Man Camp (20 page)

An orange tabby pours down the fence in front of the house, giving Martha a pang of homesickness. She misses Hannibal, and for the first time she thinks about how far away New York is from West Virginia.

“Damn cat uses my garden as his personal litter box,” says Beatrice, whistling for Tor and Tap to chase it off the property.

THE BAND IS WARMING UP when the women arrive, and the barn is already full of neighbors and friends drinking ice-cold longnecks, tapping their feet on the solid oak floor. Martha hasn’t seen Cooper since dawn and when her eyes find him on-stage, holding and caressing his upright bass as if it were a large woman, she wishes she were in his arms instead. His head bobs sweetly as he strokes out the rhythm with his eyes closed, concentrating to keep order alongside a feisty banjo plucking out a conversation with a mandolin, a fiddle, a guitar, and an instrument Martha’s never seen before, a jaw’s harp. The musicians play bluegrass and hillbilly, ragtime and old-timey, their fingers strumming and their bodies working hard, big drops of cartoon sweat collecting on their foreheads.

An impromptu square dance begins with Beatrice calling out moves. To start with, the men line up on one side of the hayloft and the women on the other, bowing and curtseying, keeping a measured distance. But as Beatrice’s calls become faster and more complex—Do-si-do! Allemande! Circle home!—partners intertwine and the room turns into an elaborate kaleidoscope of shifting shapes and patterns, the heavy floors flexing under the weight of so many people dancing in rhythm.

Adam stands on the sidelines with Jesse. All dances remind him of junior high school when, shy and self-conscious, he and his friends would congregate under the bleachers and evaluate the girls in lieu of asking them to dance. The Neola women are pretty tonight, decked out in their party dresses, their lashes so thick with mascara that they look like dolls. Jolene, the prettiest of the bunch, emerges from the crowd, slightly tipsy from beer, and asks Adam to dance. She’s the type of girl who wouldn’t have noticed him in school but now, as thirty looms, she’s casting her net a bit wider. He politely turns her down, explaining he promised his first dance to Lucy.

Adam scans the hayloft for Lucy and finds her on the far side of the square dancers, laughing with Martha. The two are standing in front of the band, imitating Cooper’s picking style on air basses, and Adam is struck by how stunning Lucy looks with her hair swept up off her slender neck. She is obviously taking great pleasure in Martha’s happiness and there’s an ease to her smile that hasn’t been present for a long time, which makes Adam wonder if somehow he has been responsible for its absence. He recalls how disappointed she was on Valentine’s Day.

What on earth am I waiting for?
Adam suddenly wonders. He knows his dissertation will be finished soon and that countless jobs will come and go after that, but there is only one Lucy and she means everything to him. He decides on the spot to propose to her. Tonight. He tries to come up with some romantic way, but the crooning of a scraggly man at the mike—
“Why don’t you
love me like you used to do?”
—makes it impossible to concentrate, so he sneaks off to the empty silo attached to the barn where it’s quiet. He paces in large circles to practice.

“Lucy,” he says out loud, “I’m not particularly good at this kind of thing. . . .”

“Lucy, I think you know how I feel about you . . .”

“Lucy, we’ve been together for more than two years now . . .”

“Marry me, Lucy,” is what he finally decides upon. It echoes nicely in the silo and is strong, simple, and to the point.

“WOULD YOU LOOK at my baby brother go?” Martha says, watching Jesse promenade to the left with a pretty girl.

Lucy surveys the campers, who are busy flirting and fetching drinks. The local girls are all over them, hanging on to their shoulders, laughing at their jokes, leaning in to whisper secrets. “I can’t believe these are really the same guys you had all those bad dates with.”

“
You
can’t believe it!” Martha says.

The band switches to a country-western song and the dancers pair off.

“We even have to give Beatrice some credit for the two-stepping lessons,” Lucy says. “Look at them go.”

Martha reluctantly agrees, watching Simon confidently turn a girl in a swirling skirt across the floor. “Man Camp has exceeded my every expectation.”

“Adam’s been acting like a different person,” Lucy says. She cranes her neck around to look into the corners of the barn. “Where is he, anyway? I haven’t even had a dance yet.”

When the band takes its first break, Cooper makes his way across the room toward Martha, but Beatrice intercepts him with a tall glass of lemonade.

“Thanks, Mom,” he says, taking the glass but still focusing on Martha, who is now walking toward him.

“That was wonderful, honey,” Beatrice says, moving in close. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you?”

Martha slows down slightly, unsure if she’s welcome, but Cooper reaches for her hand over his mother’s shoulder, and in a second she is standing by his side. “You look beautiful,” he says, kissing Martha lightly on the mouth.

Beatrice adamantly tilts her head in the direction of where she wishes to be talking to him—alone—but Cooper shakes his head. “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Martha,” he tells her.

