One S'more Summer

by Beth Merlin

  I reached up and felt around. “What’s what?”

  She handed me a compact out of her bag.

  “That mark on your neck?”

  I opened the compact, looked down, and saw the silhouette of the key embossed on my neck. In the year since Joshua had given it to me, the skin around the necklace had darkened, leaving a distinct white outline of the key’s shape right in the center of my chest. It was my Scarlet Letter.

  “It’s from a necklace I always wear,” I answered Tara.

  “That’s why I like to lay out nude, or at least topless. Tan lines are a bitch,” she said.

  “Not here, okay, Tara? Let’s keep it G-rated for the kids,” I pleaded. She was already pushing the envelope with a very skimpy string bikini.

  “Yeah, fine,” she said, obviously disappointed. “You should get out from under this tree, though. Get some sun on that so it disappears.”

  I reluctantly moved out from under the shade and onto the lawn. I laid out my towel and stretched out under the blazing sun. Within a half hour, I had to go into the lake to cool off. Trying to avoid unwanted stares, I ran into the water as quickly as I could and dove in. I swam up to the dock about a quarter mile from the shore and climbed onto it to dry off and catch my breath. Just my luck, Perry was stretched out on it, watching his group.

  “Of course,” I muttered. “Look, I just need a minute to catch my breath and then I’ll head back to dry land,” I said to him.

  “It’s a free country, isn’t it?” he responded.

  “You’ve spent the last four summers in America. You should know.”

  He didn’t respond and instead continued applying a generous layer of suntan lotion. He lifted his shirt up over his face to wipe away the sweat from his forehead, exposing his washboard stomach. It was like looking at a statue of a Greek god. His tanned body was flawless, and the sun hit the glistening beads of sweat in all the right places. He gestured toward me with the tube of lotion and caught me staring.

  “No, thank you, I’m fine,” I said, thinking of the mark on my neck I was desperate to erase.

  “You sure? Your shoulders are already starting to get red,” he said.

  “I’m sure. I have dark features. I never burn. I tan.”

  “The sun’s really strong today,” he said, stressing the word strong.

  “You just think that ‘cause you’re from London, where it rains like 364 days out of the year.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, putting the lotion away. “Hey, aren’t those yours?” He pointed to a group of girls in the middle of the lake intentionally trying to sink their small sailboat.

  It was Candice and her crew. The four of them were standing on the boat, two on each side, rocking it back and forth in an effort to flip it over. I knew this game. I’d played it back when I was a camper. The objective was to capsize the boat so that the very good-looking lakefront lifeguards would come rushing to the rescue. Usually, though, it resulted in someone getting hurt and an expensive piece of boating equipment being damaged.

  “Do something!” The dock rocked back and forth as I bounced on the balls of my feet to get a better view of the impending shipwreck.

  “No way.” Perry jammed his hands into the pockets of his trunks. “I told you I was done rescuing you.”

  “You aren’t rescuing me, you’re rescuing them. Oh, just forget it,” I said, diving into the lake to swim toward the girls.

  He dove in right behind me. By the time we swam over, it was too late. The small Sunfish sailboat was upside down in the lake, and the four girls were floating next to it, treading water in their life preservers. Since I wasn’t wearing one, I grabbed ahold of the underside of the boat to stay afloat. I heard the bullhorn on the shore, but Perry shouted at the lifeguards that we were okay and he could right the boat without them.

  Like some sort of superhero, he climbed on top of the dagger board and then asked all of us to grab hold of the sides. Using all of our weight, we managed to right the boat. Then Perry pulled himself into the hull and helped each of us inside. Once we were all safely on board, he dove back into the lake and swam back to shore, leaving us to sail back to the dock.

  I turned to look at the girls, who were smiling. Even better than having one of the lifeguards rescue them, they’d gotten Perry to dive in and pull them to safety. Candice turned to one of her friends and asked her if she caught a glimpse of Perry’s “hot abs.”

