Chapter 8

“There’s my big girl!” boomed a big white-haired man who Jesse liked to call Papa. Gleefully she ran into her grandfather’s open arms, hugged him around the neck and kissed his gruff cheek. He smelled like Papa: a mixture of work and sawdust and that old-people smell. Familiarity. It hardly seemed possible that it was Saturday already. The staff now had a day off, and would report back at 3:00 pm on Sunday. Most were already gone. There was only a small group still loitering by the office waiting for their rides. Jesse had overestimated the time it would take her to get ready to leave, to be sure her grandparents wouldn’t have to wait for her.
“Well now, who’s that?” asked Papa, as Jesse waved back at Michael.
Quickly turning back to him, she ignored the question and the twinkle in her Papa’s eye. “Where’s Nana?” she asked instead of answering.
Nana was waiting by the car, leaning on it with her dark, leathery arms crossed nonchalantly. Frizzy bottle-blond hair peeked out from under her flamingo-pink sun visor, and a brightly flowered shirt was tucked into an old pair of slacks. She took in her surroundings as though they held no interest for her whatsoever; and as there was no garage sale or thrift store on the grounds, this was only to be expected. She could have been waiting only a few moments, but one could see they had been passed dully. She seemed not to see Jesse until she was about ten feet in front of her, and then she came furiously to life.
“So there you are, little girl! Give me that bag! What are you doing, Miron, letting her carry that big bag all by herself?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but quickly gave Jesse a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. “Oh, just look at you! You look so tired!” she exclaimed, holding her at arms’ length and examining her critically. Wrinkles formed around her eyes as much in admonishment as concern. “Did you have anything to eat yet? I’ll make some pancakes up at the house after you have a nap.”
Jesse happily climbed in the back seat of the hot, musty-smelling car, but almost immediately felt unwell. Water bottles, magazines and sweaters were everywhere, and she had to clear a spot for herself to sit down. Even while protesting that she had eaten breakfast already, she knew it was no use. Going to Nana’s house meant eating pancakes, whether you were hungry or not. But she would pretend she hadn’t heard the part about a nap.
During the trip her uneasiness grew, and it became more difficult to make satisfactory conversation with her grandparents. She was fine the whole way down the twisted dirt road; the shade afforded by the trees may have helped. When they hit the highway, however, it was worse. While the air conditioning chilled her, it couldn’t keep the sun from pounding relentlessly into the back of her head and neck. She tried to shift positions as Nana asked about her week and her family back home, but couldn’t get out of the boiling rays. She didn’t dare to lie down and give away her discomfort. She stifled a moan as her stomach protested the oatmeal she’d eaten this morning. She should have known better, but she’d been so hungry, and then she’d been so pleased with herself for keeping it down! She’d almost dared to hope this affliction had run its course. No such luck. She shut her eyes and tried to think of something other than the kilometers of pavement ahead and the pounding in her brain.
It was no use. Two minutes later she had to ask Papa to pull over. She stumbled to the grass beside the road and her legs buckled under her. Nana stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders and holding her hair, saying something meant to be comforting. Jesse bit back miserable tears. A van whizzed by, and she wondered who was in it. Had they seen her? Had they wondered who she was, what she was doing? Were they laughing at her? It shouldn’t matter to her, but it did. Finally she gained her feet, disgusted with herself. She squeezed her Nana’s hand in thanks, and quietly got back into the car. For the rest of the trip Papa regaled them with hilarious stories of Jesse’s own mother, who had been known for car-sickness, especially when riding backwards in the old family station wagon.
Nana and Papa lived off the highway just outside of Hanger. Nana was always bragging that you couldn’t go anywhere in Canada, east or west, without driving right past her front door. As they turned into the driveway, Jesse noticed that the deck Papa had started last year was almost finished.
They left her bags in the car and climbed up the back steps to the house. The porch was in disarray with many of Nana’s ‘projects’ yet unfinished, but inside there was bread baking in the bread machine, and the aroma filled the house. Nana’s brown bread was sweet and had a sleepy kind of smell.
“Little girl, go upstairs and lie down on the bed. We’re not going to camp for a while yet,” Nana called from the kitchen, as Jesse roamed through the living and dining rooms. She smiled. Nothing had changed.
Reluctantly she went up the stairway, round the corner, down the hall and into the spare room. It smelled the same as always. Though she didn’t think she could fall asleep, she decided to try, “to make Nana happy,” she told herself. But when she sat down, her body relaxed immediately, and her eyes closed as her head reached the soft, downy pillow. As she lay there on the queen-sized bed, surrounded by old jewelry, clothes, and a vast quantity of ancient wallpaper, she began to slowly drift off. She never really fell asleep, but the many muddled thoughts and images that flashed through her exhausted mind were very like dreams. And for the first time in a long time, they were good ones, of happy places like this, and happier times than now.
