Across the lake on a distant shore, Hazel spotted a fuzzy image of tiny shapes and figures sitting out on their beach. She could hear people talking and laughing, though she was unable to make out any of the words. Two small boys played in the shallow water in neon-colored bathing suits. They were shrieking as they splashed each other and jumped up and down, their little bodies glittering in the water. They transferred water in various-sized buckets, back and forth from the lake, into what appeared to be a moat crafted around a messy sandcastle. Hazel thought of her little brothers. How much they would like it here. Hazel’s heart clenched at the thought of it. Did she miss them? Her heart clenched again. She needed to distract herself from the thought as quickly as possible, so she jumped into the water. It was cold and refreshing. After swimming a few small circles, Hazel felt tired. She was out of practice and so she pulled herself back into the boat. Eve propped herself up on her elbows and peeked out from behind her sunglasses to watch Hazel. Silas, too, had returned to the boat in that time and was sitting on the nose with his feet dipping in and out of the water as the boat rose and fell.
“Look who’s back!” Eve remarked with a smile.
“Nice out here, isn’t it?” Silas half declared, half asked proudly and spread a towel out between his hands for Hazel.
“Oh yeah!” Hazel said and walked into the towel. Silas wrapped her in it tightly and gave her a firm pat on the back. If Hazel had any chill before, it was entirely gone now. Everything felt warm inside. This was exactly what she had hoped this new life would be like.
24
After dinner that next night, Silas held the screen door open and suggested Hazel and Eve join him outside for another treat.
“Ugh, it’s always full of bugs out there,” Eve complained and then slunk down in her chair.
Silas smirked and removed his hand from the door and let it slam shut. The door creaked, bouncing in the doorframe as Silas stood there, eyes locked on Eve, willing her to move. When she didn’t, Silas shifted his weight and then walked over to her. Eve had already begun smiling in anticipation of the creative ways Silas could convince her to move from her position in the chair.
“Come on, look at them swarming out there! They’re obsessed with that light.” Eve pointed out the window at a dozen moths fluttering around a light. “Ew, they’re so gross!”
Silas, mildly amused, rolled his eyes, ensuring Eve could see them, and then placed his hands underneath Eve’s armpits and lifted her from the chair. Eve tried to leave her body heavy and limp, but her narrow delicate body was no match for Silas’s strong, burly arms and shoulders and hands.
Eve yelped and laughed and then steadied her intentionally wobbling legs beneath her torso until she was standing.
“Okay, okay, we’ll go!”
Hazel giggled and then made her way toward the screen door herself. It was so thrilling to see Silas so casually outdo Eve like that. Hazel wondered if that was how it went with fathers and daughters. If she would have what Silas and Eve had. She hoped she would.
“That’s what I thought,” Silas responded confidently and smiled too widely, with all his big white teeth showing for Eve. Eve tucked her hair behind her ears and recomposed herself and then dragged her feet across the floor toward the outside.
Just when Silas’s shoulders relaxed, Eve allowed her legs to become wobbly below her again. She yelped and laughed again as she pretended to droop down to the floor. But before her buttocks could reach the floor, Silas’s hands were underneath Eve’s back again, sparing her from the hardwood.
He playfully lifted his boot to Eve’s bottom and ushered her out the door. “One of these days you being a pain in my butt is going to cause a pain in your butt!” Silas joked as he lifted Eve back up to her feet.
Hazel giggled again, this time with a little extra warmth in her heart. She was sure this was how it went with fathers and daughters.
Down a short walkway out in the grass of the backyard was a small but sturdy firepit surrounded by three red camping chairs. Like most items inside the house, the firepit, too, had a handmade quality. Three layers of gray, slightly crumbly cinderblocks formed a two-foot pit on top of a gravelly bed.
Despite the rustic, handmade feel, there was a certain newness to the thing. The three chairs were not tattered, or worn, or stained. The pit had no ash or burnt remnants inside of it. A stack of freshly chopped wood lay beside it.
