Summer Husband

Chapter 1

I placed my iced coffee in the cup holder, glanced at the directions one more time, and checked the side-view mirror.

I clicked the blinker and pulled out into New York City traffic—ready or not.

I was certain I was more nervous than my kids, who would be joining me next week.

Even though I was thirty-nine, I felt unprepared for my first ever sleepaway camp experience.

An hour later I pulled into a gas station and filled the tank.

As I waited to pay, I stared at the cigarette display behind the cashier.

I hadn’t smoked since before I married Ronnie, but I had a sudden urge to buy a pack.

A cigarette would calm the nerves I felt driving into the unknown.

I looked around the store. No Ronnie, no kids—no one I knew was there to judge me.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other just as I had when I was a child and couldn’t make up my mind.

The woman behind the counter looked at me expectantly.

“Can I have a pack of Winstons?”

“Anything else?”

I grabbed some Trident gum and tossed it on the counter.

Back in the car I stared at the cigarettes, but instead of lighting up I reached over and shoved them into the glove compartment.

It was enough knowing they were available, if needed.

I popped a piece of gum in my mouth, rolled down the window, and felt the wind on my face.

I turned the radio to my favorite station and belted out top forty hits off-key, with no one back seat complaining about my singing—or my driving. My definition of freedom.

Two hours later, as I made a left turn onto the dirt road leading to the camp, Cyndi Lauper and I were singing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

I passed under a rustic sign hanging between two ancient oak trees.

CAMP WOODLANDS

ESTABLISHED 1929

I continued up a narrow craggy lane shadowed by towering trees.

When I reached the top of the last hill, rays of sun broke through the canopy of leaves.

I pulled over to a welcome banner flying above a log fence that overlooked an expansive, lush lawn.

A path led down the hill to a lake that glistened in the late June sunshine.

The aroma of fresh-cut lawn and the crisp, clear air brought me back to my childhood at the bungalow colony in the Catskill Mountains. I smiled, remembering, Summer camp for families.

The colors—greens, blues, whites—were vivid. The sun, high in the cloudless sky, made the powdered lines on the baseball and soccer fields shimmer.

I parked across the road from a blond-wood log cabin. An old-fashioned placard that read OFFICE hung above the door and swayed in the breeze.

This would be my home for the next nine weeks.