Camp Pleasant (15 page)

“We were—drawn to each other,” I said, not able to stop myself. “We had similar interests. Books, music—”

I stopped and looked at Sid.

“Oh, why lie about it?” I said. “I’m in love with her. And I think she loves me. But there was never any decision made as far as Ed was concerned. I should have had the courage to make a positive move but I didn’t. I guess maybe I was never sure until now.”

I pushed away the coffee cup and stared at my hands on the counter.

“You see,” I said, “I was engaged to this girl. She died in an auto accident about a year ago. I thought maybe I was—just trying to forget about
her
. I know now that’s not true. I know I didn’t even love this other girl. Not the same way. I was mixed up with—selfishness, I guess I’ll have to call it. I was going to get a fancy job in her father’s plant. When she died it was as if—God, how lousy it sounds—as if my security were dying too. I never knew that till I fell in love with Ellen. Because there’s nothing like that involved with her. No … package deal like the other one.” I shook my head. “Far from it,” I said.

I turned to him.

“This has nothing to do with the—murder,” I told him. “I just want you to know it isn’t what you may think it is—something cheap. I want to marry her, Sid. I
will
marry her.”

Sid didn’t say anything for a while. We sat quietly and, every few seconds, the breeze from the fan would ruffle my hair and then the breeze would be gone, leaving me in warm, stale air.

“Let’s go,” Sid said finally.

We left and drove back to camp in the truck. We didn’t speak anymore except when Sid told me, “Oh, about your being fired. Doc told me that, as long as the camp keeps running—which may not be long— you’ll stay with your cabin.”

“All right,” I said.

It was just before supper. I was laying on the bunk, staring up at Chester Wickerly’s slowly swinging legs. The cabin was quiet. All the other boys were down in front of the mess hall waiting for the buzzer to sound.

The screen door rasped open and, looking over, I saw Tony come in carrying an armful of clothes and his
Louisville Slugger
which he dumped on his old bunk.

“Hi,” he said, sounding rather belligerent.

I stared at him. “What—?” I started.

“I’m back,” he said.

“Back?”

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Just wanna,” he said.

“But, no one has said anything about—”

“He can’t stop me.”

“Who?”

“The fat guy.”

I was on my elbow now, looking at Tony carefully, trying to figure a way out of this. “Did anyone tell you to come back?” I asked.

“I’m comin’ back,” was all he said.

“But have you asked anyone? Doc? Sid?”

“They ain’t the leader!” he said hotly, his lips pressed together adamantly. “I’m comin’ back.”

The dinner buzzer. We looked at each other, Tony trying to stare me down.

Chester Wickerly jumped down on the floor. “Chow,” he said. Tony paid no attention nor did I. “Goin’ t’chow?” asked Chester.

“Go on,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”

Chester shrugged. “Okay.” He started for the door, telling Tony en route, “This ain’t your cabin, Rocca.” Tony’s resort was unprintable. So was Chester’s deft return as he departed for chow.

I got up. “Tony, you can’t take things into your own hands like this,” I told him.

“I’m comin’ back, damn it!” he yelled, the skin tightening suddenly over his gaunt face. A great tear fell across his cheek. He brushed it off furiously, choking on his breath.

“All right, Tony, all right,” I said, putting my arm around his thin shoulders. “I’ll talk to Sid about it. Maybe we can get you back.”

“I’m
comin’
back,” he muttered.

“That’s enough. I’ll do what I can but I’m still the head of this cabin. Understand?”

Silence; a spasmodic sniff.

“Do you?”

“O-kay,”
he acceded, then added a trembling, “Chris
sake.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go eat.” I held him close to me as we left the cabin.

That night there was a special meeting of all the counselors, kitchen workers and Miss Leiber. Bob and I went to the mess hall together, finding chairs lined up, Cokes in front of each one. Doc was sitting at a table at the head of the room going through some papers. I hadn’t seen him in days and the change in him was shocking. I’d never really thought of Doc in terms of age but I couldn’t help it that night.

Before the meeting started, I went over to Sid and told him about Tony.

“You think Doc will mind if he transfers back to my cabin?” I asked. “There doesn’t seem much reason for him not to now.”