After a few minutes, excitement overcame her weariness. Lazily she rolled onto her stomach, letting the top half of her body lean out over the edge of the bed so she could look out the window. From this position she could see the thick bush that surrounded three sides of the house, bordering the driveway - Nana and Papa’s driveway. When she was little she had thought it was a mountain; the way it rose up majestically from the highway to the top, where the house stood, tall and regal. Of course the house wasn’t really regal. It was nice, and old, but like a well-used antique that wasn’t worth very much.
No longer able to keep herself in bed, she stood up, stretched, and went bounding through the hall and down the stairs, pretending not to hear Nana’s admonishments. In the dining room Papa was reading a paper, a mug of steaming, untouched black coffee in front of him, while Nana fried pancakes in the kitchen. Jesse sat down beside him and, suddenly seeing her, he looked over his paper. “So how’s Papa’s girl? Up already, eh?”
“I couldn’t make myself sleep in the middle of the day.” She started poking through his paper looking for the comics. “I tried, honest.”
“Mmm. You hungry?” he asked, still reading.
Overhearing Papa’s question, Nana called gingerly from the kitchen, “I’ve got two pancakes here, little girl. Come and have something to eat.”
As Jesse ate her pancakes at the small kitchen table, she listened to Nana talk, occasionally putting in a word or two herself when necessary. She learned from this discussion that her aunt Sandra was working late, her cousin Dom would be coming out to camp around four o’clock, and the drive-in was up for sale again. Nana and Papa had owned it for years, and enjoyed the running of it, but since they sold the place it had been resold again frequently by, in their opinion, incompetent owners. The rest of what Nana said was about people called Mitsy and Lala and Chee-chee, people very important to Nana, but whom Jesse’s mind failed to remember: distant great-aunts and old family friends who had known her as a baby and such. From the dining room Papa put in a few comments on recent golf games and mentioned fixing the roof of the camp up at Lake Conrad.
Lake Conrad was a funny sort of place. Down south it would have been called a cottage, though it hardly merited such a distinguished title. “Camp” was much more fitting of this ancient cabin of two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living/dining room with an old wood stove. There was one newer addition, the sunroom, put on about ten years ago for the sake of seating the extended family at supper. From the rafters hung antique bottles and children’s ice skates, and Papa’s bottle-opener collection adorned part of one kitchen wall. The rooms were poorly lit and the walls were red-stained particle board that didn’t go all the way up to the roof. This particular feature of the camp was quite handy for throwing things at or talking to people in the next room. The furniture was worn but sturdy; one particular couch was verifiably over 100 years old. It was a place where you didn’t have to worry about dripping a little after coming in from a swim or taking off your sandals, but it maintained a homey feeling, safe and comfortable.
Jesse adored camp. As much as she loved being at Nana and Papa’s, she couldn’t wait to get out there again. She could picture it in her mind: the camp on the right-hand side of the property as you drove down the driveway, its roof green with moss; the sauna on the left and closer to the beach; the lake, small, but deep and cold. On one side were about ten camps, and the other was bordered by mountainous rocks with brave pines hanging on to the sides for dear life. She had spent the best part of eighteen summers there, but never took that beauty for granted. Every time she looked at it, it overwhelmed her.
Unfortunately, she had to wait a little while longer to see it again. Nana wanted to make a casserole to take up for dinner first. Jesse washed the lunch dishes, despite her grandparents’ objections. There was nothing else to do anyway, and as much as she abhorred the chore at home, it wasn’t so bad at Nana and Papa’s. Everything seemed different here. She could wait before going to camp, she decided. She had a whole day and a night to spend there, and right now she had her hands in hot soapy water, and could look outside at a forest of evergreens through the window in front of her, and she couldn’t imagine being happier.
She didn’t pass up the chance to leave, however, when Dom showed up in his truck, early, to take her out to camp. They said a hasty goodbye to their grandparents, and within minutes they were speeding down that familiar dirt road. Dom had let his hair grow out in a shag style. The summer sun had once again bleached his light brown hair into a dusty blond while he worked at the public pool, at the same time tanning his skin, already dark from his Métis father’s side. With his dazzling blue eyes, the result was striking. Jesse begrudged those exotic colours, wasted on a boy. She leaned across the seat to tussle his hair.
“So what’s this all about?” she teased. “I told you to let your hair grow two year ago. Now it’s old,” she said, grimacing.
