So Long, Summer Camp

Part 4: Jul 1996

Our little two-car caravan arrived at the Pines in July 1996 with four tired adults and five very cranky kids. We’d been up since the crack of dawn, when we’d left Boston and flown commercial to Atlanta. We planned to return and do some house-hunting after a week at camp, so we’d rented two minivans and had driven from there.

I wasn’t quite ready to walk into the woods and keep going, but it was tempting. My parents had never had to deal with dead batteries in Game Boys, leaky juice boxes, or stinky diapers. Then again, Erin and I had been older when we’d started coming to camp, so we’d probably driven them crazy in different ways. I loved my little girls, but I had a newfound respect for my mother’s patience.

I handed backpacks to Laurie and Emily, and Christy shepherded them into the bungalow. Then I unbuckled Susie from her car seat. She gave me one of her dubious looks. She didn’t like the heat, the humidity, or the sounds of nature. She did, however, recognize the swimming pool.

She pointed. “Poo?”

“Uh-huh. That’s the pool.”

“Poo? Sim?”

“Sure, we can go swimming. But we need to unload the car first.”

She glowered. “Sim?”

“After we unload. We need to—” I had an idea, so I grabbed the duffel bag with all our swim gear.

Some part of me wondered if my own parents had had to deal with so much stuff when we’d come to camp. I only remembered a single laundry basket of food and another with sheets, towels, and flip-flops. I was probably forgetting a lot, but we hadn’t brought bags full of things, and certainly not loaded suitcases. Granted, the suitcases were for when we returned to Atlanta, but they still reminded me that we didn’t travel light, especially when Christy did the packing.

“Come on,” I said to Susie, “let’s go find Mommy. You all can go for a swim while I unload the car. What do you think about that?”

“Sim?” Susie said hopefully.

“Yes, swim.”

“Sim! Sim!”

* * *

We hadn’t been there long when a group returned from the main camp. Leah, Mark, and McKenna had arrived a day earlier, along with Kara, Victor, and their ten-year-old twins, Jana and Kyra.

The adults waved when they saw me. Then the twins picked up McKenna between them. The little girl shrieked in delight as they swung her and ran toward the pool, where Christy and Wren were playing with our own girls.

“Hey, welcome,” Mark said to me when they drew near.

“Thanks.” We exchanged pleasantries, and he asked about our trip. “It was okay,” I said. “It’s been a long day, but we survived.”

“Well, now you can relax,” he said. “We’ll get you something to drink, and—” He frowned and nodded toward the pool. “Hold on, where’re Trip and Davis?”

“Oh, they’re in the clubhouse, watching a ballgame. The Braves’re playing the Cowboys.”

Victor looked puzzled, but Mark knew my running joke.

“At Madison Square Garden?”

“Exactly,” I chuckled.

He turned to Victor and explained, “Paul isn’t a fan of sportsball.”

That only made things worse, but at least Victor understood Mark’s sense of humor. I decided to change the subject anyway.

“Where are the others?”

“It’s just us chickens for now,” Mark said.

“Hold on, I thought…?”

Kara spoke up, “I talked to Stacy. She and Jason’ll be here tomorrow. They decided to take their kids to stay with his parents. The same with Sydney and Woody.”

“Ah, okay. Cool.”

“Doug and Olivia are here,” Mark added, “but they’re staying with Susan tonight. Gina and John arrived yesterday too. You can meet him tomorrow. You’ll like him.” He glanced at Leah, and something passed between them. “And… um… we talked to Brooke.”

My eyebrows rose with a dozen questions, but he answered the obvious one.

“They had to change their flight. Something about her work. But they’ll be here before Thursday.” He added a look that said he’d explain later, so I kept my questions to myself. Then I thought of another.

“So… where’s Erin?” I said. “She was supposed to be here yesterday.”

Mark cleared his throat, and Leah picked up the thread.

“They decided to drive instead of fly.”

“They?” I wondered aloud.

“She’s… um… bringing someone.”

My eyebrows flew up. “Here? This week? Is she serious?”

“Evidently,” Leah said.

What the…?

I’ll tell you later, she answered.

I nodded and sighed, pacified if not satisfied.

Kara spoke into the silence. “So… who’s left?”

“Carter and Kim,” Mark prompted.

“What? Oh, yeah, right,” I said. I shook off my questions about Erin and her mystery guest. “Carter was in court today,” I said. “They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Okay… remind me who they are,” Victor said.

“Friends of ours from Charlotte.”

Leah sighed. “I told you, remember?”

“Maybe. But I’ve slept since then.”

“You’ll like them,” I said. “Carter’s an attorney, duh, and really smart. Handsome, too. Blond, blue eyes, about six feet.”

Kara’s eyebrows rose with interest.

“Kim’s blonde and busty,” I added, which grabbed Victor’s attention, “slender instead of voluptuous. She’s bigger than Christy, but they could be sisters otherwise.”

“Why haven’t we partied with them before?” he asked.

“I told you that, too!” Leah said in exasperation. “I’m beginning to think you don’t listen to a word I say.”

“Join the club,” Kara joked.

“They’re normally part of another group,” I said, which was a half-truth.

Carter was into bondage and discipline more than pure swinging. Christy and I had visited them many times over the years, but we’d always kept that part of our lives separate from the swinging group. She’d had a change of heart when we’d first talked about the summer get-together.

“I think we should invite them,” she’d said. Then she’d gone through her reasons with typical Christy-leaps. “Erin totally loves them. Oh my gosh, I thought she was going to simmer for weeks after last time. But you know that already. You were there. Right. Moving on. Wren and Trip already think we swing with them, so they won’t be a problem. Carter isn’t Wren’s type anyway. Kim is definitely Trip’s, but…”

Christy had frowned to let me know what she thought of that. Trip still had an annoying habit of focusing on looks instead of brains. Kim wasn’t a bimbo, but she looked like it. And she liked to please men, so she had a tendency to act like she thought they expected, which meant an airhead blonde for Trip.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Christy’d continued. “He’ll have enough of a distraction with Brooke. Ugh! He’s a total horndog where she’s concerned. I don’t get it, either. Her, I mean. She totally likes him. Yeah, I know, it’s ’cause they talk baseball. Still, I can’t understand— Oh, never mind. You know what I mean.”

She’d kept going with barely a pause for breath. “Leah and Mark know everything anyway, even if it isn’t their cup of tea. I still think she’d like it if she’d give it a try, but… ‘different strokes.’ Anyway, where was I? Erin… Wren… Leah… Oh, Brooke! Right. She wants to join us next time we’re in Charlotte. What? Don’t look so surprised. Nate’s like Carter, remember? I told you…”

She’d chattered for another minute or two before she’d finally wound down.

“So… what do you think?” she’d said at last.

“Okay?”

“Ugh! Mr. Taciturn. Is that all you have to say?”

“Um… yes?”

And so we’d invited Carter and Kim. They’d been to camp in the mid-eighties heyday, after all, even if they hadn’t been a part of the wider swinger group at the time.

“Ah, okay,” Victor said. “Then I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I dunno about you guys,” Mark said, “but I’m ready for a drink.”

“And to get your dick sucked?” Leah teased.

He feigned surprise. “How’d you know?”

“How indeed? But you’re out of luck.” She looped her arm through mine. “Paul’s had a long day, and I think he needs it more than you.”

“You can say that again,” I muttered.

“You know, it’s a wonder she ever married me,” he joked.

“I didn’t have much choice!” Leah laughed. “I was pregnant, remember?”

“Do we know who the father is?”

“No clue.” Leah studied her fingernails and shrugged. “I was sleeping with so many men at the time…”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Come on, you all. I could use a drink too. And I’ll be happy to suck your dick,” she added to Mark. “After the girls go to bed.”

