Summer's End (17 page)

That's what Amy needs too. Don't fall in love with her. Be her brother
.

Was she asking her son to set aside his own happiness? She hoped not, she desperately hoped not. But everything was so complicated this summer, so difficult. Phoebe, Ian, and Joyce were having such trouble adjusting to Gwen's being here. Phoebe was a mass of unresolved grief; Ian seemed unreachable, unknowable; Joyce swaddled herself in critical bitterness. The cord that was holding Hal's family together was thin and fraying.

And if by summer's end the cord broke, Gwen knew that everyone would blame not the worn sections of the
cord itself, but the new knot at its end, the knot that had tied her family to theirs.

So not now, Jack. The necklace can't take any more weight
.

 

I'm trying, Mom. I suggested that we take Holly on the walk with us. I knew we needed to take Holly with us. And I didn't ask her to tell me that secret. I would have stopped her if she had given me a chance
.

I'm not going to give in to this. I'm not
.

Years of staying in hotels, a different bed night after night, had given Amy a routine for falling asleep. She lay on her side and let her body relax until she felt as if she were floating, until she could almost feel the inch-deep cushion of air between herself and the mattress.

Then her mind grew still, and she waited, and during this peace, this waiting, her body sent messages to her. She would notice a slight stiffness in her hip and know that she needed to stretch more; a swelling in her fingers told her she had eaten too much salt; soreness in her breasts said that her period was coming. Sometimes she would simply notice a part of her body, there would be no specific message, just a noticing, and she believed that was a warning of injury and so for the next few days she would be careful.

Then after she had heard from her body, she went to sleep.

But tonight she was lying on her back, and she was thinking of Jack.

 

Jack was also lying on his back, also alone in a single bed, but he was not thinking of Amy. He was deliberately,
determinedly not thinking of Amy. He thought about the roof over the woodshed; it looked like it needed some new shingles. And the steps down to the dock, they could use some work. And that limb over the bunkhouse. He was thinking hard about that. He should have taken it down. Bad weather was coming. There might be some strong winds.

See, this wasn't going to be so hard. He didn't have to think about her. This was not going to get the better of him. It wasn't.

 

The rain came at midnight. Wind gusted across the lake, hurling rain against the three little cabins, against the big garage and the sauna. It pounded against the peaked roof of the bunkhouse, a hard drumbeat against the roofs and windows. Nick couldn't sleep. Last night—his first night up here—had been okay; he had dozed on and off, but the sound of the wind and the dark rain was keeping him awake tonight. Weather never sounded like this at home. The rain was blowing in at a fierce slant. He could hear it hammering at the high little windows at the end of the bunkhouse. It was a sort of spooky sound. He wasn't scared, but it did make him think about Brian. Thunder boomed.

He turned over and tugged his sleeping bag over his shoulder. Once he started thinking about Brian, it was really hard to do anything, much less sleep. At home thunderstorms like this came in the late afternoon and were gone by nightfall. But this turbulence had come in from the Rockies. He didn't know anything about that kind of weather.

The rain went on, pounding away, each little drop hurtling
itself against the windowpanes, like an army of Japanese warriors sacrificing themselves in a hopeless onslaught.

A sharp crack ripped overhead. Something rumbled, then thudded.

Nick sat up. Oh, shit. A tree limb had landed on the roof. He waited for more, for cracking beams, smashing wood, whatever, but all he heard was the wind and the rain. He fumbled for his flashlight.

“Nick?” It was Ellie, the boring one. Her voice came over the partition that separated the bunkhouse into the boys' half and the girls'. The partition came up only eight feet. So there was a big space between the top of the wall and the peak of the roof. She would have seen his light. “Are you awake?”

Was he awake? What did she think? That he had turned his flashlight on in his sleep? He might have his problems, but if there was one thing on earth he respected it was batteries. He didn't waste batteries. “Yes.”

“Do you hear something?”

Why did she think he had turned on the light? “Yes.”

He twisted his head and shoulders out from the lower bunk and shone his light on the ceiling. He moved the white circle of light along the boards. They were pale and yellowish. He didn't know what kind of wood it was. He never knew stuff like that. His light moved on, and he wondered why he was doing this, what he was looking for.

Then the light caught and glistened. Something was moving and cool, a rivulet of water. Oh, great, they were taking in water. That's how it always started in the movies, with this little tiny stream of innocent-looking water that you knew was loaded with radioactive poisons.