Sid nodded restlessly. “All right,” he said. “Just tell Riley about it.”

I rejoined Bob.

“Wonder what this is all about,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said, taking a sip of the icy Coke. I thought about Ellen waiting in that jail cell. It was horrible to sit there thinking about it, unable to help her at all.

Doc stood up when everybody was there and seated, his voice slow and tired.

“First of all,” he said. “As temporary head of the camp, I wanted to thank all of you for keeping the camp schedule going as if nothing had happened. Believe me, it’s appreciated.”

He took a slow breath, looking down at the papers on the table. Then he looked up again.

“The reason we’re here is this: I don’t know if the camp is going to finish out the season or not. We’ve been flooded with calls from the boys’ parents. Some of them have already made cancellations. That’s what these are,” he said, holding up the papers. “Sid will hand them out to you after I’m finished. I’m afraid there’ll be more. If there are too many the camp will have to close.

“I got a call from the Board this evening. They’re very doubtful about continuing. I managed to talk them into delaying their decision but— well, it all depends on the parents.”

Again he stared down at the papers and we sat waiting. He seemed to have been broken by Ed’s death, his vitality drained. While we sat waiting for him to go on, I heard Mack clear his throat and heard someone else’s feet shuffle momentarily. Doc looked up.

“To those of you who chipped in and bought flowers and candy for Mrs. Nolan,” he said, “I want to extend my personal thanks. I don’t think I have to tell you what it meant to her.”

That had been Sid’s idea. The day after Ed’s death, he’d come around during rest period, getting money from the counselors in order to send something to Ellen. Apparently, he hadn’t told Doc it was his idea.

“As far as the tragedy is concerned,” Doc went on with obvious difficulty, “we’ve engaged a lawyer to defend Mrs. Nolan and there is every hope that….” He broke off and tried to straighten his shoulders without much success. “Well,” he said, “Let’s not lose hope for her.”

He looked around at us all.

“I think that’s about all,” he said. “As far as what I have to say anyway. All we can do is wait and go on as if nothing has happened. For your efforts in that direction, my thanks to all of you.”

After Jack had brought up a few inane points about the water-front schedule, Sid had handed out the cancellations to the counselors involved (one to Bob, one to me—David Lewis). Then after Barney Wright had gotten up and, simply and beautifully, pronounced his faith in Ellen, the meeting broke up.

Bob and I were going out when I felt someone touch my arm and, turning, saw Miss Leiber.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I’d like to speak to you,” she said. She glanced at Bob. “Privately.”

“All right.”

I said goodnight to Bob and Miss Leiber and I walked along the dark path toward the dispensary.

“What is it?” I asked her, but she wouldn’t tell me until we’d reached the dispensary and she’d closed the door firmly behind her. Then she turned to me and said, “It’s about your friend.”

“My—”

“I don’t believe I remember his name. The young fellow you were just with.”

“Bob Dalrymple,” I said.

She nodded. “Yes,” she said, “Dalrymple.”

“What about him?” I asked.

“The day of the—” She broke off nervously. “The day Mister Nolan died,” she amended, “I saw your friend Dalrymple go by here.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “He was heading for the Nolan cabin.”

I stared at her a second or two without comprehending. Then it hit me.
“What time
?” I asked.

“Just before
you
came by.”

“Oh.” I looked at her dazedly.

“I haven’t told anyone,” Miss Leiber said. “I didn’t want to involve him when I wasn’t sure. But I have to tell someone; it’s not fair to Mrs. Nolan for me to remain silent if what I know might help her.”

She drew in a quick breath. “The reason I’m telling you instead of Phillip,” she said (it was odd to hear Doc called that), “is that you’re the young man’s best friend and I think you should determine if there’s any significance to what I saw. If there isn’t, we can forget it and your friend won’t be hurt in any way.”

She swallowed with effort.

“But if there
is,”
she said. For once, Miss Leiber didn’t sound in absolute command of herself.

I walked back along the path, feeling the cold night air through my zelan jacket.
Best friend
. The phrase depressed me. How could I feel this sort of shackled elation at the possibility that a best friend had committed murder?