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Okay, let’s do this!”

* * *

Leah and I fell silent and shared a companionable moment before I shot a glance at my watch. We’d been talking longer than either of us had realized. Worse, I was comfortable on the couch, while she was still on the floor. She rose to her knees and caressed my thighs.

“Ready for more?”

The little head refused to cooperate.

“Either I’m losing my touch,” Leah laughed affectionately, “or you need a little more time.”

“The latter. Sorry. It’s been a really long day.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. We aren’t teenagers anymore. But I need to get off my knees.” She stood and gave me a moment to admire her body before she extended a hand. “Come on, I’m thirsty.”

“Yeah, me too. I get dehydrated when I fly, and I haven’t drunk enough water today.”

“I could tell.”

“Oh?”

“Your load was thicker than usual. It tasted fine,” she added quickly, “but… Yeah, you need to drink more.”

“You’re a come connoisseur,” I teased, “more than Christy.”

“Oh, much more,” Leah agreed. “I can’t help it. It’s genetic.”

“The same with her.”

“Maybe, but we like it for different reasons.”

“Fair enough. Anyway, let’s get something to drink.”

July welcomed us with a sultry embrace as we left the air-conditioned comfort of the bungalow. The moon hadn’t risen yet, but the sodium light over the clubhouse painted the scene in monochrome yellow, with blue shadows between the buildings and under the patio furniture. Crickets chirred, and a pair of whippoorwills called to each other across the clearing. I had a sudden memory of a similar night with Christy, from before I’d asked her to marry me.

“Any idea how long birds live?” I asked Leah, who shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Why? Never mind. I think I know. You’re such a romantic.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“I’ve always loved that about you.”

“I thought it was my big dick.”

“Uh-uh. Erin’s the size queen. I care more about the results.”

“Lucky for me.”

“Me too.”

Cool air spilled out of the clubhouse when Leah opened the door. She flipped on the lights, and I chuckled to myself at the signs that Christy had been in the kitchen. She’d left the jar of peanut butter on the counter, surrounded by bread crumbs and a stray blob of jelly. I cleaned up without even thinking about it, while Leah filled two glasses with ice and water from the tap.

“For here,” she asked, “or back in the room?”

“Back in the room.”

She sipped her water to cover her grin, and a dark eyebrow rose with a challenge.

“I’m tired, not dead,” I replied.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She handed me the other glass, and I admired her from behind as she headed toward the door. She must have felt my gaze, because she turned and gave me a speculative look.

“See anything you like?”

“All of it, the whole package.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself.” Her dark eyes flashed playfully. “Especially your package.”

“He says thanks.”

Outside, she became serious and nodded toward the dark bungalows to our right. “You mind if we…? I wanna check on McKenna.”

“Yeah, me too.”

My family’s bungalow was #2, so we stopped there first. I opened the door and stepped inside to let my eyes adjust.

The girls were asleep on a pallet of blankets in the living room. Emily had kicked off her covers, but Laurie hugged her from behind and kept her warm. Emily’s metabolism was the same as Christy’s, and she suffered the same nighttime chills.

Susie was more like me, and she ran hot. She’d scooted away from her sisters, to the very edge of the blanket. She clutched her favorite stuffed animal for company, a purple dinosaur that she called Boopie instead of Barney.

They all looked so peaceful and angelic that I lingered a moment and simply watched them.

“This is why we let them live,” I whispered to Leah.

“Oh, I know,” she agreed softly. Then she nodded toward the back. “Do you need to check on Christy?”

The bedroom was dark, so she was probably asleep. I shook my head and pulled the door closed.

We looked in on McKenna next. She was asleep on the couch. Leah pulled the blanket higher and returned a stuffed giraffe from the floor to the little girl’s side. We closed the door and skipped an empty bungalow on our way to #5, the couples bungalow. On the other side of the pool, dim light glowed in the windows of the group bungalow.

I gestured toward it. “Do you wanna join the others?”

Leah considered but then shook her head.

“Cool. I’m not in the mood either. But I thought I’d ask.”

We entered #5 and returned to the couch where we’d started. Leah rested an arm on the back and tucked her foot under her thigh. Her smooth, dark labia parted slightly, and she grinned when I noticed. Mr. Big still didn’t rise to the occasion, and I winced guiltily.

“Quit apologizing,” Leah chided. “I’m in the mood to talk anyway. So… when’re you moving back to Atlanta? Do you have an official date yet?”

“Not really. As soon as we find someplace to live. By the time school starts, for sure.”

“Do you have a realtor?”

“Not yet. We’ll find one next week.”

“I know someone,” she said. “I’ll give you her number. It’ll be faster. Besides, she and her husband might be interested in our little group, so I want you to meet her.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Moving on, I need to tell you about Erin.”

“Start with Brooke,” I suggested.

“Oh, that’s right! Yeah, sorry. Why did she call us instead of you?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, she knew you all were traveling today, but…” She paused and winced, like she couldn’t decide whether she was guilty or happy. “She called us because…”

I waited.

“Well, she wanted to see if Nate could handle swinging. Like, for real. She knew you were busy with school, so she called us. We got together in February in Atlanta. Things worked out, so we visited them in March.”

“Ah, okay. Is that all?”

“Yeah. She thought you might be upset.”

“No,” I said immediately, although I wasn’t entirely sure. “I mean, yeah, I’m a little disappointed, but she’s right, we were swamped with school until about a month ago.”

“She was going to tell you,” Leah said, “but then she got busy with her project, and Nate had his own work.”

“It’s all right. So… do we like him?”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He’s totally her type. He’s more of an introvert than I thought she’d find, but he doesn’t have a cabin in Montana or anything.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Sorry, you lost me.”

“The Unabomber? Ted Kaczynski? He lived off the grid in a cabin in Montana.”

“Oh, yeah! Right. I heard they’d caught him. Couldn’t miss it, really.”

“No. Anyway, Nate’s an introvert but not a loner, if that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“So, that’s what’s going on with Brooke,” Leah finished. “It was just a timing thing. And she was feeling a little guilty, so…”

“No worries.”

“Good. I was a bit worried too. I mean, she’s Christy’s girlfriend. I know how I’d feel if I thought someone had tried to steal Erin…”

“Speaking of which,” I said, “good segue.”

Leah grinned. “Almost like I do this for a living.”

“Ha! No kidding. Anyway… Erin? What the hell is she thinking, bringing a completely new guy to the Retreat?”

“That’s… a bit more complicated,” Leah said after a moment. “And, bear in mind, I haven’t actually met the guy. So I’m going by what she’s told me.”

“Go on,” I prompted.

All of a sudden she laughed.

“What?”

“Remember I always said she’d be thirty before she settled down? Well, looks like I was right.”

“If this guy is really The One.”

“Oh, I think he is. At least, the way Erin talks about him. Tom this and Tom that. It’s kinda cute, actually, like they’re teenagers. She’s head-over-heels, like you were, back when you figured out that Christy wasn’t such a choirgirl.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” I objected. “She was trying to fool me.”

“She did a good job, too!” Leah laughed.

“Very funny. Now, tell me about Erin’s guy.”

* * *

Erin and her mystery man arrived at the Retreat around midnight, although no one heard them. Leah and I were the last ones to go to bed, and we probably missed them by about fifteen minutes. Christy woke me in the wee hours of the morning, but she went back to sleep soon after. Then I lay awake for nearly an hour before I finally decided to get up, about six o’clock.

I put on a T-shirt, shorts, and running shoes. Then I checked on the girls before I slipped out the door. The morning was foggy and cool, unusual for July, although the scent of gardenias lingered in the air and made me smile.

