Mother-Daughter Book Camp

“Didn’t she tell you?” I reply. “She got invited to go with the Friedmans. Grace’s parents know her parents.”

  “Really?”

  I frown. “I thought that’s what they told me the plan was.”

  “We’d better double-check,” says Cassidy.

  The two of us head up to the Dining Hall porch, where Sergeant Marge is stationed with her clipboard.

  “Yes, Carter went with the Friedmans,” Marge confirms, consulting the list. “All of your campers are checked out, so you’re free until three o’clock.”

  Cassidy gives me a fist bump. “Woohoo! Freedom!”

  Marge frowns at us. “Make sure you’re back in time for the afternoon program.”

  We hurry away before she can think up a reason for us to stay.

  “Later, gator,” says Cassidy, who’s meeting her family at the top of the hill. She starts to jog up the road, then looks back over her shoulder and gives me a sly smile. “Give, uh, everybody a big kiss for me!” Puckering her lips, she makes a smooching sound.

  Cassidy can be such a goofball sometimes. Shaking my head, I turn to go and find the Hawthornes. They invited me to come to lunch with them since my parents weren’t able to make it. Summer is a really busy time on our farm, and there’s no way they could get away. Which is fine; I didn’t expect them to. No big deal.

  I spot Emma’s family’s car first, a white minivan parked on the far side of the grove under a pine tree.

  Then I stop in my tracks. My heart skips a beat.

  “Darcy?” I shout, staring at him in disbelief. So this was what Cassidy was hinting at!

  Emma’s brother turns and smiles at me. I break out in a run, then slow to a stop just before I get to him, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

  “Hey, Jess,” he says, reaching out to tug my braid.

  “Hey,” I reply, my heart doing another somersault. I still get shy around Darcy sometimes, especially when he’s looking at me the way he is now.

  I smile back at him, noticing that his curly brown hair is longer than usual. I like the way it looks. Of course, I like the way everything about him looks.

  There are too many people around for anything more than a quick hug, but I’ll settle for Darcy Hawthorne tugging my braid any day of the week.

  “Jess!” calls Mrs. Hawthorne. I turn to see her coming across the grove from the Biffy. “I see you found the present we brought you.” Laughing, she hugs me too. “Sorry your parents couldn’t come, honey. But I hope that maybe this”—she nods at Darcy—“will help make up for it.”

  “Oh yeah,” I assure her, keenly aware of the fact that I’m grinning like an idiot.

  “How’s your summer going?” Mr. Hawthorne comes over to join us. Emma and Meri are with him. Meri, the only camper from Nest whose parents didn’t come, is holding tightly to Pip’s leash.

  “And who is this?” asks Darcy, crouching down.

  “Meriwether Milligan,” Emma tells him. “Otherwise known as Meri.”

  “Meri! You’re the really good swimmer with the beautiful blue eyes, right? Emma told me all about you.”

  Meri gives him a shy smile.

  While Darcy charms his sister’s camper, I turn back to Mr. Hawthorne. “I love it here,” I tell him, and it’s true. I love everything about being a counselor—I love working with the kids all day, and having a cabin of girls all my own to mother hen, and I especially love being by this incredibly beautiful lake.

  “I can imagine you girls must be having the time of your lives,” Emma’s mother says. “It’s a gorgeous spot.”

  “Anybody hungry?” asks Emma’s father.

  “Starving,” Darcy replies, straightening up.

  “What are we waiting for?”

  I’m the first one in the minivan, and I head for the back row of seats. Darcy is right behind me. Meri and Pip cram into the middle row alongside Emma, who gives me a wan smile as she climbs in.

  I lean forward. “Everything okay?” I whisper.

  She shrugs, but doesn’t reply. Not a good sign. Emma is hopeless at hiding her feelings.

  Meri bounces happily in her seat, her ponytail swinging. “This is Emma’s dog!” she tells me.

  “I know,” I reply, reaching over to give Pip a pat. “He was a puppy when my friends and I gave him to Emma for her birthday.”

  Meri’s eyes grow round. “I wish I’d get a puppy for a birthday present.”

