Chapter 42
Henry
“Wow. That’s a lot of gear,” Venus says, hands on her hips as she eyes my overloaded trunk. “How long are you staying? A month? A year?”
Olly chuckles beside her. “I wish.”
“Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it,” I say, fighting embarrassment.
“As long as you can carry it,” she grins before laying her hand gently on Olly’s shoulder. “I’m pet-sitting Buster for the weekend. He’s inside, if you wish to say hello.”
Olly gawks and bolts for the fairy house.
Venus’s light smile turns in my direction as I take a hit off my inhaler. Her brow creases in the middle. “The air quality is poor today. Controlled burns over the river. Are you sure we should do this tonight?”
I inhale deeply and motion to the cross-body bag around my chest. “Yep. I’ve got every asthma medication known to man, and I’ve got you. I’ll be fine.”
Her smirk grows. “We can always retreat to the house. You’ll tell me, right?”
“I promise.” I smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
She blushes, glancing over her shoulder to see that Olly isn’t watching. I hook my hand around her waist and tug her closer. “Don’t worry. I’ve talked to Olly about us.”
“You did? What did you say?”
“The truth. That we’re more than friends—we always have been—and that we’re spending time together while you’re here. He knows you might leave for more adventures, and he understands.”
She relaxes in my arms. “I don’t know what to say.”
“No need to say anything.” My forehead rests against hers. “I had to tell him something. I can’t go a whole campout without touching you.”
Her cheeks turn adorably pink. “I think I want to stay.” She blurts her declaration so quickly that it sounds like one word with syllables tumbling over each other.
“That’s… We’d love that. I’d love that.” Relief spreads through me like an ocean breeze on a sweltering day, and I try to hold it in. But my lips magnetize to hers, and overjoyed in our embrace, I lift her off her feet.
She laughs, her hair dangling around us.
“Dad!” Olly rushes from the house with Buster, leashed and tied to his waist. “Buster wants to help set up camp.”
Buster barks as if to say, “Yep.”
I set her down, but my hands stay fixed on her sides like I can’t let go. “Sounds good. Grab whatever you can carry.”
Venus leads us to the outskirts of her father’s garden, where tall pines and scraggly live oaks take over, and she’s outlined a path into the woods with solar lights wedged into the ground to see at night.
When we can no longer see the fairy house, she stops beneath a familiar live oak tree, sprawled and imposing with its thick, low branches and drapes of Spanish moss. She stands in front of it with her hands on her hips.
“Look familiar?” she asks.
“Absolutely. Olly, this is the tree Venus fell out of the day we met.”
“It’s also where we built the lean-to that sheltered us in that storm. Do you know that story, Olly?” she asks.
He nods with a wide-eyed expression before he pushes his glasses up further on his nose. “Oh, yeah. Dad said he was terrified.”
“Not terrified,” I correct as Venus gives me an amused look. “Concerned.”
“I was also very concerned,” she admits, “but we got through it together.”
Olly drops his backpack and runs around the tree with Buster.
Venus has already prepped the area. A wheelbarrow of bricks, sand, and firewood sits away from the tree to build a fire pit. The ground has been raked free of rocks and sticks to make way for our tent. She’s even slung her hammock between two smaller trees nearby.
We set up the tent first—a six-person, domed mega-tent. It has windows, a ventilated peaked ceiling, a shaded porch with banners, and I can stand up in it.
“Wow, that’s a tent,” she says. “Are you expecting guests?”
“Hey, this isn’t one of your minimalistic expeditions. I want space to move around, and a little luxury,” I defend lightly. “Even you’ll be impressed by how comfortable we are... Only two or three more trips to the Jeep, and we’ll be all set.”
She looks amused but says nothing.
An hour or so later, we plop into our camping chairs to survey our hard work.
The fire pit is ready for when darkness falls.
We have coolers full of drinks and snacks.
The camping stove is set up. A trash bag hangs off a low tree branch.
The flashlights and lanterns are ready. And music plays gently from the portable radio.
The shade from the live oak and the tent’s porch, where our chairs reside, creates an oasis in the summer heat.
Still, I look forward to the cooler evening and the three of us telling stories around a campfire.
Venus looks up from her field journal. “So, what do you two adventurers want to do first?”
Olly rattles off a long list, and they eventually decide on a hike.
We spend hours exploring the property around the fairy house, just like Venus and I used to do as kids.