Three long sticks leaned against the blocks next to a pack of unopened marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a stack of chocolate.
“You girls ever make a s’more before?” Silas asked earnestly.
“S’mores?” Eve asked.
“Yes!” Hazel interjected excitedly and moved the stack of logs into the pit, flush against the gravel on the bottom.
Silas watched skeptically and then raised one eyebrow at Hazel’s lackluster wood placement.
“I suppose I should have asked the more important question first. Have you ever made a fire before?”
Hazel felt her cheeks get hot and she pulled her body away from the pit.
“No,” Hazel mumbled. She felt the enchantment of the firepit and Silas and the sparkly twilight start to spill out of her.
“Well, this is a new activity,” Eve chimed in with a slight roll of her eyes. “And I don’t think it’s one that I’m too interested in.”
“That’s fine,” Silas responded calmly. “Hazel and I will do it.”
Hazel felt her tummy turn. Silas looked up and his clear, earnest eyes met Hazel’s. And then a big smile spread across his lips.
“Any girl of mine better know how to make a fire! Go on and get me some sticks.”
Hazel bounced into motion before he could finish getting the words out. She skipped over to the edge of the wooded area and started collecting sticks without even turning back.
“Mostly skinny ones,” Silas shouted from behind her. “And gotta be dry!”
She hurried back with a pile and dropped them at Silas’s feet.
“That, my girl, is some good-looking kindling!”
Silas knelt down in front of the firepit and told her about stick placement and airflow. He told her about his first fire on a camping trip long, long ago. He told her where to light the wood so that the flame would catch the fastest. He told her how to blow gently on the flames to keep the fire going.
And Silas looked right at Hazel while he said it all. He looked at her and directed her hands when she was making a mistake and smiled and cheered when she was doing it right.
And then there it was. A roaring, dancing, deep orange fire. Hazel felt her heart swell until it felt like it was going to pop.
She stood still and smiled softly, observing her creation. And she felt Silas watching her. Perhaps observing his creation.
Hazel was so happy to have been taught by Silas. She didn’t know whether it was the flames of fire or the sense of pride that was warming her belly.
Silas slapped Hazel on the back firmly with a big open palm. The force of it caused Hazel to stumble forward a bit. The place where Silas’s hand had been tingled, even stung, but she enjoyed the feeling.
Hazel never considered that she might be one for that kind of firm-pat-on-the-back or teach-the-kiddo-how-to-do-things kind of love. At home, with her mother, it had always been soft kisses and long hugs. Lick-the-spoon-after-baking and sing-our-favorite-songs-in-harmony kind of love.
Thinking on it now, Hazel couldn’t remember anything but a love that just grew and grew into bigger and bigger love. It was always like a snowball accumulating layer after layer of fresh powdery snow. Until Cam came along, there were no discrete moments or milestones that built their love up or yanked it down. No shared stepwise changes in togetherness or closeness or happiness or sadness. Nothing to point to and say, “That’s when Mom and I became this.” Or “That’s when I turned into a person that
could do this.”
Hazel knew she would remember this moment forever. The moment she turned into a girl that could make a fire from a few coarsely chopped logs and some newspaper. The moment that she and Silas became a team. It meant everything.
Hazel looked over at Silas, who was standing with his feet wider than his shoulders and his hands on his hips, watching the fire. The light caught his cheekbones and danced across his black hair as the fire jerked around in the pit. He looked so firm and steady standing there. So calm and focused.
Hazel turned around to Eve, who was reclined in her camping chair, one leg dangling over the armrest, mesmerized by the fire. Hazel smiled even more thoroughly.
Hazel hoped they were both proud of what they had created. In that firepit and in this cabin. It was just the three of them out there in the backyard. Enjoying a warm fire and a quiet sense of peace.
Silas interrupted the quiet by handing each of the girls a stick.
“This fire is ready for some s’mores!”
He tossed the bag of marshmallows into Eve’s lap.