Dom laughed. “Maybe down south it is, but up here it’s just coming ‘in’. It does look good on me though, eh?” he said, checking himself in the mirror.
“You wish,” she goaded him. “Always did think a lot of yourself.”
Though they were the same age, Dom had always been a sensitive child. Three or four years ago she would have been unsure of how he would take the teasing, but something about him had changed. Now, at eighteen, he just smiled back at her. “You’re looking good. You sure you got a baby in there?” he said with a wink.
She laughed. “Trust me, it’s there. It’ll be obvious soon enough, too. But thanks.” She was surprised by the unexpected and, she was sure, undeserved compliment. Feeling in a generous mood, she decided to return it. “And that shag does look pretty cool, even if you are a little behind the times.”
“Hey, if anyone can bring it back, it’s me.”
He might have been bragging, but Jesse didn’t doubt he was right. In Hanger, at least, Dom had a small following.
His jovial tone changed and he became more serious. “So how you doing, really? Mom said you came to the hospital a couple days ago.”
“Oh, that,” she brushed it off. “I fell down and a few people overreacted. Even your mom said it was nothing to worry about.”
Dom wasn’t fooled. He glanced slyly at her. “I heard it was flight of stairs you fell down. And Mom said you got a few scratches.”
“Which, as you can see,” she retorted, “are all healed up. I’m fine now. Better than new,” she insisted. She really just wanted to forget the whole, rather embarrassing mishap. She still cringed to remember how her clumsiness had once again drawn attention to herself; and worse, how close she had come to hurting the small life she was now responsible for.
He gave her an appraising look, then a half-hearted smile. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess you’ll be alright.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the reassurance.” Gravel spun and rocks clunked against the sides of the truck, even though they weren’t really going too fast.
Dom either ignored or missed her sarcasm. “So how’s your family?” he asked, easily negotiating a turn in the road.
She chuckled and shook her head. “Now they’re the ones you should be worried about!” She thought back to the past four months. For a little while almost-sixteen-year-old Corah and fourteen-year-old Marnie seemed to be growing up, but their good behaviour, sweet as it was, had been temporary. As life returned to relative normal around the house, the bickering and fighting did, too. “They’re one of the reasons I came back here. It’s calmer. They should be better while I’m gone, anyway. Marnie’s moving into my room for the summer, so they won’t be sharing.” She looked out the window and sighed, remembering what it was like to be fourteen. “They remind me of me and May at that age.”
“I doubt they’re that bad,” Dom said. “You two are a pretty hard act to follow. Ow!” he exclaimed as Jesse gave him a solid jab in the arm. “I’m trying to drive here, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, don’t go pretending to be a conscientious driver now. We’re here now, anyways.”
“Yeah, well, most motor accidents occur within five miles of home, don’t you know,” he said as he parked the truck in what seemed to be a mere trail.
Jesse wasn’t listening. She was already walking down the driveway. This one sloped down, instead of up. She let herself take in the view. The camp was to her right, just as she remembered it, and the tree-house her dad had built her when she was two was there beside it. On the left was the sauna, the deck surrounding it, and the dock leading out onto the water. There was just the faintest bit of wind in the air, making the lake ripple ever so slightly, with blue shimmers off of its black surface.
Dom caught up and they walked down to the dock together, silently, so as not to disturb the majestic mood of the lake. As Jesse sat on the edge, she let one leg dangle, her sandaled toe just touching the water. It was low this year, she realized; but the richness of its colour reminded her how deep it was even yet.
Dom sat down beside her. “Nice, eh?” was all he said.
She breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. “It’s perfect,” she said, savoring the moment.
Dom smiled and gave one of her braids a gentle tug. She smiled wickedly and shoved him. He went to shove her back, but she scrambled to her feet, and giggling, tried to push him off the dock. He was big and on his feet too quickly for her, though, and she fled to the deck, knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to throw her in.
“Chicken,” he called after her.
It did something to her. She stopped abruptly at the name, turned to face him, picked a half-empty beer can up off the picnic table and without ceremony threw it at his head. As it turned out, the half-full beer can flinging its remaining contents out as it hurtled through the air was not aerodynamically stable. It landed harmlessly on the pebbles on the beach, a good five feet from Dom’s feet. Jesse felt she had gotten her point across anyhow. Head high, she marched into the sauna’s change room.
There was a trunk in there filled with swim gear, as well as fishing rods and waterskis on hooks on the walls. She emerged excitedly seconds later wearing a life jacket and threw a second one to Dom, who was picking up the beer can. “Let’s go for a boat ride,” she commanded. She made no further mention of the beer can, and for some reason, neither did Dom.
