Bruno Santini came to visit one weekend. Spending time with him, she understood exactly where Joey came from—a place of love and acceptance. He treated his grown son with unabashed affection and pride, and didn’t hesitate to open his heart to Jenny and her grandmother. “You’re the prettiest girl Joey’s ever introduced me to,” he said.
“Pop, she’s the only girl I’ve ever introduced you to,” Joey pointed out.
In August when the weather grew so hot that even the crickets fell still, Joey hung a two-seater swing on the front porch and he and Jenny would sit there late at night, gently swaying, hoping for a breeze. Jenny was beginning to think she’d never move away from this house. After Grandpa died, she still held on to the dream, but when Gram had her first stroke, that was it for Jenny. She was staying. Gram needed her. They were companionable roommates and made the best of the situation. Since Gram couldn’t do stairs anymore, they converted the downstairs den to her bedroom and Jenny had the entire upstairs to herself. Sometimes she pretended it was a loft in SoHo, but then the crickets would start up or a coyote would howl, and she’d remember: she was in Avalon.
“It’s so nice here,” Joey said, his arm slipping around her.
Jenny smiled at the irony of it. “My thoughts exactly.”
“I’m going to miss you so much,” he said softly.
“Are you afraid?” she asked.
“Nervous, I guess. But scared?” He smiled. “I know this next tour of duty’s going to be more intense because I’ll be a ranger, but it doesn’t scare me.” His smile faded. “But…leaving you. Now, that scares me.”
“Why would it scare you?”
“Because everything feels so good right now, I don’t want it to change.”
She paused, took in a breath of the heat-heavy air. “Everything changes. We both know that.”
“But if we were together, we’d change and grow together.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I know, I’m crazy. You might go chasing off to the city and turn into a stranger.”
She laughed, too, even though his comment bothered her. “I’m not going anywhere. Gram needs me here. You have to understand, Joey, I’ll never leave her.”
He leaned over and touched his lips to her forehead. “She’s lucky to have you. And so am I.”
In that moment, Jenny felt like the lucky one. There was a nearly full moon riding high in the sky that night, and its silvery light slipped over him, illuminating a face that had become precious to her. What a gift it was to have someone like this in her life, someone who loved her without question, whose chief worry was being separated from her.
* * *
For the rest of the month of August, Rourke watched Joey and Jenny growing closer. He tried to be happy for them but, failing that, settled for acting as though he didn’t care. He ran around with girls from the camp, drank too much, slept too little and avoided his best friend. And somehow, finally, summer was winding down. He was starting to count the days until he, Joey and Jenny would go their separate ways.
The week before Labor Day, the traditional staff field day was held. Counselors and workers at the camp would compete in various events, egged on by the campers. Rourke’s event was tennis, and he easily won the preliminary rounds. In the final round, his opponent was Joey. Great, he thought. Just great. He’d be fighting his best friend for the title. Even worse, Jenny had come to watch. He could see her sitting with Nina in the bleachers. Jenny was wearing a wide-brimmed hat and drinking a glass of lemonade, and even from a distance, he could hear her laughter.
With his opening serve, he knew what this was going to be—a punishment. Every shot was designed to punish Joey, which was so stupid because Joey was his best friend. Joey was also a good player, having shared lessons and practice sessions with Rourke as they were growing up. But Joey had the girl, and Rourke had nothing but his temper and his powerful tennis game, which he used without mercy. This was an all-out battle. He drove Joey around the court until he could see the sweat pouring down his friend’s face and body, saturating his clothes. He creamed him two sets in a row, lured him up to the net and then lobbed him. In the end they shook hands over the net, but Rourke didn’t even look at Joey.
Rourke took possession of the trophy—a silver-plated cup—but as he stood there holding it, Joey walked away with the girl. To Rourke’s surprise, Philip Bellamy came over to congratulate him. He was the eldest son of the camp owners and a friend of Rourke’s parents, which made Rourke immediately suspicious.
“I held the title myself one year,” Mr. Bellamy said, “back in 1977.”
“It’s, uh, quite an honor, sir,” Rourke said.
Mr. Bellamy looked over at Joey, who was standing in the shade with Jenny. She had taken off her sun hat. Joey had a towel slung around his neck, and he was earnestly talking to her. “Who’s that?” Mr. Bellamy asked. “The girl, with your opponent?”
Rourke shrugged, as if he didn’t care. “Some girl. Name’s Jenny, I think. Why do you ask?”
“She reminds me of someone, is all. Someone I used to know.” Philip glanced over at him. “Someone I used to look at the way
