Chapter Nineteen
Sadie
I want to curl up in a ball and cry until I’m so dehydrated, I look like a mummy. Not only did I break up with the best boyfriend I’ve ever had in my life, said boyfriend up and left in the middle of the night, leaving me shorthanded at the worst possible time.
Paul and Linda pull me aside on Friday morning before breakfast and break the bad news. They look about as horrible as I feel, even though Linda bravely tries to put on a smile for me. They give me some excuse about Oliver finding a job and needing to go back home. And while I want to be angry with him, I understand more than anyone.
I’ve finally had a few companies reach out for interviews in the last two weeks, but I haven’t responded to any of them yet. I’ve been waiting until after the holiday…waiting until I’ve had a chance to talk to Paul and Linda about what Oliver was hinting about with the camp…waiting…
Just waiting.
In the spirit of honesty, I’ve been avoiding it. Dreading it. Because the minute I accept any of those offers to interview, I’m shutting the door on Camp Brower. Permanently.
Am I ready for that? Am I ready to let go of a decade of summers and friends and memories?
Not wanting to think about that, I call an emergency meeting with the adult staff during breakfast. Linda explains the situation with Oliver, saying it’s in the best interest of camp, but I have a hard time believing that. With grim faces, we hash out the shifts we have to make to the participant groups. Tyler offers to take over the lead counselor duties for the rest of the summer, since we both know it”s too late in the season to be able to find someone to fill in for the last month. Paul volunteers to be the second driver for the excursions to allow me to stay at camp.
When everyone disperses, less enthusiastic than we should be for a Friday, my thoughts turn back to Oliver and the aching hole he’s left. I remember him mentioning that his parents have plans for Camp Brower, but he wasn’t forthcoming with any details. I understand not wanting to get anyone’s hopes up by sharing their plans before they’re ready, but the unknown gives me just as much anxiety as potentially leaving camp forever.
I trust the Evanses. They’ve taken to camp life like fish to water. This might be their first year at camp, but they’re no strangers to youth programs. They’ve been running the Evans Youth Foundation in Virginia for years. And while I know they won’t let me and Camp Brower down, I can’t help but feel like I’m failing them.
But camp goes on.
The problem is: it doesn’t feel like camp. Instead of enthusiastic and peppy, I feel robotic and melancholy. The same camp songs I’ve been singing for years don’t hold the same light they used to, and every smile I give feels brittle and fake. I put on a good show for the campers who show up, week after week, but when it comes down to it, I go to bed feeling emotionally drained and heavy-hearted.
I finally responded to those company emails, asking for interviews in the middle of August after camp is over. I couldn’t delay reality anymore.
July slips away, and the drama dies down. Everyone else at camp seems to find their new rhythm, I’m stuck in my rut. I miss Oliver. I’m mad at Oliver. I understand Oliver. Paul and Linda drop hints that he’s doing well, but I don’t ask about him. It would be like poking a bruise that hasn’t healed.
When August begins, the heat wave that comes with it jars me from the mindless routine I’ve fallen into. The last week of camp sees temperatures that even the higher elevation and dips in the cold lake can’t chase away. But despite the miserable heat, the campers are still happy to be here. Like I should be.
The end of camp is barreling toward me like a freight train, and I’m not ready for the impact. By Friday, the heat begins to fizzle out and clouds begin to lurk on the horizon. The forecast says we’re supposed to get rain a few days after the final participants leave—a blessing and a curse. But I’d rather have a muddy clean up week than a camp full of drenched teenagers.
Paul and Linda are tucked in the camp office when I go looking for them after dinner on Friday. I’ll get to say my final goodbyes to camp next week when we’re cleaning up and storing things for the winter, but I want to take the time tonight, before I get caught up in the brouhaha of the campfire program to thank Paul and Linda.
I knock lightly on the open door and poke my head in, making sure I’m not interrupting anything. The two camp owners are sitting at the desk, looking at something on the computer with huge smiles on their faces. They’ve seemed happier the last few weeks, leaving me the last person at camp who still hasn’t adjusted to Oliver’s absence.
“Come on in, Sadie,” Paul says, waving a hand in my direction. “Close the door behind you?”
I nod and swing it shut, closing myself into this small room with two of the most amazing people I have ever met. When I look back at them, emotion seizes me, and I have to fight to push down the waterworks.
Maybe I was wrong. I should have waited to do this next week when I’ll have excuses to leave. Because looking these two wonderful people in the eye while saying thank you might be harder than saying goodbye to Camp Brower. After all, I’ve said goodbye to Camp Brower every summer for ten years. But I’ll only say goodbye to the Evanses once.