They took the canoe for a round of the camps. Jesse decided it was time for them to pick their favourite ones, which they would buy when they got older. The long-standing plan was for the cousins to branch out from the single camp and eventually own the whole lake. Of course, there was the public beach to consider. They didn’t suppose they could buy that up. Then again, what would be the point in owning practically the whole lake if the common people couldn’t come see it and be a little jealous? They figured the public beach could stay. The rest would suffice as their empire.
The camps varied considerably in size and class. Some hardly looked habitable; others were almost like houses, with well painted walls, mowed lawns, even flower gardens. No matter how up-scale or run-down, however, they all included a small, indispensable wooden structure near the shore. Jesse and Dom took pride in the fact that, although their camp wasn’t much to look at, their sauna was definitely newer, bigger, and more attractive than any of the others. They also had the longest dock. Those factors put together more than made up for the fact that their property, the second one in, was right beside the public beach, and that their camp was a little ramshackle.
Dom decided he wanted the third property. He made this announcement as they were passing it, having barely set off, as the property was adjacent to their own. Jesse felt compelled to look at it, though she well knew what she would see. It wasn’t just old and neglected, it was ugly. Cedar trees were allowed to grow up along the beach, and through a very narrow opening Jesse could see a lop-sided old white and green building, looking more like a shed than a residence, and what looked like two very non-functional station wagons parked in front of it. There was no grass, only dirt and gravel, no dock, and the sauna was absolutely pitiful.
“Well,” she said wryly, thinking of the trees, “ it has some privacy.”
Dom, however, was being practical. “It’s right beside our camp,” he reasoned, “so that leaves only one neighbour to worry about. Plus I’ll be able to get it cheaper than any of the other places. I can pull down that ol’ junkheap and build whatever kind of camp I want. A nice big one,” he said augustly, “with five bedrooms and indoor plumbing. And a sauna even bigger n’ ours.” He was like a kid again, in his enthusiasm slipping into the lazy, slurred speech that had so distinguished him as a child. Jesse could see him once again, the little rascal he had been, just for a moment. Then the vision was replaced by her very grown-up cousin, and she replied to him as such.
She could see his point. Starting from scratch did have a certain appeal. But she had her sights set a little further on. They kept paddling and eventually came to the very last camp on the lake. The ground here rose a little higher than on the other side, making the camps seem a little more dignified, just slightly set apart from the others. Only this one wasn’t even a camp; this one was a house. A stone house. She knew it couldn’t be more than 40 years old, none of the camps were, but it had an aura of oldness about it, a good kind, as though it had always been there. It wasn’t terribly big, or fancy, but it had a gorgeous porch on two sides. She loved large porches. She could see herself on that porch as clearly as if it had been made for her - sitting on a porch swing, looking out over the lake, reading a book, watching the sun set. Maybe all at once.
They stopped the canoe. “That’s my house,” she told Dom confidently.
Dom approved of her choice. “You could probably live in there all year round, too, if you could make it up the road in the winter,” he suggested.
“Hmmm,” she hummed out loud for a second, thinking. “You know who owns this place?”
“Sure,” he said, “Mrs. Petrick.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured again. “She come out here much?”
From the back of the canoe Dom began to turn the boat around. “Yeah, she’s here for most of the summer. Maybe the winter, too.”
She continued plying him with questions. “Does she have any kids?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Never seen any. They’re probably old and moved away. Why, you hopin’ she’ll croak soon?”
She feigned offense. “You really think I would want someone to die just so I could have their house?”
“Hey, she’s gotta go sometime. Might as well work to your advantage, right?”
Jesse made sure her next paddle stroke sent a small spray of lake water his way. “I am not praying for anything to happen to Mrs. Petrick. It wouldn’t do me any good now, anyway. It’s not like I’ve got money to spend, or any hopes of acquiring any in the near future.” She sat there a minute, mulling it over. She felt a cold trickle down the back of her neck.
“Dominic!” she screamed, paddle flailing. He ducked between the laughter, the canoe pitching dangerously as Jesse tried to turn around to wreak her vengeance. “You toad!” she hollered, now also laughing, but trying to look mad.
Just when the rocking switched from accidental to intentional she couldn’t really say. But the canoe did flip over, dumping them in waist-deep water, and it was most definitely Dom’s fault. They hurled insults and splashed water like kids, then realized their boat was floating away and argued over who had to go get it. Jesse was just about to threaten him with her still-clasped paddle, when a stirring caught her eye. A curtain had moved.
“Dom, there’s someone in the house,” she whispered. When he didn’t move she elaborated, “I think we need to leave now!”