“Come on. Slide those puffy little ’mallows onto the stick.”
Eve wiggled herself upright in the chair, flipped the bag of marshmallows over and began scanning the back of the bag.
“These are basically like all sugar. Do you want me to get fat?”
Eve slumped back into the chair and dipped her head back.
She tossed the bag back at Silas, with a bit more force than appropriate for a short toss.
“Party pooper!” Silas said while shrugging his shoulders. He turned and held the bag out in front of Hazel.
“How about you?”
Hazel looked over at Eve. Her long legs stretched over the side, her hip bone popping out from the bottom of her shirt. Her back arched over the armrest, which pressed her breasts into the sky. Hazel was surprised Eve had to make any sacrifices at all for that body. Her beauty, her allure, always looked so natural on her.
Hazel looked back at Silas, who was now shaking the bag seductively in front of her. This firepit. These carefully chosen sticks. This warm, humid evening. His black hair. His full eyebrows. The charming look in his stirring green eyes.
Hazel snatched the bag from Silas’s hand, tore the plastic open and popped a marshmallow into her mouth.
“That’s my girl!” Silas rubbed the back of Hazel’s hair. And Hazel felt cool. And carefree. Like she belonged at the lake.
Silas grabbed a marshmallow, and then another one, and then another one, and slid them onto a stick. Hazel did the same, feeling rebellious by adding a third marshmallow, and then both Silas and Hazel held their sticks over the now calmer flames.
Hazel looked at Eve out of the side of her eye, hoping she was being watched, but Eve still had her head tilted back and her eyes closed and face toward the sky.
“The glowing logs are where it’s at. It’s where the heat is. It’s where you get that sweet golden brown.”
The wind picked up for a moment, creating a whirl of fire in the pit.
“See that. Don’t trust those flames. Too unpredictable. Too susceptible to the elements. They’ll burn you every time.”
Silas kept his focus on the flickering flames, until he pulled the stick back from out of the fire, three perfectly browned marshmallows stacked on the stick.
“Quick, we gotta get them on the grahams while they’re still gooey. Load up the rest of the s’mores!”
Hazel leaned her stick with her half-roasted marshmallows against the edge of the firepit and tore open the box of graham crackers and then the chocolate wrapper. She snapped a piece of chocolate from the edge.
“Ah, I just love that sound,” Silas said. Hazel knew he meant it. He said it right from his gut.
Hazel presented a graham cracker with the piece of chocolate on it to Silas.
“That, Hazel Box, is the perfect ratio of chocolate to graham. It’s a beautiful thing.”
Silas sandwiched his marshmallows between two graham crackers and slid the stick out. Hazel watched the chocolate begin to melt underneath the hot, drooping marshmallows.
He shuffled slowly toward Eve and then sat down next to her on the dirt. Eve peeked one eye open, skeptically.
“Yes?” she asked, drawing out the question.
“Oh, nothing. Just thought this was a good seat,” Silas responded with an overt lightness in his voice.
And then he aggressively bit into the s’more. The graham cracker broke awkwardly, leaving a big chunk of s’more with gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate hanging outside his mouth. Crumbs fell down into his lap as he struggled to get his mouth around the bite.
“Mmm!” Silas mumbled dramatically, leaning in toward Eve’s ear.
Eve squeezed her eyes tighter together as Hazel watched in amusement. She sat down on the edge of the firepit and tilted the marshmallows back over a glowing log.
“Mmm...mmm!” Silas mumbled even louder now. More crumbs rolled down the front of his shirt.
“Ugh, fine. Give me a bite of that already!”
Eve sat back up in the chair and Silas slowly raised the broken s’more to her lips. Just as she was about to take a bite, Silas shoved the whole piece of it into her mouth. Eve shrieked and instinctively slapped Silas on the shoulder. He laughed and laughed, his shoulders bouncing up and down, and it made Eve laugh, too. And then Hazel.
Eve chomped down on her s’more as Silas licked the sticky marshmallow and traces of chocolate from his fingers.
