Osprey Island

Ten minutes later, Squee had his shorts and sneakers back on and was out the window and on his way back up the hill toward Eden’s.

GIVEN AN OPTION, it’s not likely that either Suzy or Roddy would have chosen sex on a camp cot. But sometimes such constraints render certain couplings more urgent. Roddy and Suzy were restricted by space, by time, and by circumstance, and driven by a desire that felt like necessity. It made such sense, and felt, for both of them, so good that they found themselves surprised, laughing afterward at how their bodies were like dogs, that they were the owners watching their puppies gallop and play. They sure seem to like each other, don’t they? Yeah, they sure do.

And then the world came back to them, and they remembered in earnest the things that had led them to the place they were in.

“What’s going to happen tomorrow?” Roddy asked.

“What do you mean?” Suzy balked.

“I guess I start clearing . . . debris . . .” He said it as if it were an unfamiliar word, difficult to speak. “Make way for that new-and-improved laundry!”

Suzy said, “Please don’t hate me because my father’s such a . . .”

Roddy propped himself on an elbow, touched her hair. “That hasn’t ever been much of a problem,” he said, laughing a little.

She craned up and kissed him, ran her hand across his chest, down his side. “Really, how’d you get this scar?” She traced her fingertips over its surface again. “It’s a nasty one, huh?”

“Yup,” Roddy said. He pulled the sheet up to cover himself, bent in to kiss her.

She pulled away. “Not your favorite thing in the world to discuss, huh?”

“No.” He paused, then relented. “I was working out West at a sawmill for a while . . . You don’t really want the details.”

“OK,” she said, though it was clearly not.

The air outside was awhirl with early-summer crickets. “What’s your tomorrow like?” he asked.

“I could check my appointment book.”

“That was a joke, right?”

“Yeah.” She lay back down, ran both hands through her hair and held it by the ends away from her head as if to yank it from the scalp. “Jesus, I guess depending on Mia, how she is, I guess I take on my new and illustrious position as head housekeeper! I guess I might get called on to help plan a funeral.”

Roddy closed his eyes, shook his head back and forth.

“I should get back,” she admitted.

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather stay . . .”

Roddy nodded. “Your bed back at the Lodge’ll give you a hell of a better night’s sleep than here.”

“A little lonely, though . . .”

Roddy went back to shaking his head. “Oh boy,” he said. “Oh boy, am I in for it now . . .”

Suzy grinned mischievously. “And why’s that?”

Roddy’s head just wagged back and forth.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Suzy asked.

“I’m sure you will,” he answered.

Suzy quietly shut the door to Roddy’s cabin and started up the path toward her truck. She was just passing Eden’s house when something moved on the porch. Suzy yelped. She backed away, peering into the shaded darkness. In seconds, the shed door slammed and Roddy was rushing toward her, the bedsheet clutched around his waist.

“What happened? Are you OK?”

She nodded, gestured to the porch. “There’s something on the porch. It’s probably just a raccoon.”

A light went on inside the house. Roddy grabbed a log from Eden’s woodpile. There was shuffling from the house, a series of lights flicking on inside as Eden made her way to the back door. She pushed open the screen and flipped on the porch light to reveal Squee crouched beside the rocker like a criminal caught in the searchlight, head darting, trying to decide which way to flee.

The porch light also brought to Eden’s attention her son, a log raised over his head, his other hand gripping a sheet around his otherwise naked body. And Suzy Chizek, standing on the path between the house and the driveway, looking as if she didn’t know which way to run.

“Jesus Christ, Squee!” Roddy dropped his log to the ground. “What the hell?” He clutched the sheet tightly.

“I’m not staying at Grandma and Grandpa Vaughn’s. I don’t care what you do to me, I’m not staying there.” Squee remained squatting in the shadows by the outdoor sofa’s armrest.

“For goodness sakes,” said Eden. She opened the screen door again and held it ajar. “Come on inside. We’ll give Penny a call, let her know where you are.” Squee scuttled up, his eyes on Roddy the whole time, lest he pick up the log again and lunge.

Roddy and Suzy turned to each other and began to speak at the same time.

“You OK?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” she was saying.

“Go on. Go back to Mia.”

“OK.”

“Get some sleep,” he said.

“Yeah, OK.” She backed away a few steps, then turned and walked briskly toward the truck.

Roddy watched her drive away, then went down to his shack to put on some clothes.

“Toga party’s over?” Eden said, smirking, as Roddy came to the back door. Squee was at the kitchen table eating graham crackers with milk, and Roddy shot Eden a look through the screen.