Second Chance Summer

Chapter 1-2

At the sight of the bus turning onto the final road to Camp Firefly Falls, Hudson Lowell grimaced. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in the crazy of drop off day with all the other campers. Was it even called drop off day now that they were all adults? Didn’t matter. Either way, there’d be enough excitement and good cheer that he’d be liable to deck somebody. Better to kill a little time and circle back. There’d be no avoiding the walk down memory lane the next two weeks, but he could ease into it rather than leaping feet first. So, he drove on past the turn and kept heading north, wondering if Boone’s was still in business.

Part gas station, part general store, part diner, Boone’s had always been an official stop before his parents dropped him off to camp as a kid. Located halfway between camp and Briarsted, the nearest town, Boone’s was the last bastion of civilization before two weeks of unfettered, summertime awesome. Ten minutes later, he pulled his Jeep into the lot. The whole complex was smaller than he’d remembered, but the scent of freshly brewed coffee was the same. It drew him back into the diner, where he settled into a booth and grabbed the laminated menu from between the napkin holder and the ketchup. He looked at the options without much interest.

A gum-chewing waitress appeared at the table, a pot of coffee in her hand. “What can I getcha, hon?”

“Just coffee. And a slice of pie.” Pie was always a good idea.

She turned over the cup at his elbow and filled it near to the brim. “Apple or peach?”

“Peach. With ice cream.”

“Comin’ right up.”

As she disappeared, Hudson slipped his phone out. Might as well make this last call before he got on up the mountain. Reception would probably be spotty.

“Hudson!”

“Hey Mom.”

“Are you there yet? Is it fabulous? I’m so curious what all they’ve done to change the place since you were a boy.”

He gritted his teeth against her cheer. “I haven’t quite made it to camp yet. I stopped in at Boone’s.”

She laughed. “Of course. Couldn’t go to camp for two weeks without your Twizzlers.”

Had he even had a Twizzler in the past decade?

The waitress returned with his pie a la mode, and Hudson nodded his thanks.

“I just wanted to check-in one last time, before I got up there. Cell coverage will probably be lousy. You’ve got the number to the camp office, in case you need to reach me for anything.” Translation: In case there’s any change in John’s condition.

“Got it right here. But sweetheart, I really want you to give this a chance. Embrace the whole camp experience. You used to have such fun up there. Unplugging from things will be good for you.”

Unplugging. An unfortunate word choice. Hudson closed his eyes as his brain conjured the tone of a flatlining heart monitor. His hand fisted around the fork. “Yeah. I’ll try.”

By the time he got off the phone, he’d lost whatever appetite he’d had for the pie. He ate it anyway, a mechanical shoveling in of food that had become habit the past few months. Food was necessary fuel, whether you tasted it or not. Leaving some cash on the table to pay his bill, he gassed up the Jeep. Then, remembering the promise to his mother, he bought a couple of packs of Twizzlers for nostalgia’s sake and got back on the road to camp.

The bus crowd had cleared out. A lone blonde with a pony tail sat at the registration table. She looked up at his approach and broke into a grin. “Why Hudson Lowell. Didn’t you grow up nice?”

“Don’t know about nice, but I grew up. So’d you. Heard you married Michael.”

“I did. We run this place together.”

“Suits you,” Hudson said. Heather Hawn had been one of his first camp crushes, but she’d never had eyes for anybody but Michael Tully. She looked happy. The kind of down-to-the-bone happy that exhausted him just from looking.

She checked her clipboard. “You’re in Cabin 16 with Charlie Thayer. He got here about an hour ago from New York. You’re in Syracuse these days?”

“I am.”

Seeming to sense his reticence to talk, Heather turned all businesslike. “Not that I think you’ll need it, but here’s a map of camp and our list of available activities. Dinner’s at six, and we’re having an opening night dance at the boat house at seven-thirty.”

He’d rather be shot. But he took the handouts and thanked her before turning toward the Jeep for his gear.

“Oh, Hudson, I’ll need your phone.”

“Sorry?”

“We’re banning them for the Retro Session. This is a technology-free zone.”

“Not happening, Heather.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who’d be addicted to Candy Crush.”

“I’ve got family in the hospital. They need to be able to reach me if things take a turn for the worse.”

Her smile faded. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Well, keep it, then. But I’ll warn you, reception is spotty, at best.”

“Noted.”

Charlie—whom he had dim memories of from years before as someone they’d short-sheeted once—wasn’t at the cabin when Hudson arrived, though he’d already claimed the right side for his own. The cabin was still rustic in appearance, but the Tullys had done quite a bit more than spruce the place up. Instead of the old-school bunk beds with room to sleep eight, there were only two twin beds with quality mattresses, already made up with real bedding instead of lying bare and waiting for a sleeping bag. Hudson shoved the one he’d brought beneath the bed. The bathroom was small, but functional, with hotel-style towels and travel-size toiletries. They definitely hadn’t had AC back in the day. Curious despite himself, he headed out to see what else had changed in the past seventeen years.

The lodge was the most obvious difference. A grand structure of wood and stone, he’d read that it now housed five-star dining with an honest-to-God chef in residence, along with conference rooms, staff quarters, and luxury suites. Hudson guessed there was a market for those kinds of amenities, but he hoped there’d be some straight up burgers cooked over a campfire while he was here. He was more a pot of chili kind of guy, or he could go for a vat of spaghetti, served family-style around the long table at the firehouse. Not that he’d been doing any of that lately either.

They’d added a ropes course—a big, sprawling labyrinth of ropes and platforms. It was the kind of setup that looked more intimidating than it actually was. Climbers would be strapped into harnesses and attached to guide wires the entire time. Probably the liability insurance for the place wouldn’t allow for anything else. But still, he’d check that out, at some point. Maybe he’d see if they had gear for some rock climbing, too. That kind of physical exertion suited his desire to push himself to exhaustion in hopes of maybe sleeping. He might not be out with his company, but he’d kept himself in top shape since he recovered from the fall.

The wooded trails crisscrossing the grounds felt the same, as did the long pier that branched off to the boat house. Hudson could see racks of kayaks and canoes. He followed the pull toward the water. The gentle lap of it against the wooden pilings soothed his nerves a bit. He had definite plans to grab one of those kayaks and disappear. There were countless inlets to explore along the length of Lake Waawaatesi. He might even do some fishing while he was here. Fish didn’t talk or expect you to talk back. He figured that made for much better therapy.

As he started to turn back toward camp proper, he caught a flash of fire. A woman strolled along the bank on the other side of the lake, her face tipped up to the sunshine, a gorgeous fall of red hair rippling in the breeze. From this distance, Hudson couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was smiling. Everything about her posture suggested absolute peace. He found himself watching until she disappeared into the trees.

Shaking off the vague ripple of envy, Hudson decided to curtail the rest of his tour. Better to unpack and settle in before dinner, get a little quiet. He’d have to deal with people soon enough.