  “That’s enough,” I chided her.

  “You must be blind or into girls,” Candice said, smirking.

  “And you must be ready to go home because I can easily call this strike three.”

  That shut her up for the rest of the time we were on the boat. Like riding a bicycle, sailing came right back to me, and I remembered everything from when I’d earned my Red Cross sailing certificate well over ten years earlier. I easily navigated the Sunfish back to the dock and tied it up while Candice and her entourage went running off to tell their tale of terror on the high seas.

  Before I could thank him for his help, Perry had already jumped onto a Jet Ski and was heading back out onto the lake. After I sent Candice and the other girls off to their bunk, I spent the rest of the day at the pool in the sun, trying to remove my mark of Cain. By the time the afternoon came, not only were my shoulders pretty burnt but so was the rest of me. I’d managed to even out the key mark, but I’d given myself an awful sunburn in the process. Everything hurt, and I had no choice but to go to the infirmary for some aloe and lotion. The camp nurse took one look at me and shook her head.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I’m an idiot and didn’t wear any sunscreen.”

  “I’m usually yelling at the kids for this, not the counselors. You should know better,” she said.

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m feeling every bit of my stupidity,” I said.

  “And you will for the next couple of days. Here, take two of these,” she said, handing me some aspirin. “They’re anti-inflammatories. They’ll help with the swelling.”

  I swallowed the pills along with my dignity and went back to the cabin to change into the lightest sundress I owned. I met the rest of the groups back at the lake for the cookout and fireworks. Jordana spotted me as I stiffly walked down the hill toward the dock.

  Her eyes bugged out of her head. “Oh my God, Gigi, you are a lobster.”

  “Among other things,” I replied.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked, pointing to the barbecue that was well under way.

  It smelled delicious. I hadn’t eaten much all day and my mouth was watering from the tangy sweet aroma of the barbecue sauce mixing with the smoky char of the corn. But then, I looked over at the crackling and burning pieces of chicken on the massive grills and shuddered in my own very burnt skin. Suddenly, it all looked very unappealing.

  “I’m going to keep applying this aloe and will probably just grab some watermelon.” I said, spying a few large cut-up pieces on a tray.

  Jordana ran off to join the line for the barbecue, and I swiped a slice from the picnic table on my way down toward the lake. I sat down under one of the few trees providing shade and bit into the watermelon, letting the sweet juice drip down my chin. I wiped it off with the back of my hand.

  “Be careful. If you swallow too many of those seeds, you’ll grow a watermelon in your stomach,” Gordy said as he approached.

  “I’ll try to be careful,” I replied, smiling.

  “While you’re at it, you should try to be a little more careful in the sun. You’re the same color as the watermelon,” he said, sliding down next to me.

  “So sunburns aren’t covered under workers’ comp then, I take it?”

  “Unfortunately not, and I had to deduct some Gordy points for the stunt your girls pulled in the lake this afternoon.”

  “I figured as much. Who ratted them out to you, Perry?”

  “One of the lifeguards from the waterfront staff. You know, Perry’s not such a bad guy,” he said.


  “I never said he was.”

  “You didn’t have to say it,” Gordy answered.

  “Look, I know he’s a real hero around here and everyone seems to love him. I’m sure that’s why he keeps coming back summer after summer, but I just don’t get it,” I said.

  Gordy’s voice turned more solemn. “So nobody’s told you the real reason Perry keeps coming back to Chinooka?”

  “To keep racking up trophies?” I joked.

  “Gigi, are you here because you had a compelling need to suddenly be a camp counselor? These old bunks have proven to be a pretty good refuge for me these last thirty-five years.”

  I wondered what secret Perry was hiding. It had to be related to the nerve I’d touched the other night by The Canteen. My curiosity was more than piqued.

  “Back when I was a camper, I used to wish I had a father who was more like you. You always seem to know the right thing to say to me,” I told Gordy.

  He turned to face me. “What’s wrong with your own father?”