I stretched and did some warmups on the patio before I walked around the clubhouse. I stopped at the sight of an unfamiliar car, a black Porsche 911 Carrera. At first I thought it was Carter’s, but it had Florida tags. And it practically screamed “midlife crisis,” so I immediately worried that Erin was dating another guy like the needy professor.

He’d been trying to recapture his youth by dating someone half his age, a twenty-year-old coed. But now Erin was ten years older. If she kept to her usual standards, her current guy would be fifty-something. He’d be in his sixties or even his seventies by the time their kids graduated from high school. What was she thinking?

“Hey, you must be Paul,” a man said from behind me.

His voice was deep and resonant, and I formed a picture of him in my head—older and distinguished, with dark hair gone to gray at the temples. He’d be tall and broad-shouldered, but with a few extra pounds around the middle.

I compressed my lips and fought down a wave of annoyance and concern for my sister. She was a grown woman, I reminded myself. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need me to look out for her.

I forced a smile, turned around, and prepared to meet my potential brother-in-law. My jaw went slack almost immediately, and I had to lower my gaze by six inches.

“Not what you were expecting?” the guy chuckled.

My cheeks glowed. “Sorry. Was it that obvious?”

“Not really,” he lied graciously. Then he extended a hand. His grip was firm and strong, confident without being a challenge.

He was much younger than I’d been expecting, closer to my age. He was small, too, barely 5’6” and maybe 140 pounds, although I looked him over and revised that upward. His forearms were corded with muscle, and his shirt was tight enough to show off the definition in his arms, shoulders, and chest.

He was attractive, with light brown hair and no gray at all. It was naturally wavy instead of straight like mine and Dad’s. He also wore glasses, fashionable tortoiseshell frames that made him look intelligent and friendly at the same time.

“I’m Thomas,” he said. “Tom. Ryland. Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I’ve heard practically nothing about you,” I said truthfully.

His lips quirked in a grin, and I found myself warming to him.

“Er wanted to surprise everyone.” He said it exactly like I would’ve, with the same familiarity and affection. “So, how do I measure up?”

“Never judge a book by its cover.”

He laughed. “That’s what she thought you’d say.”

I decided to change the subject, so I hooked a thumb at the Porsche. “Yours?”

“Yeah,” he said with just the right amount of self-conscious embarrassment. “It’s a bit flashy, isn’t it? Like I’m compensating for something?”

“I was thinking midlife crisis, to be honest.”

“Ha! You might be right.”

“Although… you’re a bit young for that,” I hinted.

“Oh, I dunno,” he said with a shrug, “I’ve always been precocious.” He let the words hang in the air before he grinned. “Yeah, Erin said she dated older guys before me.”

“‘Older’ might be a bit of an understatement.”

“Well, I’m thirty-five. Still older, but more age-appropriate.”

“No kidding. To be honest, I’m relieved.”

“Me too,” he chuckled. Then he asked, “Are you going for a run? Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and felt a wave of relief. Nope, I don’t mind at all.

* * *

Tom might have looked like a porn star, but he actually had a PhD in psychology and was a professor at the University of South Florida. In addition to his day job, he was a bestselling author, which explained why he could afford an expensive new Porsche. He wrote relationship self-help books along the lines of Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus.

“Except that mine are based on, you know, science.”

I glanced at him sideways. We were jogging at an easy pace so we could talk.

“No disrespect to John Gray,” he added. “He’s written some excellent books about relationships. But they’re pop psychology more than actual psychology.”

“How’re yours different?”

“I study real people and real relationships. Again, no disrespect to Gray, but I’m interested in the full spectrum of sexuality, not just the Judeo-Christian one-man, one-woman concept of marriage and monogamy.”

He shrugged and then continued, “The science itself is fairly straightforward. My subjects fill out questionnaires, and I do extensive interviews and follow-ups. My research and scientific publications rely on established methodology and are peer-reviewed.” He paused before he shot me a sideways grin. “Then I write pop psychology books about the naughty parts.”

“Ha! Okay. But why do both?”

“The scholarly work because I want the respect and credibility. And, to be completely honest, I like having a job that doesn’t depend on the whims of public morals.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“The mass-market books because I feel like someone should be writing for the people who aren’t Gray’s stereotypes. We’re hiding in plain sight,” he revealed. “And there are a lot more of us than people realize.”

I nodded in more than agreement. If he and Erin were serious, he had to know a little about her history. Besides, he was here, wasn’t he? He knew we were swingers already, and it didn’t take a PhD in psychology to figure out the rest.

“I’m writing for us,” he continued, “and for the ‘normals,’ as Erin calls them. I want people who read my books to appreciate the broad range of human sexuality. You can like something ‘different’ without being a deviant.”

“Or a pervert,” I added.

“Exactly. One person’s foot is another’s fetish, so to speak.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Gee, ya think?” he deadpanned, and we shared a grin.

“Sounds like we’re a lot alike,” I ventured.

“I suspect we are. No, I take that back. I know we are.”

He filled me in on his background. In addition to his formal education, he’d experimented with just about everything under the sun, sexually speaking.

“Some of the fetish communities are a little weird,” he said, “but I get it. Different strokes.”

I nodded.

“Swinging and wife-swapping are about the thrill of something new within the bounds of a committed relationship. The same with dress-up and role-play.”

“You could probably say the same about anything,” I said. “Couples who’re into voyeurism, exhibitionism, BDSM, you name it.”

“Exactly. And they’re all normal. That’s what I tell people in my books. Although… I think most are reading for the descriptions of subcultures they might not be familiar with. They can experience them vicariously.”

“And you’ve tried them all?”

“Uh-huh, everything I’ve written about.”

“Anything you didn’t like?” I asked.

“Gay sex,” he said immediately. “I gave it the ol’ college try, but I’m just not wired that way.”

“Neither am I.”

“You sound relieved,” he chuckled. “You were worried I might be bi?”

“Something like that.”

“Yeah, I get it. As far as the rest…?” he went on. “I enjoy some things more than others.”

“Such as?”

“Swinging, obviously, although Erin’s the first woman I’ve ever met who’s part of a long-term, stable group like yours.”

“Is that why you’re thirty-five and still single?” I ventured.

“Probably.”

I studied him out of the corner of my eye. “So… you aren’t the lifelong bachelor type?”

“No. I’m surprisingly normal. I want a wife and children. I’ve just never met a woman who shared my concept of a relationship. I call it open monogamy.”

“That’s us, all right,” I chuckled.

“I know.”

“Most women want real monogamy, though, closed monogamy.”

“So do most men, if we’re being honest.”

I shrugged. “I’m not so sure.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen the data.”

“Fair enough,” I said. Then I wondered aloud, “Do you think it’s nature or nurture? I mean, are people monogamous because they’re wired that way or because society says they should be?”

“Ah, now you’re thinking like a scientist!” His grin widened. “See? I told you we have a lot in common. Probably more, if we started to compare notes.”

I looked at him sideways but didn’t reply.

“I try to approach things with an open mind.”

Alarm bells went off in my head, and I wondered where he was going with that little come-on. Did he want me to tell him my taboo fantasies? Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Er’s told me so much about you that I feel like I know you, while you’ve only just met me.”

“Mmm.”

“And… the walls just went up.”

Duh. What was your first clue?

“That’s cool,” he said after a moment. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed so hard.”

We jogged into sight of the Retreat, and he slowed to a walk.

“The thing is,” he said, “I want you to like me.”

“I do,” I said immediately, although it sounded unconvincing, even to me.

“No, not yet,” he said. “But I hope you will. At your own pace. I can’t force it.” He’d been lighthearted throughout the conversation, but he turned serious now. “There’s something I want you to know, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I love Erin.”

I paused at the conviction in his voice. He didn’t waffle, either.

“I’ve never met anyone like her,” he went on. “And I’d never do anything to hurt her. That includes alienating you.”

