Camp Life by Lucinda Maison
He would never forget what it felt like when he first saw her at camp. Ron came to his cabin and got him, told him his mother had arrived, and led him over by the pond. She was standing there with Nicky and Noreen, listening intently to the other two, until Ron hailed them. She turned and spotted Ron first, then saw Jake beside him.
Jake had never seen anyone’s face light up like that. She half ran to him, threw her arms wide, and with surprising strength, lifted him off the ground in a hug he could still feel. He hugged her back and did not want to let go. Eventually, they walked together back to his cabin because he wanted to show her two, no, three, of his most prized possessions from camp.
The first was the bois d’arc seed pod, which she exclaimed over, never having seen anything quite like it. The second was Drew’s picture of the two Jakes. He heard her quick intake of breath as she studied the two figures.
“Amazing. I know both of these Jakes, but I haven’t seen this one in a very long time.” The tip of her index finger gently tapped the drawing on the right, where Jake #2 smiled and waved. “What…what does this mean to you?” she asked him.
“Freedom.” He didn’t know where the word came from, didn’t know if it even made sense, but that’s what came out.
Instead of asking him what he meant, his mother kissed him softly on the cheek.
He turned back to his duffle bag to retrieve another sheet of paper that had been carefully tucked into a side pocket. He was afraid for her to see it, and at the same time, determined.
“I went to this class, Real World Magic it was called, and Ron talked about magic and thinking about what you want and how to get what you want…well, I think you get to go to a class like that, too, while you’re here. Maybe it would make more sense if you read this after you went to the class…,” he babbled.
He held the paper out to her and she grasped it without taking her eyes off him. When he said nothing else, she finally looked down at the paper and began to read.
1. I love my dad, even though I know he’s got problems that keep him from being a good dad to me.
2. It’s not my fault that my dad is the way he is and I deserve a dad who treats me right.
She bent her knees and sank onto the bunk behind her, fingers over her mouth, as she continued to read.
3. I love my mom, A LOT.
4. I still want a dad in my life, even if he’s not my real dad.
5. I’m willing for my mom to find someone great to love us both, someone who’ll show he cares, want to do stuff with me, and will be like a real dad should.
“Jake…” she managed the one word, tears welling and overflowing. She grabbed him and held him close, stroking the back of his hair.
Even as he chewed and swallowed a mammoth bite of potato salad, Jake felt a warm rush of emotion when he thought of his mom’s reaction.
“Jake?”
Jim kicked him under the table. “Ow! Huh, what?” He blinked and saw Mr. Curran watching him expectantly.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you ask me something?”
“Yes. Your mother was telling me about the bois d’arc pod. I’d love to see where you found it, see if there are any more.”
“Oh, there’s lots more, but I think I got the biggest one. I’ll show you if you want, though. It’s not too far a hike, or we could take the horses, if Ron says it’s OK…and comes with us to take care of the horses,” he added.
“Hiking’s fine with me.” He looked at his wife and at Jake’s mom, and they both nodded their agreement.
“There’s a beautiful meadow up there,” Nicky told them. “You might want to bring a camera, and definitely some water. The path has a tricky bit over some rocks…you’ll need to wear good shoes and mind your step.”
“We’ll do that, thanks. Do you want to come with us, you and Jim?”
“Thank you, but no. Jim and I will be going off in a different direction with Corinne and her family. It’s a pretty hike, too, a little easier and shorter than the one to the meadow.”
Parents and kids continued to make plans for the free time they would have after the mini sessions and before dinner. After the dishes were cleared and the tables wiped down, the kids said goodbye and the parents broke up into two groups. Each group would attend either Get Real or Dream Working, and then switch after a short break. The next day would be the final session, Real World Magic.
“What a load of hooey!” Dara’s dad exclaimed as he exited the lodge after the Get Real session. “I can’t believe we paid good money to send her to this!”
“She’s had a good time, Doug, “ her mother offered softly. “And it did make sense, when you think about it…I mean, not putting others down...that’s a good thing!” She raised her eyes to his face, hoping to see some sign of understanding.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Of course. But you need to be firm with people, otherwise, they’ll walk all over you. If you get in the first lick, they usually back off.”
She stared at him in disbelief as a sense of utter hopelessness washed over her. He didn’t get it, would not get it. Her head drooped in defeat.
“Let’s see the pool before we have to go to the next stupid class.” He strode off down the hill, and she watched him in silence for a few seconds before following in his footsteps.