He looked doubtful. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Just get the canoe!” she pleaded. He did, finally, and they clumsily managed to get in and leave.
They got back to camp inexplicably shaken. They hadn’t done anything wrong, no one had yelled at them, they hadn’t seen a ghost; but someone’s hand had drawn that curtain back, which meant someone had seen them, and somehow Jesse had the eerie feeling that that person had in fact been watching them. Her paranoia spread easily to Dom, always the dramatic one, so that he was just as freaked out. It was a warm, sunny day, but they shivered and hurried to change out of their wet clothes. Jesse realized she only had pyjamas and a dry bathing suit in the bag she had brought, so she rummaged through the dresser in her room looking for something that would fit. Nana kept the camp well-stocked with clothes; many having belonged to Jesse’s aunts and uncles a long time ago, others collected over years of garage-saleing or forgotten by previous guests. Jesse gasped as her hand touched a familiar t-shirt that might have fit a ten-year-old. She remembered this shirt - it had been hers at one time. Funny how a lost article of clothing could bring back memories. But it wasn’t exactly practical for her present need, so she continued to search. She managed to find some very retro-looking brown track pants and a matching sweater, both of which fit. She came out to the living room drying her hair, to find Dom building a fire.
“You cold too?” she asked.
“Yeah, just a little,” he said.
She sat down on one of the couches near the fireplace and curled up. Dom closed the stove door on the already crackling fire and leaned back on the other couch, facing her. She snuggled down further in the cushions where she sat, resting her head on a pillow and tucking her feet in beside her.
“I’m scared,” she finally admitted out loud, but barely in a whisper.
Dom nodded in agreement. “That was definitely freaky.”
“It shouldn’t be, though,” she admitted. “It was just a person, right? An old lady hears two rowdy teenagers practically on her beach, so she looks out her window. Perfectly normal.”
“Nothing weird about it,” Dom agreed. “So why are you so spooked?”
“Whatever, you’re just as spooked as I am,” she accused him.
“No, I think you’re more spooked than me,” he replied, trying to keep some dignity. “I’m not the one in the fetal position.”
Jesse didn’t miss the expression. She hated herself for being so sensitive, and shoved the knee-jerk reaction back down, hoping Dom hadn’t caught it. “I’m not the one who built the fire,” she retorted.
“So, you still want the haunted house?” he changed the subject.
“Yes, I do, actually,” she said, “and it’s not haunted.”
“Sure,” he grinned. “That was just ol’ Mrs. Petrick. At least,” he lowered his voice, “that’s what most people would think. But you and I know better, don’t we?” he ended in a faint whisper, his eyes creepily wide open and glaring.
Jesse scowled. “Oh, why don’t you just shut up,” she suggested.
“Why should I?” he asked. “Whatcha gonna do, hit me with a beer can?”
“I don’t want to talk about the beer can,” she informed him succinctly.
Uncle Reid came in an hour later to find them sitting on the floor, playing cards on the old faded green carpet, bundled up like it was October. An hour after that, Aunt Sandra arrived and found the three of them sitting at the table, drinking pop and playing dimes. An hour later Papa came in and gave them all enough warning to put the cards, drinks and potato chips away before Nana got there and yelled at them for spoiling their dinner and wasting the beautiful day cooped up inside.
For as long as Jesse could remember, Nana had been making supper out at camp all summer for whoever happened to be around. When Nana wasn’t there, Aunt Sandra or Uncle Reid might fire up the barbecue and feed the hungry crowd, and they helped Nana out when she was there, to be sure, but Nana was the best cook around anywhere. Never anything fancy, salad and beans and bread and meat, maybe potatoes or perogies or macaroni and cheese. Always something for desert, and it was always delicious. They made good food out at Bible Camp, but Jesse craved Nana’s cooking all week long.
They went swimming right after supper. Well, Jesse and Dom went swimming and jumped in the sauna periodically when they got cold; Aunt Sandra and Uncle Reid had a sauna and jumped in the lake every once in a while when they got too hot. Somewhere in the middle they all ended up in the sauna at once.
Uncle Reid was a tough man to figure out. He had never gotten married - he was cynical and Jesse couldn’t imagine anyone would want to marry him. He smoked and he did a lot of crosswords. She’d been scared of him when he was younger, but as she grew up she learned to return his sarcasm and not let it hurt her. The strangest thing of all - and this Jesse had found out only last summer - was his appreciation for romantic movies. He went out of his way to be cutting sometimes, but somehow underneath it all she knew he cared, at some level, though she wouldn’t let on that she knew.
He made short work of bringing up the subject he knew she wouldn’t want to talk about.