“You haven’t.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I tend to be blunt, especially about sex. I apologize.”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

“I don’t believe you, but thanks anyway.” He even managed to say it sincerely, without a hint of condescension. He was hard not to like. Still, I wasn’t going to open up and tell all my secrets after less than an hour.

“I’m glad we had a chance to talk,” he said as we approached the clubhouse. “Candidly, I mean. I don’t get to do it very often. I think that’s why I fell in love with Erin.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We’re made for each other, two halves of the same whole.”

“More pop psychology?” I teased.

“Probably, but also true. You’ll see.”

* * *

Leah and I walked around the lake toward the others. Then she glanced over my shoulder and grinned.

“Oh, this should be fun,” she said.

I turned and watched Erin and Tom walk down the hill. A mischievous part of me was looking forward to my mother’s reaction when she met him, and she didn’t disappoint.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d met someone?” she said to Erin.

“Because I’m a grown woman, mother. I don’t need your permission.”

I pursed my lips, and my father coughed into his fist. Erin only called her “mother” when she was annoyed.

“Besides,” she added, “I don’t discuss my relationships with you anymore, remember?”

Tom politely cleared his throat, the equivalent of Christy’s “be nice” looks. I chuckled when I realized that Erin and I had both found people who curbed our worst behavior.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Beth,” he said. “You too, David. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I doubt that,” my mother said under her breath.

“Now you see where she gets it,” I said to Tom, who grinned.

“Gets what?” Erin said irritably.

“Your slightly prickly personality, sister dear. No one is ever going to accuse you of being a shrinking violet.”

“And no one’s ever going to accuse you of having charm or tact.”

Dad broke in at that point. “So, what do you do, Tom?”

“I teach psychology,” he said immediately. “And I occasionally write a book about it.”

“Sounds interesting,” Dad said with bland politeness. “I mostly read aviation magazines. And the occasional thriller. Tom Clancy, John Grisham, that sort of thing. I don’t imagine your books are anything like that.”

“No,” Tom chuckled. “Mine are…”

My mother listened to Tom and my father talk about books for nearly a minute before she connected the dots. She could be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. (I came by it honestly.)

“Hold on,” she blurted, and Tom fell silent.

Erin actually smirked.

“Tom. As in Thomas?”

“Yes,” he said.

Mom actually stared at him and tried to remember where she’d seen him before.

Bless her heart…, I thought wryly. A book flap, perhaps? A talk show? Late night TV?

Erin leaned toward me and said quietly, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Thomas Ryland?” Mom said in growing disbelief. “The Thomas Ryland, PhD?”

“That’s me,” Tom said with subdued amusement. He’d obviously been through this before.

“What about him?” my father asked.

“He writes those books! You know the ones. I read one last year. What was it called?”

Tom waited a polite moment before he supplied the title.

“Exactly! How’d you—?” To her credit, my mother didn’t actually finish her thought. Instead, she realized she’d been played. She turned a baleful eye on Erin. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” Erin smirked.

“Be nice,” I warned her, and Tom backed it up with a glance.

“You’re no fun,” she griped, cheerful instead of churlish.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said to my parents. “We should’ve told you.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” Mom said. “I saw you on Oprah. Last year. That’s when I bought your book.”

“Ah, so you’re the one,” he said drolly. “Well, I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did. How do you know so much about…?”

They fell into conversation, and I leaned toward Erin.

“Happy?”

“Oh, immensely.” She watched Mom for a moment, and her expression softened. “I don’t know why I let her get to me.”

“She pushes our buttons,” I said simply.

“All of them.”

“I suppose it’s her prerogative. I mean, she made them and all.”

“Ha! No kidding.”

Laurie climbed out of the lake and ran toward us. She arrived with a breathless pout. I tried to be cheerful instead, which was more of my mother’s influence.

“What’s up, Flower?”

“Emily’s splashing us.”

“It’s a lake,” I said. “Sometimes you get splashed.”

“Make her stop.”

“Have you asked her yourself?”

“Yes. She won’t listen.”

I sighed and glanced at my own parents, who’d stopped talking to Tom and were doing their best not to look amused. My dad was more or less successful, but my mom shouldn’t have tried.

“Will you come swim with us?” Laurie begged. “She listens to you.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about,” I said. “All right. But I have to warn you, I might need help crossing the lake. Will you protect me from the evil water fairies?”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy. There aren’t any evil water fairies. That’s only in stories.”

“What about Mommy?”

Christy squawked indignantly from several feet away.

“She’s only evil when we disobey,” Laurie said.

“I am not!” Christy protested.

Laurie knew better than to argue, but she set her jaw defiantly. (Did I mention that she had my personality?)

“Come on,” I chuckled, “let’s go see about these water fairies.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll protect you.”

“I’m counting on it!”

* * *

I was still in the lake with the kids when I saw a familiar figure walking down the hill. She was too far away to see any details, but that didn’t stop me from watching her. She looked good, although I sighed at the man beside her. He was wearing shorts. I wasn’t sure what I’d been hoping for, but he wasn’t it.

After a moment I sighed again, although at myself this time. Don’t rush to judgement. Always be mindful. I focused on my breathing and heart rate instead, things I could change. Then I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Glen Otis, wherever he was.

“All right,” I said to the girls, “I need to get out for a while.”

“No, Daddy!”

“Unh!”

“Sim!”

“Sorry,” I said, “I’m worn out. And I need to talk to an old friend.”

Wren had seen them too, and she hopped into the water to relieve me.

“I know,” she said to the girls, “let’s see if the boys want to race. I bet we’ll beat them. What do you say?”

Laurie was all for it, which meant that Emily was even more for it. Missy followed Emily’s lead, and the younger girls were happy to join in the excitement. Kara’s twins weren’t very competitive, but they shrugged in unison and decided that a race sounded fun.

“Thanks,” I murmured to Wren on the way past.

“Mmm. Good luck.”

I grabbed my towel and dried my hair as I walked around the lake, although my eyes never left the couple. They’d reached our little family group and were talking to them.

In my head I’d always thought of Gina as the teenage girl I’d fallen in love with, but the current reality was thirty-three and still beautiful. Her breasts were a little heavier and her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been, but at least she wasn’t rail-thin anymore. I realized with a shock that cocaine had probably kept her that way.

She looked good otherwise. Her hairstyle was an LA version of the Rachel (yes, from Friends), which made me smile. Christy had gone through the same phase, although her current hair was a layered bob, more like Monica’s. It was easy to manage, so our towheaded princesses sported the same hairdo.

Gina and the man both turned when I approached. She smiled, warm and genuine, but her dark eyes were different. They were calmer now, filled with a peace that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey yourself.” I was acutely aware of all the people around us—her family and mine, but especially Christy—so I shifted my attention to the man. I wanted to say something about his shorts but decided not to. Different strokes. “You must be John,” I said instead. “I’m Paul. Nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.” We shook hands. His were soft and smooth, surgeon’s hands. “Gina’s told me a lot about you.”

He was tall, dark-haired, and normal-looking. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t Hollywood handsome, either. His skin was darker than mine, although not from a tanning bed. His teeth weren’t unnaturally white, his fingernails hadn’t been buffed to a high gloss, and he didn’t look like he spent hours in the gym. In other words, he wasn’t at all what I thought a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon should look like.

Gina could still read me, even after all these years. “What’s the matter?”

“Honestly?” I laughed. “I was looking for a reason not to like him.”

John’s eyebrows rose.

“Gimme a minute,” I said, “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Be nice, Christy warned, but John knew I was kidding.

“I can help if you want,” he offered. “I know all my bad qualities.” Then he gestured at his shorts. “I’m shy, for starters.”

