Chapter 6

The time had come: they had to know. It started at breakfast, what used to be her favourite meal of the day. She was always the one to rebuke her comrades for skipping it, admonishing them with biological facts that proved the value of a solid morning meal to one’s health. This morning she couldn’t eat it.
She didn’t even have a chance. She knew it the second she started mounting those stairs; was even more sure as the aroma of fresh pancakes assaulted her senses. When the kitchen girls passed by with trays of breakfast sausages she had to run and lock herself in the bathroom for a full five minutes. Her body was betraying her - and her stomach, of all things, which had always been so dependable. Phil wasn’t at her table to cover for her, and her lovely shade of green did not go unnoticed upon her return.
“Not feelin’ so great this morning?” asked Mark. Mark Saunders was a good kid, an assistant cabin leader and little brother of Josh Saunders, who had been a staple at Rocky Bay for years. Mark had thick brown hair and freckles, and looked and acted like the wholesome farm boy he was.
Jesse shrugged. “It’ll probably go away soon.” No point in trying to lie her way out of it.
“Hope so,” said Mark, taking a giganteus bite of pancake.
But Jasmine, who was also at their table, looked at Jesse suspiciously. Her steely black eyes didn’t miss a thing. Jesse couldn’t even pretend to eat.
Then there was the crying. In the middle of chapel, no less. “They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.” These were the ill-fated words voiced by the unfortunate guest speaker; nary a second after, the poor girl in the middle row began to sniffle. Presently tears escaped as well in spite of her, and before long she had to excuse herself from the bewildered gathering. A lone snicker followed her out, and she could have sworn it was Phil. “Wretched girl,” she muttered through her tears as she sat on the floor of the downstairs washroom with cold, wet paper towel over her eyes. The tiles were hard and frigid, and gave her a headache. She was too embarrassed to go back upstairs, so she stayed in the basement a long time, until she heard the others leave, singing.
She had to tell them. There was no use putting it off, if they didn’t already know then they soon would, or suspect something worse. Her hormones were giving her away. Besides, the secret lay heavily on her, and these were the people she trusted most. They would not judge her, of that she was certain, and those who knew better would not make it to be more than it was. So why did she hesitate?
There could be no senior staff - they would make her too nervous. They already knew about her anyway. She ran outside with a plan already forming in her head. There was an hour left before lunch.

They sat on the floor of the chapel basement, which also served as the staff lounge, arranged roughly in a circle. Phil had spread the word around, and they had all come. No one seemed to know what they were gathered for, and it was kind of exciting. An air of secrecy was about the meeting, and they spoke in whispers or not at all while they waited.
Finally Will Chambers spoke up. He was the giant of the bunch, and had a voice to match. “So Phil, what are we here for, exactly?” The whispering stopped.
“It better be good,” Zeb declared. “I was winning a game of ping pong.”
“Hey, this isn’t my meeting,” Phil defended herself. She looked at her friend, who nodded.
“Alright,” said Jesse, looking up at everybody but not standing. “It’s my meeting.” Might as well just say it, she thought. “I’ve called you all here because you might have noticed I’ve been acting a little strange lately.”
Several people agreed.
“You’re sick, aren’t you?” said Mark. “She throws up every day,” he explained to the others.
“You mean every morning,” corrected Amy. Jesse was surprised. The kitchen girl was more observant than she looked.
“Yes, I’ve been throwing up my breakfast every morning,” Jesse admitted. “But I’m not sick.” There was silence for a few moments. She knew they were all guessing the truth, but no one was willing to suggest it. “I’ve also been a little emotional lately.”
“We’ve noticed,” said Chris. “Crying in church is one thing... but chapel wasn’t even that good today.”
“So we’re all agreed Jesse’s emotionally unstable,” said Zeb. “I think I should also tell you that she’s been wandering out in the rain in the middle of the night.”
“And she refused to play PIT with me the other night in the dining hall,” put in Will.
More than one person was confused by the last two testimonies, and Mark spoke for them all when he said, “Um, anyways...”
“I’m pregnant,” said Jesse.
There was a strange silence. A silence formed out of disbelief. The birds that had been singing a minute before were no longer heard.
Phil took her hand, and she went on. “Four months ago, I was walking back to campus, and it was kind of late. I was alone, and I know it was stupid, but the town I was in is usually pretty safe. That night, it wasn’t. Some guys decided to make some trouble, and beat me up pretty bad, and left me for dead a few miles away.”
Though she’d only skimmed the surface of the events as they’d truly happened, the girls looked horrified. Many of the boys were obviously upset, angry even. Some looked embarrassed.
“The people who found me thought I was dead. Even I was pretty sure I was dead, but somehow I wasn’t. I was, however, pregnant.”
And Michael, sitting in a far corner, met her eyes.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said quickly, wrenching herself from his gaze, surveying the circle. “I just wanted you all to know. So I can throw up at breakfast and be emotionally unstable without getting the third degree.”
Uncomfortable silence followed. People started looking at each other, unsure of how to behave in this situation. Finally, seeing that no one else was going to do anything, Iris Peterson raised her hand.
Jesse coughed. “Yes, Iris?” she acknowledged her, feeling strangely like a schoolteacher.
Iris sat up straight and spoke with her usual precision. “First, I’d like to say that I’m very glad you’re alive.”
“Thank you, Iris.”
“I would also like to know if the men who did this to you are in jail. And I use the term ‘men’ loosely.”
“Yes,” Jesse replied, “they are in jail.”
Following the example of question and answer, Chris then raised her hand, and Jesse nodded to her.
“How long are they in jail for?”
That was an easy one. “Not long enough,” said Jesse.
The atmosphere didn’t lighten, exactly; in fact everyone became more serious, if that were possible, but at least they were talking about it. That was a relief to everybody.
“So are you keeping it?” asked Will.
This was a tougher question. “I haven’t made that decision yet,” she said diplomatically.
Mark asked what she would do if she kept the baby.
She shrugged. “I would probably stay at home, try to get a job. I’m just not sure yet.”
Iris raised her hand again. “Are you quitting school?” she asked. Jesse had just finished her first year of university. She was in the humanities program and hadn’t yet chosen a major.
“I can’t go back in the fall,” she admitted. “I don’t know yet if I’ll finish, but I can’t say I would be terribly broken up about it if I didn’t.”
“I wish I could drop out of school,” Missy, a young kitchen girl, remarked enviously.
“You’d rather go to school than have to give birth,” remarked Amy Laverly. “Do you have any idea how painful that would be?”
“My mom’s always said it’s the reason I’m an only child,” said Megan.
Chris rolled her eyes. “Must you discuss this in front of the expectant mother?” she chastised.
Zeb raised his hand. “I think this conversation is getting a little risque. I’m not really comfortable discussing birth pains.”
“Neither am I,” stated Jesse, relieved. “This meeting is officially over.”

