The Summer Hideaway (19 page)

F
amily Dance Night at Camp Kioga was a silly affair. That was what Jane had always thought, anyway. The dance instructors came from the city, and they always acted as though dancing was the most fun anyone could have. Jane secretly did think dancing was fun, though she’d never admit that to the other kids, especially Charles and George. They would surely make fun of her.

“I’m not going,” George said, balking at the entrance to the dining pavilion. There was a five-piece ensemble and couples of all shapes and sizes on the dance floor. The men had pressed slacks and shiny shoes, and the women looked like flowers in their full skirts, underlaid with crinolines that belled out when they twirled.

“Sure you are. There’s peach melba for dessert tonight,” Charles pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll eat the peach melba but forget about the dancing.”

“Everybody dances,” Jane said in her bossiest voice. “No exceptions.”

“That’s baloney.”

“Huh. Shows how much you know.”

“I can’t dance. I can’t even walk.”

“Then dance however you can,” she stated. “Come on.”

She didn’t look to see if the brothers followed. Usually if she just forged ahead, they went along with her. A famous ensemble was playing that night—the Klinger Kabaret from downtown Manhattan. They were so good that, along with the peach melba, they brought a smile to George’s face. The dance instructors had Jane dancing with every boy in the place, and some girls, too, since there were always more girls than boys.

Charles was pretty good, for a boy. He was especially good at the bumps-a-daisy and the jitterbug, which was all the rage. Jane picked him for the last dance of the night, and they jumped and jived like a pair of professionals. As they swooped around the dance floor, she spied George and did a double take.

“Charles,” she said, practically yelling above the brassy blare of the band, “look at George. Am I seeing things?”

“You’re not seeing things.”

They nearly tripped over each other’s feet as they stared at George. He was in his chair off to the side, drinking a root beer soda. And he was tapping his feet to the music.

Jane and Charles descended on him. “You’re moving your feet, George!” she exclaimed. “Good for you! You’re moving your feet.”

“Yeah,” he said. “So?” He couldn’t keep the grin from his face.

“So nothing,” she said. “Dance with me.”

“Dance with you? You’re crazy, you—”

“Charles will help,” she declared, and plopped herself right into George’s lap. At the same time, Charles zoomed
the wheelchair out onto the dance floor. The other dancers barely took note, they were so caught up in the wildness of the number.

George laughed aloud, and it sounded wonderful to her. She knew a moment of fleeting happiness then. It was a flash of perfection, a sense that everything was all right. She was in George’s lap with her head thrown back in laughter. Charles pushed the chair in crazy circles as the three of them spun in time with the music, their spirits enmeshed, three broken pieces momentarily bound together.

After the dancing, Jane insisted there was nothing George could not do, and she set out every day to prove it.

“Come swimming with us,” she said one afternoon after escaping Mrs. Romano’s constant demands in the kitchen. She was wearing a hand-me-down romper swimsuit from one of her cousins, and she hated it, but the day was burning hot and she was dying for a plunge in the lake.

“Nope,” said George.

“Come on.” Charles nudged George’s shoulder as he grabbed a couple of towels. “It’s hotter than hades today.”

“You go ahead,” George said.

Jane turned on her heel. “Let’s go, then. He’s not interested.”

“Have fun stewing in your own juices, George,” said Charles, following her.

Jane knew George wouldn’t last long on his own. He didn’t anymore. He always found a way to join in, even if it just meant sitting in the shade and watching her and Charles play. True to form, he ended up going with them to the swimming dock. They found a nice shady spot near
the locker that housed the towels and life vests, and George parked himself there.

Charles gave an Indian war whoop and pounded down the dock, doing a cannonball off the end, creating a huge splash. Jane felt torn, not wanting to abandon George but yearning to join in with the other kids.

“Go on,” he urged her. “I brought my camera. I’ll take some pictures.”

With a squeal of delight, she ran to the dock and launched herself. The cold water felt like silk on her skin.

“Over here,” said Charles. “We’re playing water tag. I’m it!”

