Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
SUMMER
She’s standing in front of me, all sweaty, and I can admit I’ve loved being able to talk to her on a whim this past week.
“Sure,” she rolls her eyes.
“Believe me or not,” I shrug.
“When’s your next day off?” I ask, attempting to change the subject.
“Tomorrow.”
My smirk should tell her everything she needs to know, but she looks annoyed, and tired, so I offer her goodnight and watch her drive off. I’ve thought about her all week, about all the ways I want to have her.
River told me about one of the other counselors quitting the day before the kids came, which makes sense considering I’ve been working with more kids in my group than what I was initially told.
Santi and Kiri have their own groups too, but on Sundays the groups are sent home at breakfast, and the new crew comes in at dinner.
I got lucky to get the first Sunday off, and I plan to use it to my full advantage.
Soon, the kids are getting tired, so the rest of the counselors and I round them up and get them into their bunks.
The girls go to one house, and the boys go to another.
Once everyone’s accounted for, we head to our own cabins.
River makes sure the fire’s out, passing me as they head to their cabin.
I’ve been holding my breath waiting for another note to show up, and nothing. So maybe whoever was leaving them decided I wasn’t playing and gave up.
That’s what I keep telling myself, even as I shower and get ready for bed. I’m so tired, I don’t think I can sketch tonight, even though I’ve drawn more these past few days than I ever have. Mostly images of Indy, which I realize could be considered creepy.
Pulling my phone from the nightstand, I pull up Indy’s contact. All the counselors have it, but I’ve never used it before. I’ve wanted to, but every night I’ve been so exhausted by the time I lay my head down, I’m out like a light.
ME: Tell me Honey, got any plans on your day off?
Waiting for her text back, I can see the bubble pop up that tells me she’s typing, and then it disappears.
HONEY: Why, you wanna tag along?
I wish I could see her face, to know if she’s being cheeky or matter-of-fact.
ME: Depends…
HONEY: I guess this time I wouldn’t mind some company.
I throw my fist up in the air and let out an audible whoop at her confirmation as another text comes in.
HONEY: Go to bed, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m taking you out
ME:
Smiling at my phone, I make sure to plug it in before getting comfy in bed.
The next day comes so fast, I can hardly believe I’m pulling up to Indy’s cabin for a day’s worth of… whatever we’re doing.
Knocking at her door, she yells for me to come in and when I enter, she’s sitting at her mirror brushing through half of her hair, with the other half already braided.
“Sorry,” she says by way of greeting, “I slept through my alarm.”
“We have all day.”
In the light, her cabin’s decorated with pictures and small items that show her personality. The walls are painted a bright gray, making the space look bigger.
Her shower still has droplets of water rolling down the glass.
It’s like the studio apartment I rented in New York last year before another note showed up from whoever the hell is following me, and I had to relocate to Kentucky.
Her cabin is homier than any place I’ve stayed, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
Indy’s got this quality about her that feels… safe.
The small moments I’ve seen when she thinks no one’s looking, she’s gentle and kind, even to the bees.
“Ready,” she says, standing from her vanity and grabbing a set of keys from beside the door as she walks out. “I’ll drive.”
“And where are we headed?” I ask, even though I have a feeling she won’t tell me.
“It’s a surprise,” she says, giving me a smirk and walking out the door. I follow like a little puppy, only to hear a honk from the bottom of the stairs.
“Don’t be an ass Twatla.” I grumble at the goose.
The bird puffs up her feathers when she sees me, with her wings fanned out like she’ll attack.
“She’s just being Twatla,” Indy says, as if this is normal, and walks past the bird.
“To be so pretty, you really do live up to your name,” I tell her, scooting by against the railing of the porch.
Indy gets into the green truck I saw her get into that night at the bar, and waits until I join her to back out of the drive. We sit in silence for most of the ride, not really knowing what to say.
All I know is, I want to fuck her brains out again.
When she pulls up to Maxine’s Diner and kills the engine, I look her way.
We said no attachments, but the way I’ve heard her talk about this place feels like sharing a piece of her.
I won’t complain, but I also don’t want to hurt her when I leave.
I don’t want her to think this could be something… else.
Even if the thought has crossed my mind.
“We’re here,” she says, “well the first place anyway.”
Stepping out of the truck, I follow her in, an older woman with gray hair greets her with a smile and hug. “Well, it’s been a minute!”
“I know, Maxine,” she laughs, holding on to the woman and placing a kiss on her cheek.