Lunch was unusually quiet. Jesse sat at a table of all girls: Phil, Chris, Megan, Iris, and the shy new girl, Jasmine. But as they whispered Jesse could feel eyes on her all the time.
“I can’t believe you’re pregnant!” Chris said. “You don’t look it at all.”
“When’s it due?” asked Megan.
“December,” Jesse answered.
“Do you have a name yet?” said Chris.
“Not yet.”
“Does it feel weird?” asked Iris. Though well-spoken and confident for her age, she was after all only sixteen, delicate and pretty. The thought of having a baby scared her to death.
“Very weird,” Jesse admitted.
“I don’t know how you can do it,” said a small voice. It was the first time Jasmine had spoken to her. “I wouldn’t do it.” Her eyes met Jesse’s.
“What do you mean, you wouldn’t do it?” said Phil. “It’s not like she has a choice here.”
Jasmine turned to her. “Alright, say she has this baby. What good will come of it? All it will do is remind her of him, that thing that did this to her. For the rest of her life. Every time she looks at it, that’s who she’ll see. You think she deserves to go through that kind of pain?” Her anger was evident through her whispering. She addressed the whole table now. “And what about the kid? You think it will do any good for it to live without a dad, and with a mom who doesn’t love him? Who can’t love him? Who probably won’t even be able to support him? It’s not fair to either of them!”
“Look, if anyone can do it, Jesse can,” Chris said in her defence.
“I don’t mean to offend Jesse,” Jasmine retorted, “but it’s too much to ask of anyone.”
“So what do you want her to do? Put it up for adoption?” asked Iris timidly.
Jasmine looked directly at Jesse. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I mean.” Her eyes were pitying, yet defiant. There was more than Jesse had thought, behind those eyes. Yes, she knew what she meant.
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The walls were white. Her eyes wouldn’t open all the way, but the white shone through. Her eyes hurt; her whole body hurt. The pillows were soft but she could feel every lump, and every scratch and bruise and cut between the sterile sheets. It hurt to move, to breathe, to think. It hurt to live. She had thought she had died, or at least she had prayed for it. She wished she had; if she were in Heaven the pain would be gone. There would be no scars.
She turned her head. Through the slit of one eye she saw a woman to her left, old, sitting up in bed with the back of her paper nightie hanging open; grinning at her through yellow teeth. The world was ugly.
“Aahh, you’re awake,” the old woman cackled. She squinted at her. “I see ye there, tryin ti’ open yer eyes. Don’t bother. I’ll go tell yer Mummy yer up.” She started to get up, seemed to think about that for a minute, and then took it back. “No, wait now, I don’t rightly know where she’s gone. But she’ll be back, she’ll be back,” she assured her, leaning back and nodding her old head wisely.
She sighed. Mom. I want Mom, she thought. I want to go home.
She rolled back the covers and discovered she didn’t have on the same mint-green nightie as the old woman, but her own pyjamas. Her plaid flannel bottoms and soft white t-shirt. Somehow that made her feel better. Not wonderful, but better. She sat up and swung her legs down onto the floor. Then she tried to stand up.
It was a bad idea. The woman laughed as Jesse grabbed at the food tray to stop herself from falling. She was so dizzy. Her legs felt like jelly and pain shot through her insides. She cried out loud in shock. With the old woman’s laughter following her, she slid to the cold floor and landed with a smack. Gritting her teeth through the pain and humiliation, she slowly crawled across the floor to the bathroom.
She hauled herself up by gripping the edge of the sink and slammed the door. Then she flipped on the light switch and looked at her face in the mirror. She was ugly. The skin around her eyes was black and swollen, and the right side of her jaw was in much the same condition. Her lips were dry and scabbed over. Her neck was red and tender. But what brought it back was the white bandage on her forehead. She gasped. “I hit my head...” she said out loud. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.
She looked at her hands. Her fingers were red and scratched, her wrists were wrapped in gauze. They hurt more than anything. They burned. It was the rope, wasn’t it? The rope had done this! Before she knew what she was doing she had ripped off the tape and began unwinding the bandage. As she took off layer after layer her wrist hurt more and more; the lower ones were crusted with blood and puss. She choked on the sobs that racked her chest with violence. With a final rip, the last layer of gauze came off, and in the air the wound stung with new lustiness. She held the offending arm in front of her, eyes wide, crying out in anger.
That was how they found her, screaming like a mad woman while the witch cackled from her bed. Her mother cried and the nurse led her to bed and re-wrapped her wrist while her mother asked why. She didn’t know why. Her wrist hurt more than ever, she should have let it alone. It would have healed better. Now it was bleeding again, and Mom was crying. Mom held her other hand and stroked her hair and cried. Seeing those tears stopped Jesse’s own, at least. It’s ok, she wanted to say. She wanted to reassure her mother, to tell her she was alright. But she just lay there, immobile, looking at her mom, while the nurse muttered and cleaned up the blood. She would not cry again, not for almost four months.
Then the doctor came. He wore glasses and a white lab coat that made him look important. He talked to her like she was a little girl. Didn’t she know it was bad to take off her bandage? She must be a good girl and not scream and wake up all the other patients. Now could she sit up so he could make sure her heart was beating right? That’s a good girl. This might be a little cold on your back now. There we go, all done. Lay back down now. He never looked at her while he talked.
She stayed sitting up. He turned to her mother and asked her to go with the nurse while he asked her some questions. Her mother stayed. Her mother was not stupid.
He checked her eyes, and her tongue, and her temperature. He asked her where it hurt and she said everywhere. He told her what her injuries were, the major ones anyway. Then her mother had a phone call and had to leave the room.
That’s when he did it. He told her. She might be pregnant. Then he gave her a pill and said her parents didn’t need to know about it. The pill would make it all go away, and this whole ordeal would just fade like a bad dream.
Go away? she thought. This was not just going to go away. He had no idea. Then she looked at the pill in her hand for the first time, and realized what it was; what he was talking about. Her mind’s fog was cleared for a moment and she dropped the thing to the floor. It landed with a soft click. The doctor frowned and looked at her for the first time. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
************************************************************
Yes, she knew exactly what Jasmine meant.

Chapter 7

What do you do when you wake up to darkness?
Jesse picked up a rock and contemplated throwing it in the moonlit water; changed her mind and held it up to see it sparkle. It was so pretty. She should keep it.
Swiftly her arm whipped back and then hurled it out, into the mouth of a far wave, one of the millions and billions of waves that had rolled through that bay over thousands of years. She couldn’t keep every pretty rock she found; if she did she would run out of room to live. So the rock had to be thrown away, where she couldn’t be tempted to pick it up again. It was better that way. Better for her, better for the rock. She thought of it’s pink shininess, the sharp points she had allowed her fingers to feel for just an instant. It would be happier there, out in the world’s biggest lake. Much happier than gathering dust under her bed, forgotten and stale.
“Look at me, talking about a rock’s happiness,” she mused to herself. I must be going crazy. Crazy in the moonlight. She picked up another one and threw it out without looking at it. The wind rustled through the trees to her right and her left, keeping watch over the camp and its sleepers. “No sleep for me tonight,” whispered the girl. She looked up at the black sky filled with stars. So big, and she... so alone. She shivered. Her hand moved and another rock found a new home among the waves. “Rock of ages, cleft for me...” came a hollow tune from her lips. And she walked up and down the beach, with the song more in her head than sung, till calling seagulls and hazy greyness announced daybreak.

Keith’s snores woke Michael up. That, and the sun shining in his eyes. He pulled the blankets over his head. It helped with the sunlight, but not the snoring. So reluctantly Michael got up and tossed his pillow in Keith’s general direction. It hit him in the head and then fell to the ground, having little or no effect on it’s target. Michael’s mind was foggy and he was grumpy, not being much of a morning person. It was 6:30, no less. What did one do at 6:30 in the morning, if one couldn’t sleep?
The air outside was chilly and the grass was wet, which he noticed particularly because he didn’t have any shoes on. Disregarding that fact, he trekked, yawning, to the shower, figuring it had probably been a while since the last one. He really couldn’t remember at this ungodly hour.