“Eh, who cares,” I said. “You have excellent taste in women. That’s all that matters.”

Gina couldn’t decide whether to be exasperated or relieved. She settled for the latter and smiled at the compliment.

We made small talk for a couple of minutes before cheers and then shrieks of triumph reached us from across the lake. We all turned to look.

Laurie had won a head-to-head race against Davis, and the younger girls were celebrating. Wren gave Laurie a high-five, which Davis didn’t like. Trip wasn’t the most enlightened guy in the world, but he wasn’t about to let his son get away with poor sportsmanship. He prodded Davis in the back, and the boy reluctantly congratulated Laurie.

I watched for another moment, until I was sure that Wren and Trip had things under control. All of our kids were competitive, but Davis had a legitimate complaint that the girls ganged up on him sometimes. Wren bent and said something to Laurie, who waded forward and hugged him.

“Can I meet your daughters?” Gina asked. She included Christy in the question, but we all knew she was talking to me. And it wasn’t really a question. It was an invitation to talk. Alone.

“Sure.” I glanced at Christy, but she didn’t have a problem with it.

John didn’t either. “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind.”

Gina smiled and stretched upward to kiss him. Then she nodded to me, and we strolled toward the deep end of the lake. I didn’t know where to begin, so I started with the obvious.

“You look good.”

“Thanks. You too. I forgot how much you work out.”

I shrugged. “It’s a habit now.”

“You weren’t really pudgy. I always thought you were cute.”

“I dunno about that,” I chuckled, “but thanks.”

“Mmm.”

“So… how’re you? For real, I mean.”

“I’m good. You?”

“Good, thanks. Looking forward to moving back to Atlanta.”

“I bet.”

“How’s the other thing?” I said. “The program, NA?”

“Nine months clean.”

“So… you’re done with it? Coke, I mean. No more problem?”

“I’ll never be ‘done with it,’” she said neutrally. “I take things day by day.”

“Is Regan still…? Um… clean?”

“She is. And going to meetings with me. She had a relapse a couple of months ago, but she’s doing better now. It’s… harder for her.”

“How so?”

“Stress. Her job. Her family. Or lack thereof.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. I’m the only one she has, so…” Gina looked over her shoulder, toward John. “She sort of lost it when he asked me to marry him.”

I hadn’t noticed the ring, but I hadn’t been looking at her fingers, either. I chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” she asked. “Never mind. I think I know.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s nice to know I can still get your attention.”

“You always could.”

We shared a smile that wasn’t exactly sad, but it carried a lot of baggage, the things that might have been, if only we hadn’t been so young and focused on our own problems.

“How’s life otherwise?” I asked. “Your career? Doctors Without Borders?”

“Good. We returned from a trip a couple of months ago. They’re building a new clinic in San Salvador. John recruited some other specialists, and they’re teaching the local surgeons how to use the new equipment. Oh, Paul, you should’ve seen some of the machines they had before. The new ones are all obsolete here in the States, but they’re decades newer than the ones they had. It’s heartbreaking.”

“What about you? What do you do when you’re there?”

“My job’s a little easier. We mostly focus on family planning and access to contraceptives.”

“Seriously? That’s more important than healthy childbirth?”

“Paul, women have been giving birth for thousands of years, often in primitive conditions. But if you give them control over their bodies and reproduction, you improve life for them and their children—the entire family.”

“What do their husbands think? I mean, that’s a pretty macho society.”

“Poco a poco,” she said.

“Which means…?”

“Oh, sorry. Little by little. We’re changing society as much as individual lives.”

“How’re things going back in LA?” I asked. “Leah said you have a new clinic.”

“Two, actually.”

“Oh?”

“We just moved our main practice to Beverly Hills.”

“Ah, so you’re in 90210?”

“Only three days a week. I work at the other clinic the rest of the time.”

“Where’s that?”

“East LA.”

My eyebrows flew up. I wasn’t an Angeleno, but even I had heard about the problems there.

“Aren’t you worried about the gangs?” I said.

“Not really,” Gina replied calmly. “We’re sort of neutral territory.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. We had problems in the early days, but not since.”

“How’d you manage that? Security guards or something?”

“No. The women took care of it.” She smiled at the memory. “They convinced the men that it was in their best interest to let us operate without problems.”

“Convinced…?” I prompted.

“They cut them off.”

I felt a stab of sympathetic pain. I might’ve gulped audibly too. “Not… their balls?”

“No!” Gina laughed. “They cut off sex.”

“Oh, okay.” My cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I… um… hadn’t thought of that.”

“We have some smart chicas in the barrio.”

“Ha! You sound almost Mexican yourself.”

“The language is Spanish, Paul. And the people are Americans.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s a sore spot with me.”

“I should know better,” I admitted.

She looked at me with a question.

“A friend,” I said vaguely. “Someone I used to… um…”

Gina’s laugh was soft and full of warmth. She understood.

“Anyway,” I continued, “her family’s Hispanic, all the way back to the Conquest. But her father made a big deal about being American. He wouldn’t even let them learn Spanish in school. She had to take French instead.”

“That’s like John’s family,” Gina said. “Well, not the French part, but the rest. They’ve been in California since before the American Revolution. They’re proud of their heritage, though. They should be.”

“Why?”

“They were LA royalty, back when it was still part of Mexico.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. They were big landowners. One was even alcalde— Sorry, the mayor of Los Angeles. These days, they just have a street named after them. Still, it’s the longest in LA.”

I shrugged ignorance.

“Sepulveda Boulevard.”

“Oh, wow. I know that one. It’s by LAX, isn’t it?”

She nodded, and we settled onto the blanket that Wren had been using. She was still in the lake, helping the girls maneuver the raft into the shallow end so they could have a floating tea party.

Gina and I fell silent and watched them. Then she sighed.

“Ready to start a family of your own?” I said.

“How’d—? Never mind. Of course you’d know.”

“Mmm.”

“I am,” she said after a moment.

“So… he’s good for you?”

“He is. Better than I deserve, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’re one of the most intelligent, dedicated, caring people I know.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“And it’s about time you found someone who appreciates that. Not to mention someone who inspires you.”

“He does,” she agreed.

“Good. Then I like him.” I paused to consider my next words. “This is going to sound weird, but I think you’ll understand. I’m glad things didn’t work out with you and me.”

She thought about it and smiled. “I am too.”

I put my arm around her, and she leaned into me. She even felt different than I remembered. She felt…

Happy.

* * *

Stacy, Jason, Sydney, and Woody were sitting around a table with Kara and Victor when we returned from the main camp. I hadn’t seen them in more than a decade, although I’d heard updates through the grapevine. Susan had more or less adopted Stacy, and all four of them were part of Kara and Victor’s extended swinging group.

They lived in Greenville, where Stacy was a senior marketing manager for a big tire company. Jason and Woody were partners in a small accounting firm, and Sydney worked for a theater and concert hall in downtown Greenville. They looked good, albeit older than I remembered.

Stacy had changed the most, although I realized that eighteen years had passed since Susan and I had first met her. She’d been a waif back then, a cashier at Winn-Dixie. Her abusive husband had disappeared, thankfully, and she’d been living in a small mobile home.

The years since had been good to her. She’d gained weight, although she looked good for a woman who’d had two children and was approaching forty. She kept her pubic hair completely shaved, and her nipples were pierced. She saw me looking and arched an eyebrow with a challenge, something she never would’ve done before. Then she spotted the little barbells through Christy’s nipples. Her lips quirked in a grin, recognition of a kindred spirit.

Jason and Woody were older and heavier versions of the men I remembered from Kara’s wedding. They were middle-aged dads now, CPAs with desk jobs. Sydney alone hadn’t filled out. She’d been even thinner than Stacy when I’d first met her, and she was still thin.