“So,” he asked casually, as if out of innocent curiosity, “what are you going to do with this kid?”
Aunt Sandra lost her temper and chewed him out for it. “Don’t be such an ass, Reid. What kind of a question is that?”
“What do you mean?” he defended himself. “We’re all thinking it, I’m just saying it out loud.”
“Well maybe it’s none of your business.” Sandra dumped some more water on the hot rocks, creating more heat that stung as it swept across their backs.
“So, if Jesse doesn’t want to talk about it, she doesn’t have to talk about it,” Reid spoke as the fog dissipated. “She’s a big girl, I think she can take care of herself.” He glanced at her for some affirmation. “See, she hasn’t burst into tears yet.”
Dom and Jesse shared an exasperated eye roll.
Jesse sighed. “It’s alright, Aunt Sandra. Someone was going to ask sooner or later. Just so you know, I haven’t exactly decided yet what I’m going to do.” She stood up. “Ready to go out, Dom?”
She jogged down to the end of the dock, wet feet slapping the wood. Dom was close behind, leaving no chance for her to reconsider, so she braced herself for the cold shock of the water and dove in. The heat of the sauna, which never really seemed to penetrate to her insides anyway, was ripped from her skin in an instant. They surfaced far from the dock, and swam out further, slowly warming their muscles.
“So,” Dom asked when they were some distance out, “did you really mean that? You don’t know what you’re going to do with it?”
“I’m thinking about it,” she said, swimming slower now.
“So? What are you thinking?” he asked impatiently.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just thinking.” Could she trust him, she wondered? She decided to put out a feeler. “What do you think I should do?”
He turned onto his back and floated for a while. “Pssh, I don’t know. Whatever you wanna do, I guess.”
She stopped and looked at him intently. “You really mean that?” she asked.
“Sure I do,” he said. “It’s your baby, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is.” Finally, someone who wasn’t eager to give her advice. That was a relief. Still, you never knew when a person would suddenly develop an opinion on something like this. It was better not to confide too much just yet, not until she had things certain in her own mind, anyway. She knew only too well how easily she could be swayed by others. She would start to doubt her own convictions, she would give in to her own fears, and she would allow others to make the decision for her. While she was thankful for the wise, God-fearing mentors who had helped to guide her in the past, this was one decision she needed to make for herself. It was between her and God, and no one else. So she needed to be very sure, extremely sure, before she opened her heart to anyone, and she wasn’t at that place yet.
They started swimming farther out again, and were soon almost in the middle of the lake. Nana’s shrill, commanding voice came from the camp, telling them not to go out so far.
“Sure, Nana,” Jesse called back, trying not to laugh. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d swum to the other side alone or with Dom, yet Nana still insisted it wasn’t safe. They obeyed her wishes, but took their time about it.
“Don’t let Uncle Reid bother you,” Dom counselled her as they swam in. “He’s just an old ogre, anyways.”
“Ah, don’t worry bout it. I think I can handle him,” she said. She slipped under the water and propelled herself ahead quickly, surfacing out of breath and quite a distance from her starting point.
Dom, however, hadn’t been left behind, and came up near her a moment later. “Trying to lose me, are you?” he said, grinning.
Soon they reached the end of the dock and their feet could just reach the pebbly bottom. They walked up the gently sloping ground and onto the beach, then hurried to the deck to grab their towels. The beach was nice enough, but it wasn’t a place for lounging in the sunlight when one was wet, even on warm July evenings such as this, with the sun still high and bright. Jesse dried herself off quickly and then wrapped up in a great warm housecoat, white with a pink floral print. Dom did the same, although his robe was red and lacked flowers. It belonged to the camp but he’d worn it since he was ten and it was so big that it had dragged on the ground behind him; she’d claimed hers when she was thirteen. They had a comforting familiarity about them, and besides that, they were terribly practical. There really was no point to getting dressed when they would likely be swimming again in an hour or so, and the robes provided sufficient warmth in the meantime. They lounged on the round picnic table, bums on the table-top, feet on the bench, facing the lake.
“So, how’s Bible Camp going so far?” Dom asked.
Jesse was thankful for the change of topic. “Pretty good, all things considering. They made me head counsellor this year, you know.”
Dom was surprised. “No, I didn’t know,” he answered. “How are you liking that?”
She was about to say all was fine, but her mind wandered back to last night. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “It’s proving to have its own special challenges,” particularly one girl by the name of Jasmine, she added to herself.