The water ran down a board until it hit a nail head,
and then it started to drip. Nick couldn't hear the drip over the sound of the rain. But it was right over a top bunk. One of the little dudes was sleeping up there. He had forgotten about them.

“Do you think everything's okay?” It was Ellie again.

“Sure.” There were two sets of bunk beds on this side of the partition. Nick was in a lower bunk while the two kids were both sleeping on a top bunk. He got out of bed and went over to other bunk, the one underneath the drip. His light shone against the navy blue nylon of the little dude's sleeping bag. Right in the middle of it was a dark circle, shining and wet.

“Are the boys okay?” It was Ellie again.

Nick wished she would shut up. “They're fine.” At least the one who wasn't under a hypothermia watch was.

It was weird how little space the kid took up. More than half of his sleeping bag was just flat. “Is Maggie awake?” Nick didn't know why he said that.

“She's not here,” Ellie answered. “She went in the new cabin to read, and I guess she fell asleep there.”

The wet circle was growing larger. Nick didn't like the looks of that. He needed to do something.

Someone was passing out the wrong script. He wasn't supposed to do things. He was Nick, negative Nick, do nothing Nick. When you live with two hysterics as he did, that was the smartest thing to do, nothing.

But here he was, with the wind howling around like some horror movie, and instead of getting to be the vampire who goes around chewing on people's necks, he got cast as the what-were-they-called? The governess. Yes, Negative Nick was the governess responsible for the wee ones.

“I think one of the kids is in a draft.” A draft? Where had he come up with that? It must be nineteenth-century governess lingo. “Will he wake up if I move him?”

“He'll go back to sleep. Pick up the whole sleeping bag if you can,” she advised. “But are you sure you need to move him? A little draft shouldn't be a problem.”

This wasn't fair. Why did he have to sound simpering and prissy, and she got to sound like a normal human being?

“Do you want me to come over and help?” she asked.

He would love it. Let someone else deal with it. In any given situation that was by far the safest thing to do. But there was no door in the partition. To come over here, she would have to go outside and get all soaked herself. “No,” he said. “It's nothing.”

Nick set his flashlight down and put one foot on the slat at the edge of the lower bunk and hoisted himself up. It wasn't going to be an easy feat, scooping the kid and his sleeping bag up and then stepping backward and down. Nick supposed he couldn't have done it last summer, but he had been on the wrestling team this year, and that had taught him a thing or two about moving other people's weight around. The kid murmured as Nick lifted him, and for a moment it looked like he was going to wake up, but he went limp and still again. Nick stepped back and down, then leaned forward to lay the boy on the lower bunk. The sleeping bag bunched up underneath him. Nick tugged it. The boy straightened out and rolled over, but didn't wake up. Nick picked up his flashlight and shone it on the sleeping bag. Now the wet spot was right on the boy, but at least it wouldn't get any bigger. If they were lucky, the lad was a champion bed-wetter, used to sleeping in puddles.

Nick got back into his own sleeping bag. At least he wasn't thinking about Brian anymore. That was something. Brian would appreciate the humor of that.

Oh, shit. The roof was still leaking. Should he do something about the mattress? Probably. But what?

There were a couple of forty-gallon trash bags under the bed. The sleeping bags had been stored in them.

He got up again, found his flashlight, fished the trash bags out from under the bed, and again perched himself on the edge of the lower bunk. He needed one of those helmets that coal miners wore, the kind that had a headlight. Spreading garbage bags was a two-handed operation.

Okay, Val, Barb
, he said to his mother and grandmother,
this is it, resourcefulness, responsibility. That's what you wanted. Can I leave this joint now?

Of course, the minute he had the garbage bags spread out all nice and neat, he remembered that Jack had put in a gas light that afternoon. He could have lit it. How was that for stupid?

Oh, well. He moved back to his bunk.

Cra-ack. A rumble like an oncoming train. The bunkhouse shook.

Double shit. It was another tree. What was this?

“I think a tree's fallen.” It was Ellie again. She sounded worried.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Nick tried to sound cool. “But sh…stuff like that must happen all the time around here, doesn't it?”

“No.” She didn't make any bones about it. “We've never had a tree fall on any of the buildings.”

That was because they had never had Cousin Nicky up here before. Nick shows up and the trees start falling.