Victor rose and made the introductions.

“Thanks for organizing this,” Jason said to me, and the others nodded agreement.

“You’re welcome. This might be our last chance to enjoy the camp as we knew it.”

“It makes you think, doesn’t it? The things you take for granted…”

* * *

Carter and Kim arrived in a red Mercedes convertible that I hadn’t seen before. He parked out of sight behind the clubhouse. And when they didn’t appear immediately, I suspected he was ogling Tom’s Porsche. They eventually walked around the corner, and conversation stopped as they approached.

Carter was even more handsome in his forties than he’d been in his thirties or even his twenties. His blond hair was still thick and untouched by gray, and the lines on his face gave him an air of authority. He’d gained weight since we’d first met, but he’d never been a small man. Besides, he had the bone structure to support the extra pounds.

Kim had aged as well, although she was still beautiful. Her body had changed in the usual ways, especially after the birth of their sons, but obsessive dieting and exercise kept her slim. I thought she went a little overboard on both, but she wanted to look nice for Carter. Besides, who was I to judge?

I introduced (and reintroduced) everyone, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries.

“I brought several cases of wine,” Carter said, “but we need to run back to town for groceries. We didn’t have room for everything in the trunk.”

“Tell me about it,” Tom complained.

“I don’t wanna hear it, y’all,” Trip said. “I’m driving a mommy van.”

“They aren’t so bad,” I said. “We’ll probably buy one when we move.”

“Then you can drive it,” Christy said. She pointed toward the cars behind the clubhouse. “I want one of those.”

Carter’s eyebrows went up. “A Porsche?”

“No, a convertible, like yours. My mom had them when I was growing up.” She turned to me. “You remember.”

“Of course. But… I think we need something more practical.”

“Maybe you do,” she said. “I want a convertible.”

“We’ll see.”

A little while later, Carter and I drove to town to buy groceries, and I filled him in on the other couples.

“Holy shit,” he said about Tom. “Is he for real?”

“I know, right?”

“I’ve met guys with big dicks—the scene tends to attract them—but they’re usually big guys themselves. You know the type. A guy Tom’s size looks like he has a third leg or something.”

“No kidding!” I laughed.

Carter and I had always been able to talk about other guys without hang-ups. Mark and I were the same. It was a refreshing change from Trip, who was only a little less homophobic than he’d been in college. He didn’t mind swinging and seeing another guy in action, but he still wasn’t comfortable with friendly fire or the occasional contact.

“And I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” Carter continued, “but he makes you look small. How big does that thing get?”

“No clue,” I said. “I haven’t seen it in action yet.”

“Well, we’ll have to change that. I can’t wait to see you two with Kim.” He thought for a moment and then glanced at me sideways. “They live in Florida, right? What did you say he did again?”

“I didn’t. We hadn’t gotten that far.”

“Right!” he laughed. “Sorry about that.”

I told him about Tom’s career.

“Hey, wait,” Carter said, “I know him. His books, at least. Kim made me read the last one. He really gets it. About us.”

“He does.”

“And I’d be surprised if he’s not a Dom himself. I mean, look at him. A guy like that? Yeah, he’s for real.”

“I think so,” I agreed.

“He’d have to be,” Carter chuckled, “if he tamed Erin. Although… I don’t think anyone will ever tame her. Not for real.”

“Um… no.”

He grinned at me sideways. “Very diplomatic. As usual. Are you sure you aren’t an attorney?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Oh, hey! Speaking of which, congratulations on MIT. Very prestigious. Sorry we couldn’t make the ceremony. I had a big case that actually went to trial.”

“No worries,” I said. “I got your card and the case of champagne.”

“Any of it left?” he teased.

“Are you kidding? You’ve met my wife, haven’t you?”

“I’ve had the pleasure. Many times, as a matter of fact.”

We shared a grin.

“So, tell me who else is supposed to be here this weekend. Any other guys like us?”

“One,” I said. “Nate. Brooke’s new boyfriend.”

* * *

Carter and I returned from town and parked next to a car that hadn’t been there when we’d left. It was a nondescript Chevy with North Carolina tags, obviously a rental.

“No clue,” I said to his silent question.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

He opened the trunk of the Mercedes, and we loaded up with bags of groceries. We nearly ran into Brooke when we rounded the corner. She was fully dressed, although she wasn’t wearing a bra under her tight-fitting top.

“Oh, hi!”

“Hey, you made it,” I said. “I didn’t think you were supposed to be here till tomorrow.”

“We changed our flight and left early. My deputy can handle all the tests. Besides, I have a modem on my laptop, so I can use dial-up and check the progress if I need to.”

“Seriously?” I said. “It’s that big of a deal?”

She nodded. “FDA Phase II clinical trials. We can’t afford any problems at this point.”

“Well… good luck.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at Carter, and sexual tension sparked between them.

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I suppose I should introduce you. Brooke, this is Carter. Carter, Brooke.”

She went to shake his hand and realized we were holding bags full of groceries.

“You want some help?”

“Sure,” I said. “Then we need to get you out of those clothes.”

She rolled her eyes but turned pink with pleasure.

“Wait, I have a better idea. Get you out of those clothes and then unload the groceries.”

Her copper eyebrows rose when I looked at her expectantly.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I mean, it’s a nudist camp.”

“Right,” Carter agreed. “You’re supposed to be nude.”

“Uh-huh,” she said dubiously. Still, she crossed her arms, grasped the hem of her top, and pulled it over her head. Her breasts swung free, and I felt Carter rock back with awe. I didn’t see him do it, of course, because I was looking at Brooke’s chest.

She was still one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met. Some kind of cosmic alignment had given her a model’s good looks and a brain to match. Playboy had even tried to recruit her for a Career Girls edition a few years earlier. She’d turned them down, but not before she’d done a test shoot with one of their photographers.

Her breasts were big enough that they’d sagged over the years, but they still would’ve looked fine in Playboy. Besides, Carter didn’t know any better, and I wasn’t about to complain.

“Hello?” she said with a laugh. “My eyes are up here.”

“Sorry,” I teased, “what did you say?”

“Oh, boy. So… it’s going to be like that, is it?”

“Yeah, probably,” I chuckled. Then I frowned and looked around. “Hold on, where’s Nate?”

“He’s in the room, getting things put away.”

“Things?” My grin turned suggestive. “Toy things?”

“Do you want help with the groceries or not?”

* * *

We went to the main camp after dinner to fetch the kids. Kara’s daughters were going to spend the night with her parents, but ours were too young. Besides, my own parents looked like they needed a break.

“I’d forgotten how much work it is,” Mom said.

“Welcome to my world,” I chuckled.

Her expression reminded me that it had been her world too, for nearly twenty years.

“Um… yeah,” I said, a bit sheepishly.

“Come on, kids,” Wren called to them. “Everyone help clean up.”

After fifteen minutes of cajoling and chaos, we finally managed to find all the toys, towels, flip-flops, sunglasses, and more. Then my kids began their extended goodbyes. They were stalling because they didn’t want to leave, although I didn’t have the heart to rush them.

The clubhouse door swung closed behind us, and I turned to look. Doug waved as he and Olivia walked toward us. He hadn’t changed much in the five or six years since I’d seen him last, but I felt a moment of déjà vu when I glanced at her.

She looked almost exactly like Susan had when I was a teenager. Her body was slightly different, and her hairstyle definitely was, but the resemblance was close enough that the little head immediately started making plans.

Down boy, I told him firmly. She isn’t Susan.

But…? But…?

She isn’t a widow, isn’t lonely, and hasn’t known me since I was a boy.

So?

I sighed and did my best to ignore him. Fortunately, we had a longstanding agreement about who was in charge. Sometimes he even abided by it.