  Darcy takes my hand as the minivan bumps and jolts its way up the gravel road. He gives it a squeeze, and I squeeze back.

  “How does Lou’s Diner sound?” asks Mr. Hawthorne. “They’re supposed to have the best burgers in these parts.”

  “We’ve had them and they’re great,” I tell him. “Right, Emma?”

  No response. I gaze thoughtfully at the back of her head. Something’s definitely bothering her.

  By the time we arrive at Lou’s, a bunch of other campers and their families are already crowded into the booths and tables.

  “We might as well have stayed at the Dining Hall,” I whisper to Emma, who manages to muster a smile.

  After lunch, Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne suggest a trip to the bookstore. Emma’s parents are even bigger bookworms than she is.

  “I think Jess and I will take Pip for a walk instead,” says Darcy, reaching for the leash. Meri is reluctant to relinquish it.

  “Can I go with you?” she begs him.

  I hold my breath. Please say no, I think.

  “Not this time,” says Darcy, and Meri’s eyes well up with tears.

  At this, Emma finally shows signs of life. “You’ll like Lovejoy’s Books, honey,” she tells Meri, detaching her from the leash and handing it to her brother. “Pippa’s family runs it, remember? They have a dog too—her name is Miss Marple. And yummy pumpkin whoopie pies. Remember we had some at our first book club meeting?”

  “Pumpkin whoopie pies!” exclaims Mr. Hawthorne. “I like this shop already.”

  “How about we rendezvous at the church in an hour?” Mrs. Hawthorne suggests, giving me a wink. “I hear there’s a tour of the famous steeple.”

  “Sounds good.” Darcy is genuinely enthusiastic. Not many people our age would be excited about touring a steeple, but Darcy is a history major and loves old stuff. A historic steeple is right up his alley.

  As the others head off down Main Street toward the bookshop, Darcy slips his arm around my waist. “Close call,” he whispers.

  “No kidding,” I whisper back. “I thought we were going to have to babysit.”

  “Well, we do have Pip,” he reminds me.

  “Pip doesn’t count.”

  We both laugh, feeling a little giddy now that we’re alone together.

  Darcy leads me across the village green toward the Lovejoy College campus. “We’ve played hockey here a few times,” he says. “But we were so busy at the rink that I never really got a chance to look around.”

  We wander around for a while, looking at the white clapboard buildings.

  “It kind of reminds me of a smaller version of Dartmouth,” I tell Darcy.

  “I was just thinking that,” he says, nodding. “Hey, do you want to go see the covered bridge?”

  I nod, and we trace our steps back to the village green.

  “It’s that way,” I tell him, pointing past the church.

  We walk a ways down the road leading out of town until we reach the wooden structure. It’s painted red, like most covered bridges in New England, and it’s very picturesque. The inside is like an echo chamber. I cup my hands around my mouth. “Hellooooooo!” I call, and my voice bounces back to me.

  A car passes us, bumpety-bumping over the bridge’s wooden planks. Alarmed, Pip barks. That echoes too. He gets excited, thinking there’s another dog, and nearly jerks the leash from Darcy’s hand.

  “Whoa, boy,” Darcy tells him, reeling him back in.

  Staying close to the outer wall, we follow the sidewalk toward the middle of the bridge, pausing to lean on the top of the wal
l and watch the water rush over the falls.

  “The famous Pumpkin Falls,” I say. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” murmurs Darcy, but he’s not looking at the waterfall. I feel my face grow pink under his gaze, and he grins. “This summer needs to hurry up and be over. You are just too far away.”

  I laugh. “It’s not like we’ll be any closer this fall. You’ll be back at Dartmouth, and I’ll be in New York.”

  He nods. “True. But still, we’ll have a week together in Concord before I have to leave for sports camp, and visits now and then in Hanover or Manhattan.” We walk a little farther. There’s a lull in the traffic, and Darcy suddenly stops. “This looks like a good spot,” he says.

  I glance around, puzzled. “For what?”

  Smiling, he points to the rafters, which are covered with graffiti—hearts and entwined initials, mostly.

  “Ohhhhh.” I smile back at him, then close my eyes as he leans down toward me.