Okay, time to think. Were they safer inside the cabin or out? He didn't have a clue. Wasn't someone supposed to teach you junk like that?

They probably had, but if so, old Nick hadn't been listening.

“I'm going to go tell my folks,” Ellie said. Nick could hear her moving around, getting out of bed, finding her shoes. “No, wait, someone's coming.”

Nick looked up. Through the narrow windows he could see the sweep of a flashlight. He supposed it was one of the dads riding to the rescue. God, he hoped it was Giles, Ellie's dad, not that asshole Ian. But Giles was lame. It probably wasn't so cool for him to be stumbling around in the dark.

He heard his name, then the door opened. It wasn't either one of the dads. It was Jack. He was wearing a dark poncho. Rain was streaming off him.

Oh, great. Nick would have preferred Ian the asshole. Jack might have tried to hide his reaction to Nick at the airport, but it had been clear. Sweet little Nicky was not what Cousin Jack had hoped the tooth fairy would bring. And now Jack had had to come out in the rain to rescue him.

“There's a tree on the roof,” Jack said. “We need to get you guys out of here.”

“The roof is leaking.” Nick shone his flashlight up to the spot of the roof.

Jack moved over to that bunk. He had a halogen flashlight. The beam was bright and focused. “I
knew
this would happen.” He sounded irritated. “I don't know
why
I don't listen to myself.” He was clearly pissed off. “Did you put the plastic down?”

Nick nodded.

“Then you're thinking better than I am. And you were
right not to light the lamp. We'll need to check the gas line in the morning. Now, how do we go about moving these kids?”

Why was he asking him? Nick pointed at the other side of the bunkhouse. “Ellie seems to be our resident expert on that.”

They could hear her moving around in the other room, speaking in a low voice to the little girls. Apparently she was already getting them up.

“Stand them up,” she called out softly. “They'll walk, but you kind of have to steer them because they won't be completely awake and they'll run into things.”

Jack had brought over a pile of ponchos. He tossed a couple over the partition to Ellie. Nick went to one of the lower bunks and got the little dude out of his sleeping bag. He sat down on the bed, propped the kid up against his knees, and tugged the poncho down over him. Jack was doing the same for the other one. Nick slipped on his own poncho and started propelling the little boy toward the door. The ponchos were adult-size, and the kid kept getting tangled up. Nick picked up the hem of the poncho. If he ever got asked to be a bridesmaid, he'd have practice.

Outside, the rain was really slicing down. It was only a step or two to the door to the girls' side, but the kids' faces got wet and that woke them up.

Ellie had single-handedly gotten both the two little girls into their ponchos. They were slumped back over on one of the bunks, asleep again.

“Shoes,” Jack said. “Dammit, we forgot the shoes.”

His flashlight was pointed down, shining on the edge of one of the girls' ponchos. Peeking out from underneath the plastic was a little foot wearing a scuffed-up pink sneaker.
Nick shone his own flashlight down. Beneath their ponchos the boys' feet were shiny and damp, with a few pine needles and bits of leaves already clinging to them.

“They can go barefoot,” Ellie said confidently. “They do it all the time.”

“We can carry them,” Jack said. “You look like a strong guy, Nick. Turn around.”

Nick was a strong guy. It had been a fairly recent development in his life, but he liked it. It was a good way to scare people.

So he didn't need to turn around. He squatted and took one of the boys' arms. A second later the kid was on his back. He was awake enough to clamp his legs to Nick's waist and link his arms around his neck.

“Nice work,” Jack said as he did the same thing. Ellie had already picked up one of the little girls. Jack took her in his arms, cradling her like a baby. Ellie turned to get the other one. She was obviously planning on carrying her, but Nick moved quickly and held out his arms. If Jack was carrying two kids, he was carrying two kids.

Ellie opened the door. The rain cut in on Nick's face. The kid tightened his arms around his neck, making it hard to breathe.

The main cabin, where Hal and Aunt Gwen were sleeping, was dark, as was the one where Ellie's and Maggie's folks were staying, but the one beyond that, the one made of logs, was all lit up. Ellie was walking first, she had two flashlights, and apparently she had paid attention to the class about how to walk with a flashlight. She held one ahead of her so she could see where she was going, and she pointed the other one behind her so Nick and Jack could. She held both of them high so they illuminated as much of the little path as possible. At the tricky
places she stopped and turned, shining both onto the path. The raindrops glinted in the light.