“Can you imagine what Pat and Sean made of that class?” Mark McConnell asked his wife. “The twins thrive on insulting each other!”
His wife shook her head. “Sometimes…other times, I think Sean’s hurt by it. He covers well, but…” she shrugged.
“They’re as close as two people can be, but I know Pat’s hard on him sometimes. Maybe we should be paying more attention. I just assumed they always work it out.”
“Show them, we will,” came Yoda’s voice from nearby. Patrick and Sean met up with them by the volleyball court. “Hey, we thought we’d show you the oven we helped build, before you go to the next class.”
“Yeah, it was so cool, we got to stomp in a mud pit to make adobe bricks!” Sean told them.
“Doesn’t get any better than that,” his dad responded. “Let’s go see!”
His mother looped her arm through Sean’s, and they all walked across the grass to where the oven sat.
“Look at this!” she exclaimed, peering through the door. “That’s pretty impressive!” She turned to Patrick, standing next to her with a grin on his face. “How’s the bread taste?”
“Awesome!” he replied.
“Excellent!” added Sean.
“I wonder how the…oh, I see, the bricks are canted so you don’t need extra internal support,” Mr. McConnell mused, his hand on the oven roof. He straightened up and looked at Patrick and Sean. “We just finished that Get Real class. What did you guys think of it when you did it?”
Patrick and Sean glanced at each other and then at their parents.
“It was good.” Patrick said, without elaborating.
“Good?” his dad asked, waving his hand toward himself in a “gimme more” gesture.
“Well, you know that “build up” and “put down” stuff they talked about?” Sean asked his parents. “It made us think about stuff in our lives, how it makes people feel…” He pointed his chin at Patrick. “We worked some things out because of it. I didn’t realize how much some things bothered me until we practiced in that class.”
“Yeah, and Sean was real good at practicing putting down. I didn’t know he had it in him,” Patrick commented dryly.
Sean beamed. “Got you good, didn’t I?”
“That’s for sure.”
Sean suddenly remembered what Patrick had told him when they were playing lacrosse. “Hey, don’t you have something you need to tell mom and dad? About what happened at school?”
Patrick looked blank.
“You know, the toilet?” Sean prompted, savoring the moment.
Patrick’s face flushed. “Oh, yeah.” He swallowed. “Do you remember…well, I know you remember, but…you know when that toilet g
ot blown up and the teacher fell and broke her ankle?”
His parents nodded, watching him expectantly.
Patrick took a big breath. “Actually…that was me, not Sean.” He waited for an explosion, but while his dad raised his eyebrows, neither parent said anything, merely waited for him to continue.
“I did it as a joke and I never meant for anyone to get hurt, but then Sean got blamed and I…well, I let him take the fall for it. I already apologized to Sean. And told him I’d never lie to him again.” He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, we got that one cleared up,” he said,
locking eyes with Sean.
“When we get back to school, I’ll tell the teacher and apologize to her, too. I just want to say…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the trouble it caused and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”
His dad nodded gravely. “Apology accepted.”
“I agree,” his mom added. “Thanks for telling us.” She touched Patrick on the arm. “Do you remember what Sean had to do because of that incident?” she asked, eyes twinkling.
Patrick frowned in concentration. When the memory came back to him, his eyes widened. “Oh, no!” he groaned.
“Oh, yes!” she laughed.
Sean twirled in a circle, arms raised overhead. “Yes!” he yelled in triumph.
“So, in addition to letting the teacher know the truth about what happened and apologizing to her, it looks like you will also be the chief pooper-scooper for 6 months after we get home. And I gotta tell you, we switched dog food because Sulley was having some problems with the old kind. He and Mike really like the new stuff…they’ve been real regular,” his dad smiled.
Patrick thought about Sulley, their Irish wolfhound, and Mike, a mastiff/rottweiler mix, and the volume of poop they had previously produced. If it was even more now…
His chin dropped onto his chest, shoulders drooping.
“Does that sound fair to you, Sean?” his dad asked.
“Sweet!” Sean replied, his face alight with laughter.
“We’d better get going to the next class,” Mrs. McConnell said, wrapping Patrick in a one-arm hug. She gave Sean a quick hug, too, before walking up the slope with her grinning husband.
“Where is he?” Allison demanded excitedly. “I want to see him!”