“Well, I was just hoping you’d ask Jolene to dance,” Beatrice says. “I’m sure Martha wouldn’t mind. I don’t think it’s polite to neglect old friends just because new friends are visiting.”

“I’ve been playing my bass, Mom. I’m not neglecting anyone,” Cooper says, and senses Martha scrutinizing his words. “In any case, I’m afraid my dance card’s full tonight.” He pretends to look at it: “Martha, Martha, Martha, Martha, Martha.”

Martha smiles victory at Beatrice.
His dance card is full forever,
baby.

Beatrice tilts up her chin and walks back toward the bar as if the conversation never took place.

Soon after the band starts up again, Jolene sashays over to Martha. “Who’s that?” she asks, directing her gaze at Kurt.

Martha admires her chutzpah, but can’t tell if Jolene is interested in Kurt or just trying to appear uninterested in Cooper. “His name is Kurt. He’s single, smart, and very successful . . . and staying at Tuckington Farm for an extra two weeks.”

Jolene studies him.

“Here’s a tip for you: He once told me he loves women with sad eyes,” Martha says, trying to extend an olive branch. “I’d be happy to introduce you.”

“No need,” Jolene says, smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands. She looks up, erases her pretty smile, and heads toward Kurt with an expression suggesting her puppy just died.

Martha laughs, unable to stop herself from admiring Jolene’s ability to get into character.

On the band’s next break, Martha corrals Lucy and Cooper into a Man Camp counselor conference, hustling them downstairs past the calf pens and outside, where the fragrant West Virginia evening rises up around them. The sky is churning, and she guides them along the wall of the barn on the hillside, where they’re protected from the rain by an overhanging roof.

“A toast,” Martha says, lifting her bottle. “To Man Camp!”

“To Man Camp,” Lucy and Cooper toast back.

Martha takes a long pull on her beer, giddy with the week’s success, especially her own with Cooper. “And to the finest counselors anywhere.”

“Hear, hear,” Cooper says.

“I’m still in shock we pulled it off,” Lucy says.

“Well, we did,” Cooper says. “Did you see how well the guys were doing in there? The ladies love them. And I’m happy to report that every camper passed basic automotive, carpentry, electricity, and firearms. With the exception, of course, of Bryce.”

“Poor Bryce,” Lucy says.

“He’ll do fine,” Martha assures them. “He’s a creative guy with a good job and lots of style. That’ll be enough for most women.”

Cooper nods agreeably. “I’m ready to start planning next year’s Man Camp whenever you are.”

“Next year’s?” Martha says. “How about next month’s?”

“Hold your horses, both of you,” Lucy says. “I still want to talk about this Man Camp. Who do you think got the most out of it?”

“As in who’s the most improved camper?” Cooper asks.

“Yes.”

“Easy,” Martha says.

Adam returns from the silo to the hayloft, a man on a mission. “You seen Luce?” he asks Jesse.

“She was looking for you just a little while ago,” Jesse says. “I think she walked outside with Martha.”

“I better go find her,” Adam says, wanting to act quickly while his courage is up. As soon as he gets outside, he grabs a handful of daisies growing alongside the wall, and follows the sound of Lucy’s voice, loud and giddy with laughter, around the back side of the barn. He stops before making the final turn so that he can compose himself and rehearse his proposal one more time. The wind has picked up and rain is falling, and his future bride is just a few feet from him. He steels himself to interrupt their conversation when he overhears Cooper say, “Sure, Kurt came a long way, but the guy wasn’t in terrible shape to start with.”

“Think, Lucy,” Martha says. “Who was in
really
bad shape from the very beginning?”

“They all were, weren’t they?”

“You
honestly
don’t know?” Cooper asks.

“Love is blind,” Martha says. “Here’s a clue: jumper cables.”

Cooper whimpers a falsetto, “Something’s out there in the woods and I’m
so
scared!”

Lucy’s mouth drops open. “Adam is Most Improved Camper?”

“Hands down,” Cooper says.

“Hear, hear,” Martha says. “To Adam.”

It’s Cooper who sees Adam first, rounding the corner just as the three of them are toasting him, their beer bottles touching at shoulder height. If Adam didn’t yet fully believe what he heard, there’s no mistaking the panic that registers on their faces as he approaches.

“You brought me here
as a camper
?” he asks Lucy.

“Hey now, we’re just messing around,” Cooper says, stuttering slightly.

“You told them about our Valentine’s Day weekend?”

“It was all in good fun,” Cooper says.

Adam gives him a sidelong glance and says, “What possibly gives you the right to criticize me? I helped save your macho ass.” He looks back at Lucy, mortified that Cooper and Martha know about his failings on their trip upstate. “You lied to me about coming here as a vacation?”

“Adam, let me explain—”

“You lied to me!” he repeats.

