Page 66 of Then Came the Fall
“Hi. Um, I’m calling regarding the for sale sign in front of Sound Hollow Sleepaway Camp?”
“Yes,” the professional older man’s voice replies. “How can I help you?”
“Well, it’s just, I used to go to that camp, and I went out to visit yesterday and the gate was locked, and I saw the sign. I was just hoping to get some information about the seller.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“I’d like to take a tour.”
“Are you a prospective buyer?”
I laugh aloud, despite myself. “No! I mean, I wish. It’s just—um—my husband and I went to that camp as kids, I mean, that’s where we met—and, well, he recently had a stroke. Our daughter wanted to see the place where we met, so we went out there yesterday and the place was all locked up, and I just wanted to know if there was any way…” I let the sentence hang in the air, a request built on half-truths as fragile as a house of cards.
The realtor is silent for a moment.
“I mean, I know it’s a pretty odd request,” I continue, staring at the photo on the mantle above the fireplace.
The man on the other end of the line clears his throat. “Tell you what,” he begins. “I’ll talk to the owner. I can’t make any promises, but you’re not the first person I’ve heard of who has deep ties to that place. Let me take down your name and number, and I’ll see what I can do.” My heart leaps as I thank him and offer him the information.
Hope is a powerful thing, I decide. I have no control over Matt’s health, no control over my feelings for him, no control over anything really. But my own actions—the effort I put forth, the time I spend, the little bit of extra I can offer to Brett—somehow, I honestly believe that all of it matters.
Chapter twenty-one
7 Years Ago
“The main goal is to train the counselors right. They have to make the campers feel like we live here, together, all year round. Especially the new ones. It has to seem like a family atmosphere, so the younger campers feel safe and comfortable. But you guys know this already.”
I sat in the Lodge on a long bench made of metal edges and compressed particle board. Matt, Callie, and the camp nurse, Marilyn, sat alongside me, leaning on the long, wood table with white, plastic binders open in front of us. Pat O’Donnell was stationed at the head of the table, his burly presence a combination of a lumberjack and Santa Claus. Wearing a plaid, flannel shirt over a camp T-shirt, he leaned back into the metal folding chair, resting his hands on his round belly and smiling. His white curls, cropped close to his head, peeked out from under his green Sound Hollow baseball cap. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow.
“We do it every year,” Dottie offered. “And, just making sure, you still want me to make a cake for opening day, right?”
Dottie sat opposite me. Next to her were two people I’d never met: a tall blonde who could have been a runway model but instead would be serving as our waterfront director (aptly named Phoenix) and themiddle-aged, scruffy looking guy who waved at me earlier when I drove over from girls’ side. I learned that he—Dan—was not a farmhand, but rather the farm director. Rounding out the bunch was the director of the horse program, Pauline, whose leathery hands busied themselves cracking open and munching on a handful of pistachios.
“Definitely. It’s tradition,” Pat replied, surveying the group. “Any other questions?”
We all shook our heads. Satisfied, Pat shut his binder. “Well, then. That’s all we’ve got for tonight. You’ve all got your marching orders for the next few days. We’ll finish up supply orders and prep the staff trainings. Counselors will be here soon, and before you know it, we’ll be in full swing.” He sighed, smiling. “Man, I’m going to miss all this. The anticipation, you know? There’s nothing in the world like it.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Callie chimed in. “But you’ve still got all summer to look forward to.”
“Yup,” he agreed. “Okay, class dismissed!”
I laughed to myself.What a sweet man. This place will never be the same without him.
Matt turned to face me. “Do you need to go back to your cabin, or do you want to head straight out to the store?”
“We can go straight there. I’m good.”
We walked outside. Crickets chirped, although the sun was still out, prolonging the day, hiding in the treetops in a slow descent, painting the sky with streaks the color of warm peach pie. I climbed in Matt’s truck. The scent of clean laundry mixed with something—body wash? Men’s deodorant? Maybe cologne? Whatever it was, it permeated the interior of the upholstery, making me smile instinctively.
“So?” he asked. “What’d you think?”
“Of the staff meeting? Nothing, really. Pat’s still the same. It’s cool to be considered a senior staff member. It does make me feel kind of old, though.”
“Yeah, we’re ancient now. Dinosaurs,” he smirked, tapping a cigarette out of his pack. “Want one?”
“Sure,” I replied, realizing I left mine in my car.
Matt lit the cigarette and inhaled, then passed it over to me and lit a second one for himself. Putting the car in drive, he rolled down the windows. I exhaled smoke, directing it towards the open window through pursed lips.