“Oh, probably off chasing squirrels somewhere. He’s not very good at it, but he keeps trying,” Corinne answered. She had used her phone to send her sister a picture of Rocky, and Allison had fallen in love on sight.
“Yeah, he’s almost as fond of squirrels as he is of you!” Jim commented.
Corinne’s lips quirked with amusement once again at his pronunciation of “squirrel”. “Say it again,” she pleaded.
He tilted his head, but obligingly repeated the word.
This time she laughed outright, eyes dancing.
“Corinne!” her dad said sharply.
“It’s OK, sir. I give her aboriginal words to say, and they’re barely recognizable the way she pronounces them.”
Corinne nodded her head. “Might as well be Chinese.”
Nicky had been following the conversation with a smile, but when she noticed a brown shape moving through the trees at the bottom of the hill, she put two fingers to her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.
Everyone but Jim looked at her in surprise, and the brown shape changed course and shot toward them at top speed.
Rocky barreled into Nicky first, then moved on to Corinne. He frisked around her legs, then ran a short way off before freezing, rear end in the air, nose on the ground, bright eyes focused on her intently.
She faked a lunge at him and ran around behind Jim. Rocky gave a short, high bark of joy and raced after her. Corinne did an about-face and caught him in her arms. He squirmed out and promptly rolled onto his back, legs jerking, head lolling, tongue panting.
“Allison, I think he’s ready for a belly rub.”
Rocky flipped onto his feet and approached Allison, sniffing interestedly. She let him sniff first, then she put out her hand, and he nosed it up like a cat wanting to be scratched.
She laughed and plopped down on the ground, hands already stroking his wiry fur.
“Fickle,” Corinne stated, shaking her head sadly.
“Oh, no,” Nicky reassured her. “He’ll take whatever he can get whenever he can get it. You’ll be next, as soon as she stops petting him.”
Corinne’s dad asked about Rocky’s breed, and while Jim explained, Corinne looked around the grounds at the groups of kids and parents. Toby was towing his parents toward the pool, his dad holding one of those big seed pods under his arm like a football. Caroline and Drew and their parents were walking away from the covered patio, all looking at what Corinne figured must be a treasure map. She turned her head to the left and saw Ron, Jake, and Jake’s mom moving toward the stables, Jake talking nonstop and the other two listening. There were other kids she didn’t know, but everyone seemed to be busy going somewhere, talking, laughing, and exploring. She sighed happily.
Dara’s dad looked large and uncomfortable standing in the small cabin. Her mom was sitting on the bunk, poring over Dara’s treasure map as if it was a canvas by DaVinci. Every once is awhile she would glance up at Dara, her eyes moist, her fingers almost, but not quite, touching the objects on the map.
It had taken every bit of willpower she had to summon the courage to show her parents her map. She just knew her dad would put it down, and her mom would probably say something like, “That’s nice, dear”, and that would be that.
Instead, her dad didn’t comment on her map at all. “What is wrong with you, Jean?” he asked mildly, as her mom continued to hold the map like the precious cache its name implied.
“I used to want to write,” she said in a far away voice. She looked down at the map again. “I did write,” she amended. “ About my family, about desert islands and tropical rainforests, and bunnies who talked. Lots of different things.”
Dara stared in amazement. Her mom? Bunnies who talked?!
Her dad looked blank. ‘What are you talking about? You never wrote anything besides a grocery list.”
That brought her head up. She met his eyes with an uncharacteristic hint of steel in her own. “Yes. Yes, I did. You never saw my stories. I wouldn’t let you.”
“Mom?”
“Dara…I hope you’ll let me read your stories…I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
Am I in an alternate universe? Dara wondered.
“She can’t waste time writing fairy tales when she’s got to be focused on swimming.”
Dara ignored his comment, asking a question instead, a question she would never have been brave enough to ask before coming to camp. “Are you proud of me, Dad?”
“Proud of you?! Have you both gone crazy? I don’t know what either one of you is talking about.”
“Are you proud of me?” Dara persisted.
“For wanting to make up stories? I’m supposed to be proud of you for that?”
“For anything. Are you proud of me for anything?” She held his gaze and did not look away.
He started to speak, folded his lips, and tried again. “Dara, you’re a champion swimmer…of course I’m proud of you.”
She nodded. “Is that all? Just because I’m a good swimmer?”
He looked perplexed. “No, I…you’re a beautiful girl, you work hard…I lo…” he stopped abruptly. “You’re my daughter,” he finished on a puzzled, almost pleading note.