Venus shows him bugs, lizards, and birds through binoculars and magnifying glasses.
They touch lumpy moss and discuss the veins in leaves.
We jump over muddy creeks, examine downed trees, collect samples for Olly’s new field journal—a gift from Venus—and construct a lean-to near the campsite.
We are sweaty and dirty when it’s done, but we have so much fun that no one seems to care.
When the sun starts falling behind the tall, slender pines, we rest in our camp chairs.
“I’m hungry, and so is Buster,” Olly says.
“Let’s pillage the garden and grab supplies from the house,” Venus says. “We could make hot dogs—”
“No, I have dinner covered,” I say.
“What’s for dinner, Dad?” Olly throws Buster a stick, which he immediately retrieves.
“We’re expected at Grandma and Grandpa’s,” I say, glancing over at Venus. “If that’s okay.”
Venus automatically fondles the sage-green scarf wrapped around her head and laced through her bulky side braid.
She forces a smile, though I can tell she’s already nervous.
I wonder if my plan is a mistake—getting the family together tonight—especially after Venus’s declaration.
It’s been all I could think about during our adventures.
The three of us together, not just for the summer, but always.
It’s been hard not to imagine family trips, holidays, Venus in my bed every night. She thinks she wants to stay.
I only hope Mom doesn’t mess it up.
“Yay, can we bring Buster?” Olly asks.
“Of course,” I say.
“Um, let’s grab the basket and clip some flowers to take to Maggie,” Venus says, putting her notebook aside. “And perhaps a nice bottle of wine?”
“Sounds perfect.”
After touring the garden for the prettiest blooms for Mom’s bouquet, we retreat to the fairy house to get cleaned up. Venus arranges the flowers into a pile and ties them together with a string. She places them into a basket with a mason jar and a bottle of wine from her father’s collection.
Then she turns to me. “Should I change into something more… normal? A dress?”
Her words resurrect a memory from third grade.
I recall her wild hair, overalls, rubber boots, and dirty t-shirts being a constant topic of mean-spirited discussion among the other girls in our class, with their hairbows, dresses, and sparkly shoes.
On one of our walks home, I finally asked Venus, “Why don’t you wear normal clothes? ”
I didn’t care what she wore. I only thought that stating the obvious might help her fit in better.
But the next day, she showed up in one of Ivy’s dresses, which was too small for her, and she spent the day inadvertently flashing her underwear because she wasn’t used to bending or climbing in a dress. And it was impossible for Venus not to climb something.
The end result—she was made fun of even more. And I felt bad for encouraging her to change.
“No,” I say, slipping my hands around her waist. “You look great.”
“Does she know I’m coming?” she asks, leaning into me.
“Yeah, don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay, Henry.”
Olly bounds out of the bathroom, his hands still damp from washing them. “Ready! Let’s go!”
We exit the rear of the house, Olly and Buster bounding down the deck steps ahead of us.
“Where’s the trail, Dad?”
Venus and I share a quick smile before she shows him the overgrown cut in the woods.
The path isn’t as defined as it once was, but it hasn’t disappeared, either.
We push through stretching branches, around wiry oaks, and through what we used to call the “tall soldiers,” a patch of slender pines surrounded by huge fallen cones that I deemed discarded cannonballs.
“Remember when Maggie would send us out here to collect pinecones for her Christmas decorations?” Venus asks.
I slide my free hand in hers, locking them together tightly. “Yep, you always instigated a pinecone fight.”
“You insisted on acting out historical battles, remember?”
“Absolutely, with sticks, forts, and pinecones,” I chuckle. “You always went off-script, though.”
She smirks. “I only implemented better strategies.”
Olly’s the first to see the tall shrubs and exterior fence that mark home. He races around the side of the house, yelling in victory. “We’re here! We made it! Grandma! Gramps! I brought Buster!”
Venus tugs my hand and stops us at the corner where no one can see. I set the basket down to give her my full attention. “Are you okay?”
She takes a deep breath. She drops my hand and fiddles with her bracelets. “She’s the closest thing to a mom I’ve ever had, you know. I-I want her to be happy to see me.”
My heart sinks with her rising anxiety. I can’t imagine what that’s like for her.
“I want you here. Olly wants you here. Buster and Fred want you here. Mom will, too. She’s outnumbered.”
“Can we have a signal? Like we had in middle school? The pencil tapping? Remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Something that tells me when to… be quiet?” she asks, a little breathless.