Silas and Hazel watched Eve until she swallowed the whole thing, ready for the histrionics to unleash.
Without saying a word, Eve walked over to Hazel and sat down next to her on the edge of the firepit. Eve laid her head onto Hazel’s shoulder and looked up at her with earnest, begging green eyes. She blinked twice, batting her eyelashes.
“What do you think about giving me one of those marshmallows?”
Hazel paused for a moment, smiled down at Eve and then nudged her hip into Eve’s, nearly pushing her off the side. She had been emboldened by the evening. The fire and Silas and the s’more and the evening and this whole week at the lake.
“What I think is that you should make your own marshmallow!”
Hazel almost didn’t recognize herself but those almost taunting but still lighthearted words felt so right coming off her lips. It occurred to Hazel that it must be a thing sisters can do with each other. It occurred to her that this could be her life. And she could be a confident, cool, competent, fire-making girl, sister, in that life.
Silas chuckled again and tossed Eve a stick. Eve held her eye contact with Silas, urging him to back her up.
“Don’t look at me, kiddo. The gals I know never give up their ’mallows.”
Eve rolled her eyes, sat harshly onto the edge of the firepit and tilted her marshmallow-lined stick over the fire.
Hazel finished making her s’more and took a big bite as she watched Eve roast hers.
She was happy. They were all happy.
At some point, Hazel, Silas and Eve found themselves draped in the darkness. But until then, there had been no sense of progression to mark the time. It didn’t get cooler or quieter. The crackle of the fire didn’t get louder and the flames didn’t get hotter. The moment was eternal and still.
Hazel looked over at the house. The lighted rooms had become a great illuminated stage with each window aglow. It surprised Hazel just how much she could make out from each window. Furniture and books and beds and nightstands. All except for one dark, evasive window. Just as the question of what was in that room began to bubble up inside of Hazel again, her thought was interrupted by a wet droplet on her arm.
The drop was thick and full, and remained in its orbed form for a moment before sliding off the side. And then there was another thick raindrop. And another. And another. With increased frequency.<
br />
Hazel looked over at Eve, who had popped up from her chair but was surprisingly not yet covering her hair. Silas had his face up toward the clouds.
A booming rumble of thunder filled the air.
“You girls ready for this?”
“Ready for wha—” A great crack of lightning lit up the sky and the great moody lake beneath it. Eve yelped but then pulled back into silence.
“Ready for a real Grandor rainstorm?” Silas said calmly.
Within seconds, the rain unleashed itself with a sudden burst of intensity. The ragged sheets of rain covered the chairs, and the trees, and the fire, and their bodies.
Eve yelped again, but this time with more excitement than anxiety. And then she spread her arms out and let the rain fall all over her. Drenching her clothes and her hair. And then she lay down in the grass and let the rain fall all over her some more.
Hazel looked over at Silas. Perhaps for permission to join. But perhaps just because it was becoming an instinct to look up at him when she felt uncertain of anything. Anything at all.
Silas shrugged and then joined Eve on the ground with his head near Eve’s and his feet out in the opposite direction. And then Hazel did the same. It was dark but the moon was bright and Hazel could turn her head to either side to find Eve and Silas enjoying the rain. Her sister and her father enjoying the rain.
Hazel closed her eyes and listened to the clicking sound of big wobbling raindrops hitting the roof.
And then out of the peace, Hazel felt Eve’s hand on hers, squeezing it tight. Hazel opened one eye to look over at Eve, but Eve’s eyes were still closed. Hazel gave it a squeeze right back and then she felt Silas take her other hand. It had caused their arms and shoulders to touch and it sent a chill all the way down Hazel’s spine.
She could feel his imminence. The fullness of his attention. His love. And Eve’s, too.
Hazel considered that this unexpected access to unadulterated happiness, this surprising feeling of boundless tenderness for someone else seemingly out of nowhere, must be what it was like to have a real family.
That Summer in Maine Page 16