Dara listened and watched, seeing him in a different light. She couldn’t decide exactly what it was, but somehow things had shifted, her perception had shifted. Everything was the same, except it wasn’t.
She went to her dad, put her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his chest. After a moment, his arms came around her hesitantly and he rested his cheek on top of her hair.
Dara hugged him tight and stepped back. Turning to her mother, she bent down and kissed her cheek before looping her ar
ms around her mother’s neck. “I’d love for you to read my stories. If you still have them, I’d like to read yours, too.”
Her mother grabbed her in a tight hold. “Yes,” she managed through tears. “I’d like that very much.”
Her dad had been standing, statue-like, during this exchange, but came suddenly alive. “Wait a minute. She’s got to concentrate on her swimming. You have a goal, Dara!” he reminded her sharply.
She let go of her mother, and stood up, tall and straight, facing her father. Had they seen her at that moment, Patrick would have paid homage in elvish and Drew would have felt his heart swell.
“You know, Dad, before I came here, to this camp, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the Olympics.”
Her dad gasped and opened his mouth to speak, but Dara went on.
“I love swimming, you know that, and I’m good at it…but it seemed like it was more important to you than it was to me.”
She held up her hand before her dad could say anything. “Let me finish…please. My stories are important to me. But so is swimming. I can do both, Dad.”
Dara’s gaze fell on her treasure map. “I will keep writing. And I’ll keep training for the Olympics because I really, really want to go to Sydney and compete. Not for you…I can’t keep swimming because you want me to…but I can swim because I love to swim and I want to be in the Olympics.”
Her dad stared at her without speaking, and after coming to some silent conclusion of his own, nodded slowly. “Alright, Dara.”
Chapter 27
Campfire
“C’mon, all you pyros out there! Start feeding this fire some fuel,” Cal urged.
The smaller kindling had caught, and kids and parents needed no additional encouragement to add a few branches to the crackling flames. Cal rolled a large stump over beside the fire pit, and went back to the pile for an armful of split wood.
Patrick tossed in a handful of twigs and plopped down next to his parents, throwing an arm across his father’s shoulders. “Well, Squidward, what have we learned today?” he asked in a nasally voice.
“The Crabby Patty hasn’t been the same without you,” his father replied in a fair imitation of SpongeBob.
Patrick laughed and patted the top of his dad’s head. “Not bad…not as good as me, but not bad.”
Jake had never seen anyone’s face light up like that. She half ran to him, threw her arms wide, and with surprising strength, lifted him off the ground in a hug he could still feel. He hugged her back and did not want to let go. Eventually, they walked together back to his cabin because he wanted to show her two, no, three, of his most prized possessions from camp.
The first was the bois d’arc seed pod, which she exclaimed over, never having seen anything quite like it. The second was Drew’s picture of the two Jakes. He heard her quick intake of breath as she studied the two figures.
“Amazing. I know both of these Jakes, but I haven’t seen this one in a very long time.” The tip of her index finger gently tapped the drawing on the right, where Jake #2 smiled and waved. “What…what does this mean to you?” she asked him.
“Freedom.” He didn’t know where the word came from, didn’t know if it even made sense, but that’s what came out.
Instead of asking him what he meant, his mother kissed him softly on the cheek.
He turned back to his duffle bag to retrieve another sheet of paper that had been carefully tucked into a side pocket. He was afraid for her to see it, and at the same time, determined.
“I went to this class, Real World Magic it was called, and Ron talked about magic and thinking about what you want and how to get what you want…well, I think you get to go to a class like that, too, while you’re here. Maybe it would make more sense if you read this after you went to the class…,” he babbled.
He held the paper out to her and she grasped it without taking her eyes off him. When he said nothing else, she finally looked down at the paper and began to read.
1. I love my dad, even though I know he’s got problems that keep him from being a good dad to me.
2. It’s not my fault that my dad is the way he is and I deserve a dad who treats me right.
She bent her knees and sank onto the bunk behind her, fingers over her mouth, as she continued to read.
3. I love my mom, A LOT.
4. I still want a dad in my life, even if he’s not my real dad.
5. I’m willing for my mom to find someone great to love us both, someone who’ll show he cares, want to do stuff with me, and will be like a real dad should.
“Jake…” she managed the one word, tears welling and overflowing. She grabbed him and held him close, stroking the back of his hair.