She still didn’t understand what she’d overheard. It didn’t make any sense: what could Jasmine possibly have against her? She hardly knew the girl; this was her first summer at Rocky Bay. She seemed so shy, so quiet, sweet even, the first few days. But that had changed. Jesse’d often felt her eyes on her, so dark and cold it almost made her skin crawl, and when Jasmine had been forced to talk to her, she was sarcastic and patronizing. Jesse wasn’t used to such an attitude, and didn’t know what to do about it.
But the girl had been making friends, having gotten over her shyness of the first couple of days. She could often be seen sitting outside on a picnic table with Hannah and Susannah, or joining the games. She smiled and laughed and had fun. Her dark mood seemed to be reserved only for Jesse - and not just to her face, either, she thought with an inner scowl. Last night had been quite an eye-opener.
She’d just gotten out of the shower and was drying herself off in the little adjoining booth when a group of girls came in the other side of the washroom. It was late for them to be out and they were obviously in high spirits.
“Ugh, you guys! Just look at me!” She recognized Susannah’s voice. The girl complained bitterly as the others laughed.
“It’s not our fault you fell asleep first,” another girl said, then giggled.
Susannah muttered disdainfully. “You guys are so immature. How am I supposed to get this stuff off?”
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” came Hannah’s voice. “It’s washable marker.”
“But this is my face!” Susannah protested. Jesse could just imagine the sight and silently offered her condolences, resisting the urge to go out and see it for herself.
“Oh come on Sus, it comes right off.” That was Jasmine talking. Water was turned on. “There now, you don’t need to go crying to Jesse.”
“I don’t know what you have against Jesse,” came another voice, lazily. “She seems alright to me.”
Jasmine laughed. “Now why would I have anything against Jesse? I like the girl, I really do. I actually feel sorry for her.” There was a brief pause before she continued. “Lots of girls get into trouble, but as soon as you get pregnant it’s different. Everybody knows. People label you, you know, they judge you.”
“Well, strangers maybe,” said Susannah. “But at least here we all know it’s not her fault. It’s not as if she were, like, promiscuous.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” Jasmine answered casually. “I’m sure Jesse’s innocent in all this. It’s just that some people probably wonder, you know? Sometimes girls put themselves in really bad situations. They don’t mean for anything to happen, but guys can so easily get the wrong impression. You don’t want to go looking for trouble. I had a cousin in New Brunswick. that used to go to a lot of parties in high school, you know, drinking and stuff. One night it just caught up with her: she ended up in a bedroom with some guy and before she knew it he had the door locked and there was no one to help her.” She didn’t sound like she had a very high opinion of this cousin. “My aunt had told her to be careful, but she didn’t listen.”
“Still, it’s not like that was totally her fault,” another girl said.
“Oh no, of course not,” Jasmine said, “she didn’t even like this guy, and she was devastated by the whole thing. But it’s not like she’s completely innocent, either, and she’s constantly using it to try to get attention now. Whenever my aunt and uncle catch her doing something bad she starts crying and they send her to a psychologist, where she blames all her problems on being raped. It gets old after a while.”
Susannah’s voice echoed now, for the moment forgetful of her colourful face. “I wonder what happened to Jesse, exactly. I doubt she was at a party. She doesn’t seem like that type.”
“Well, you never know. The quiet ones can surprise you.”
“Didn’t she say she was walking home? And she was attacked, just like that.”
“Out of the blue? Not likely. Victims almost always know their attackers.” And with that, the washroom was once again empty.
Jesse stood hugging a towel against her, still wet, her face burning. How could she? How could she? Thoughts raced through her head as she began to panic. Did Jasmine really mean what she thought she meant? Why would she say something like that? Did she really believe it, or was she just trying to start rumours about her? Did anyone else believe her? Were they already thinking the same thing?
“Oh, God, this isn’t happening,” she moaned, leaning on the cold, bare wall. It couldn’t be. Not here. Please, not here. She drew in air in deep, ragged breaths, trying, and failing, to calm down. It was her last sanctuary. There was nowhere else to go.

But to Dom she just said, “I thought it was hard getting all my campers to like me. Cabin leaders can be even more intimidating.”
“Whatever,” Dom said in disbelief. “Those people love you over there. I’ll bet they begged you to come back and work there this summer. They did, didn’t they?” he accused, and she couldn’t honestly argue with that.
“But that’s people who already know me, and mostly knew May,” she pointed out. “It’s the new people I’m having trouble with.”
“Is that all,” he said, dismissing her worries. “Everyone else loves you; they’ll love you too, once they get to know you.”
Unless they don’t, she thought, and turn everyone else against her instead.

