Chapter Sixteen
Two days later, I was in Thom’s car heading to Milbank, Pennsylvania. Jamie’d offered to make the trip with me, knowing how much I hated driving, but I needed to do this alone. I’d heeded Trini’s advice and reached out to Gordy Birnbaum, Chinooka’s director, to see if any of the off-season cabins were available for the week. He booked me into one of the refurbished ones and let me know he’d also be up for a few days to check on some of the camp’s improvement projects before it opened for the summer.
Once I made it out of the city, the driving wasn’t too hard. I programmed the GPS to direct me through more of the back roads and less highway. It just about doubled the length of the trip, but I was happy to turn up the radio and take in the scenery. I stopped twice, each time in a small town with a pretty main street that reminded me of the road trips I sometimes took with my parents to Martha’s Vineyard. Right before the turnoff for Milbank, I pulled off to a grocery store to load up on provisions for the week. I wasn’t sure how long I was staying and wanted to make sure I was stocked up.
I pushed the cart up the aisles, grabbing cold cuts for sandwiches and a bag of coffee. I’d already bought fruit and vegetables from a farm stand a few exits back, so I picked up a bag of lettuce, some plain yogurt, and granola to go with them. I walked down the candy aisle and smiled when I spotted a big chocolate bar on a low shelf. I tossed it into the cart and immediately doubled back to find a bag of marshmallows and a box of graham crackers.
I loaded the bags into the trunk, turned off the GPS, and drove slowly through the main square of Milbank. There were some small but noticeable changes to the town. A few mom-and-pop shops had been replaced with some larger chain discount stores. I was relieved to see Rosie’s was still standing, glad this summer’s crop of counselors would get to experience my favorite dive bar and a Chinooka mainstay.
As if on autopilot, I turned the car toward the small gravel road that led to the front gates of the camp. As soon as I saw the familiar distressed wood sign with gold letters that read Camp Chinooka, I rolled down the car windows and breathed in the air. There was something so distinctive about the way the sweet, woody scent of the birch trees mixed with the crisp air of Lake Chinooka that brought me right back to my childhood. I pulled over at the gatehouse, and Herb Henley, the older gentleman who ran The Canteen with his wife every summer, came down to greet me. He was holding a clipboard and a map of the grounds.
I stepped out of the car and told Herb my name. He checked it against his list and handed me a set of keys. He rattled off a series of instructions and rules about what was open on the property and what was off limits. I was free to use any of the canoes or kayaks at the lakefront as long as I signed them out. I could also use any items in the arts and crafts cabin, minus the kiln, as well as any of the equipment on the athletic fields. The Canteen would be open for a few hours at night and was stocked with snacks, basic toiletry items, and medications if I needed something.
He let me know there was a Renaissance fair taking place in a neighboring town, and many of the attendees were staying at Chinooka. I shouldn’t be alarmed if I saw other guests wandering around the property in period costume.
I thanked Herb and reminded him I’d worked as Head Counselor of Cedar a few years earlier. He didn’t remember me until I mentioned I’d worked alongside Perry Gillman a few summers ago. After that, he wanted a full report on how Perry was doing since he’d left Chinooka and made me promise to say hello the next time I ran into him.
I got back into the car and drove up the road, following the numbered cabins. As soon as I started inching closer to the Birch cabins, I realized where I was going. Of course Gordy would put me up in Perry’s old cabin. It was the nicest one, and he probably thought he was doing me some sort of favor by letting me use it.
I almost turned the car right around to ask Herb to find me somewhere else, anywhere else, I could stay, but he’d already told me they were sold out of cabins due to the fair. I turned the car off and unloaded my groceries and bags onto the porch. It was close to seven, and the sun was just starting to set over the lake. I leaned over the railing to watch, having almost forgotten how magical the view was from Perry’s cabin. I used to tease Perry that winning the Gordy so many years in a row had earned him Chinooka’s deluxe accommodations. Now, staring at the sun-streaked colors reflecting off the ripples of the lake and back into the trees, I knew for certain. Gordy hadn’t just rewarded him with deluxe accommodations but a million-dollar view to match.
I pushed my way inside the cabin and turned on all the lights. The furniture had been rearranged slightly, and some rugs and other decorative pieces had been added, but otherwise, everything looked the same. I opened the refrigerator and unpacked my groceries. I put the veggies and yogurt into the refrigerator to chill and grabbed an apple out of the small canvas tote they’d given me at the farm stand. I took a bite and went in search of a TV. I’d come to Chinooka looking for quiet, but this was maybe too quiet.