Jesse had walked to the Conference Centre, otherwise known as ‘the other side’ of camp. It lay on the same bay as the children’s camp, but was separated from it by a small private property, requiring a ten-minute walk back up the dirt road to reach it. Although technically she was still on camp property, she wasn’t sure her trip would have been sanctioned by the proper authorities... but at five in the morning she wasn’t likely to be missed.
Upon arriving at her destination, she climbed the stairs of Eagle’s Nest, the large chalet overlooking the lake. She curled up on a wooden swing on the second-story balcony, and watched as the early fog slowly dissipated, leaving behind it the sound of birds chirping happily. How sweet they sounded! Each one so different, each call having its own special meaning. And they were so noisy about it! None shy or quiet, as if they knew just how beautiful their songs were.
To the sound of their music she opened her Bible and sought comfort, in the one place she knew to find it.
“...He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’...That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
II Corinthians 12:9,10
“When I am weak, then I am strong,” she repeated. Slowly she breathed in, then out, her eyes closed. I feel weak, she conceded, but my father isn’t, and he will make me strong. A comforting thought. She opened her eyes. The world was waking. She had walked here in a black-and-white movie world, but now the leaves were green, the wood was honey-coloured, and the sky was red. Across the lake the clouds were pink and fluffy. It was a perfect painting. The water in front, trees framing it like a stage curtain and surrounding her on both sides, only a little higher than herself due to her perch, and to her back, a strong wall. It was so beautiful, so calming. She almost wished she didn’t have to leave it, but soon the camp would be waking and the day would be full.
She had the whole day ahead of her! On how much sleep? She didn’t know what time the nightmares had woken her, but is seemed she had been awake for hours. It was silly to stay up, very silly. She could have gone back to sleep if she had tried, but at the time that had seemed an unappealing option, and now the sun was coming up and she’d missed her chance. It was stupid, that she knew; yet she wouldn’t have traded this morning for anything.
In an unexpected twist of fate, Phil came up just as she was beginning to doze off. “Well well well, look what we have here,” she mused as she rounded the corner of the chalet and walked towards Jesse, stunning her with her appearance. “Shove over, will ya?” she ordered and sat down next to her on the bench swing. She was wrapped in her sleeping bag and looked remarkably like a caterpillar. She rested her head on Jesse’s shoulder and shared the sack’s warmth. “What got you out of bed so early?” she smiled. “Baby kickin?”
Phil inserted herself into the scene with such ease that for a moment Jesse forgot to be amazed, and answered her query. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. But no - I can’t even feel it yet.”
“Really?” Phil asked sleepily.
“No. I suppose I can tell it’s there, but it doesn’t do anything. What are you doing up?” she managed to ask finally.
“I wanted to see the sunrise.”
“Liar,” Jesse declared doubtfully.
“I did too!” Phil protested.
“You’ve never gotten up before the sun a day in your life. Till now,” she amended.
Phil shrugged. “Maybe not. But something got me up this morning. I just felt like seeing it, for once, seeing as I was already awake.”
Jesse sighed. “It is pretty, isn’t it?” The sky was becoming brighter, and streams of yellow peeked around the earth’s sphere to tease them. They were quiet for a while, watching, till the sun was half up and Phil’s crooning voice cut in dramatically,

Sunriiiise, sunset; sunriiiiise, sunset.
Swiftleeee, flow the yeeeeears
One season following another
Laden with happiness, and tears.