Sandra must have really reamed into Uncle Reid after Dom and Jesse had left the steambath, because he didn’t bring up the offending subject again for the rest of the evening, and as no one else did either, the time passed rather pleasantly. They ate dessert, played another card game, with all six of them this time, and Dom and Jesse went swimming once again at dusk. It was pretty late by then, and only Aunt Sandra still hung around, reading a magazine and drinking a beer on the picnic table. Eventually she left too, but not without reminding them to lock the doors, turn off the sauna, and not go swimming after dark. Her instructions were especially amusing because she had chastised Nana for repeating the almost the same warnings when she had left an hour earlier. The cousins had been staying out at camp without adult supervision for years now, but still they worried.
Despite her brave face, however, Jesse felt a knot of fear in her stomach as she walked to the outhouse in the dark, even with one of Papa’s powerful flashlights clutched in a white-knuckled hand. She shivered as she envisioned a bear coming out of those bushes over there, large, furry, and hungry. As much as she claimed to be a ‘northern girl’, she’d never actually come face to face with one of the pesky animals, and the thought of it actually happening terrified her. She made it to the outhouse alright, but struggled for composure on her way back. She took a few steps, looked behind her for a second and gulped, listening, eyes darting through the shadows, following the beam of the flashlight. She was tense and ready to spring, and suddenly her imagination got the better of her, and she bolted. In five terrified strides she reached the door, threw it open and slammed it behind her, threw her body back on it and sat on the floor, gasping for breath. Heart racing, she reached over and up with her right hand to twist the doorknob, locking it.
Only then did she look up. Dom stood across from her, in front of the closet between the two bedrooms. He had a toothbrush in his mouth and an eyebrow arched.
She gave him a defiant look. “What?” she asked, daring him to say anything.
Dom walked casually over to the sink and finished brushing his teeth. She nodded in satisfaction. “That’s right!” You just mind your own business, she added silently. She sighed, and her head fell back against the door.
Normally, she and Dom would stay up late that first night, talking, playing cards, and snacking. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet, but tonight they quietly went about getting ready for bed. Jesse’s hair was wet and she crawled thankfully under the heavy covers of her bed and switched off the light above her head. It was pitch black for a few seconds, but as her eyes adjusted, the moonlight streaming through her window washed the room with an ethereal glow. She closed her eyes to block it out.
“Goodnight,” she said softly to Dom in the next room.
“Goodnight Jesse,” he answered sleepily. She could hear him tossing in bed. “Close your windows,” he called, “wouldn’t want any bears coming in.”
It irked her that he saw her fears so easily. “I’m not afraid of bears!” she protested.
He laughed. “Sure you’re not. Just like you’re not afraid of old lady Petrick!”
“Oh, like you’re not,” she shot back saucily. How easily he’d forgotten his own part in that little drama. Boys, really.

She woke early and did not try to remember what she had dreamed about. She was glad that the images were not seared in her memory, demanding attention. Still, it required effort to concentrate on the waking world, and not dredge up the workings of her sleeping mind.
She thought of her bathing suit out on the line. It would still be damp with dew. Recoiling at the thought of that clamminess against her skin, she opted against an early morning dip and instead picked up her Bible. It might clear her head better than the freezing water could, anyway, she reasoned, trying to convince herself she wasn’t wimping out. She was careful to close the door quietly behind her. Dom would probably sleep for a while yet.
She was surprised to see a figure already at the picnic table. He sat with his feet on the seat, just as they had done last night. Jesse walked towards him cautiously, not wanting to disturb him, but curious. He had a book balanced on his knees. Her mouth gaped open in disbelief as she realized what it was. Just as stealthily she retreated back to the cabin. She went in the door closest to her, which led into the sunroom. The metal screen door banged against the doorframe despite her caution, but Dom never looked up.
Settling in a couch, she lost Dom from view because the windows were up too high. For a while she just sat there, not knowing what to think - because unless she was wrong, Dom was reading a Bible.
For as long as she could remember, since her mom and dad knelt with her and May to hear their bedtime prayers, she had prayed for Mom’s family. First with her parents’ encouragement, and since then out of habit. Not once had she ever been given a smidgen of evidence that any of them were softening towards God, though, and although she still said the prayers, they were said without much enthusiasm. They’d been given every opportunity, as far as she could tell, to accept salvation, and instead they rejected it every time. It wasn’t a case of not knowing, of never having it explained to them. In fact, they seemed to understand the message quite well, at least well enough to ridicule it and those who believed in it. She didn’t doubt that God could open their eyes, that he could draw them to himself and show them his love. It was just that, for whatever reason, it didn’t look like he was going to, especially over the past couple of years. She still said the prayers, but hadn’t believed they would ever be answered; and now this. It certainly wasn’t her doing. Someone else must have been praying.