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thirty-five

Hillary

Once the Valentines and their entourage vacate the camp property and move all the construction gear out (see ya, suckers!), the four us collapse in Jessie’s cabin. Her home, the century-old building that isn’t going anywhere. Thanks to us.

Jessie looks dazed, her eyes shimmering with happy tears. “I should call Dot,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Of course,” I say. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No,” she says, slipping her phone out of her pocket. “Stay.”

I smile and take a seat on the arm of her chair, thinking back to how jealous I was of Dot and Jessie’s relationship at the beginning of summer. Now I have my own special connection with Dot, and I know Jessie has more than enough room for both of us in her life.

“Yello,” Dot says, answering the phone. Jessie has the call on speaker, and we can hear music in the background. I smile at the thought of Dot living it up with her camp girlfriend.

Jessie tells her the whole story, with me filling in details of the literal standoff. When we finish, the other side of the line is quiet, save for Brandi Carlile playing in the background.

Eventually, Dot speaks. “So camp is back on for next summer?”

“Next summer, and the next, and every summer after that,” Jessie says.

“Proud of you, Pippi,” Dot says, and the tears Jessie’s been holding back break free, sliding down her cheeks. “Nathaniel and Lola would be, too.”

We say our goodbyes and end the call with promises to talk more soon. The silence that follows is filled with such relief, it almost feels restorative.

“What now?” Luke asks.

“Usually,” Jessie says, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, “I’d take a few weeks off before starting to prepare for the next summer—planning out the registration calendar, hiring staff, and making a list of repairs. This year…Hillary and I had some ideas I think we should talk more about.”

My jaw drops. I’ve been so focused on what saving the camp means for Jessie that I haven’t even thought about what it could mean for me. That I could stay and help her, do what I do best: help turn our beloved camp into a thriving business.

“That all sounds great—but I was talking about now now,” Luke says. “We should celebrate.”

“How about one last campfire?” I say, standing up.

Jessie’s face lights up. It only seems right. One last campfire that’s celebratory and hopeful, that says goodbye until next summer, not goodbye forever.

“I’m sure you have more calls to make,” I say to Jessie. “So why don’t you do that, and Cooper and I will go start the fire? You can meet us over there when you’re ready.”

Jessie agrees, giving me one more hug, squeezing me tight. “Thank you, Hilly. For everything.”

Now I’m the one with tears in my eyes, but I blink them away and take Cooper’s hand. After two quick stops to grab supplies—his guitar (a campfire isn’t complete without music), a bottle of champagne he’d been saving, plus hot dogs and ingredients to make s’mores—we head to the firepit. We’re both quiet on the walk over, taking in the beauty and the reverence of this moment. The old pine trees seem to stand taller, the wood cabins more relaxed, and even the gentle breeze feels like a sigh of relief knowing everything is safe. Nothing is going anywhere.

“I can’t believe you stepped between me and that bulldozer,” I say.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he says, shrugging. “I know you don’t need me to protect you, but—”

“It was hot,” I tell him.

He turns and gives me a half grin. “Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah,” I say, and he chuckles.

We fall quiet again as we reach the campfire, working to get it started before the night sky goes completely dark. The air is cool, bringing a hint of the autumn that will soon arrive.

“What Jessie said about you having ideas…” Cooper says as he sets the wood in the center of the firepit. “Think she’ll ask you to stick around?”

I hand him some kindling and matches. “I hope so,” I tell him. “None of this was in my plans, but being out here has changed things. It’s changed me.”

I think back to what my dad said, how I always came home from camp like another person, how it took me weeks to get back to myself. But I wasn’t getting back to my real self. I was going away from it. Turning back into the person he wanted me to be. Not the real me, the person I am here.

“For the first time in my life, I don’t know what comes next,” I say. “I think I’ve known for a while that I don’t want to go back to the life I had before this, but I didn’t know what a new life would look like. Especially since I thought the camp was closing.”

Cooper strikes a long match and the kindling catches fire, the oxygen and fresh air breathing it to life. I’ve never felt more solidarity with an open flame.

“Now that the camp isn’t closing, do you know what it looks like?” he asks, sitting on a log bench next to the firepit. “Your future?”