Doug and I exchanged greetings.

“I’m glad we caught you,” he added. “We’re headed up to the Retreat.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah. The boys’re gonna stay with my mom for a few days. Can we help carry anything?” He already had a canvas bag over his shoulder, but he gestured at the ones beside me.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He grabbed the closest one, while Olivia shouldered Susie’s diaper bag.

“Okay, girls,” I said to mine, “one last hug and kiss and then say goodnight to Grandma and Grandpa.”

Dad didn’t know the meaning of restraint, especially when it came to his granddaughters. He spoiled them worse than Mom did, although she was no slouch.

“It’s our job,” she’d said to me once. “We spoil them and send them home. Then it’s your problem.”

I couldn’t disagree. My own grandparents had done the same thing.

We finally said goodnight and headed out a few minutes later. The walk from the clubhouse up the hill was strangely quiet. Our kids were all tired from a long day of swimming and sun, so they weren’t making their usual racket, but no one else was either. None of the other campers had kids.

“Mom told me,” Doug said as he looked around, “but it’s different in person.”

“No kidding.”

We reached the trail to the Retreat. After years of use, it was wide enough that two people could walk abreast. The camp manager used a golf cart to get around, and she kept the trail well-maintained, like everything else.

Leah, Wren, and Olivia led the way, with the kids in the middle. I hung back with Doug. He knew about my life and family from his mother, and I’d heard updates about his for years, but we chatted and caught up anyway.

He was an executive for a big computer company in Austin, Texas, and Olivia was a stay-at-home mom. They and their two sons (Fraser and Cole) lived a typical upper-middle class life. Doug tinkered with computers and made little robots on the weekend, Olivia liked to bake and garden, and the boys played video games with their friends. In other words, suburban bliss.

When we reached the end of the trail, Davis and the older girls found a reserve of energy. They shouted and ran ahead, and Wren jogged to keep an eye on them. Susie was sound asleep on my shoulder and didn’t even stir. Leah was carrying McKenna, who raised her head and looked around. After a moment she decided she’d had enough fun for one day. She heaved a tired sigh and flopped onto Leah’s shoulder again.

Doug chuckled. “They’re fun when they’re that age.”

“They are,” I agreed. “A lot of work…”

“But worth it,” he finished.

Leah and Olivia drifted back to walk with us as the trail widened into the clearing.

“Is now a good time to discuss the rules?” Doug asked.

“Sure,” I said. “The common areas are PG-13, especially if the kids’re around.”

“Good,” he agreed.

“If it’s just adults, fooling around and flirting are fine, even a little fondling.” I smiled to myself at the alliteration. Leah noticed and knew me well enough to figure it out. She sighed. Fondly, even. “Sorry,” I said aloud, “I can’t help it.”

Doug and Olivia didn’t get it, but they knew an intimate relationship when they saw one.

“Anyway, where was I?” I said. “Right, the rules. Flirting is fine in the common areas, but save the action for the privacy of a bungalow, yours or one of the empty ones. We have linens and towels in them too.”

He nodded.

“Number five is couples only,” I went on. “Twelve is for groups, anything goes. With the usual permission, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“We moved the living room furniture to the clubhouse and covered the floor with air mattresses, so it’s really one big bed.”

“Sounds fun. What about tests?” he asked. “We’re both tan, but since this isn’t our normal group…?”

My brow furrowed. Tan? Of course he was tan, he was a nudist. Then it hit me.

“Oh, TAN! Sorry. I thought you meant the skin tone.”

“We love him,” Leah said, “but his mind doesn’t work the way a normal person’s does.” She arched an eyebrow in my direction. “Got it now?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I repeated. “TAN, Tested AIDS Negative.”

“We are too,” Leah said. “We use the lab from Kara’s practice, and we’ve all been screened.”

“Us too,” I agreed, “before we left Boston. We have the results if—”

“No need,” Doug said. “We all know each other. The honor system’s fine, as long as everyone’s been tested recently.”

“We have.”

“Birth control?” Olivia asked. “Doug’s had a vasectomy, and I’ve had my tubes tied.”

“Christy hasn’t,” I said, “but she doesn’t have sex with anyone else. I’ve had a vasectomy.”

“Mark and Victor too,” Leah added. “Kara and I are both… um… normal? Fertile? ‘Unfixed’ sounds like we’re broken.”

We filled in the blanks on everyone else. All the couples except Erin, Tom, Brooke, and Nate had some form of birth control, but we still needed to pay attention.

“Sorry it’s such a mix,” I said.

“It usually is,” Doug said, “which is why we ask.”

“When in doubt, pull it out,” I quipped, which earned a grin from Leah.

“It’s a good thing we all like swallowing,” she said.

Olivia smiled and sent me a sideways glance that made the little head start planning again.

Doug chuckled in agreement before he turned serious. “I figure we all have the same rules otherwise. We’re all second- or third-generation.”

We slowed to a stop at the inner ring of bungalows. On the other side of the pool, my girls were telling Christy about their day, and Trip’s were doing the same with him.

“Speaking of the next generation,” I said.

Doug sighed agreement. “This is maybe our last chance to do something like this.”

“Mmm,” I agreed, “the end of an era.”

* * *

Leah, Wren, and I took the kids down to the main camp and left them with our parents after breakfast. We didn’t hang around for long, even though a part of me wanted to invite Gina and John to join us at the Retreat. Unfortunately, I knew better.

Gina hadn’t been a swinger for years, and John wasn’t even comfortable as a nudist in the first place. I couldn’t imagine him in a threesome, much less the middle of an orgy. So we returned to the Retreat by ourselves, although we chatted about who’d been flirting with whom.

“Trip, of course,” Wren said. Then she rolled her eyes. “He wants to have sex with every woman at least once. Well, everyone but Christy, although he thinks he might have a chance, even with her.”

“He doesn’t,” Leah said before I could.

“Try telling him that,” Wren laughed. Then she shot me a look. “And you… You’re almost as bad.”

“What!”

“I saw the way you looked at Olivia last night.”

“Oh, that,” I laughed. “Well, can you blame me?”

“No, not really. And… I have to admit, I’m a little curious myself.”

“Oh?”

“You know what I mean. She looks exactly like Susan.”

“She does,” Leah agreed.

“I thought it was a little weird at first,” Wren continued, “but you know what they say—men marry their mothers.”

“Or something,” Leah said under her breath, so only I could hear.

Not now, I warned her with a glance.

Yes, sir. She added a flirty little smirk, in case I thought she was serious.

“Anyway,” Wren continued to me, “I might join you if you get together with them.”

“Who? Doug and Olivia?”

“Who else? She asked about you.”

Leah nodded confirmation.

“Seriously?” I said.

“Yeah, she wanted to know about you and Christy,” Wren said, “whether she needed to talk to her first.”

“What’d you tell her? Never mind,” I said immediately.

“Not so slow after all,” she teased. Then she looked across me and asked Leah, “What about you? Who’re you thinking about?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Seriously? I didn’t think you cared about size,” Wren said.

“Oh, I don’t. But it’s my job to investigate.”

“That’s a lot of investigation,” Wren laughed.

“Mmm, I know.”

Wren rolled her eyes at Leah’s enthusiasm. “I don’t know who’s worse, you or Christy.”

“I think it’s a tie,” I said dryly.

“Well, you’d know. Anyway, speaking of Christy…?”

“I think she and Mark have a date.” I glanced at Leah to confirm, and she nodded.

“What about Brooke?” Wren asked. Then she huffed. “God! Will she get married and have kids already!”

“Why?” I laughed.

“So she doesn’t look like a fucking Playmate!”

“Oh, relax,” I said. “You’re as pretty as she is.”

“Yeah,” Wren muttered, “if you like sagging and stretch marks.”

