Page 75 of One Last Summer
“I told him I liked him,” I clarified, stopping at the circle of Adirondack chairs that sat together in front of the Village, facing the waterfront. “And I do. A lot. But I’m leaving. He’s moving. This thing between us literally can’t go anywhere.”
“Hmm.” Sam tapped her lip, eyes flitting in exaggerated thought. “Or you could just say, ‘Hey, Mack, I’m falling in love with you’ and not worry about all that other stuff?”
Somehow, though it was surely impossible, I felt the actual skin of my throat tighten. “I said like,” I corrected. “Not love.”
Sam shook her head at me as she marched past, heading toward the dining hall. “Oh, I know exactly what you said.”
32
MARLA INTERRUPTED MY mental pacing with a bright, “Hey, girls!”
She emerged through the screen door of Bag End waving, decked out in her usual khaki shorts and white Pine Lake T-shirt.
“Good morning!” Sam and I shouted back, practically in unison. The delight in her voice matched my own, as if we both relished the feeling of still being seen as a kid in someone’s eyes. No matter how old we got, we’d always be campers to Marla, and there was something deeply comforting in the thought.
Steve stuck his head out behind her, offering up a quick hello as Marla made her way down the stairs.
“Do you still have time to help me find all the ice cream stuff in the kitchen?” I asked.
“Sure do.” She nodded, watching me with the studious gaze of a pleased professor.
“I’m also trying to get all the wish boat stuff together for tomorrow night,” I added.
“Steve’s already on it,” she said. “He’s going to grab it and meet us in the dining hall.”
“You two are amazing,” I said as her eyes lingered on my face.
“Camp looks good on you, Clara,” she said finally.
“Right?” agreed Sam. She glanced over at me, a devious curl to her lips. “What’s your secret, Clara?”
Of course, I knew what she was suggesting.
“I swear to god if you weren’t pregnant,” I muttered as Marla tried to contain a laugh.
“You’d, what, challenge me to a swim race?” Her brows twitched in amusement.
“Oh my god,” I groaned.
“I’m sorry, Clare-bear, I had to,” she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “All right, I’m gonna get my steps in!”
“Shall we?” Marla asked as Sam kept moving, headed down the mulch-covered path toward the water.
“Take me to the ice cream,” I said, pumping my fist.
I followed Marla into the dining hall, walking along the rows of tables with chairs stacked neatly on top. Most of my memories here involved endless singing and camp cheers, some that included extravagant clapping routines performed on the table itself. To walk through this giant room when it was silent felt eerie, almost like being in a cemetery.
Once inside the kitchen, she scanned the shelves slowly. “Okay, so what are we looking for? Toppings? How about cookies?”
“We could use all of it,” I added, opening the giant freezer chest in the corner. “And ice cream, obviously.”
“Well, I know we have plenty of that left over,” she said. “We overbought for the ice cream social, so you guys’ll be doing us a favor getting rid of it.”
“Sure, let us eat your problems for you,” I joked as I counted up the containers inside. Four chocolate, four vanilla, three strawberry. More than enough for our group to gorge ourselves on sundaes.
“How did you become the ringleader for all these festivities?” she asked, grabbing the reading glasses that dangled from her collar and sliding them onto her face as she examined a stock list that hung from a clipboard nailed to the wall.
“I guess when I heard you guys were selling, it just really made me want to tap into my old self, and all the things I loved about being up here.”