I shrug and take a seat beside him, wrapping my arms around myself to warm up. “This still feels like a dream—but in a perfect world, I’d stay here. Help Jessie turn things around and make this business sustainable throughout the year, not just during the summer months.”

“That does sound like a dream,” Cooper says, his voice wistful.

“How about you?” I ask. “Think you’ll go back to Boston once this sabbatical is over?”

“Honestly?”

“It’s the only way,” I say, giving him a smile.

“I already told my boss I wasn’t coming back,” Cooper says.

I blink at him, surprised. “What? Where are you going to go?”

The fire is in full force now, the flames dancing, lighting up the night sky, casting a warm glow on Cooper’s face. On the hint of a hopeful smile I see there.

“I’ve never been one of those people who has to know what’s coming,” he says. “I’m okay with a little uncertainty. But this girl I really like, there’s nothing she loves more than a good plan. So I was thinking, if it was okay with her, we’d follow her plan for a while. Whether that was in Chicago—where they have a lot of great restaurants—or in the Minnesota woods, where I’d be the—”

I don’t let him finish, launching myself into his arms, kissing the words right out of his mouth, pushing past the discomfort of the unknown and into the comfort of his embrace. And just like that, the hazy vision of my future turns clear: me and Cooper, figuring things out. Together.

“Are we interrupting something?” Jessie calls, a teasing lilt to her voice. I peel myself away from Cooper, resuming my seat beside him, my arm looped through his.

Luke and Jessie take a seat on the bench next to ours, and we pass the bottle of champagne back and forth. The bubbles tickle my throat, and everything about this moment, this night, feels right.

“I’ve got an idea,” Jessie says after a minute. “Roses and thorns for the whole summer.”

Cooper blows out an irritated breath. I smile; I love that he shares my opinion on icebreakers.

“Come on,” Jessie insists. “I’ll start. One of my biggest roses was the talent show. Raising the money was great, but the thing I loved most was feeling like we were one big team, with everyone working toward a common goal. It was like in Come from Away when the town of Gander pulls together to take care of people stranded after 9/11…”

She trails off, realizing that Cooper and I are staring at her, totally confused. Luke is nodding along, though, as if whatever Jessie’s referencing makes perfect sense.

“Never mind,” Jessie says. “I’ll just say that it was incredible knowing so many people wanted to save the camp as much as I did. And our skit! When Hill put lipstick on my nose—I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.”

“Thank god you didn’t—you would have peed on me!” I laugh. “That’s my rose: Jessie didn’t pee on me.”

“That doesn’t count,” she says. “Give us a real one.”

“Hmmm.”

I close my eyes and think about the last two months, images flashing before me like a slide show: the first day, when Jessie barely acknowledged me; that first trip to town, when Cooper offered to be my fling; finally feeling butterflies; the nights sitting by the campfire, singing songs under the stars; every single Sunday night dinner; waking up in Cooper’s arms. But the biggest rose of all was the way Jessie’s friendship came back to me. Slowly at first, then all at once.

And I know what moment I’m going to share.

My eyes well with tears as I say, “My biggest rose for the summer was playing Capture the Flag.” The moment I truly believed our friendship was savable. “Not only did we win, but it felt good, being on the same team as you again.”

I look at Jessie. Her eyes shimmer in the light of the fire, and I know she knows what I mean. I don’t want to leave things on a sad, sentimental note, though, so I add two more roses, quickly, almost under my breath. “Also redeeming ourselves by winning Color Wars—and Cooper wearing that toga…”

Cooper suggestively waggles his eyebrows, and we all laugh.

“Boys?” Jessie says.

To my surprise, Luke starts to talk—no additional cajoling required.

“My rose for the summer was finding my muse again,” he says, and I wonder if he’s talking about the camp…or my best friend. “I was so focused on trying to tell an old story that I almost fell out of love with writing. But something about this place—” His eyes land on Jessie. “I found my story, and I think I’ve found my way forward, too.”

“Coop?” Jessie says.

“Well, my first rose is that I finally got to have a camp girlfriend—who’s my old camp crush!” There’s a flutter in my belly, and I can’t believe I spent thirty years thinking butterflies didn’t exist. I hate to think I came so close to accepting a life without this feeling. “And my second rose is the pace of life around here. Back in Boston, everything moved so fast I didn’t have time to think. I was just going through the motions, trying to win, to be the best. Having time to take a breath and get back to basics helped me think about what I really want in my life. What’s important.”