A part of Jesse wanted to laugh, but she loved the song, so she joined in quite seriously on the next verse. They sang the sun up, rocking back and forth slowly, knowing no one could hear them and not caring if anyone did.
It was silent for a few seconds after their song was over. Then applause came from below.
“That was lovely, girls, just lovely!”
They gave each other one horrified look, and then ran to the railing as Zeb Lewis, Will Chambers and Peter Laverly walked out from under the balcony, clapping appreciatively and laughing up at them.
Jesse was horror-struck. Phil began screaming threats and oaths down at the amused boys. Jesse had to stop her from throwing her Bible at them.
“Is the whole camp up this morning?” she muttered to herself and Phil. To the boys she called out, “how long have you guys been down there?”
The boys howled in answer. Phil got so mad she turned and ran down the stairs. Jesse followed, picking up the sleeping bag that lay forgotten on the deck.
Words were exchanged and, with some persuasion, promises of secrecy eventually obtained. Jesse wasn’t too worried about it, but Phil had a reputation to uphold. She would not have reports of her morning madness being spread around camp.
When Phil was finally satisfied with the boys’ contriteness, the fivesome decided to walk further down the shore together, since their paths had already crossed so improbably. There was no real beach here: the land was mostly a park-like maze of forest and trails, with a long, flat grassy strip about 100 feet wide, right before a 20 foot drop-off to the water. It was on this strip of grass they travelled.
“Hey, you guys ever think about birds?” Zeb asked as they walked.
Will looked at him sideways. Zeb was tall, but Will was the giant: 6"4, pretty well built and a mop of shaggy blond hair, and although he was eighteen, he claimed he still had some growing years left in him. Jesse always thought of him as a friendly giant. “What about ‘em?” he asked.
Zeb looked up for emphasis. “Do you figure they think? I mean, are they smart?”
“Smart like, people smart, or smart as far as animals go?” said Will.
“Smart like, is that critter up there looking down at us and saying to himself, look at those losers down there, walkin’ along. Not goin’ anywhere. Little do they know, I could swoop down at any moment and peck all their eyes out!”
“You’re weird,” Phil said.
“I don’t think that’s ever been in question” answered Zeb.
“Then again, he wasn’t the one singing Fiddler on the Roof this morning!” said Will, laughing and pointing at her.
Phil scowled threateningly, “Why I oughta...”
“Simmer, simmer,” said Peter, gesturing with his hands. “God doesn’t want us to get nasty.” He stood between Phil and her target in a peacemaking effort. “Remember, ‘God is love’.”
Jesse couldn’t help chuckling at their antics, but didn’t get involved.
“Hey, is there a fight goin’ on?” asked Zeb, just clueing in, having been absorbed with his birdwatching and mild paranoia. “Cause I wouldn’t mind seeing a good fight. Provided, of course, I’m not the one being fought.”
“Will, say you’re sorry,” Peter ordered.
“Would it make you feel better?” Will asked Phil.
“Yes, it would,” she said.
“Then I’m sorry.”
“And you mean it this time? No more bringing it up?”
“Sure.”
“Good.”
That ended the conversation, and they continued walking until they reached a set of steps leading down to the water. All five of them sat down on the top two steps.
“So,” said Zeb, “You guys believe in aliens?”
Zeb was weird like that. Jesse never knew what went on in his head, but if the bits that leaked out were any indication, it was doubtful the world could handle much of it.
Will took the bait. “Not till I met you.”
Zeb latched on, unoffended. “So before you knew about me, you’re saying you didn’t believe in aliens?”
Will couldn’t quite figure out if he was being tricked or not. “I guess not,” he said uncertainly.
“I believe in aliens,” said Phil, putting her chin on her knees. “Why would God put all those planets out there if he wasn’t gonna use ‘em?”
“I would think he’d have told us if he’d done that,” reflected Peter.
“Why?” asked Zeb. “Does he have to tell us about every single thing he’s ever done?”
“No,” said Peter, “it just wouldn’t make sense. If there were more people out there, why would he tell us to be ‘searching the skies’ and ‘looking heavenward’ all the time? Then we could be focussing on other created beings, rather than him.”
“That can’t be right,” put in Jesse, unable to keep to herself any longer. “What about angels and stuff? They’re up there too.” And then, just to make it clear, she added - “Not that I believe in aliens. Because I don’t.”
“Oh really?” said Zeb. “You sound like you’re on the fence. Come over to the dark side, Jesse! You know you wanna. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We know you’re an alien-lover at heart!”
“You’re scary,” said Jesse.
“I still think he would have told us,” Peter confirmed. “It’s kind of an important thing.”
“Maybe he thought it would worry us unnecessarily,” suggested Phil.
“Well, it’s obviously got you worried, so not telling us didn’t work, if that’s the case,” said Peter, smiling.
“I can’t believe you guys are having a serious conversation about this,” said Will. “If it weren’t for the media, no one would take aliens seriously. They play on our fears, and they make millions doing it.”
Phil took this personally. “The media didn’t just make this all up. Maybe they’ve exaggerated it a bit, but the idea started with ordinary people just looking up at the stars, wondering.”
“Of course it did,” said Will, “but people look up to the stars and know they’re not alone because God’s there. They don’t want to believe in God, so they create aliens - creatures somewhere out there, interesting and everything, but conveniently having no control over our lives down here.”
“Oh, so now I don’t believe in God, is that it?” Phil was getting mad again.
“Hey Pete, feel like going down and talking to someseagulls?” asked Zeb.
“I’m there!” agreed Peter, eager to avoid getting caught up in the new argument.
The two took off down the 20 steps or so to the first landing and began giving the birds names and interesting personalities, leaving Jesse to cope with the quarrelsome children.
“Guys, guys!” she cut in. “Is this really that important? Is it worth the pain and suffering?” she implored. “Have you no better way to spend your time?”
They looked at her for a second, blinked a couple times, and went back to their argument. Jesse rolled her eyes. “Hey, Peter! I’m joining you two!” Will and Phil’s discussion was getting more and more heated, with gestures and raised voices. While Jesse usually loved a good debate, this one just seemed silly to her.
The accident didn’t happen in slow motion. All she did was stand up and try to walk; the next thing she knew, she was tumbling down the stairs headfirst, with no way of stopping herself.
Peter caught her at the bottom. He’d just turned around at what sounded like a pile of cardboard boxes rolling down the steps, to see not boxes, but Jesse, bumping and bouncing her way toward him. There wasn’t time to do much, and he reached her just as she hit the last step.
She groaned. One arm was covering her face, and the other was wrapped around her stomach. “Oh God, please...” she whispered. Phil and Will were there in an instant, Phil trying to comfort her but nearly hysterical herself. Will tried to carry her but she wouldn’t let him. She was alright, she insisted. It wasn’t like she’d never fallen down a flight of stairs before (the others looked at each other curiously when she brought up that argument, but considerately said nothing).
So she leaned on Zeb a little bit while climbing back up the stairs, with both Will and Peter behind her ready to catch her should she fall, and Phil holding her hand and trying not to cry again. They walked slowly back to camp, Phil and Will looking very sheepish. Peter and Zeb tried to keep her mind occupied by talking about birds, and admittedly they did have her laughing a few times.
When they reached the edge of the Conference Centre property, they had to turn away from the beach to go around the small private property.
“Why don’t we just cut across?” Peter suggested. “Just this once won’t hurt anybody.”
Phil looked wary, however. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, looking at the triangular beach house. “I think that guy has dogs. He doesn’t like company.”
Peter laughed. “You’re not serious! Don’t we just tell that to the campers to keep them from trespassing?”
“No,” said Jesse, agreeing with Phil. “It’s true. You can see them lying on the front porch sometimes if you canoe past.”
“What kind?” asked Peter.
“A big kind,” said Jess.
“Maybe we should just go around,” suggested Will.
It wasn’t that much farther, really. Jesse was feeling fine anyway. She was only a little worried about what was going on inside her.
Michael came out of the chapel feeling a little more awake. That was one nice thing about this job: getting to use the ‘good’ showers in the chapel basement. The kind that had pressure and sometimes hot water. No, he definitely didn’t miss the boys’ washroom. Life was beginning to look good, when he heard a commotion coming down the road. Lo and behold, around the bend came Zeb, Will, Peter, Phil and Jesse, all chatting up and down like they’d been on a holiday. Zeb saw him and waved. Michael waved back and waited for them to reach him.
“So what gets you all up this early?” he asked.
“An epidemic of sleeplessness,” answered Phil.
“Man,” Will teased, “You missed the party! The Conference Centre is where it’s at.”
“By the way,” said Zeb, “can we borrow your car?”
“Sure,” said Michael. “What for?”
“Well we’ve gotta drive Jesse to the hospital. She fell down a flight of stairs.”
For a moment he was dumbfounded. He couldn’t have just heard what he just heard. “Come again?” he said, half hopefully.
“I fell down a flight of stairs,” said an exasperated Jesse. Michael didn’t seem to take that well so she tried to lighten the atmosphere. “On the other hand, I wasn’t running with any sharp objects.” She tried to smile.
It was then Michael noticed her scratched hands and a small bump forming by her left eye. He was at her side quickly and made her look at him.
“Hey, are you alright?”
She nodded, trying to look confident. “It wasn’t a very big flight of stairs.”
“It was enough that she should see a doctor, though,” said Peter.
Everyone else seemed to agree. Michael ran to get his keys and Phil helped Jesse into the passenger seat as the other boys piled into the back.
“Hey!” Phil protested, noticing the lack of room. “I’ve gotta come too!”
Zeb shrugged. “Life just isn’t fair, is it? Sorry, but I intend to get out of here.”
“I hear they have cable in the hospital lounge,” put in Will.
Phil stamped her foot. “You guys are pigs!”
“Yes,” said Will. “And we’re also going to town.” He was grinning from ear to ear, not even attempting to seem remorseful.
Peter at least tried to look apologetic as he slammed the door. It wasn’t quite convincing, though.
Michael shouted instructions to Phil as he came back with the keys. “We’ll be at the Hanger hospital. We’ll phone if we’re going to be later than noon.” Then they were gone, leaving Phil alone and cranky in a cloud of red dust.
“So,” said Michael as he navigated the winding dirt road. “Why were you guys all out this morning, seriously?”
“We were watching the sunrise,” said Peter.
“We just all happened to have the same idea this morning, and sort of found each other,” said Jesse.
It sounded fishy to Michael. Jesse, yeah, she was an early-bird, but the others? He’d probably never know the real story. Maybe that was just as well.
The next time he glanced at Jesse, she was asleep with her head against the window. He was about to ask the boys in the back if she had hit her head at all during her fall, but a check in the rear view mirror told him they too were out of it. Whatever. As long as they didn’t snore.
In half an hour they reached the small town of Hanger. Jesse woke up and watched as they passed gas stations along the highway before turning onto Main Street. The hospital was right there at the corner. She had to convince the boys that she could walk alone, and eventually they entered the emergency door.
It was the prettiest hospital in the world, or so Jesse firmly believed. It wasn’t white, but painted all sorts of colours, and there were always flowers. It also helped that most of the nurses recognized her as ‘one of the DeFazio girls’ - it made her feel at home even though she didn’t really know any of them. DeFazio was her mother’s maiden name. She’d worked here as a nurse for a few years, and her Aunt Sandra was now a doctor.
The nurse at the reception desk looked warily at Jesse and her troupe of followers as they approached. Jesse tried to smile. “Is Dr. Salo in today?”
“Do you have an appointment?” the nurse asked, polite but curt.
With some effort, she remained smiling. “No, but if she is here could you tell her that her niece would like to see her?”
“Oh?” The nurse’s countenance immediately changed, to Jesse’s relief. “Now whose girl are you? Theresa’s or Lorelei’s?” She had put her pen down and actually looked interested.
“Theresa’s.”
“She had three, didn’t she? Which one are you? It’s so hard to get everyone straight, and as soon as I get them figured out all the kids go and grow up, so I can’t recognize them anymore, and more than likely have more kids of their own, and then I’m really out of it!”
“She had four, and I’m Jesse, the second.”
“Oh, yes, I remember. Terrible thing about the eldest, now how long ago was that...? She used to come around here, you know, visiting your Nan. Must have been two years ago now, I guess...”
This could have gone on for hours if Michael hadn’t interrupted. In a forceful, but not a rude manner, he put his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Is Dr. Salo in, please?”
“Oh, Dr. Salo,” the nurse said, returning to the present somewhat flustered. “Yes, I believe she’s with Mrs. Dampier just now. You just take a seat and she’ll be with you in a minute,” she said to Jesse.
But just then she spotted her. “Aunt Sandra!” Jess exclaimed.
“Jesse!” cried her aunt, and they ran to each other. “Good to see you,” she said as she gave her a big hug. Finally she stepped back and surveyed her niece, shaking her head. “Nope, still not showing,” she muttered fretfully. Then she noticed her bumps and scratches. “Oh, hon, what’d you do to your head?” she asked and stepped forward to look at it more closely.
Jesse smiled sheepishly. “I had a bit of an accident... it’s not that bad.”
Aunt Sandra sighed. “Well, let’s go take a look at you,” and led her down the hall.
“Well,” said Will, as Jesse and her aunt went off chatting, “our job’s done. Let’s see what’s on the tube.”
“It’s been too long,” agreed Zeb.
Three of the boys found chairs in the lobby, seeing as Jesse was in good hands. But Michael leaned against a lilac wall and watched the hallway until she returned.
Half an hour went by slowly. Michael didn’t even try to watch the TV. Even Will, Zeb and Peter didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as they thought they would. They flipped channels and fidgeted in their vinyl armchairs. They commented on the hospital smell and the poor quality of today’s cartoons. Michael paced.
Finally Will voiced what they’d all been thinking. “So what do you guys think’s taking so long?”
“She’ll be alright, doncha think?” said Zeb.
“I don’t know,” Will said skeptically. “She took quite a tumble. You guys ever see ‘Gone With the Wind’? Falling down stairs is bad news.”
“Well she didn’t fall that far,” Zeb protested. “That Scarlett girl fell like, two stories down. And she rolled a lot more. Jesse only went down like 20 steps.”
“She’ll be fine,” cut in Peter calmly, trying to be logical. “If every pregnant woman that tripped had a miscarriage, there wouldn’t be many babies.”
“Remember, not all pregnant ladies are Jesse,” said Will. “Normal people don’t fall that much. Not that that’s her fault,” he added hastily. “She just hasn’t quite mastered the art of walking.”
“Guys,” Peter whispered loudly, nodding in the direction of the nurse who was still at the front desk, behind the backs of the other boys. She was typing at a computer, but when they looked they saw her give them a curious glance. “Let’s keep it down, eh?”
They shut up accordingly. Somehow none of them liked the idea of that nurse piecing together her own version of this morning’s events, or the other details of Jesse’s story. So they fell into uncomfortable silence. On the TV the crocodile hunter picked up a giant python.
“Crikey,” said Will in awe.
After about two minutes Zeb started pointing and mouthed something the others didn’t understand. Will and Peter shook their heads in confusion, and Zeb rolled his eyes at their lack of imagination. “I’m going to find out what’s happening,” he hissed conspiratorially so they would understand.
Will and Peter were just starting to discourage the idea when Mike heard her sneakered footsteps squeaking down the hall. He looked up a second before the others and caught Jesse’s reassuring smile. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she looked a little sheepish. He closed his eyes for a second and gave a quick prayer of thanks, then leaned back against his wall with a much more relaxed look about him.
The other boys jumped up in unison as they saw her approaching. She laughed quietly at their worried faces. “I’m fine,” she assured them all, and added, “We both are.”