I swallow past a knot of emotion and blink away the beginnings of misty eyes. “I just stopped by to tell you both thank you. Thank you for giving me the chance to be camp director this year. It has truly been an unforgettable experience.”
Oliver comes to mind without bidding, and the emotion in my throat wraps a fist around my voice box. I haven’t heard from him since he left in the middle of the night, but as much as I’ve wanted to forget him, silver-lined memories of our summer together still linger.
I clear my throat, struggling to regain control of my voice. “I—” I cough again, pushing through, “I’m thankful for what you’re doing for the camp. I have so many fond memories of this place and how it shaped me as a person, and I’m grateful you’re continuing that for a new generation.”
Tears begin rolling down my cheeks, prompting Linda to stand and wrap me in one of her signature tight hugs.
“No, Sadie, we are thankful for you.” Linda rubs her hand up and down my back, soothing away the tightness in my chest. She grips my arms and pushes me back, still sporting a glowing smile. “Paul and I have something to talk to you about.”
My heart drops to my stomach. The words sound daunting and ominous, but Linda’s smile is bordering on too enthusiastic.
I swipe at my cheeks, clearing away the tears that fell from suddenly dry eyes. Linda pulls me to the chair she was sitting in and presses gently on my shoulders, encouraging me to sit. Paul comes around to stand next to his wife, sporting a similarly exuberant smile.
“We just got word that our construction contracts got approved.” My heart falls out of my stomach and to the floor. They can’t be talking about tearing down camp, can they? They have smiles on their faces! They’ve loved it here this summer!
Panic grabs me just as Linda continues. “Paul and I have been working on plans to expand the camp and make it more accessible for year-round events.”
As quickly as the panic arrives, it vanishes.
“Expand? The camp?” My thoughts come tumbling out of my mouth, and I’m too shocked to reel them back in.
“We know that in the past, Camp Brower’s youth program has strictly been a summer one to capitalize on the kids being out of school. But what we’ve been finding over our years with the Foundation is that there’s a gap in available programs during the school year. The expectation is for teens to pick up extracurriculars at school, but there’s not many options outside of those run by the school districts.
“With some renovations to what’s already here, in addition to some new facilities, we’re hoping to provide an option for outdoor youth activities through the fall to begin with and maybe into the winter in future years.”
I’m grateful Linda put me in this chair because I would have fallen on my butt the moment my legs go limp in shock.
“And we want you to be a part of it. Of all of it. We’ll need to find more permanent staffing for the camp, especially as we go into the school year, but we want you, Sadie. We couldn”t have done this summer without you, and we don’t want to start this new program without you, either.”
The emotion from earlier slams into me so fast, I don’t have time to check it before an ugly, hiccuping sob bursts from my throat. I cover my face with my hands as my tears begin to flow freely, and Linda steps forward and gently wraps her arms around me.
I don’t know how long I cry—relief coursing through me like a river—but when I’m finally empty, I reach my arms up and around Linda and return her embrace.
“Linda—” sniff “I—” sniff “How—” Millions of questions run through my head, but I can’t get any of them out in any cohesive way.
She pulls away, her smile reassuring and infectious. “We’d love to talk details with you tonight, to be able to give you some time to think over things before you tell us yes or no.”
A loud cheer erupts outside, and I’m jolted back to reality. I’m still at camp, and I still have a job to do. I’ll still have a job here after this summer, too.
I almost can’t believe it.
I roughly brush away my tears, gearing up to head out and lead the campers up to the fire bowl for the final campfire of the week—and of the year—but Linda’s soft hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Let Tyler handle the campfire,” Paul, who has been mostly silent through the whole exchange, says. He’s smiling down at me in the same warm way his wife is, and I nod, letting myself settle back into my seat. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and we want to answer them while they’re all fresh in your mind.”
Paul and Linda pull up two folding chairs, and for every question I have for them, they have an answer.
I’m very late for the final campfire, but Paul assures me Tyler has it handled. I don’t doubt him—by the end of the summer, the staffers can usually do their skits blindfolded. I feel like I’m floating, barely noticing my surroundings, as I lead the way for Paul and Linda. The sounds of the campfire grow louder as we get closer, but I’m too in my head, swimming through the possibilities the Evanses presented to me, to notice what’s right in front of me.
Which is why I don’t recognize the familiar voice singing, “There was a great big moose!” until I see him.