Jane swam madly, determined not to be tagged. More and more swimmers joined in until there were at least a dozen kids involved. It was the most glorious summer day imaginable. The only thing that could have made it more glorious would be—

Jane stopped swimming to tread water. She looked around for George, but he’d moved from his spot. Then she spied him. He was pumping his wheelchair as fast as he could down the dock. He’d strapped a life ring to the chair, but not to himself. The chair gathered speed as he spun the wheels faster. Jane tried to call out, but her voice was gone, stolen by shock.

The rolling chair ran out of dock and kept going. George was ejected and hit the water with a big splash. For a stunned second, everyone was frozen by dread. Then the chair bobbed to the surface, buoyed by the life ring.

The chair was empty.

Jane screamed. Charles swam toward the dock, his arms and legs churning like eggbeaters.

After what seemed like an eternity, George broke the
surface, hauling in a huge breath of air. “I’m okay,” he called. He looked around at the other kids. When they realized he was all right, they started hooting and clapping.

“You creep,” Jane accused him, paddling over. “You scared us to death.”

“Look at me now,” he said. “I’m swimming.”

Not very well, she noted, but he was. He was
swimming
. He paddled slowly and clumsily toward the dock. Charles and the others lost interest in the drama and went back to their game of tag. Jane followed George, and they both clung to the ladder attached to the dock. “I’m real proud of you,” she said. “I am.”

“When I first went off the end,” he said, lowering his voice so no one else could hear, “I sank like a stone. And it crossed my mind that I might drown if I just quit fighting and let myself go. But all of a sudden, I knew I had to get stronger and save myself. And so I started swimming.”

“George!” She put her arms around him and gave him a swift, wet smack on the cheek. Instantly realizing what she’d done, she shoved away from him and swam in the opposite direction. She couldn’t resist looking back at him, to see if he was as embarrassed as she was.

He didn’t look embarrassed. As long as Jane lived, she knew she would never forget the expression on his face.

“Hey, look up here!” yelled Charles. He was standing on the dock with the Brownie camera. “Smile!”

Treading water, George and Jane grinned up at the camera box.

“Hold on to Doctor, will you?” George said, handing the orange kitten to his brother. “Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Charles said, cuddling and nuzzling the little creature.

The kitty was Jane’s parting gift to the Bellamy brothers. Summer was over, and the time had come for them to go back to the city. Jane’s father had told her she could give one of the kittens to them, and of course they chose Doctor, who was as sweet as her mother, with the same coloring. Now it was time for all of them to head home.

Jane tried not to feel too despondent as she stood watching George, who had wheeled his chair to the edge of the chipped-gravel parking area, where everyone waited for the buses to the train station in town. He had that special fire in his eye, the one that flared when he was about to say “Checkmate” in chess, or when he’d thought up a really good story to tell her.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. Instead he set the brake of the wheelchair and braced his hands on the armrests. Through the summer, his hands and arms had turned so brown and strong, he reminded her of Stuart, who used to pick up and toss around hay bales as if they were nothing.

Frowning with concentration, George folded up the footrests of the wheelchair and planted his feet on the ground.

Jane held her breath. Every instinct urged her to step forward and help, but she resisted. The last thing he needed was for her to interfere, or to caution him not to take a risk. She glanced at Charles and saw him practically biting a hole in his lip.

George lurched forward, but fell back into the chair. He didn’t look at either Charles or Jane. She crushed her teeth together to keep from telling him not to rush, not
to feel as if he had to do this right now. He tried again. Failed, twice more.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. He wiped his hands on his trousers. Planted his hands and feet…and levered himself up out of the chair.

The kitten mewed in protest, and Jane glanced over to see Charles ease his grip on the little creature. George took a step forward. One, then another. Then he stopped. His face was damp and livid from the effort. Jane couldn’t stand it anymore; she rushed forward and took his arm. He was trembling, but smiling.

“Good for you, George,” she whispered. “I knew you could do it.”

“I had to. My mother wants to put me to bed and treat me like an invalid for the rest of my life. My father thinks I should go back to the Children’s Institute, and I don’t want to do either. So I better figure out how to walk on my own.” He wobbled, and she held on harder, helping him back to the chair.