  Darcy’s kisses are the best.

  “Much better,” he says after a few minutes. We move apart as we hear another car approaching. “I figured we might not have time later.”

  I grin. “Not unless we want an audience.”

  Our hour is almost up, so we head back to the rendezvous at the church. The tour of the steeple actually turns out to be really interesting—I had no idea that Paul Revere made church bells, and that so many of them are actually still in use, including the one here in Pumpkin Falls.

  “I think I just found my capstone project,” says Darcy when we’re back outside the church again.

  “What’s a capstone?” asks Meri.

  “A really big paper that I have to write,” he explains. “It’s also called a thesis.” He turns to his father. “Wouldn’t that be cool? Writing about all the Revere bells?”

  “I’d love to help you with the research,” says Mr. Hawthorne, sounding excited. He’s as crazy about history as Darcy is. “We could drive all over New England to visit them. Maybe the Wongs would let us borrow their trailer.”

  “Family road trip!” cries Mrs. Hawthorne. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Emma?”

  Emma bends down to tie her sneaker.

  I think I know something that will cheer her up. “Let’s go to the General Store,” I tell everyone. “My treat. They have the best ice cream ever.”

  “Better than Kimball Farm?” asks Mrs. Hawthorne, lifting an eyebrow.

  I laugh. “Well, okay, maybe it’s a tie.”

  Everyone orders a cone except Emma. For her to pass on ice cream—especially homemade strawberry, which is her favorite—is truly not a good sign.

  “So what’s going on?” I ask in a low voice as we’re walking back to the car.

  She shrugs.

  With a sudden flash of insight, I continue, “It’s Stewart, isn’t it?” I can tell from the expression on her face that I’ve hit the nail on the head. “You were hoping he’d come.”

  “I just wish I could hurry up and get over him!” she bursts out. “It’s so stupid to keep feeling this way.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Ems. You two were together for a long time. How about you try not to think about it right now, and focus on this beautiful day instead. Focus on being with your family, who loves you; your dog, who loves you; your camper, who thinks you walk on water; and your best friend, who knows you don’t but who still loves you anyway.”

  This finally gets a smile.

  “I mean it, Emma,” I tell her. “Seriously. Don’t let it sour the rest of your summer, okay?”

  Back at camp, we check in with Sergeant Marge and then go to get ready for our afternoon assignments. First up is a brief presentation by Gwen in the Lower Lodge.

  “Thank you for sharing your daughters with us this summer,” she says, beaming at the assembled parents. “It’s wonderful to see so many familiar faces here with us today, many of whom were campers themselves—some even when I was a camper many moons ago. The Jurassic era, I think they called it.” Everyone laughs. “I am honored to be able to pass along the cherished traditions of Camp Lovejoy to your girls. As you know, our motto here at Camp Lovejoy is ‘Broadening Horizons for over a Century!’ Your daughters have had an enjoyable and productive summer so far, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed while visiting with them today, and while reading the new issue of the Birch Bark, but they’ve also been working hard on breaking through self-imposed limitations, trying new things, stretching, and growing.”

  She outlines the rest of the day’s activities—the mini-sessions they’re invited to watch and participate in, the open swim, and the special Parents’ Weekend dinner, complete with live entertainment.

  That’s where I come in, along with the Camp Chorale.

  “Let’s get this party started!” Gwen finishes, dismissing us.

  I spend the next hour rotating between my station in Lower Lodge with my music counselor hat on and my station down on the Point at the Gazebo with my Junior Naturalists hat on as I answer questions and give the parents a taste of what their daughters are learning. At Lower Lodge, I lead the parents in a quick song, and at the Gazebo, I pass out binoculars and help them look for loons. It’s fun.

  Afterward, I head for the boat dock, where I’ve volunteered to show off the bald eagle family that nests on Cherry Island. Darcy and his parents are among my first customers.

  “Looks like it’s Parents’ Weekend on the island as well,” I joke as the boat draws close to the island’s shore. I point out the male and female breeding pair hovering by a huge nest high in one of the trees. “And check out that nest! Did you know that a bald eagle’s nest can weigh up to a ton and measure up to eight feet across?”