Jasmine lay with her hands folded behind her head, staring at the bunk above her. The cabin was filled with girls chattering mindlessly. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to push the sound of their high-pitched voices from her mind. It was sickening. All this emotion and anxiety over Jesse: brave, poor, sweet Jesse. They’d been at it since breakfast . Oh no, clumsy Jesse tripped and fell down a flight of stairs! Oh my goodness, what if the baby were hurt! Really - as if anyone cared about the pea-sized ball of tissue.
Her reverie was rudely interrupted. Someone was invading her space. It was Hannah, the one with the short blond hair and t-shirts one size too small. She sat at the foot of Jasmine’s sleeping bag. Jasmine glared at her through narrowed eyes. If the girl so much as mentioned the name Jesse...
“Hi,” Hannah started tentatively, but not shyly. Jasmine didn’t answer, but blinked to let her know she was listening.
“I’m Hannah,” the girl said.
Jasmine nodded.
“You’re Jasmine,” Hannah pointed out, patiently trying to get the conversation going.
This was getting tedious. Better to answer the girl and get it over with. “Yes, I’m Jasmine. Do you want something?” she asked in bored annoyance.
Hannah smiled. “It’s boring in here. Want to go play bump with Sus and me?”
Jasmine was just about to make up an excuse, but found herself hesitating. It was the first enticing offer she’d had all week.

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.