“I’ll prove it if you want.”

“How?”

“Let’s see if Doug and Olivia want to get together.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.”

* * *

We relaxed by the pool after lunch, although couples occasionally drifted away for private fun. Kara, Victor, and Jason started fooling around, and Sydney and Woody joined in. Before long they went off to the group bungalow together. Stacy stayed behind.

“Not in the mood?” I asked.

“Hmm? Oh, I might join them later.”

I hadn’t felt any kind of connection with her since they’d arrived. We’d known each other intimately at one point, but we’d both changed since then. She wasn’t a lost and insecure young woman anymore, and I wasn’t a shy and pudgy teenager. I didn’t feel any hostility from her, but I didn’t feel any attraction either. I almost laughed when I realized we were like siblings more than lovers.

“So much has changed,” I said obliquely.

“I know what you mean. It’s like we both stepped into a time warp. I still have to remind myself that you’re a grown-up. You’re a kid in my head. Okay, maybe not a kid, but you know. I have a son who isn’t much younger than you were when we first met. That’s wild.”

“No kidding,” I agreed. “Time flies.”

“At least you still look like you. Town is…” She gestured futilely. “I barely recognized it. Did you see where they tore down the Winn-Dixie?”

“Uh-huh. And replaced it with a strip mall.”

“I know!” she laughed.

“Hey, every small town needs a Blockbuster, a GNC, and a Chinese restaurant.”

“Add a dry cleaner and you have everything you need,” she joked.

We fell silent for a moment before she looked around and sighed.

“It’s a shame about the camp, too.”

“Mmm.”

“She’s been worried about it for a couple of years,” she added, “but I think the numbers finally forced her hand.”

“What do you think she should do?”

“From a business standpoint?” Stacy shrugged. “You have to change with the times.”

“But from a personal one?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was never that attached to this place. Not like you. I like it okay, but I don’t have a lot of fond memories from those days.”

“You do about Susan.”

“True. She’s been like a mother. Better than my real one ever was.”

I didn’t know much about Stacy’s family—more evidence of a disconnect—but I did know that her mother had died about five years earlier. Stacy hadn’t even known until the state contacted her and asked what she wanted to do with the body. She sighed again and drew me back to the present.

“I guess I want her to be happy, whatever she decides,” she said. “I see both sides of the argument. She’s sentimental about the camp but she’s also a businesswoman. She’s lucky, though.”

“How so?”

“She can afford to be sentimental. This place is maybe 1 percent of her business revenue, so it doesn’t really matter. Besides, everything she owns is privately held. She’s the only one who cares about the P&L. She doesn’t have to justify her decisions to a board or investors or anyone else.”

“That’s a nice position to be in,” I agreed.

“She’s earned it.”

“She has.”

* * *

I pulled the door closed behind me and crossed to the occupied table. The patio and pool were deserted otherwise, which seemed odd. Then again, bedtime had taken almost an hour.

I bent and gave Christy a kiss.

“Any problems?” she asked.

“No.”

“What was the story tonight?”

“They’re moving to a new castle.”

“Ah. Of course.”

Carter poured me a glass of white wine. The kitchen had a full set of acrylic ones now, for use around the pool. He emptied the bottle and set it beside another on the table next to us. I didn’t see a full bottle, but I knew Carter, so he probably had it chilling in the clubhouse.

“What’s this about a new castle?” he asked.

“Princess time.” I sank into a chair and took a long drink. “Oh, wow, that’s good. What is it?”

“Orange muscat.”

It looked like a normal white wine, but he was right about the orange part. I took a smaller sip and raised the glass in thanks. Then I continued with my train of thought.

“Bedtime stories.”

“Technically, a single story,” Brooke corrected, and Christy nodded. “How long’ve you been telling it?”

“Since Emily was born,” I said. “So, four years.”

Carter’s blond eyebrows twitched with disbelief. “That long? The same story?”

“Yeah. The princesses go on adventures and solve problems. They make friends and learn things along the way.”

“Ah, right. It sounds like an allegory, life lessons.”

“More or less,” I agreed. “I want the girls to be decent human beings.”

“Hear, hear.”

“Anyway…” I looked around. “Where is everyone?”

“Where do you think?”

“Right. Off getting laid. Why aren’t we doing the same?”

“We were waiting for you.”

Nate had been silent to that point, but he took a sip of wine and gestured toward me with his glass.

“Gotcha,” I said. And since no one was around to overhear, I didn’t need to choose my words carefully. “So, what’s the plan? The usual? Paddles? Nipple clamps? A vibrator?”

“I’m getting predictable,” Carter chuckled. “No, I think we’ll try something new, especially since there are two of us.” He inclined his head to Nate, who nodded in reply. “It’s a surprise, my dear,” he added to Christy.

She practically vibrated with excitement.

“And what about me?” I wondered aloud. “Do I need to keep Brooke and Kim occupied? All by myself?”

Kim lowered her eyes, and her breathing quickened in anticipation. Brooke looked to Nate.

“I’ll help,” he said to me. “I’ll tie her up. Then you can have your way with her while I drift back and forth.”

I grinned and drawled, “Please, Br’er Fox, don’ fling me in that briar patch.”

“Right!” Carter laughed. Then he asked Kim, “Are you ready, hon?”

Nate touched Brooke’s hand, and she flushed with anticipation.

“All right, then,” I said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

* * *

The picnic turned into a proper Fourth of July party, albeit a smaller one than in the days of my youth. The kids finished eating long before the rest of us, probably because they weren’t drinking. At least they entertained themselves with a raucous game of hide-and-seek.

The rest of us ate and drank and reminisced about summers past. The sun slowly bent toward the horizon, and a citrus glow crept into the sky from the west. The warm, heavy air buzzed with the sounds of the rural south.

Other people gathered on the grass as twilight settled over the camp. I recognized a few, but not many. Gunny was long gone, and his widow had moved away. Dwight and Karen were missing as well. So were Stan and Terri. They’d been yearly fixtures for as long as I could remember, but they must have moved on with their lives. The same with Kendall’s family, Manfred’s, and too many others to mention.

I was still thinking about it when Susan stood and moved to the center of the lawn. The crowd was small enough that we fell silent with only a little prompting.

“Thank you all for coming,” she began. “It’s almost dark, so I’ll keep this short. As most of you know, the camp has been in a slow decline for a while. Those of you who’ve been coming for years know what I mean. This used to be the biggest week of the year, with hundreds of visitors.”

I flashed back to magic shows, movie nights, games, contests, and more.

“We still have the fireworks,” she continued, “but not as many of those, either.”

I glanced at Gina and we shared a smile. We’d fallen in love under those fireworks.

“But you know what they say: all good things must end. And I can’t keep running the camp as a business unless it changes.” Susan sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “Sorry. I didn’t want to get emotional…”

She cleared her throat and continued in a stronger voice, “I thought about several options, but I don’t like any of them. In the end, I decided that I don’t care.”

The crowd stirred uneasily, and my eyebrows rose in puzzlement.

“I don’t care if the camp makes money,” she went on. “I don’t care if we have a thousand visitors a year or a hundred. I don’t care if I see new faces or the same ones. I love you all, and I don’t want to give this up.”

She wiped her cheeks again.

“Sorry,” she said after a moment. “I’ll hold it together.”

My mother handed a napkin to Laurie, who ran to Susan and gave it to her.

“See what I mean?” she laughed tearfully. “What would I do without you all?” She wiped her eyes. “My father told me not to go into politics,” she joked, “and now I know why.”

The crowd chuckled in sympathy.

“Anyway,” she said at last, “I think we have something special here, and I don’t want it to change. I’m going to keep the camp running. I don’t care what it costs. My accountant can deal with it.”