The Summer of Songbirds by Kristy Woodson Harvey

Author:Kristy Woodson Harvey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2023-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

Lanier SUMMER SHAPE

I WOKE UP FEELING THE best I had in some time, ready to take on the day despite the pure discomfort of the bed I’d slept in, the whir of the old AC unit, and the musty scent of the cabin that had been closed for months save the one weekend we were here for my bachelorette. Huff was snoring, and I realized I hadn’t even heard him. That was how well I had slept. Because that’s how good it felt to be back at camp. I picked up my phone and realized, with irritation, that my fiancé had neither called nor responded to my many, many texts.

Fine. That was fine. He wasn’t going to ruin my weekend. If he didn’t care about me, I didn’t care about him. It was very mature. As quietly as possible, I went into the bathroom to get ready for the day. I pulled on the one-piece practical-yet-sexy swimsuit with the deep V and little ruffles on the shoulders that, I will admit, I had bought specifically for camp. Usually, I would have worn an old Speedo suit for sailing and getting dirty in the river or lake. But the idea that Rich might see me was on my mind.

I walked outside to find Henry drawing with sidewalk chalk on the concrete floor of the porch that connected our three rooms. The door to Daphne’s room was open. “Henry!” I exclaimed. “My main man! What’s up?”

“Daddy is taking me fishing on the pier!” He jumped up in excitement. Then, very seriously, he said, “We are having a dude’s day because Mommy has a lot to do, and we can help her by having fun.”

I nodded back seriously. “That is a very responsible plan, I think.” I looked around. “Hey, where is your mom?”

She stepped out, smelling of perfume and sliding an earring into her ear. “Only you would be wearing perfume at camp.”

She laughed, but she seemed uncomfortable. She kissed Henry. “You be good for Daddy, and I’ll come find you soon.” Then she looked down at his chalk dog and gasped. “It’s fabulous! Practically a Picasso!”

Henry scrunched his face, and I thought he was going to ask who Picasso was. Instead, he said, “Mommy, Picasso’s dog is black and white.”

We both laughed as Steven came out and they waved goodbye to us. “Hey,” I said. “How you feeling?”

She brightened—maybe artificially so—as we walked off the porch, the screened door swinging behind us. “Oh, I’m great. For sure. I guess I’m just worried that, despite our efforts, Holly Springs won’t make it.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” I asked, lengthening my stride to match hers.

“Absolutely! We’re at camp! What could be better? You’ll man sailing all day, I’ll be overseeing the blob—we’re living the dream, my friend.”

I laughed. “Oh, the blob. I’ve always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with that one, as you might remember from the time that someone insisted I go on it.”

The blob was like a giant pillow in the lake.

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