“Three lousy steps,” he said.

“It’s a start,” she replied. “You’ll do more tomorrow, and more every day. Promise me you will.”

“All right, but you have to promise me something.”

“Anything, George. I swear.”

“When I come back, you have to promise to dance with me.”

“W
hat are you doing this evening, Granddad?” asked Ross.

“I have no plans. Unfortunately my friend Millie has gone up to Albany to visit friends and won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“So you and Millie…” Ross was slightly freaked by this development. He wondered if the old lady had spent the night.

“We had a lovely time. And a gentleman will say no more.”

Ross gave a nervous laugh. His hat was off to the old dude, but he was content to let the matter rest. “Anyway, about tonight…”

“What did you have in mind?” George took off his reading glasses and set them aside.

“Do you feel up to a visit with your brother?”

George sat forward, gripping the arms of his chair. “Absolutely.”

“And his wife, Jane? Should she come, too?”

“She…” Granddad cleared his throat. “She most cer
tainly is welcome.” He leaned back in his chair, somehow managing to look both relieved and apprehensive. “Tonight. I can scarcely believe it. Claire, did you hear?”

“I did, and I’m really happy for you, George.”

After some discussion, it was determined that a private dinner, catered by the resort’s kitchen, would be served on the veranda of George’s house on the lake. This would keep the reunion as intimate as possible. Things were bound to get emotional. He felt the building tension later that day, as he helped his grandfather get ready.

“Tell me again what he’s like,” Granddad said. “What was your first impression?”

Ross passed him a handheld mirror. “Take a look. The two of you might as well be twins.”

Granddad beamed. “People used to say we shared a strong family resemblance. In our younger days, I was always the athletic one. Then, after I fell ill, I turned into the bookish one.” He rubbed his thigh.

Now that Ross knew about the polio, he saw his grandfather in a different light. Granddad had endured a devastating disease. One that had changed him forever. Yet he had gone on to a good life. Ross hoped to persuade him to put up a new fight now. Maybe seeing his brother would motivate him.

“I can’t thank you enough for arranging this, son. It means the world to me,” said Granddad.

“More than happy to do it. You know that.”

“Did you like him? And Jane?”

“They were surprised when they met me. But…cordial. I liked them well enough. For strangers, that is.”

“Did they tell you anything about…the past?” Granddad sounded tense.

“No. It’s between the two of you,” Ross said. “You can tell me or not. It’s up to you.”

“Maybe my foolishness will be a reminder to others not to let something like this happen.”

“Since I’m an only child, it’s not likely,” Ross said jokingly.

“You have your stepbrother and stepsister,” Granddad pointed out.

“Good old Donnie and Denise. How could I forget?”

“Ross—”

“Don’t worry, Granddad. I get along fine with them.”

“I wish I’d been so sensible, back when all this happened.”

“All what?” Ross held out a dress shirt.

George threaded his arms into the shirt. “It was a volatile time for both of us, our college days. We were rivals, competing over everything from grades to club memberships.”

“That’s what brothers do. But they don’t usually quit communicating for fifty years because of it.”

“I confess, the rivalry went deeper than that.”

“Obviously. What was it? I don’t get it,” said Ross.

Granddad hesitated, then picked up a silver cuff link. “I didn’t approve of the girl he married.”

“Jane.”

“That’s correct. I made no secret of my disapproval. I know it sounds impossibly snobbish in this day and age, but…things were different back then. A person’s background used to matter more. I like to think I didn’t consider our family superior to Jane’s, just different. The Gordons were farmers and the owners of Camp Kioga. They didn’t get rich doing it, and Jane did domestic
work. All those years ago, she worked as a housekeeper in New Haven. Charles and I were students at Yale. The contrast was quite pronounced. And then when Charles announced his intent to marry her, well, our parents were beside themselves. She was definitely not their idea of a proper daughter-in-law. It made for an extremely tense time. Extremely tense.”

A tremor started in his hand, and Ross had to help him with the other cuff link. “You were a product of your time,” he said, determined not to judge his grandfather.