Even as he chewed and swallowed a mammoth bite of potato salad, Jake felt a warm rush of emotion when he thought of his mom’s reaction.
“Jake?”
Jim kicked him under the table. “Ow! Huh, what?” He blinked and saw Mr. Curran watching him expectantly.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you ask me something?”
“Yes. Your mother was telling me about the bois d’arc pod. I’d love to see where you found it, see if there are any more.”
“Oh, there’s lots more, but I think I got the biggest one. I’ll show you if you want, though. It’s not too far a hike, or we could take the horses, if Ron says it’s OK…and comes with us to take care of the horses,” he added.
“Hiking’s fine with me.” He looked at his wife and at Jake’s mom, and they both nodded their agreement.
“There’s a beautiful meadow up there,” Nicky told them. “You might want to bring a camera, and definitely some water. The path has a tricky bit over some rocks…you’ll need to wear good shoes and mind your step.”
“We’ll do that, thanks. Do you want to come with us, you and Jim?”
“Thank you, but no. Jim and I will be going off in a different direction with Corinne and her family. It’s a pretty hike, too, a little easier and shorter than the one to the meadow.”
Parents and kids continued to make plans for the free time they would have after the mini sessions and before dinner. After the dishes were cleared and the tables wiped down, the kids said goodbye and the parents broke up into two groups. Each group would attend either Get Real or Dream Working, and then switch after a short break. The next day would be the final session, Real World Magic.
“What a load of hooey!” Dara’s dad exclaimed as he exited the lodge after the Get Real session. “I can’t believe we paid good money to send her to this!”
“She’s had a good time, Doug, “ her mother offered softly. “And it did make sense, when you think about it…I mean, not putting others down...that’s a good thing!” She raised her eyes to his face, hoping to see some sign of understanding.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Of course. But you need to be firm with people, otherwise, they’ll walk all over you. If you get in the first lick, they usually back off.”
She stared at him in disbelief as a sense of utter hopelessness washed over her. He didn’t get it, would not get it. Her head drooped in defeat.
“Let’s see the pool before we have to go to the next stupid class.” He strode off down the hill, and she watched him in silence for a few seconds before following in his footsteps.
“Can you imagine what Pat and Sean made of that class?” Mark McConnell asked his wife. “The twins thrive on insulting each other!”
His wife shook her head. “Sometimes…other times, I think Sean’s hurt by it. He covers well, but…” she shrugged.
“They’re as close as two people can be, but I know Pat’s hard on him sometimes. Maybe we should be paying more attention. I just assumed they always work it out.”
“Show them, we will,” came Yoda’s voice from nearby. Patrick and Sean met up with them by the volleyball court. “Hey, we thought we’d show you the oven we helped build, before you go to the next class.”
“Yeah, it was so cool, we got to stomp in a mud pit to make adobe bricks!” Sean told them.
“Doesn’t get any better than that,” his dad responded. “Let’s go see!”
His mother looped her arm through Sean’s, and they all walked across the grass to where the oven sat.
“Look at this!” she exclaimed, peering through the door. “That’s pretty impressive!” She turned to Patrick, standing next to her with a grin on his face. “How’s the bread taste?”
“Awesome!” he replied.
“Excellent!” added Sean.
“I wonder how the…oh, I see, the bricks are canted so you don’t need extra internal support,” Mr. McConnell mused, his hand on the oven roof. He straightened up and looked at Patrick and Sean. “We just finished that Get Real class. What did you guys think of it when you did it?”
Patrick and Sean glanced at each other and then at their parents.
“It was good.” Patrick said, without elaborating.
“Good?” his dad asked, waving his hand toward himself in a “gimme more” gesture.
“Well, you know that “build up” and “put down” stuff they talked about?” Sean asked his parents. “It made us think about stuff in our lives, how it makes people feel…” He pointed his chin at Patrick. “We worked some things out because of it. I didn’t realize how much some things bothered me until we practiced in that class.”
“Yeah, and Sean was real good at practicing putting down. I didn’t know he had it in him,” Patrick commented dryly.
Sean beamed. “Got you good, didn’t I?”
“That’s for sure.”
Sean suddenly remembered what Patrick had told him when they were playing lacrosse. “Hey, don’t you have something you need to tell mom and dad? About what happened at school?”
Patrick looked blank.
“You know, the toilet?” Sean prompted, savoring the moment.