When I reached Bob’s cabin, he wasn’t there. I walked up to Paradise but he wasn’t there either. I decided he must have gone to
The Crossroads Tavern
for a hamburger. I got ready for bed and lay there awake until I heard footsteps outside. Then I got up and went out.

“Bob?” I called softly.

He turned and, seeing me, waited until I’d come down the porch steps and over to where he was standing.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I didn’t want to drag it out for a second. “Were you in Ed’s cabin the day he died?” I asked.

His face seemed to go slack in the cold moonlight. “What?” he asked.

“You heard me.”

I heard him swallow dryly, then make a weak scoffing sound. “Who told you that?” he asked.

“Bob, were you?”

“No,” he said.

“Listen,” I said, “I’m not trying to trap you. Miss Leiber said she saw you going toward Ed’s cabin that day.”

“You haven’t told anyone about it, have you?” he asked.

“Now
listen
,” I said sharply, then realized that someone in the cabins might hear. I took him by the arm and we moved down the hill a little.

“Look, Bob,” I said, “I want to know. Were you there?”

His breath was shaky. “Jesus, you don’t think I did it, do you?” he asked in a horrified whisper. “I didn’t even go
in
the cabin.”

“You didn’t see him then?” I asked.

“I didn’t see anybody,” he said.

“Then why so secretive?” I asked. “If you had nothing to hide why the hell didn’t you tell somebody?”

He was silent a moment, then he said, “I—I saw you coming down to the cabin that day and I didn’t want you to know that—”

“That
what
?” My voice was hard; I couldn’t help it.

“That I was going down there to quit,” he said. “At the last minute, I couldn’t do it. I started back for the dock. Then I saw you coming and I just didn’t want you to know about it.”

“So you hid,” I said.

He nodded.

“That’s great,” I said, “
Great.”

He looked at me curiously. “What are you so upset about?” he asked.

I felt a weight pulling me down as I knew that, in spite of the fact that Bob was my friend, I’d been hoping that he
was
responsible for Ed’s death.

“Matt?” he said as I turned away.

I stopped without looking back. “What?”

“You’re … not going to tell the—”

“What for?” I said.

“What about Miss Leiber?”

“Tell her what you told me,” I said.

“Matt, I can’t,” he said, worried. “Can’t you?” I looked over my shoulder at him. “All right,” I said, “I’ll tell her.”

There was another meeting three days later. Three days of boys being taken home, of camp life staggering toward a complete halt. Three days closer to Ellen’s trial.

I think we all knew what this meeting was about. We filed into the Dining Hall and took our seats. There were no Cokes this time, just grim silence. We all waited, looking at the table where Doc sat.

At last he stood. He looked even worse than he had at the first meeting.

“I guess you all know what we’re here for,” he said slowly. He gestured toward the papers on the table. We knew what they were without him saying. “The director of the board called this evening. We’re going to have to close the camp.”

Dead silence for a long moment. I glanced aside at the grim faces of the counselors near me.

“The buses will arrive here Saturday morning about eleven,” Doc went on. “Until then we’ll have to start preparing for the shutdown. Your section leaders will give you the details.”

Another silence. Doc stood there looking lost.

“I’m sorry, boys,” he said, and sat down.

When the meeting had ended, Bob asked me if I wanted to go to the
Crossroads
but I said no. He left without another word and I went over to Doc.

“How is she?” I asked him.

He exhaled slowly. “As well as possible, son,” he said.

“What—what does her lawyer think?” I asked, “About her chances, I mean.”

Doc shook his head. “I don’t know, son,” he said. “He’s doing all he can.

“I see.” I turned away.

I was going up the cabin steps when I heard my name called softly. Turning my head, I saw a shadowy figure rise from the steps of the next cabin and move toward me. When I got close enough, I saw it was Sid.

“I forgot to tell you,” he said, “those of us staying for the trial will live here in camp, probably in the section leaders’ tent.”

“Oh. All right.”

He looked at me a moment, then said, “You want to talk about it?”

“Talk?”

“Maybe it’ll help,” he said.

I didn’t understand what he meant but when he said, “Come on,” I followed him over to the big stump in front of my cabin and sat down beside him.