Chapter 9

Aunt Sandra had driven Jesse back out to Rocky Bay that afternoon for the first real week of camp, and now she stood waiting in tense anticipation. Teens aged thirteen to fifteen would soon be arriving en masse. It was scary. Jesse physically recoiled just remembering her own teens cabin last year. There were always some cabins better than others; hers had been one of the others. It had not been an enjoyable experience, nor had it been one of her shining moments. It was the only week she’d ever had campers who honestly, truly hated her.
“Stop it!” she told herself severely, trying to shake the thought out of her head. The last thing she wanted to do right now was remember last year. She didn’t know why she did that, drudging up things she would rather forget. Some memories were better left repressed.
Hopefully no one would hate her this week. She could have good hope of that, at least. Since her responsibility was for the staff now, she wouldn’t be involved with the campers closely enough for them to hate her. She might have to discipline some, but as an outside authority figure only. She felt only a shred of guilt that this thought was such a welcome one.
She expected no difficulties with the staff themselves. Of course, there was Jasmine to consider, but she couldn’t believe the girl actually hated her. Her eavesdropping last week had shaken her a little, but as she reconsidered the conversation she’d overheard, she convinced herself that it was no more than idle gossip. Probably a simple misunderstanding. She just hoped it would work itself out, without her having to do any more explaining. The only thing she wanted to explain right now was where to find the nurse’s line.
And that’s what she did, repeatedly, over the next two hours. She went from cabin to cabin, making sure everyone was where they were supposed to be and guiding those who were lost. The first camper arrived an hour early, with a slow trickle arriving soon thereafter, and by four o’clock there was a steady stream of them. They came in droves, like huge luggage-toting wasps swarming the campgrounds, buzzing with excitement and ready to turn and sting you without warning. She recognized a lot of them, she realized. Teens Week drew a fairly loyal crowd of long-time campers, and the faces were familiar.
“Jesse!” she heard her name cried out.
She turned to see an auburn-haired, freckle-faced burst of sunshine flying at her. But no, the freckles were only in her imagination, she realized as she squealed with glee and opened her arms. “ Debbie!” she exclaimed. But this couldn’t be her Debbie; not this gangly thing with braces whose head reached up to Jesse’s nose when she hugged her.
Finally she held the girl at arm’s length. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re not thirteen already?” she said in disbelief.
The girl laughed. “Oh come on, you didn’t forget how old your favourite camper was, did you?”
“Of course not,” she answered with mock seriousness, “my favourite camper is ten years old and a good six inches shorter than you. I’m afraid you couldn’t be her.” She called all her campers her “favourite camper”; but with Debbie she meant it, and Debbie knew it. She’d been her counsellor three years in a row already, and Debbie had attached herself to her from the first day. Jesse didn’t know what she’d done to earn such fierce loyalty, in fact she was certain she didn’t deserve it, but there it was. She loved all her campers, still this one held a special place in her heart. “Did you get my last letter?”
“Uh-huh,” Debbie nodded. “The day before yesterday. You’re really not a cabin leader any more?” she moaned dejectedly.
Then there were five more girls waving and calling to her. They came up all talking at once, full of stories from last summer, and talk of who else was here and who wasn’t, the cabins they were in, their cabin leaders this week, etc. Some lamented that they couldn’t be in a cabin with Jesse anymore, but most were too excited about their new counsellors to be very devastated. As it should be, Jesse thought to herself and smiled. In fact, she was having a hard time even putting names to some of the faces in front of her. Still, they brought back memories of a happy week, of talks and jokes and laughter she had almost forgotten about. For a few minutes she was sorry she had to be the head cabin leader. She would have enjoyed getting to know these girls again.
And then they were gone. Off to find more friends, to reacquaint themselves with the Ed’s Alley tables, to hang out on the basketball court. Even Debbie was drawn away, and Jesse was left to resume her role as head cabin leader. She headed to the last cabin she had to check on: Kaimi and Jasmine in Moose Canoe. Kaimi Wan was an old-timer, and as she was only working for two weeks this summer, she hadn’t come to Staff Orientation. Since Jasmine hadn’t seemed to make friends with any of the older girls, Jesse had assigned her to Kaimi and now just had to hope for the best. Kaimi could handle just about anything, and she’d be a good influence. Jesse was fairly certain it would work out.
As she neared Moose Canoe’s front steps, hands in her pockets, imagining how Jasmine and Kaimi would get along, the door of the cabin swung open. Two girls walked out onto the porch, smiling and talking loudly, dressed in baggy pants and tank tops which were not too well hidden by zip-up sweaters that were not zipped up. Recognition stopped her cold. Her pleasant day was ruined, she knew, as her stomach knotted in agonizing tension. Both were tall: the taller of the two was thin, her blond-streaked hair cut to her chin. The other was curvy, with dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. Their arms were linked and their sandals hurried in sync down the three stairs gracing the front of the cabin, before the shorter one, who was almost as tall as Jesse, saw her. She stopped mid-sentence and mid-stride, roughly halting the girl attached to her. Her confident, happy expression was immediately replaced with disbelief: her eyebrows went up, her mouth opened, and her glare seemed to say “what are you doing here?”. Her companion’s reaction was equally cool.
Despite their silent messages, the dark-haired one quickly gained control of her gaping mouth. “Oh hi, Jesse,” she said.
The taller girl echoed the greeting even more enthusiastically, although her eyes remained dull.
Mustering strength, Jesse met their tones. “Hello girls. Nice to see you again!” It came out before she had a chance to think about it, and as soon as she said it she realized her lie, but there was no time for remorse as she searched her mind for something to else to say. Carrie, she remembered; the tall one’s name was Carrie. She looked directly at her and with effort, plastered on a polite smile. “You look different, Carrie. Did you dye your hair?” she asked. “It looks so nice,” she said so sincerely that she almost believed herself. There was one more lie, she had to watch that.
Carrie cocked her head to the side slightly. “Um, yeah. I streaked it,” she answered hesitantly, suddenly unsure of herself. She looked at her companion apologetically. Carrie was the least malicious of the two, at least openly, and usually took her lead from her friend. Jesse speaking directly to her first was not something she was prepared for, and she hoped she hadn’t been too friendly.
But the shorter one didn’t so much as glance at her. Her scorn was reserved for Jesse, who obliged her with attention. She wasn’t sure of this one, so she took a chance. “Back for another year, Jodi?”
“It’s Marcy,” she replied, her tone drenched with contempt and insult.
“Oh, is it?” Jesse asked, lightly and only mildly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’m so horrible with names.” She took a hesitant step forward, and slung her hands in her back pockets in an attempt to appear casual. “Is this your cabin?” she asked.
The girls nodded. “What cabin are you in this year?” Carrie asked innocently.
Jesse was finding it easier to keep smiling. “I’m head cabin leader this year. If you want to visit me you’ll have to come down to Ingleside.” She knew very well that was the last thing they wanted to do. They hated her.
She chuckled to herself as the two girls went on their way, certain, she knew, that she would somehow get her revenge on them for the way they had acted last year, and well they should. They had been two of the worst campers she’d ever had. They’d pushed her on everything: they balked at every rule, every restriction, every schedule; not just them, but about half of her cabin that ill-fated Teens Week. As the week progressed they got it into their heads that Jesse was solely responsible for every one of the undesirable aspects of camp, and took their anger out on her. Girls could be very cruel, and she’d felt it keenly. They’d ignored her so completely that not only could she not get through to them the message of God’s love, but she was reduced to continually handing out threats and punishments just to get them through the day. She had loved them as best she could, but she couldn’t bring herself to like them, and she had hated herself that week. They had been perfect little beasts, and she’d dreaded meeting up with them again, but more so because they represented her own failure as a cabin leader.
Now that she had seen them, they didn’t seem so horrible. As a cabin leader, she had always wanted her campers to love her, not just obey her. She felt if she were truly showing them Jesus’ love as she should, then they would respond with the same. If they didn’t love her, it meant Jesus’ love was not evident in her actions, and if they could not see Jesus in her then how could they ever love him? It was a hard way to go about it; Sunday afternoons were nerve-wracking experiences because she wanted to make a good first impression. It made her work harder, and she second-guessed herself on every word, every decision. It spent her physically, made her spiritually weary at times, and took a toll on her emotions in tears shed and unshed. She thought it was worth it for the joy of seeing the love in many of her campers grow, first for her and then for her Saviour. But when the love she poured out wasn’t returned, the pain of it was worse than it would have been otherwise. Some weeks her failure in the case of a single camper could reduce her to melancholy, though she tried not to show it outwardly. It was not only the grief of watching a soul turn from Christ, but also of personal rejection. By opening herself to them she made herself vulnerable, and their sting could be sharp should they turn on her.
But now, perhaps, she had been stung once too often; because she found that the scorn of her former campers was not only bearable, but emptied, somehow, of significance. They obviously didn’t hate her any less, but she no longer had the energy either to blame herself or to care to try and fix it. They seemed silly and laughable, these city girls puffed up with their own importance. Why were they back, anyway? Didn’t they know they were unwelcome? They certainly hadn’t enjoyed themselves last time.
However, as she stood on the porch and knocked on the door of Moose Canoe, she was reminded that she was not the one who had to deal with these girls this week, unless of course some serious disciplinary measures became necessary. For now, they were Kaimi and Jasmine’s problem, and her heart went out to them. Even Jasmine didn’t deserve this.