There was a satellite dish on top of the cabin so knew the TV was here somewhere. Most likely just well concealed for the guests who actually wanted to be at one with nature. I went into the main room of the cabin and over to what most resembled an entertainment center. Starting with the top cabinets, I found a remote and channel guide. A good sign. As I worked my way down, I uncovered a TV and a DVD/VCR combo. I turned to the bookcases, which were well stocked with movies on disc and tape and ran my finger down a row of classics from Casablanca to West Side Story.
Then I looked on the shelf below, and there was Perry’s old turntable. The record player he’d shipped over from London along with dozens of his favorite vinyl records. He must’ve donated it to Gordy along with most of his collection, which was piled next to it. Recordings of Debussy, Copland, Stravinsky, Schubert, Berlin, and, of course, Gershwin. I pulled the 1924 recording of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue out of the sleeve, blew off some accumulated dust, and set it on the turntable.
As the iconic clarinet solo rose above the rest of the orchestrations, I was transported back to the first night Perry and I spent together in this very cabin when he pulled out his violin and played most of the concerto from memory. Back then, we were so blissfully happy in our hideaway. Far from the mistakes of our past, it felt like anything was possible. Perry was finally able to finish his thesis, and I broke through my year-long design block. Chinooka had been our refuge, and we were each other’s salvation.
Voices outside the cabin snapped me right back to the present. I lowered the volume and stepped out onto the deck. About half a dozen people sat around a large bonfire down toward the lake. I rummaged around my suitcase for my Camp Chinooka Staff sweatshirt and slipped it over my head. I dug through a few drawers in the kitchen until I found a flashlight and tucked it into my pocket for the walk back.
I followed the well-carved path down to the shore and saw a group of people probably a little younger than my parents milling around the campfire and dock.
“Mind if I take a seat?” I asked one of the couples sitting closest to the fire.
A larger man with a reddish beard slid down to make room for me. “The more the merrier,” he answered and extended his hand. “I’m Alan.”
“Gigi” I answered, taking a seat beside him.
“Are you here for the fair?” he asked.
“Just hiding out for a few days.” I held my sweatshirt away from my body, so he could see the Chinooka emblem. “I used to be a counselor here.”
“This place must be pretty great in the summertime when it’s overflowing with kids and activities.”
I smiled. “Yeah, it’s pretty special. Are all of you here for the Renaissance fair?”
“We’re part of a traveling theater troupe hired to perform at the fairs. Sometimes Shakespeare. Sometimes Marlowe. This festival I’m Henry VIII in A Man for All Seasons.”
I tossed some branches into the dying fire. “Oh, right. The red hair and the beard and everything. I see it. That’s great.”
“It isn’t Elizabeth, but so far, the audiences seem to be enjoying it. Hey, did you know the composer of Elizabeth, Perry Gillman, was a counselor here? We ran into the camp’s director earlier. Talked our ear off about it. Speak of the devil, there he is. Gordy, come join us,” Alan shouted over to him.
Gordy trudged over to the campfire, and I stood up to greet him.
He pulled me in for a big bear hug. “Gigi, it’s been too long.”
“How’ve you been, Gordy?”
“I can’t complain. How’ve you been?”
“I’m good. Everything’s good.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t lie to me. I’ve known you since you were nine years old.”
I looked down at the ground. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been better.”
“You know what you need, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
“S’mores.” He looked up and back toward the camp’s Great Lawn. “Too bad the kitchen and Canteen are closed.”
“I have all the ingredients back in my room. A Chinooka camper is always prepared.”
He laughed, and I hustled back to the cabin. I grabbed the chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers and hurried back down to the lakefront where Gordy was building the fire back up. Most of the other guests had gone back to their cabins for the night. Only Alan and a woman he later introduced as his wife, Linda, stayed behind.
I passed around the supplies, and Gordy handed out small branches. We each loaded our sticks with marshmallows and held them over the flames. When mine was mostly toasted, and on the verge of charring, I pulled it out of the fire and squished it between the two graham crackers and piece of chocolate. I took a bite and let the melted marshmallow ooze out the sides.
“Taste as good as you remember it?” Gordy asked.
“Better,” I answered.
He motioned toward the trail. “Let’s take a walk.”