“I’m not proud of the way I was back in those days. I held on to my righteous indignation, and Charles married Jane. After that, we just…stayed apart. Each of us went on with our lives. I moved to Paris, married your grandmother. We both had families, careers, busy lives. One year, when the children were little, our parents invited Jackie, me and the boys on a ski holiday in Gstaad, Switzerland. In a magnanimous moment, they invited Charles and Jane and their kids, as well. But by then, Charles was serving in Vietnam. And of course, Jane declined. Your grandmother and I didn’t go, either. I couldn’t get away from the paper and Jackie was drowning in little boys, as she liked to put it. My parents ended up going on their own. Then we received word at the
Trib
about a devastating accident on the aerial ropeway to Les Diablerets Glacier. A cable had snapped. The tram car, crammed with eighty passengers, plunged a hundred meters.” He paused, shuddering a little.

Ross had heard the story, growing up, but the incident had always seemed distant and unreal. He wasn’t sure why that was. Losing his own father in a single moment of violence had turned the world upside down. Granddad’s
loss had been just as hard. Perhaps harder, losing both mother and father in the same instant.

“It must’ve been a nightmare for you,” he said.

Granddad nodded. “I should have reached out to Charles then. Under normal circumstances, we would have seen each other, but he wasn’t able to attend the funeral.”

“Because he was serving in Vietnam.” Ross sensed there was more to the story, much more.

“Time passed,” his grandfather went on. “It just slipped away. I let it, and I suppose Charles did, as well.”

Ross studied his grandfather’s face, weathered by the years, his eyes a pale and distant blue. He seemed drained and diminished by the memories as he took out two ties. “Which one, do you think?”

Ross grinned. His grandfather was like a kid getting ready for a dance. “The stripes, for sure.”

“Excellent choice.” Granddad turned to the mirror and looped the tie around his neck. “I taught Charles to tie a tie. Our father wasn’t so good at it, with his one arm.”

“You taught me, too,” Ross reminded him.

Granddad crossed one end of the tie over the other. “The Windsor knot. The most basic of gentlemanly arts.” He looped the other end through, and then stopped. A frown creased his brow.

“Granddad?”

“I just…I don’t know…” He looked flustered, and his left hand trembled. “I’ve done this ten thousand times.”

Ross tried not to let his worry show. “Let me,” he said, taking his grandfather’s hands. “Please.” Ever so gently, his heart breaking, he tied the tie into a perfect Windsor knot. Then he took his grandfather by the shoulders and
turned him toward the mirror. “I love you, Granddad,” he said. “You look like a million bucks.”

The cottage had been readied by the resort staff, with fresh flowers, dinner and wine. The table was set with three places; Ross and Claire thought it best to have dinner elsewhere. Jane and Charles Bellamy arrived at the appointed time. They looked nervous as they walked through the door. For a moment, all three of them froze. The two brothers stood facing each other, their hesitation painful to watch.

For no reason he could fathom, Ross took Claire’s hand and held on hard. Jane put a hand on her heart. It rested there lightly, like a bird about to take flight. Charles and George simply stared for several moments.

Finally Granddad said Charles’s name and they shook hands. The handshake quickly escalated into a hug. The moment they touched, the tension seemed to melt into some other emotion. Ross couldn’t see their faces, but their body language said it all—relief and comfort, cautious joy. After a long moment, they stepped back.

“I’m glad you came,” said George.

“Of course I came,” said Charles. He stepped aside and gestured Jane forward.

Granddad gave her a hug, this one briefer, more stiff. She was clutching a wad of Kleenex. “I came prepared,” she said.

“You’ve met my grandson,” said George. “And this is Claire.”

As she greeted them, Claire’s face glowed. She seemed to take true pleasure in the reunion. Ross let go of her hand, having forgotten he was holding on. For the
umpteenth time, he wondered if she was for real. Because right now, she seemed too good to be true. She had arranged the dinner perfectly, working with the catering staff to make sure everything was just right. Even the soft music playing in the background was right—a swing era hit from the forties or fifties. She was completely centered on his grandfather’s needs, and had been as nervous as any of them about this reunion. “I’m so glad you could come on short notice,” she said.