Michael sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; he tried to, at least. They got stuck in the mess of straw-coloured locks before they got far past his forehead. He gave up trying to disentangle them, put both hands on the top of his head and leaned back in his chair, letting a deep breath out in a long, silent whistle. The computer was not his friend today. With all the time they’d had to get ready for the first week of camp, the first day was still turning out to be a logistical nightmare.
Taking a minute’s break, he tore his eyes from the computer screen and looked over to his left. Jesse was standing beside Marilyn’s desk, helping her go through the camper check-in forms so they would be done before supper. She said something that made Marilyn laugh. He smiled, not at the joke, half of which he had missed, but at the way the sun streamed in from the window and lit up her hair with copper sparks. Jesse was always pretty, but at the moment she looked beautiful, and it made him glad to see her laugh. He allowed himself to watch her for a minute more because she didn’t seem to be noticing him.
Presently she picked up a paper from the desk and held it up to read, turning as she did so, giving him a view of her from the side. He wondered, but no, it couldn’t be happening... then, as if on cue, she took her other hand and rested it on her hip, arching her back just slightly. It was like magic. For one perfect Kodak Moment, he could actually see it. No amount of talking about it, hearing about it or thinking about it could drive the point home as much as that glimpse of roundness, that little swelling of her belly that his male eyes hadn’t been able to see before now. He almost whooped, but at the same time part of him died. Quickly he turned around to face the window. Something was definitely caught in his throat.
The dinner bell rang, and the spell was broken. Marilyn and Jesse took renewed interest in their paperwork, wanting to finish it quickly. Michael closed his computer program, knowing that his work, though far from done, could wait. The sound of staff and campers pouring into the dining hall drifted through to the office.
He’d known, of course, that she was pregnant. But she didn’t look pregnant; and he had checked. He only glanced casually once in a while, but if there had been anything to see, he thought he’d have seen it. Her clothes were always too loose, her behaviour always too normal. On the surface, she seemed to be the same girl she had been last year, and that made it far too easy to pretend nothing was different. Now he wouldn’t be able to shake that image of her out of his head. It had implanted itself firmly, and would superimpose itself over every view he had of her from now on; until she started getting even bigger, that was. Which would inevitably happen. She would be six months pregnant by the end of August, he realized. Women were supposed to be pretty large by then, weren’t they? With sore backs and swollen feet? A look of deep concentration came over his face as he sat there, trying to figure this all out.
Jesse broke in on his reverie. “You coming for supper?” she asked.
When they entered the dining hall it was nearly full.
“We gonna have to eat on the floor?” he joked beside her as he searched for room. Just as he saw a couple of spots, a young girl’s voice yelled out.
“Jesse!”
Jesse spotted Debbie’s arm waving at her and smiled, then looked up at Michael. “Looks like I’ve got a seat. I don’t know about you!”
“Oh I’ll find something,” he assured her, as she walked away from him. More disappointed than he liked to admit, he took a seat alone, and found himself across from a black-haired girl with glasses. He recognized her, so she must have been at Staff-O, but he couldn’t remember her name, which was odd because he usually remembered names.
“Hi,” he said, reaching across the table. “I’m Michael. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Jesse’s table seemed to be more interested in talking than eating. Debbie could have carried the conversation herself, and would have if the other girls weren’t just as eager to put their own voices in. Many of them were former campers of Jesse’s, so the talk centred mostly on last summer, although Jesse tried to include the others if she could.
“Why did you have to go and be head cabin leader this year?” Debbie grumbled for the umpteenth time.
Jesse just laughed at her. “Oh, knock it off already! You’re still having fun, aren’t you? Your counsellors don’t beat you, do they?” she teased.
“No!” Debbie said excitedly, taking the bait and moving on. “We’ve got Phil and Susannah. Susannah said I could braid her hair for the banquet on Friday. Phil’s going to let me play her guitar. I told them you always gave us candy during devotions, though, and they said they don’t have enough for that.”
“Yeah,” pitched in another girl named Ruth-Anne, crestfallen. “I’m gonna miss that candy.”
Jesse took a bite of her food and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what cabin you were in last summer, girls,” she said between chews, “but in Cedar Circle I’m pretty sure I gave out candy once, and that was a reward for a week of really sweet full-body massages.”
“I remember that!” another girl piped up. “I did a foot!”
The whole table erupted in giggles. “See there,” said Jesse, “you earned that candy. If you want more I suggest you start giving Phil and Susannah some back rubs.”
“Want me to give you a hand massage?” Debbie asked with dancing eyes.
Jesse closed her eyes and sighed contentedly just remembering Debbie’s hand massages. Who would have thought a hand had so many muscles? “Yes,” she said, “I do believe I will take you up on that some time this week.” She couldn’t help herself. It felt suspiciously like child labour, but her conscience didn’t bother her enough to make her refuse.
A slight jerk inside herself brought her eyes open fast enough, along with causing a sharp intake of breath. Quickly she scanned the girls’ faces: their chatter had moved on and none of them seemed to have noticed anything. That was a relief. I guess it’s awake, she mused. It did that once in a while. It was pretty calm during the day, seeming to be rocked to sleep by her movements, and usually she only felt it move in the night, but every so often she was surprised by a sharp little kick or a punch in the middle of the day, especially if she were sitting. She didn’t know that she’d ever get used to the alien feeling. It startled her every time. Just when she was beginning to forget, to think about something else, she would be reminded that she was not alone. It was unnerving.

Michael was what you might call a free spirit. Those who are not so generous might have come up with less friendly titles, however there is little to be gained by their retelling. Besides, it was hard even for those inclined toward snobbery to truly dislike Michael, and few if any such persons could be found among the Bible Camp staff. It is a very difficult thing to find fault with a person who was as blatantly and openly honest as he. Honesty in it’s real sense is much more than the avoidance of lies; many of the most dishonest people in this world can pride themselves on rarely, if ever, actually lying, but they might slyly omit some very important truths, pretend they understand when they don’t, smile without meaning it, or steal from their employers. Michael was the opposite of these. If something needed saying, he said it. He never smiled unless he was happy, which was often, and when he found something funny he laughed long and loud. He was not prone to look over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him, he did not show off when playing sports but always passed to girls if they were open, and when he was embarrassed he blushed a deep red. He also had a habit of looking people in the eye when talking with them, a practice that came from being truly interested in people but was sometimes mistaken for flirting; which unfortunately happened to be the case at this moment.
Jasmine barely managed to gasp out her name the first time he asked it.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he told her, leaning forward a little to hear her better.
“Jasmine,” she managed a little louder.
He confirmed the name with eyebrows raised questioningly, and she nodded weakly in response. He leaned back in his seat as prayer was said over the food, and she quickly bowed her head, but didn’t hear the words. She did, however, note the “Amen”, which was a good thing, because he was talking to her again, asking her how she was enjoying her first day as an assistant counsellor.
“It’s alright,” she heard herself say. Why did she say that? She should have been more enthusiastic about it.
He smiled, showing his teeth. “It’s a little overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” he said understandingly.
She couldn’t think when he was looking at her. She nodded dumbly. Thankfully at that time the kitchen doors opened, and carts laden with platters of hamburgers were rolled squeakily down the two aisles, between the three rows of tables, to the far end at which their seats happened to be situated. Michael took the plate from a smiling kitchen girl with animated pleasure and gave it to Jasmine, who took one and passed them on to the campers. As they dug eagerly into the food he made every one of them say their name and what cabin they were in, and then held up the empty platter, until another kitchen girl took it away to be refilled. Jasmine sat in awe of him as he chatted amicably with the campers, sometimes seriously and sometimes in fun. They like him, she realized with a pang of something that could only be called jealousy, and he seemed as absorbed in the conversation as they were. She noticed that all four of them were girls. As they talked he looked at her occasionally, as if inviting her to join in, but she could only plaster on a smile that she hoped was believable, and he would turn his attentions back to the noisy campers. There seemed to be no reservations in this group, nor the rest of the dining hall. They were mostly experienced at camping: the loyal few who refused to give up their week of childish pleasures in favour of more ‘grown up’ activities, such as loitering downtown or at the mall. Attendance was lower than it would be in other weeks, but they made up for their numbers with exuberance.
Of course, Jasmine was thinking no such thing. Bible Camp being a new experience, her contemplations could go no further than to wonder how anyone could eat, never mind carry on a conversation, amid such a racket. Michael seemed to be accomplishing both with surprising ease. She was not bitter, however, she only wished, in spite of herself, that he would turn those piercing blue eyes on her again, and yet she didn’t know what she would do if he actually did. She ate most of her meal staring down at her plate, listening to every word he said, and glancing up every once in a while when he was silent, to assure herself that he was still there. Once when she did this, she was shocked to find him staring so intensely that her insides went all shaky; but she soon realized that out he was actually gazing over her shoulder. She desperately wanted to know what he was looking at, but he noticed her then, and was so charmingly sweet and nice for the rest of the meal that she could almost imagine he had really been looking at her, and she didn’t want to ruin that feeling. Instead she concentrated diligently on giving answers to his questions that she thought would most please him.