  One of the dads gives a low whistle.

  “There’s the baby!” I cry, pointing to the beach below, and everyone grabs their binoculars and cameras.

  “He’s a pretty big baby,” says Mrs. Hawthorne.

  “Yep,” I reply. “He’s already fledged, and is actually probably about three or four months old, but he’ll stick close-by for a while yet. Here’s a Fun Fact for you—did you know that baby eaglets can gain up to six ounces a day? That’s the fastest growth rate of any North American bird.”

  I reel through a few more bald eagle Fun Facts as the boat slowly circles the island, pausing frequently for photo ops.

  Darcy gives me a big thumbs-up as we head back to the dock. “Since when did you become such an eagle expert?”

  “Since I invited the Lake Lovejoy game warden to come and talk to my Junior Naturalists,” I tell him.

  He laughs and reaches down to help me out of the boat. “Great job.”

  I smile up at him. “It was fun—I love doing stuff like this.”

  “You should join those Central Park birders when you get to New York.”

  “Birders?”

  “Yeah—there’s a bunch of people who go birding in the park regularly. There’s even a movie about them. I think maybe my dad has the DVD. I’ll try to find it for you.”

  “Sweet! Thanks.”

  I tell him I’ll see him at dinner, then head off to find Cassidy and round up our campers.

  The Dining Hall is looking festive, with the big Parents’ Weekend welcome banner over the fireplace and bright balloon bouquets everywhere.

  “We’re over here,” I tell our campers and their families, leading them to a table by the far bank of windows.

  Ethel and Thelma have outdone themselves with a surprise midsummer Thanksgiving dinner—“because we’re thankful you’re all here,” as Gwen puts it—complete with homemade pumpkin pies.

  “Is the food always this good?” asks Mr. Simpson, helping himself to a second slice.

  I nod. “The cooks are really amazing.”

  As dessert is being cleared away, I signal to the members of the Camp Chorale and we all file over to the big stone fireplace. I line them up, give them their note, and then we launch into the medley of camp songs that I arranged
. It goes over really well, especially at the end when we invite everyone to join in with us on the chorus of “Blue Socks.”

  We take our seats again to thunderous applause. A series of brief recitals follows—a team of tap dancers, a piano-and-flute duet by a pair of campers from the Hill, and a violin piece by Amy Osborne, who is surprisingly accomplished for someone so tiny.

  Amy bows shyly as everyone claps, then rushes back to sit by her mother, who is resplendent tonight in a deep green sari. As Amy takes her seat, my cousin strides out in one of her many robes. “And now it’s time for Felicia’s Finale,” she announces loudly, striking a dramatic pose.

  I cringe. I told Felicia not to call it that, but of course she didn’t listen to me. I focus on keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead, not daring to look at Cassidy, who I’m sure is grinning from ear to ear.

  With a flourish of her cape, Felicia lifts her sackbut to her lips and proceeds to deliver her solo. She’s actually pretty good, if you like trombone-type music, but then she has to go and ruin it with one of her little lectures, droning on about the origins of the instrument and its importance in Renaissance- and Baroque-era music. This goes over as expected, which is to say the audience is stunned into silence.

  All except for my aunt Bridget and uncle Hans, who managed to slip away from their duties at the Edelweiss Inn in time to catch their daughter’s performance. I watch them beaming proudly and clapping like mad. If they think Felicia’s O-D-D, the certainly don’t let on.

  Parents are like that.

  Or at least they should be, I think, glancing over at Mr. and Mrs. Simpson. Emma told me what happened earlier today with Nica.

  Finally, the celebration is over and it’s time to say good-bye. As the Dining Hall empties into the grove, Darcy comes over to join me.

  “Today wasn’t long enough,” he says, putting his arms around me by the car.

  “Not at all,” I agree.

  I stand there for a moment, resting my head on his chest and breathing him in. I wish I were bold enough to kiss him in public. I hug him fiercely instead, then step back as he climbs into the minivan with his parents and Pip. The two of us wave to each other until the minivan is out of sight.

  Emma bumps her hip against mine. “You okay?”