“As am I,” said Granddad. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Jane was already perusing the family pictures he’d placed around the room. “Ah, George. I can’t wait to hear. It’s wonderful, the three of us, together again. The Three Musketeers. That’s what we called ourselves as children,” she explained.

“Un pour tous, tous pour un,”
said Granddad.

“I think a toast is in order,” Charles added.

Claire took Ross’s hand again. “We’re out of here, then,” she said.

Jane beamed at them. “You make a lovely couple, you two.”

Claire snatched her hand away. “Oh! We’re not…I’m here for George. In fact, he knows how to get in touch with me if he needs anything. I’ve posted my number by the phone, too.”

“Thank you,” said Charles. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

It was nearly sunset when Claire and Ross left the lake house. She sensed his tension as he walked beside her, then paused to look back at the glowing windows of the cottage.

“Looks like they’re getting along fine,” she said, knowing he’d been worried.

As they watched, George poured a glass of wine and turned to offer it to Jane. But Jane didn’t seem to notice; she was turned toward her husband. George stood holding the glass, and even from a distance he looked diminished, somehow.

Then Charles took the glass from him and handed it to Jane, and they poured two others, raising them in a toast.

“He forgot how to tie a tie,” Ross said.

Claire’s heart softened at the sad resignation in his voice. This was one of the hardest things about an illness like George’s. You watched a person fade away, bit by bit. At the end of it all, everything fell away. The only thing left was the love you had in your life.

She shuddered, realizing when her time came, there would be nothing. Not unless she found a way out of hiding.

“He’s lucky you were there to help him,” she said gently.

Ross was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “There’s something my grandfather’s not telling me about the situation between him and his brother.”

Claire had sensed the same thing, but she’d trained herself to let her patients’ stories unfold in their own time—if at all. “This was a big step.”

“Let’s go grab something to eat,” he suggested.

“We could go to the lodge.”

“I have a better idea,” Ross said, and took out his car keys. “Don’t worry, we won’t go far.”

His uncanny ability to read her made Claire a little nervous. She wasn’t used to people being able to see inside her. For the most part, people she met didn’t even try; she’d been that successful at making herself anonymous. Ross was different. He was not the sort of person you
could hide things from, not for long. This made him uniquely risky to know, yet she was intrigued. Even more so when she saw his car. “A convertible! Can we have the top down?”

He grinned and tossed her a baseball cap. “That’s the point. Hop in.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m always nice,” he assured her.

She thought about how they kept butting heads about George’s treatment. And then she remembered the kiss. Yes, he knew how to be nice.

He pushed a button and the top retracted. He put the car in gear and rolled out of the parking area.

She didn’t know much about cars, but she could feel the power of the roadster as they rolled out onto the main road.

Claire wasn’t much of a driver. At sixteen, she’d been taught to drive by her foster father, Vance Jordan. The very man from whom she was hiding now. It was chilling to think about how completely she’d placed her trust in him. Two nights before watching him murder two innocent boys, she had gone for a practice drive with him, shining with pride as he quizzed her about road rules in preparation for her driver’s test.

She never did take that test, but in time, she’d obtained a license—under her new name, long after the girl she’d been then had ceased to exist. It had taken her a long time to be able to sit in a car next to a man without breaking into a cold sweat.

Ross Bellamy inspired much different emotions in her—longing and frustration. Affection and yes, lust. None of which were a good idea for someone in her situation. She tucked her hair into the baseball cap and
fiddled with the radio, finding a station she liked. It was a perfect night at the leading edge of summer, the air sweet with the cool scent of new growth. They explored the area at twilight, and found an old-fashioned drive-in restaurant, where they ordered root beer floats, burgers and fries to go. Then they headed up to a scenic overlook by the lake, above a wide stretch of water rimmed by sheer rock. Float planes landed here, and there was a long dock where they could tie up. At present there was a toy-size single engine plane moored to the dock.

Claire shuddered, reminded of Vance Jordan. When she’d gone to live with them, Vance and Teresa had flown her to Pier 8 on the Hudson to celebrate. Back then, he had seemed like the perfect father figure, dashing and confident as he worked the controls.