“Will you be my swimming buddy, Jesse?” Debbie asked with a grin on her face.
Jesse put her book down. She sat on her bed with her back against the wall beside her window. Her ankles were crossed and her feet hung over the edge of the mattress. Debbie looked at her through the cabin’s screen door.
Jesse shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve got to help Marilyn in the tuk shop,” she said, glad to have a good excuse.
Debbie’s face fell. “Oh. Can I come in?” Jesse nodded, and she entered and plunked down on the bed beside her cross-legged.
“You haven’t done anything with me this week,” she pouted. “You didn’t play Bucket Ball yesterday, and you didn’t go swimming the day before that. You said we’d do stuff together.”
Jesse looked down at those red-brown puppy-dog eyes and tried to disagree, but she knew it was true. “I’m sorry,” she said instead. “I guess I haven’t been much fun this week, have I?”
Debbie just rolled her eyes up at her and shook her head, looking none too impressed.
“Well,” Jesse sighed, “let me think of something. What’s after swim?”
“Mini activity,” Debbie said dejectedly. “Then supper, then swim again. Hey,” she brightened, turning towards her with a bounce, “can you swim with me after supper?”
Jesse bit her lip. Swimming was definitely out of the question for her this week. She racked her brain to come up with some kind of excuse. “Umm, let me think,” she stalled.
The door swung open abruptly as Phil strolled in. “Hey kid,” she barked, nodding toward Debbie, “Skedaddle. Bridgett needs a swimming buddy. You’re it.”
Jesse smiled at Phil’s drill-sergeant-like attitude. Being as small and cute as she was, she needed it to get any respect. Debbie gave Jesse one last longing look.
“We’ll do something,” Jesse promised her. “Off you go.”
Debbie left reluctantly, casting a bitter glance at her counsellor as she passed her.
When she’d gone, Phil plopped down beside Jesse. “Whiny brat,” she muttered, lying down and putting her head on Jesse’s lap.
“Oh, she’s not a problem,” Jesse assured her. “She just doesn’t like you.”
“As I happen to be an excellent cabin leader, I’ll ignore that remark,” Phil said.
“I heard you wouldn’t let her play your guitar.”
“What was I supposed to do?!” Phil exclaimed upwards, outraged, but too lazy to get up. “The girl swung it around like it was a baseball bat! It took her all of two minutes to put as many new scratches in it as I’d done in two years!” Pressing her ear up to Jesse’s stomach, she consoled herself. “This kid likes me, anyway. She up? Hey girl!” she called to the tummy. “Come on, Aunty Phil’s here! Time to wake up.” With that, she gave Jesse’s stomach three small raps, as if she were knocking on a door. She was rewarded with a quiet gurgling sound.
Jesse groaned. “I swear it actually recognizes your voice.”
Phil’s hands now covered Jesse’s abdomen, and she seemed to be having a conversation with it. “There we go! That’s my little girl! Ok now, biiiiig stretch. That’s it! Oh, that was a good kick! Come on now, give me a little punch. Punch Aunty Phil in the head! Come on, you can do it! Gotta build up those muscles, now, we can’t just lie around all day doing nothing.”
“And why not?” Jesse demanded grumpily. “It keeps me up all night, can’t you let it be during the day?”
Phil gave her a disapproving glare. “Do you mind? You’re interrupting.”
“Don’t you have campers to be watching?”
“Look, you have all the time in the world to spend with baby. All I’m asking is five minutes before I go on shore duty. You can’t take that away from me too. Oh! That was a kick! See, she’s happy!” Phil declared.
“Well, someone here is happy,” Jesse confirmed. Sometimes, Phil could be so strange.
“You’re not very cheery for a pregnant woman,” Phil noted. “Aren’t you supposed to be ‘glowing’, or something?”
Jesse picked up her book. “That was last month,” she said narrowly. “You missed it.” That was a lie. She didn’t think she had ever ‘glowed’, last month least of all.
“And what’s this month? No-sense-of-humour month? No-time-for-your-friends month?”
“No,” she answered, “this is fat and crabby month.”
Phil reached up an understanding hand to pat her on the cheek. “There, there, now, Jesse, you’re not fat. You’re the skinniest pregnant lady I know,” she assured her.
Jesse laughed out loud, unable to keep up her facade of indifference. “Somehow I don’t think you know many pregnant ladies. And skinny for a pregnant lady is not exactly comforting,” she lamented. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of this week. I feel humongous!”
“Is it that bad?” Phil asked, showing some sympathy. “I really can’t tell.”
Jesse stared at the wall. “Every morning I get dressed and think, today’s the day. Today I’ll walk past a group of girls, and they’ll all stop talking, and I’ll know what they were talking about just the same. It only takes one with an idea to get it started: is she, or isn’t she? And then it’s all over camp. You know how girls are.”
“I don’t think you need to worry,” said Phil, “you don’t really look pregnant yet, except maybe to someone who knows what they’re looking for. And even if they did find out, would it be the worst thing in the world?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jesse grumbled, “I guess I’m just not looking forward to strangers being able to see it. At least now, I can decide who I feel like telling. I have that much control, at least.”
Phil was momentarily distracted by the sound of the baby doing a somersault, and pressed closer to hear better. “Wow, do you hear this?” she asked.
Jesse shrugged. “I feel it, I guess, maybe not hear so much.”
“Hmm. I guess that makes sense. What does it feel like? Oh wait, I changed the topic. Well, you’re going to have to come out with it eventually, right? I’d say you’ve done pretty good hiding it this far.”
Jesse had to concede that. “I guess I can’t really complain,” she admitted. “I’m just glad Teens is the first week of the summer. I feel huge, but the baggy clothes seem to be working so far. I look like I’ve gained some weight, but I don’t think anyone’s guessed why.”
“Yeah,” Phil agreed. “Another month or so and kids this age would get suspicious. But there’s a bunch of little kid weeks coming up, so you’ll probably get away with it for a while longer, long as you make it through this week.”
“That’s the catcher,” said Jesse, “if I make it through this week.” She closed her eyes. “I really don’t want to explain this whole thing to any of these girls, especially Debbie. They shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“No, maybe they shouldn’t,” Phil agreed, “but I think they could handle it if it came to that. They’re not innocents, you know, they watch the news and hear stories, and some of them have probably been sexually abused themselves. I don’t think it would scar any of them for life, and I don’t think they’d think any differently of you, either.”
When she was honest with herself, Jesse knew this was true. In fact, she had no doubts that they could handle it quite well; but she didn’t know if she could. She ran her fingers absent-mindedly through Phil’s hair, smoothing out the blond tendrils. There was something about these kids, when she was around them she could almost pretend nothing was wrong. She could recapture, if just for a little while, the person she had once been. She didn’t want to lose that person, not completely.
“I suppose you’re right,” she admitted, “but do you have any idea how hard it is to come out and say it? People don’t talk about stuff like this, it makes them uncomfortable. They know it’s not my fault, but somehow, when they look at me, I still feel ashamed.”
The door was once again swept open. Debbie stood ponderously on the doorstep, in a swimsuit and flip-flops, towel and shampoo in hand. She looked dumbstruck, holding the door open as if she didn’t know whether to proceed or turn and run.
Phil’s head snapped forward and she sat up off of Jesse’s lap. “What do you want?” she demanded with a show of irritability.
Debbie opened her mouth, but the poor girl couldn’t get anything to come out. She swallowed and tried again. “They’re looking for the shore guard,” she choked out finally.
“Ugh, that’s me,” Phil grunted and got off the bed. “I’m coming, tell Zeb to hold his horses. Are you sure the bell even rang?” Just before she exited she turned and gave Jesse a meaningful look, eyebrows raised and lips pursed, her face conveying without words that their cover may have just been blown.
Then they were gone, and Jesse didn’t know what to do. For a moment she considered crying, but a second later she felt like laughing. This, too, passed, and she was left not knowing how to feel, and not feeling anything in particular. She told herself not to worry, that nothing had happened, and that everything would be fine, until she almost believed it.
She turned and looked out her small window, drawing back the curtains. She saw Zeb, in his ridiculous wetsuit that he insisted on wearing when he was life guarding, walking far out into the shallow bay. He was followed by four other staff members acting as water guards to help keep campers from drowning or throwing mud or wandering away. Eventually, when the water got to about chest-high, he would reach the floating dock, and climb up on it to keep watch over the swimmers, or waders, and fully relish his position high above the heads of everyone else. Halfway there, he turned toward shore and blew a long blast on his whistle, and pairs of campers rushed into the lake. Every swimmer had to have a buddy, someone to swim near them and hold their hand when Zeb signalled a ‘buddy check’ with two sharp blasts on the whistle. It was a bright day, but windy, and the swimmers shivered as they braved the chilly water. Girls shrieked as boys splashed them in the ankle-deep shallows and the boys yelped as the girls splashed them back. More people than usual were going out today, probably to enjoy the high waves that were begging to be jumped in. She did wish she could go with them, but knew she couldn’t, even if she didn’t have to be in the tuk shop in 15 minutes.