“She’s not afraid of anything.” Jenny half turned to gaze at the little girl, cute as a Cabbage Patch doll in red, white and blue overalls, clapped her hands in delight. She was potty trained, although Nina toted along a diaper bag just in case.
Nina pulled into the gravel parking lot. “Where did Rourke and Joey say they’d meet us?” she asked.
“Main pavilion,” Jenny said, gesturing at the large, timber lodge. She spotted the guys in their gray athletic sweatshirts with the Camp Kioga logo. As always, the sight of Rourke caught at her heart and as always, she ignored the feeling. It was, she knew, yet another facet of being an adult. After losing her grandfather and going through bankruptcy, keeping herself from falling for a boy should be a cakewalk.
Except that it wasn’t. When she looked at him, she felt a searing pain that left her breathless.
“I’ll carry her,” Jenny offered, holding out her arms for Sonnet. In addition to being a welcome armful, the little girl was a shield Jenny could hold up to keep her distance.
Unlike Jenny, Sonnet didn’t hold in her feelings by any measure. She took one look at Joey Santini and shrieked with joy. The first time she’d seen him, she had decided that he was the love of her life. While it was sad that she was growing up without a father, it had its advantages. There were so many people in the little girl’s life who adored her. Surrounding a child with love was the key, not whose DNA she carried.
Like most young men, both Joey and Rourke regarded small children with the same horrified caution as a cottonmouth snake. And like most toddlers, Sonnet didn’t care. She squealed and bucked in Jenny’s arms until Jenny surrendered her to Joey. He gazed into the small, nut-brown face. “One peep outta you, and I’m giving you back,” he said.
“Peep,” said Sonnet, gazing back at him.
As they headed down to the beach with their guests to enjoy the fireworks, Rourke kept his distance, as though Joey was holding a volatile substance. It was dusk, and people gathered around the campfires strung along the lakeshore. They toasted marshmallows and lit sparklers, which the kids whirled tirelessly in circles and figure eights. When darkness fell, the fireworks began shooting from the island in the middle of the lake. Colorful starbursts were reflected in the still water, greeted by the oohs and aahs of the onlookers. Sonnet adored the fireworks, clapping her hands and chortling with each explosion. But, like most toddlers, she soon grew bored with the display and wanted to go swimming in the lake.
“Not a good idea,” Nina said. “We don’t have our swimsuits and it’s dark.”
“Mom,” said Sonnet, her Minnie Mouse voice edged by the threat of a tantrum.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Nina suggested, jumping up.
The four of them slipped away. Rourke shone his flashlight along the lakeshore trail. They passed the boathouse and then the staff pavilion, informally known as the party shack, where camp workers and counselors were already gathering now that the campers were down for the night. “Where you going, Rourke?” called a flirty female voice. He walked faster, the only indication that he’d heard.
“What’s that?” Nina asked, pointing to a large, bulky structure off by itself, well past the staff cottages.
“It’s where the caretaker lives in winter,” Joey said. “It’s empty now. Let’s go check it out.”
“It’s probably locked,” said Rourke.
“It’s definitely locked,” Joey agreed. “Good thing I have a key.”
It was a beautiful old lodge, musty with disuse and filled with peeled log furniture and camp memorabilia. Originally the camp owners’ residence, it was now used by the Bellamys as an off-season retreat or guest cottage. Joey opened the fridge but found nothing. Sonnet scurried around, exploring everywhere, helping herself to games and toys stashed in a bench. She stopped in front of the moose-head trophy over the river-rock fireplace and went very still.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you,” Joey said, lifting her up. Then he set her down as though she was on fire. “God, what’s that smell?”
“I pooped,” Sonnet explained.
“God,” he said again. “It’s making my eyes water. I thought you said she was housebroken.”
“Potty trained. And the bad news is,” Nina said, “the diaper bag is in the car.”
Sonnet started to sob as though her heart was breaking. It was decided that Joey would show Nina back to the car while Rourke and Jenny put away the toys and games Sonnet had taken out. Jenny opened a window to air the place out. She tried not to laugh at Rourke’s horrified expression, but couldn’t help herself.
“You think that’s funny?” he asked.
“No, I think your reaction is funny. It’s not toxic waste, Rourke.”
“They should use kids like her in high-school parenting classes. The birth rate would go way down.”
She rounded up the cribbage pieces Sonnet had spilled. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Maybe not to you.”
“Honestly, changing a diaper is far from my favorite thing in the world, too.” She thought how amazing Nina had been, right from the start. Changing a diaper was only one tiny facet of an awesome responsibility. Despite being so young, she treated Sonnet with endless patience and love.
“My grandfather used to come up here in the winter,” Jenny said, paging through a photo album with old pictures glued to black pages. She stopped at a shot of him standing on the dock, smiling sweetly. “He and Mr. Bellamy would go ice fishing.” She touched the face in the photo and grief crashed over her in a wave that felt almost physical.
“I’m sorry,” Rourke said. Like so many people, he seemed to be at a loss for what to say.
“It’s okay.” Her voice sounded thready and uncertain as