“Wait, Adam,” Martha steps in. “Lucy didn’t want to do any of this. I talked her into it.”

“What difference does that make?” he asks, feeling terribly foolish. He drops the daisies on the ground.

“Oh, Adam, please don’t make this bigger than it is. You caught us being silly and insensitive, and we are sorry,” Lucy says. “
I
am sorry.”

Adam turns on his heel to leave.

“Just hold up one second, Adam,” Martha says. “I understand you’re pissed off, and you have a right to be. But so does Lucy. We all know the woman’s basically incapable of lying, so imagine what it must have taken for her to get you to come.”

“So now I’m responsible for my girlfriend’s deception? I don’t think so.” Adam looks disgusted and storms off.

Lucy starts after him and hesitates, uncertain of what to do.

“Just give him a little time,” Cooper says. “He needs to cool off some.”

“It’ll be okay,” Martha says.

“This is not going to be okay. Nothing about this is okay.”

“Don’t forget Adam’s part in this. Sending him to Man Camp wasn’t a reward for good behavior. He’s been a totally self-absorbed jerk and he’s been ignoring your needs,” Martha reminds her. “All you were trying to do was get things back on track. And as for Man Camp, it’s been anything but a mistake. When has Adam
ever
stood up to you like that?” Martha puts an arm around Lucy, but Lucy shakes it off and runs after Adam.

When she gets around the barn, she sees she’s too late. Adam’s already in one of the trucks, speeding down the drive.

The taillights disappear over the hill and then reappear far in the distance across the pasture where the drive intersects with the street to town. Then they’re gone.

CHAPTER 13

“What is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine.”

Susan Sontag

ADAM’S EYES BLINK OPEN with Pavarotti’s first shrill crow. Although the sun is barely up it seems impossibly bright and his head throbs from the base of his neck to his eyebrows. He concentrates on a blur outside the truck’s window, focusing until he’s able to make out the eave of the farmhouse. He must be in the driveway. The last thing he remembers is drinking whiskey at a local bar with a tough old guy who’d been a frogman in the Second World War.

What’s he going to say to Lucy? At some point during the night, when his anger faded, Adam realized that what upset him most about the overheard conversation was the truth in it. Sometime in the last year he’d lost confidence and become terrified of Lucy’s expectations. Adam covers his head with his arms and manages to fall back asleep, even though the rooster won’t shut up.

Hours later, a tentative rap on the driver’s-side window awakens him. He opens his eyes and sees Lucy standing outside with two mugs of coffee, struggling to open the door.

He pulls the handle and she climbs in.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.” He scoots over so that his back is against the passenger-side door and he can face her.

“I heard you drive in late last night but figured you needed some time alone or you would have come up.” Her eyes are puffy and tired, and she looks unsure of what to say next. “You okay?”

“I’ve felt better,” Adam admits, rubbing his head. He knows he must look like hell, probably smells even worse.

Lucy hands him one of the mugs of coffee. “Look, Adam, I feel terrible about what happened. I don’t know what to say other than I’m very sorry I hurt you. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

“Don’t,” Adam shushes her.

They sit quietly and sip their coffee. The spring greenery is lush from the previous night’s rain and a mourning dove flutters along the stone wall, piping out its lonesome song in a bid to impress a potential mate.

“Please say something,” she says. “You forgive me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Luce,” he says. “I mean, do I wish you could have made your point some other way? Sure. But I understand that I didn’t leave you with a lot of options.”

Lucy exhales, shuts her eyes, and reaches for Adam’s hand.

The dove catches the female’s attention and bobs its head and fans its tail.

“I hope you can forgive me, too,” he adds in a soft voice. “I know I’ve been a jerk. Somehow I got so absorbed in all that was going wrong with my life that I neglected the one thing that was going right.”

Lucy squeezes his hand and Adam squeezes right back, and the two doves hop off the wall to continue their courtship out of sight.

Inside the farmhouse, the campers are gathered in the kitchen, where Beatrice holds court over one final breakfast feast: scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage,
and
pancakes.

“No one should ever have to decide between eggs and pancakes when it comes to breakfast,” she says, nibbling on a crisp strip of bacon.

“We’re going to miss your cooking, that’s for sure,” Bryce says, and the rest of the campers nod, one by one loading their plates and disappearing into the dining room.

Out of the corner of her eye, Martha spies a line of tiny ants marching up and over the kitchen island, alongside the platters of food. She frowns.

Noticing them at the same time, Bryce steps away from the counter with his breakfast.

Martha moistens a paper towel and prepares to obliterate the colony in a swipe, when Lucy walks in with Adam and says, “Stop. Don’t even think about doing that!”

“Be serious, Lucy,” Martha says. “They’re
ants
!”

