Baumgartner generations: Janie

“It’s the best part.” He snuck another one from the pile.

I sighed, handing a marshmallow fork to my brother. “Henry, will you tell him how you’re supposed to do it?”

“Watch carefully, Josh.” He demonstrated. “Graham cracker, chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker. Then, and only then, do you eat.” Josh scowled. “I think you took too many steps between chocolate and eat.”

“Let the man eat what he wants, Janie,” a voice called from across the campfire.

“Yes, Mother.”

I glanced around the fire, feeling content and really relaxed for the first time in a month or more. Since Ronnie went to the hospital, I realized, I’d been living from one breath to the next, waiting for the world to collapse again. But there she was, sitting in a chair next to TJ, happily roasting marshmallows and passing them to Gretchen, who had Catherine breaking up chocolate so my dad could put them on graham crackers before passing them to my mother to put on paper plates. It was a whole assembly line of s’more-making that made me ridiculously happy to watch.

Josh was doing nothing-except sneaking chocolate-and Henry was roasting.

Me, I was just supervising. I realized, looking over at my brother, that he was the only one there who wasn’t paired up. My mother said his girlfriend couldn’t make it, but I wondered. He’d been awfully quiet.

“I have something for you,” I said to Henry. We’d been here five days already and I kept forgetting to give it to him. “Remind me.”

“You got a Porsche in your pocket?” He smirked. “Did you bring it on the private plane you flew in on?”

I flushed. Josh had insisted-the three of us, TJ, Ronnie and Gretchen, had all cashed in our American Airlines tickets and had flown in on Catherine’s private plane.

Ronnie could actually lay down for the whole flight, and she did. She always slept on flights and she’d slept the whole way. Gretchen hadn’t even bought a ticket yet, and Catherine invited her to fly on the plane, of course.

So far, it hadn’t been strange or awkward. Josh said it was going to end amicably between them, and I believed him. Catherine didn’t seem angry or vengeful. In fact, watching her feeding Gretchen little pieces of chocolate, she looked deliriously happy.

She laughed more. That hard edge to her had softened.

“It’s better than a Porsche,” I told Henry, ignoring him sneaking Josh another Hersey bar.

He scoffed. “Not possible.”

“What would you say if I told you…” I dragged it out, knowing they were all listening. “I got Jim Carrey’s autograph.”

Henry jumped up, Hershey bars flying. “You what?”

“Hey!” Josh protested, snatching candy bars from the fire. “Don’t waste the chocolate!”

I grinned up at my brother. “It even has your name on it.”

“I am so sorry for anything bad I have ever said or done to you,” Henry exclaimed, reaching down and pulling me into a hug. I laughed as he swung me around.

“I’m sorry I stole your Bratz dolls for target practice.” He kissed my cheek. “And I didn’t mean to ruin your cashmere sweater, even though I was sure it would be perfect for cleaning my bike chain.” He kissed my other cheek. “Oh, and I should have told Mom it was me who was riding off the roof on my BMX into the pool and not let you take the blame for it.”

“I told you it was him!” I exclaimed, pointing at my mother.

“Oh, Doc, I’m gonna pee my pants!” My mother cried, clinging to my father, laughing so hysterically she couldn’t stand up. He was laughing, too, supporting her.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if Janie said, ‘Psych!’ right about now?” Josh asked casually, leaning back in his chair and opening yet another Hershey’s bar.

Henry’s face fell. “You…” He looked between the two of us, his eyes wide.

“Wouldn’t…”

“Psych.” Josh grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

“It’s upstairs.” I smiled, nudging Josh with my sneaker. “You are so bad!”

“Wow.” Henry sat down, looking over at Josh admiringly. “You’re good.” I ran upstairs to get the autograph, still tucked away in my wallet, and when I got back, Josh and Henry had joined the assembly-line, both of them roasting marshmallows side by side and contemplating their shapes like some people look at clouds.

“Mine looks like Buddha,” Henry said, turning his stick sideways.

“I’ve got Lindsey Lohan.”Josh held his up, the marshmallow goo running down the poker. “Before rehab.”

That cracked everyone up, and I knew, then, that Josh was really part of the family.

* * * *

I wish I’d never looked out the window to see them, standing in the same place I saw the deer and her baby drinking at the water’s edge. Josh was holding Catherine’s hands, both of them, in his. They were talking. Closely.

They’re still friends, I told myself. Hell, they’re still married. Of course they still care about each other. But the rationalization didn’t take. When he leaned over and kissed her-not on the cheek, but on the mouth-I’d had enough.

I was curled up on the bed when he came into the room. He smelled like pine trees and sap as he sat next to me.

“Taking a nap?”

I made a noise, but didn’t really answer him.