The older woman spots me and gives Indy a look that’s sharper than I’d expect from someone as old as her.
“Be good,” she warns the woman, and walks over to where I’m standing near the doorway. “Summer, this is Maxine, she’s Lucy’s grandmother.”
Shaking the woman’s hand, I’m surprised by how firm her hands are. Her skin is soft, and slightly loose around her bones, still it doesn’t stop her from gripping my hand tight. “Nice to meet you, Summer.”
“You too, Maxine,” I offer, pulling my hand back and following Indy to a seat.
Maxine heads to the back of the counter and returns with two iced teas. “If you want somethin’ different, let me know. I’ll come back in a bit so you can look over the menu.”
I take a small sip and find that somehow, this tea is even better than Mrs. Turner’s, but I won’t say that out loud. I have a feeling that would cause a stir, and I’m not about to ruin the start of my day.
“Everythin’ is good here,” Indy says, not bothering to look at the menu.
We order with Maxine, and soon Indy starts playing with the sugar packets on the table.
“Is there something you want to ask me?” I ask, eyeing her hands.
She looks up from her packet pyramid and gives me a tug of her brow, “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask, feeling like I understand her, but I want to be certain.
“This,” she motions between us, “I don’t know what I can and can’t do.”
Placing my foot beside hers I tap her ankle. “What do you want to do?”
Her whole face flushes, and she ducks her head.
“Ah,” I laugh, “other than that.”
Our plates are delivered and Indy takes a few big bites before swallowing down a few gulps of tea. “I just want to get to know you.”
“Ask away,” I tell her.
She looks at me, tilting her head to the side as if silently asking me if I’m going to answer.
“If you ask something I don’t feel comfortable answering, I’ll tell you.”
“Okay, what brought you to Tennessee?”
It’s an easy question, something most people wouldn’t bat an eye at, and for the most part, I don’t. “I’ve always loved nature, and a camp seemed like the perfect place for a couple months.”
Her smile falters a little, I can see the lingering ghost of something hanging over her.
“Have you ever been away from Tennessee?” I counter, already knowing the answer. Her degree’s mounted on the wall, next to a picture of her and three other women in caps and gowns.
“I went to college in North Carolina,” she says around a bite of food. “I liked college, but couldn’t see myself there long term after graduation.”
“What’s your degree in?” Again, I already know, but I love hearing her talk. Her accent’s cute, not overly dramatic, but there.
“Equine Science. It's not what my parents wanted for me, but you’d be surprised what I can do with that degree.”
I wouldn’t, I think Indy could do whatever it is she wanted to do and no one would bat an eye.
“What about you? College?” She asks, and it dawns on me that the application for the Turner Summer Camp didn’t have required education on it, so she really doesn’t know.
“I have a Bachelor of Arts,” it’s not usually something I talk about, mostly because that degree is what led to the most horrific time in my life. “It’s not as fancy as it sounds.”
“So you’re an artist?”
I snort, “No.”
I mean, I can get by drawing and painting just fine, but I’ve never pursued a job as an artist. Never thought about drawing anything of value to anyone but me.
“Why not?” Her outrage is sweet, borderline adorable.
“I don’t sell my art,” I shrug.
“Okay, but you could?” I shrug in reply, and by the time she asks her next question, her plate's almost cleared. “What do you like to do for fun?”
Leaning back in the booth, with a full stomach, I contemplate her question. “I like to be outside.”
She rolls her eyes, a habit I’m starting to like. “I already know that. What do you normally like to do outside?”
“I’ve always loved swimming,” I laugh, snatching the check and heading for the register. There’s a younger girl there, she’s got teal highlights running through her blonde hair and her smile is infectious.
“Hi, how was it?” She asks, her accent much harsher than Indy’s.
“Very good, thank you,” I offer her my card, and she swipes it on the machine.
She hands over the receipt with a smile, “Have a good day!”
Back at the table, Maxine’s talking to Indy. Their conversation fizzles out by the time I get there, and they hug. The young woman from the register bounds over, “Indy! I didn’t know you were here.”
Indy laughs, “Hi Briar, how’s college treatin’ you?”
“It’s been fun, but I’ve missed home,” she looks at Maxine, who wraps her up into a one arm hug.
“Well, you two have fun!” Maxine says, pulling Briar away from the table.
“I had a plan in mind, but what do you wanna do?” Indy asks, stepping up to the truck and leaning her elbow against it. Her dress flaps in the wind, boots crossed at the ankles.
“I’ve got an idea.”