  “He knows the right thing to say to everyone else.”

  He laughed. “Gigi, everyone’s father knows the right thing to say to everyone else’s children. My own kids can vouch for that.”

  This was news to me. I never knew that Gordy had a family. “Your kids?”

  “Yeah, two sons. Both of them married now with kids of their own,” he said.

  “I didn’t realize you had any children.”

  “My wife had full custody of them, so I was an every-other-weekend father to them and not even a great one of those. I don’t think they’ve quite forgiven me for that.” He pulled himself up from off the ground. “I should go check on the fireworks.”

  A few hours later, couples of campers huddled together to watch the show off the shores of Lake Chinooka. It was a perfectly clear night and the lake was awash in color and light as the reflections of the firework explosions glimmered off the water.

  I rubbed my bare neck and my breath caught in my chest when I realized Joshua and Alicia were probably standing together on the shore of Georgica Pond, giving no thought to me whatsoever.

  Chapter Twelve

  After the fireworks, the campers gathered by the dock for the Rope Burn Battle. The Rope Burn Battle took place every Fourth of July between Cedar and Birch. The victorious group would be able to add five hundred Gordy points to their ledger. Winning was a complete game changer.

  Jordana, the fire leader for Cedar, was selecting five names out of a hat full of volunteers when I walked over to join the team. It was the first time I’d seen so many of the girls eager to participate in anything. Jordana pulled out five slips of paper and read the names out loud.

  The girls ran up to the pit, while the rest of Cedar gathered around. The five girls and Jordana huddled together to discuss strategy. Over on the boys’ side, I could see Perry and his five campers doing the same. Couldn’t he give up even the possibility of glory for one second? Gordy stepped to the center between the two fire pits and laid out the rules for the contest.

  “Each team will get one single match to start their fire. The teams may use any natural resources available to them to build up the flames but nothing artificial or man-made. Only one counselor and two members of each team are permitted within the fire circle, and the remaining three must stay outside of it as the designated wood gatherers. The event will start at the dock, where canoes representing each team will race to the shore with the one match. The teams cannot start constructing their fire until they receive the match from their canoe. The first team to burn completely through their rope wins.”

  Gordy handed Jordana and Perry each a match and then blew the bullhorn. The two of them took off running to the dock on the far side of the lake, where a camper from each team was already seated in the canoe, waiting for them. Perry reached his canoe first and jumped into the back. Jordana was only a few seconds behind him. Birch reached the shore before Cedar, and Perry and the camper jumped out of the canoe to drag it to land. After the nod from a waterfront staff judge, he and the camper sprinted to their fire pit. Jordana had a little bit more difficulty pulling the heavy canoe onto the shore. After the whistle from the judge, she and our camper took off to the Cedar fire pit.

  Madison had collected a bundle of tinder and was ripping it into smaller and smaller pieces in the Cedar girls’ fire circle. Jordana sprinted over and lit the match. Slowly and carefully, she brought it to the tinder bundle. It immediately started to smoke. Very gently, Madison blew on the bundle, coaxing the smoke into an actual flame. Then, she delicately brought it over to a small pile of twigs in the center of the fire pit.

  I looked over to Birch, where the boys were using a completely different strategy. They’d rolled up dried-out tree bark into a torch-like cone. Perry lit the cone with the match, and once they had a significant blaze, they transferred it to the center of a log cabin-like structure in the center of their pit. They placed the torch in the center of it and fed the center small twigs and branches.

  The rest of the camp had divided into sides and were cheering for their favorite team. Michelle and Brooke were leading the girls in a chant of, “Burn, Baby, Burn.” On the boys’ side, the campers were screaming the words to ‘The Roof Is On Fire.’ The wood gatherers were bringing branches of all sizes to the circle, and Jordana and Perry added them into their respective fires.