Cooper’s eyes are locked on mine, and I’m smiling so wide it feels like my cheeks might crack.

This kind of happiness doesn’t come from a checklist. It comes from living, from taking risks and following your heart.

“Now for the thorns,” Jessie says, lowering her voice. “Let’s go reverse order. Coop?”

He sits up straighter and slips his arm around my waist. I lean into him because I know his thorn—and I also know that we’re stronger for having been through it.

“I only had two thorns the whole summer,” he says. “When I acted like a dick and let my past get in the way of my future.” I rest my hand on his thigh and give him a squeeze to let him know all is forgiven. “And all the allergies and food sensitivities. I get it, I do, but it was a challenge to find meals that tasted good and could also be modified for the no-lactose-gluten-free-allergic-to-tree-nuts-keto-paleo crowd.”

Luke doesn’t have to be prompted to share his thorn: “Losing Scout,” he says, his face twisting in pain. “And the fact that I spent far too long pushing people away and acting like an asshole. I appreciate you all being patient with me.”

My turn again. “My thorn was those horrible hours when I thought I might have to leave camp early, and when Aaron showed up with that stupid AI proposal.”

I shiver at the memory, and Cooper pulls me even closer against him.

It’s Jessie’s turn. She doesn’t say anything at first, just stares into the fire. The rest of us exchange looks, but no one is about to hurry her.

“My first thorn is obviously the dick tick,” she eventually says.

I swallow a laugh, and when Cooper lets out a snort, I elbow him in the side. No doubt it was stressful for Jessie, but it was hilarious.

“But the real thorn,” she goes on, “was that gut punch that came in the moment after something wonderful happened, when I realized this could be our last summer here.”

“But it’s not,” I say, my voice wobbling with emotion.

“It’s not,” Jessie agrees.

We’re all quiet, and I lay my head on Cooper’s shoulder. I close my eyes and try to memorize this moment: the slow and steady rhythm of his breath; the crackling of the fire; the scent of pine, smoke, and Cooper’s woodsy cologne.

“Trade spots with me?”

I open my eyes to see Jessie standing in front of us.

Cooper gives my waist a squeeze before getting up and giving Jessie his seat. “You’re pretty, man,” he says to Luke. “But I’m not going to spoon you.”

He sits down on Luke’s bench with a good foot of space between them.

“You okay?” I ask Jessie.

“Never better,” she says. “Thanks to you.”

“What you said earlier, about my ideas…if you’ll have me, I’d love to stay and help you.”

Jessie grins at me, her eyes wide and bright in the firelight. “Really? You want to stay?”

“I do,” I tell her.

“I do, too,” Cooper says. “You’ll need a cook, right?”

“And I can write from anywhere,” Luke says.

“We didn’t come this far to stop now.” Cooper glances at Jessie, then back to me, and we share a secret smile.

“I love you guys,” Jessie says, smiling. “I know it will take a while to get things going, but Hill, I loved the idea of having an adult session or two after the regular kids’ camp wraps up for the season.”

“Yes!” I say, excitement coursing through me. Before, we were discussing theoretical ideas. Now that the camp is ours, it feels like we’re making real plans. “And maybe retreats in the fall for artists.”

“You could offer a writing residency,” Luke says.

“A cooking camp,” Cooper suggests.

“We could have a session before the regular season starts with just older kids, where they choose tracks to focus on—sailing, theater, or cooking,” I suggest.

“How about a family camp during spring break?” Luke offers.

“It’s still snowy here then,” Jessie says. “But we could do a snow-themed camp, once we get the cabins winterized.”

By the time the fire is reduced to embers, the champagne bottle is empty, and our hands are sticky with the remnants of the sweetest s’mores, we’re buzzing with possibilities. With plans for the future of our beloved camp. Plans we’re making together.

I think back to that day two months ago when my car pulled up. I had no idea what was in store, but I hoped that familiar sign with you belong here carved into the wood was still true.

Turns out, those words have never been truer. This summer, I didn’t just find love. I found myself again. And like Dorothy said in the script Jessie and Luke wrote for the play: there’s no place like camp.