Patrick’s face flushed. “Oh, yeah.” He swallowed. “Do you remember…well, I know you remember, but…you know when that toilet g
His parents nodded, watching him expectantly.
Patrick took a big breath. “Actually…that was me, not Sean.” He waited for an explosion, but while his dad raised his eyebrows, neither parent said anything, merely waited for him to continue.
“I did it as a joke and I never meant for anyone to get hurt, but then Sean got blamed and I…well, I let him take the fall for it. I already apologized to Sean. And told him I’d never lie to him again.” He rolled his eyes. “Believe me, we got that one cleared up,” he said,
locking eyes with Sean.
“When we get back to school, I’ll tell the teacher and apologize to her, too. I just want to say…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the trouble it caused and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.”
His dad nodded gravely. “Apology accepted.”
“I agree,” his mom added. “Thanks for telling us.” She touched Patrick on the arm. “Do you remember what Sean had to do because of that incident?” she asked, eyes twinkling.
Patrick frowned in concentration. When the memory came back to him, his eyes widened. “Oh, no!” he groaned.
“Oh, yes!” she laughed.
Sean twirled in a circle, arms raised overhead. “Yes!” he yelled in triumph.
“So, in addition to letting the teacher know the truth about what happened and apologizing to her, it looks like you will also be the chief pooper-scooper for 6 months after we get home. And I gotta tell you, we switched dog food because Sulley was having some problems with the old kind. He and Mike really like the new stuff…they’ve been real regular,” his dad smiled.
Patrick thought about Sulley, their Irish wolfhound, and Mike, a mastiff/rottweiler mix, and the volume of poop they had previously produced. If it was even more now…
His chin dropped onto his chest, shoulders drooping.
“Does that sound fair to you, Sean?” his dad asked.
“Sweet!” Sean replied, his face alight with laughter.
“We’d better get going to the next class,” Mrs. McConnell said, wrapping Patrick in a one-arm hug. She gave Sean a quick hug, too, before walking up the slope with her grinning husband.
“Where is he?” Allison demanded excitedly. “I want to see him!”
“Oh, probably off chasing squirrels somewhere. He’s not very good at it, but he keeps trying,” Corinne answered. She had used her phone to send her sister a picture of Rocky, and Allison had fallen in love on sight.
“Yeah, he’s almost as fond of squirrels as he is of you!” Jim commented.
Corinne’s lips quirked with amusement once again at his pronunciation of “squirrel”. “Say it again,” she pleaded.
He tilted his head, but obligingly repeated the word.
This time she laughed outright, eyes dancing.
“Corinne!” her dad said sharply.
“It’s OK, sir. I give her aboriginal words to say, and they’re barely recognizable the way she pronounces them.”
Corinne nodded her head. “Might as well be Chinese.”
Nicky had been following the conversation with a smile, but when she noticed a brown shape moving through the trees at the bottom of the hill, she put two fingers to her mouth and let loose a shrill whistle.
Everyone but Jim looked at her in surprise, and the brown shape changed course and shot toward them at top speed.
Rocky barreled into Nicky first, then moved on to Corinne. He frisked around her legs, then ran a short way off before freezing, rear end in the air, nose on the ground, bright eyes focused on her intently.
She faked a lunge at him and ran around behind Jim. Rocky gave a short, high bark of joy and raced after her. Corinne did an about-face and caught him in her arms. He squirmed out and promptly rolled onto his back, legs jerking, head lolling, tongue panting.
“Allison, I think he’s ready for a belly rub.”
Rocky flipped onto his feet and approached Allison, sniffing interestedly. She let him sniff first, then she put out her hand, and he nosed it up like a cat wanting to be scratched.
She laughed and plopped down on the ground, hands already stroking his wiry fur.
“Fickle,” Corinne stated, shaking her head sadly.
“Oh, no,” Nicky reassured her. “He’ll take whatever he can get whenever he can get it. You’ll be next, as soon as she stops petting him.”
Corinne’s dad asked about Rocky’s breed, and while Jim explained, Corinne looked around the grounds at the groups of kids and parents. Toby was towing his parents toward the pool, his dad holding one of those big seed pods under his arm like a football. Caroline and Drew and their parents were walking away from the covered patio, all looking at what Corinne figured must be a treasure map. She turned her head to the left and saw Ron, Jake, and Jake’s mom moving toward the stables, Jake talking nonstop and the other two listening. There were other kids she didn’t know, but everyone seemed to be busy going somewhere, talking, laughing, and exploring. She sighed happily.