I followed him away from the lake and up to the Great Lawn. We sat down in the far gazebo, the same one where I’d said goodbye to Joshua and tried to rekindle my friendship with Alicia. Gordy stood up and pointed to some of the improvements he’d made to the camp over the last couple of years since I was a counselor. A new putting green, squash court, and computer lab. Then, he told me about the most shocking improvement of all. He’d finally agreed to remove the shower houses and had installed showers in each bunk. Part of me was sad that future Chinookans wouldn’t have the same authentic camp experience I had, but, deep down, I knew it was probably a much-appreciated upgrade.
“Now you tell me,” Gordy said, sitting back down, “what are all the improvements in the life of Ms. Georgica Goldstein?”
“You know about Jamie and me designing Victoria Ellicott’s wedding dress, right?”
“I live in Milbank, not under a rock. Of course, I know about it. I was even quoted in the Milbank Monitor. Once they got wind of the fact you once worked here, they came to interview me. I dug up a picture of the dress you designed for Fiddler on the Roof and they published it alongside the article. I have a copy somewhere in my cabin. I’ll look for it and bring it to you tomorrow.”
“Well, there you go. You know everything that’s going on with me.”
“What about you and Perry? Last time he wrote me, you two were engaged.” Gordy lifted up my left hand. “No ring?”
“I broke off the engagement.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Nobody rooted for you two more than me. I even imagined you might get married here. Maybe down by the lake or in the amphitheater?”
“I would’ve liked that. I think he would’ve too.”
Gordy leaned in closer. “What happened?”
“We both got swept up into our work, then his father died. Things changed for us after that.”
He sat back up and straightened his posture. “Did you know Perry’s father well?”
“No, I actually never met him. His father traveled so much for his work that, unfortunately, I never got a chance to.”
Gordy took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the bottom corner of his shirt.
“Perry loved his father. Idolized him.”
I tilted my head to the side. “First violinist with the Vienna Philharmonic. Tough act to follow.”
He slipped his glasses back on. “After Annie’s accident, things changed between them. I don’t know if his father blamed Perry for what happened, but they became somewhat estranged. His father hated that he kept returning to Chinooka. Pleaded with him to just stay in London and finish his degree.”
“Perry felt so much guilt over what happened to Annie. I’m sure he pushed his father away the same way he pushed away everyone else.” I couldn’t help but recall how closed off and detached he was when we first met.
“Maybe? From what I gathered from our correspondence, they still weren’t on the best of terms in recent years.”
I shrugged. “He never liked to talk about it, and I didn’t pry. I know his father wasn’t happy with Perry’s decision to move to New York to be with me. He’d set him up with dozens of auditions for different symphonies around Europe, but Perry didn’t want to play other people’s music, he wanted to compose his own.”
He smiled. “That’s our Perry.’
I shrugged. “Not exactly my Perry anymore.”
“There are a lot of bends in the road, Gigi, but if it’s meant to be…” he let his voice trail off.
“To be honest, I’m not sure it is. Or ever was.”
Gordy put his arm around me. “You said you needed to come up to do some work for a few days. How I can help?”
“Big Bertha still in the arts and crafts cabin?”
“Of course, she’s practically the camp mascot.”
“I’ll pay her a visit. Hopefully, the old girl can inspire some ideas.”
“If not, maybe watching the Camp Chinooka Centennial production of Fiddler on the Roof will help. If you ask me that was some of your best work.”
I raised my eyebrows. “There’s a video of the show?”
Gordy walked to the entranceway of the gazebo. “In your cabin. I left it there for you earlier in the week when I heard you were coming.”
“Hey, Gordy, not too many people know about me and Perry and our history. I don’t think either one of us expected our paths would cross again so soon. For everyone’s sake, it’s probably better if the past stays in the past.”
Gordy put his hand up. “Say no more. I understand.”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome home, kid.”
I walked back down to the campfire and picked up what was left of the marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. I looked over my provisions. Enough for at least one, maybe two, more S’mores. I loaded the marshmallows onto the stick and thrust it into the flames. When they were good and gooey, I pulled them off and smashed them into a sandwich. I ate them slowly, savoring each and every sticky bite.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and watched as the once proud and glowing inferno began to give way to soft, half-hearted crackling deep within the blaze. As I consumed the last bits of the s’mores, the fire diminished to embers. I walked down to the shores of Lake Chinooka and filled up a bucket with sand, then poured it over the campfire pit just as Perry had done back when we were counselors.
The fire turned a deep orange as it crawled across the blackened logs giving way to ash. I watched as it fought to come back to life, but eventually, it sucked in its last gasp of oxygen and then dwindled to nothing more than a wisp of smoke.