Page 18 of That Summer Feeling

I groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

The question elicitedraucouslaughter from the twins.

“You don’t remember?” Tommy asked. “You turned it into your own personal catchphrase last night. Everyone’s been calling the mixer hee-haw night.”

They smelled fantastic, as usual. Unfortunately, musky wealth wasn’t the best solution for a hangover. I bit back the urge to taste even more of the previous night’s drinks.

“I have very little memory of that,” I told them honestly. “Why didn’t I say ‘yeehaw’ instead?”

Tommy laughed again. “No one knows. That’s the magic of it.” He was wearing a Camp Carl Cove shirt that looked vintage. It had a gigantic cross on it.

Tim had on a newer version of the same shirt, and the cross had been replaced with a picture of a tree. I knew instantly that I needed one of my own. It felt like exactly the kind of niche thing I’d grown to love wearing. I pictured myself climbing inside the picture, living in the shirt portrait, free from the hee-hawing reality I’d built for myself without conscious effort.

“What’s with the cross on the shirt?” I asked Tommy.

He looked down at it. “This place was originally a Christian camp. They’re the ones who built the campgrounds and dug their own lake and all that. When new owners bought this place, they kept the original name, so our parents didn’t realize it wasn’t a God thing anymore. We sure weren’t going to be the ones to tell them. This is the original camp shirt design. I got it my first year coming here.”

“I really love it,” I told him. I wanted to say more, but my headache made me pinch the space between my eyebrows instead.

“Enough about shirts. Please go get something to eat,” Tim said to me. “You look like you’re going to faint again.”

I scurried off toward the food line, where breakfast was served buffet-style. Eggs, hash browns, pancakes, and all kinds of meat. The scent of bacon reminded me of Saturdaymornings in the kitchen when my dad was in a good enough mood to make everybody food. Hash browns were mornings in Dara’s apartment, when I’d decided to impress her with some home cooking. The smell of breakfast food always reminded me of hope. It was almost enough to make me feel better.

Waiting in line, I passed out countless friendly hellos to strangers who seemed to love me. I pretended to know them for fear of insulting anyone else with my lack of memory. When I got back to my seat, the twins ran me through the previous night’s events until I developed a coloring book outline’s worth of memories from the evening. Too many types of alcohol. Mason and me having a certified blast. Hee-haw. Falling asleep with a blanket on me. Perfectly warm.

Tommy pulled my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose to get a good look at the exhaustion I’d attempted to cover up. “You must be feeling it all today,” he said.

“You really were the life of the party,” Tim assured me again. “I knew you’d be the right kind of person to invite to camp.”

My cheeks flushed. I hated not being able to control every aspect of my behavior. Worse, I hated how successful I’d been at making friends I didn’t remember.

“And don’t you just love Stevie?” Tim continued. “You two rooming together with Michelle might make for my favorite cabin. Just saying.”

“Did Stevie tell you she used to go to this camp with us when we were kids?” Tommy asked.

“She mentioned coming here, but I didn’t realize that meant you all knew one another then,” I said. “I guess I should have.”

Tim grinned. “She recruited more people to come this week than anyone else. We love her to pieces.”

Even though I’d only met her yesterday, it fit with the Stevie I’d come to know. Generous and supportive without anything expected in return. She’d been helping me since the moment I arrived, and I still hadn’t done anything to return it. What if she thought I didn’t value her? That I wasn’t showing up?

“Do you know where she is?” I asked.

“Probably on a morning hike.”

That made sense too. I knew she loved birds. She had weathered hiking boots. She wore a National Parks ball cap. She was an outdoor kind of woman. Every piece of information slotted into place, not so much a Stevie puzzle piece finding its home but instead a Stevie painting I could see from a distance, and I was continuously stepping closer, making sense of all the details.

“She used to love this spot by the south edge of the lake, farthest from the buildings,” Tommy said. “If you follow the curve, there’s a small part of the water that gets wedged between the trees. It’s a little hideout. I bet she’s there.”

I finished breakfast as fast as I could, then headed to the spot the twins had described. As predicted, Stevie sat by the water with her knees up to her chin, using a pair of binoculars to gaze into the trees. She wore another matching athletic set, this time a plum color, with an oversized white flannel over it.Her two small braids framed her face, tucked underneath a ball cap again.

There was a calmness to this part of the campgrounds that didn’t feel possible to explain. Pictures couldn’t grab the energy here. Even the sun seemed to understand, because the rays of light sliced through the gaps in the greenery with gentle reverence.

“Look at you,” I said to announce myself. “Present in nature. Not a phone in sight.”

Stevie set her binoculars down to pull her phone from the pocket of her shorts. “I was on this five seconds ago. You happened to walk up at the right time. Not that I get any reception here. But I was trying.”

“Don’t spoil the moment.”