Dara’s dad looked large and uncomfortable standing in the small cabin. Her mom was sitting on the bunk, poring over Dara’s treasure map as if it was a canvas by DaVinci. Every once is awhile she would glance up at Dara, her eyes moist, her fingers almost, but not quite, touching the objects on the map.
It had taken every bit of willpower she had to summon the courage to show her parents her map. She just knew her dad would put it down, and her mom would probably say something like, “That’s nice, dear”, and that would be that.
Instead, her dad didn’t comment on her map at all. “What is wrong with you, Jean?” he asked mildly, as her mom continued to hold the map like the precious cache its name implied.
“I used to want to write,” she said in a far away voice. She looked down at the map again. “I did write,” she amended. “ About my family, about desert islands and tropical rainforests, and bunnies who talked. Lots of different things.”
Dara stared in amazement. Her mom? Bunnies who talked?!
Her dad looked blank. ‘What are you talking about? You never wrote anything besides a grocery list.”
That brought her head up. She met his eyes with an uncharacteristic hint of steel in her own. “Yes. Yes, I did. You never saw my stories. I wouldn’t let you.”
“Mom?”
“Dara…I hope you’ll let me read your stories…I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
Am I in an alternate universe? Dara wondered.
“She can’t waste time writing fairy tales when she’s got to be focused on swimming.”
Dara ignored his comment, asking a question instead, a question she would never have been brave enough to ask before coming to camp. “Are you proud of me, Dad?”
“Proud of you?! Have you both gone crazy? I don’t know what either one of you is talking about.”
“Are you proud of me?” Dara persisted.
“For wanting to make up stories? I’m supposed to be proud of you for that?”
“For anything. Are you proud of me for anything?” She held his gaze and did not look away.
He started to speak, folded his lips, and tried again. “Dara, you’re a champion swimmer…of course I’m proud of you.”
She nodded. “Is that all? Just because I’m a good swimmer?”
He looked perplexed. “No, I…you’re a beautiful girl, you work hard…I lo…” he stopped abruptly. “You’re my daughter,” he finished on a puzzled, almost pleading note.
Dara listened and watched, seeing him in a different light. She couldn’t decide exactly what it was, but somehow things had shifted, her perception had shifted. Everything was the same, except it wasn’t.
She went to her dad, put her arms around his waist, and rested her head on his chest. After a moment, his arms came around her hesitantly and he rested his cheek on top of her hair.
Dara hugged him tight and stepped back. Turning to her mother, she bent down and kissed her cheek before looping her ar
Her mother grabbed her in a tight hold. “Yes,” she managed through tears. “I’d like that very much.”
Her dad had been standing, statue-like, during this exchange, but came suddenly alive. “Wait a minute. She’s got to concentrate on her swimming. You have a goal, Dara!” he reminded her sharply.
She let go of her mother, and stood up, tall and straight, facing her father. Had they seen her at that moment, Patrick would have paid homage in elvish and Drew would have felt his heart swell.
“You know, Dad, before I came here, to this camp, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the Olympics.”
Her dad gasped and opened his mouth to speak, but Dara went on.
“I love swimming, you know that, and I’m good at it…but it seemed like it was more important to you than it was to me.”
She held up her hand before her dad could say anything. “Let me finish…please. My stories are important to me. But so is swimming. I can do both, Dad.”
Dara’s gaze fell on her treasure map. “I will keep writing. And I’ll keep training for the Olympics because I really, really want to go to Sydney and compete. Not for you…I can’t keep swimming because you want me to…but I can swim because I love to swim and I want to be in the Olympics.”
Her dad stared at her without speaking, and after coming to some silent conclusion of his own, nodded slowly. “Alright, Dara.”
Chapter 27
Campfire
“C’mon, all you pyros out there! Start feeding this fire some fuel,” Cal urged.
The smaller kindling had caught, and kids and parents needed no additional encouragement to add a few branches to the crackling flames. Cal rolled a large stump over beside the fire pit, and went back to the pile for an armful of split wood.
Patrick tossed in a handful of twigs and plopped down next to his parents, throwing an arm across his father’s shoulders. “Well, Squidward, what have we learned today?” he asked in a nasally voice.
“The Crabby Patty hasn’t been the same without you,” his father replied in a fair imitation of SpongeBob.
Patrick laughed and patted the top of his dad’s head. “Not bad…not as good as me, but not bad.”