“Yes they are, and what you should be doing is studying them,” Lucy says, motioning for Martha to come close. “Be careful where you step.” Adam and Cooper lean in, too, and all four of their faces are lined up at counter level, inches from the ants. “Maybe give them a little of your pancake.”

“There will be no feeding ants in my house, thank you very much,” Beatrice says.

“You should try to
learn
something from them. Ants happen to be the world’s most successful insect,” Lucy tells them. “They’ve survived for over one hundred million years and there’re probably a million
billion
of them on the planet at any time. They weigh more than all the birds, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals put together.”

“That’s just gross, Luce,” Martha says. “Now, do you want to tell us what the big lesson is here, or are we supposed to wonder for the rest of our lives?”

“There’s no big lesson.” Lucy sighs. “More like something small to meditate on. Ants show us what can be accomplished with cooperation and hard work.”

“That’s our biologist,” Cooper says.

Adam puts an arm around Lucy. “My biologist,” he says.

While the girls are helping Beatrice clean the breakfast mess, Martha suddenly realizes how late it is. “All hands on deck,” she shouts.

“Wrong metaphor,” Lucy says. “Try something a little farmier.”

“Let’s git along, little dogies!” she calls up to the campers, who are in their rooms packing their bags.

“Better,” says Cooper.

The campers make their way downstairs and stream through the kitchen and out to the truck. Lucy follows the pack, wanting to give Martha and Cooper some privacy before they are jammed into the truck along with the rest of the group for the two-hour drive back to the airport.

“When am I going to see you next?” Cooper asks, wrapping his arms around Martha’s waist. “Want to bring another group of men down or could I talk you into some one-on-one time?”

Martha smiles at the thought of Cooper all to herself. “There’s nothing I’d love more than a little solo time with you.”

A delicate cough alerts them to Beatrice’s presence in the kitchen, and Martha quickly reconsiders. “What are the chances of you getting to New York anytime soon?”

“So happens I might be coming up with Kurt in two weeks to meet with his investors. Can I stay with you?”

Martha blushes slightly, delighted by the question. “Of course you can.”

Cooper gives her a squeeze and steps back. “Well, I guess it’s about time I get this show on the road,” he says, clapping his hands together and setting off to organize the campers.

Beatrice approaches Martha with outstretched arms. “It’s been such a delight to have you here,” she says, giving her guest a warm hug good-bye. “I hope it won’t be too long before you visit us again.”

“Thanks,” Martha says awkwardly. She can’t tell whether Beatrice is appeasing Cooper, trying to catch her off guard, or actually has had a change of heart. Could it be that she’s just really happy to see me go? Martha wonders, making her way out onto the porch, where she joins Lucy, who is watching the campers.

“Do you think they’re eager to get home or sad to leave?” Lucy asks.

“Probably a mix of both,” Martha replies. “That’s how it is for me, anyway. Part of me can’t wait to be back in the city with all that’s familiar: FirstDate, auditions, dial-up sushi, Hannibal. But the other part of me has really grown to appreciate what’s timeless and reassuring about cows.” She lights a cigarette and inhales thoughtfully. “And as you know, there’s nothing like the love of a good man.”

They watch the men toss their bags into the truck with ease. Walter kicks the tires; Simon takes in the scenery one last time; Jesse nuzzles Tap and Tor; Bryce swabs down the backseat with disinfectant wipes.

“I don’t think your pal Bryce is going to miss a thing about farm life,” Lucy says.

“Probably not, but I guarantee you the rest of them will. I think they got a lot out of coming here. Jesse, for instance, is about to take the first untranquilized flight of his life.”

“Impressive.”

“You and Adam doing okay?” Martha asks.

“We’re good. We talked things out and not only did he own up to his shortcomings, he forgave me mine,” Lucy says, glancing at Adam and Cooper, who are engaged in a private conversation. She hopes they are making amends. “When the gods want to punish you, they answer your prayers. I wanted Adam to be a stronger man. Now I have to learn how to deal with his strength.”

Martha nods and takes another drag on her cigarette. “I wonder what Eva will have to say about all this.”

Lucy laughs. “Do we have to tell her about getting lost in the caves?”

“Hell no! Only the good stuff.”

When the truck is fully loaded, Lucy and Martha crowd into the front, where they sit between Cooper and Adam. They wave good-bye to Beatrice and Kurt, who stand on the front porch with Tor and Tap on either side, looking like a country postcard. Then the truck lurches forward, rattles over the cattle grate, and rounds the bend, where they drive alongside a stretch of newly put-up fence, blond instead of gray. They pass the calf pasture, the Cow Palace, and a roadside ditch full of purple joepye weed. Lucy rests her head on Adam’s shoulder and Martha watches Tuckington Farm recede into the distance, wondering about the possibility of living a life so unlike the one she’s known. Cooper puts his arm around her and she knows that somehow she’ll figure out a compromise.

They all will.