  I watched as the small flames grew into blazing infernos. It was hard to tell which fire was bigger, although it looked as though Perry’s team had a slight advantage. The wood gatherers brought larger and larger pieces to the circles, and both teams built up their rising flames. The Birch fire was first to touch the rope, with the Cedar flames hitting theirs a few seconds later. After another few minutes, the fire on the boys’ side completely seared through the rope, and Gordy declared them the winners and the recipients of 500 points. All of Birch rushed over to congratulate them.

  Tradition dictated that the losing team had to extinguish their fire while the rest of the camp gathered around the winning fire for s’mores and a sing-along. Jordana glumly carried a heavy bucket of water from the lake up to our team’s circle. I ran over to give her a hand. She looked exhausted. It was still at least ninety degrees outside, and being that close to the fire made it feel well over a hundred.

  “Why don’t you go back to the bunk and change? I got this,” I offered.

  She gratefully took the cue and left.

  I continued walking back and forth between the lake and pit, making sure the last of the fire was completely out. Perry grabbed one of the other buckets and followed suit.

  “You don’t have to help me. I’m fine,” I said.

  “Not only you can prevent forest fires,” he responded in a deep voice.

  I burst out laughing. “Was that your impression of Smokey Bear?”

  “Not good?”

  “Good. Not great. I think this should do it,” I said, pouring the last of the water onto the embers.

  Perry filled up his bucket with sand from the lakeshore and dumped it over the pit.

  “This should do it.”

  I shook my head. “You just can’t let me have the last say where anything is concerned, can you?”

  “And you can’t accept that not everything I do is a direct challenge to you,” he said.

  Sweat was running down my neck. I pulled my hair off of it and wrapped it into a loose bun. Perry didn’t take his eyes off of me.

  “You know, you look really pretty tonight, even if you are the color of a tom-ah-to,” he said in his affected British accent.

  “Tomato,” I corrected in my American one.

  “Tomato, To-mah-to, Potato, Po-tah-to—let’s call the whole thing off,” he mumbled.

  “A Gershwin fan?” I recognized the line from one of their classic songs. “Me too. My father plays all the greats, Ravel, Debussy, and Schoenberg.”

  Perry turned the bucket upside down and took a seat on it next to the fire pit. I did the sa
me and sat down beside him.

  “Do you know the story about Gershwin meeting Ravel?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “The story goes that when Gershwin met Ravel, he asked if he could study with him. Ravel apparently responded ‘Why would you want to be a second-rate Ravel when you’re already a first-rate Gershwin?’”

  “I have heard that story, actually, only in my father’s telling, Gershwin asked Schoenberg, not Ravel, if he could study with him. It doesn’t matter, though, the takeaway is still the same—nobody is a legend in their own mind or time, I guess? It’s funny. There were moments on Top Designer I was paralyzed with fear that I’d unknowingly copy someone else’s design.”

  “You were on Top Designer?”

  “I was the runner-up on the first season.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That show’s hugely popular in the UK.”

  “Yeah, it was in the States, too.”

  “Good experience?”

  “It was a crash course in design. Sometimes we were only given a day to complete the challenges. It’s actually kind of amazing what you can come up working in those time constraints. You stop thinking and just feel your way through completely on instinct.”

  “You know, Gershwin wrote ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ in less than five weeks and composed most of it in his head on a train going to Boston?”

  For the first time since we met, Perry and I were having an actual conversation, free of any quips or jabs. Not wanting to do anything to jeopardize the small amount of progress we were making, I answered, “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “It took him five weeks to write a masterpiece. Five weeks. I’ve been struggling with my composition for almost three years.” Perry pushed his fingers through his hair, which had become a mop of curls from the humidity and his own sweat.

  He looked so different from his usual cocky, confident self—like all his bravado had been lifted, leaving him raw and exposed. Yes, he was classically handsome, there was no question about that. But seeing him stripped of all of the coolness, I actually found myself wanting to kiss him. Not in the same way I’d wanted to that night in his cabin—as a means to forget Joshua—but because for the first time ever, I felt a genuine desire to kiss someone other than Joshua. The thought made me shiver.