now I’m not even doing that.”
He gives a sideways nod and says, “That’s for the best,” and then picks up some more balls.
“Oh my God, Vaughn. Please get over yourself. I’m not interested in you like that.” A little wave crests in my stomach. “And I have no illusions that you like me like that, either.” He lifts his eyebrows just slightly, keeping his mouth shut, and I think I might slap him. “What is that look on your face? What does that mean?” I ask, ready to lay into him if he says one more word about me needing to contain myself around him.
Courting Carlyn Page 3
