Lily dreamed of fireworks, brilliant bursts of color against a velvet sky, the rising sounds of surprise and pleasure from the people gathered six deep along the rails on the top deck of the William Henry, their faces upturned in simple joy. Chase stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, her breath warm against Lily’s cheek as she laughed. For those brief moments as rockets soared and flamed, as the magic wheeled overhead, everyone—young and old—believed in happy endings. Even her.
Lily woke with the warm memory of Chase’s hand lightly caressing her hip as they watched the spectacle, the William Henry rocking gently at anchor. Right now, the sky outside her room was tinged with gray, but at any moment dawn would break and color return to the world. The warmth of Chase’s hand on her hip was very much not a dream. For a little while longer, her touch was very real.
How had she missed the last month passing by since that holiday celebration on the lake? Or had she just been content to fill every day with camp activities, nature excursions, and even a weekend of wilderness survival training for the campers and staff alike? So busy she hadn’t had to think about the end.
Endings. The inevitable finale to every adventure, even life itself. For the lucky, the unhappy endings would be few and the ultimate one met with grace and peace. Lily hoped she could manage the one fast approaching with just a fraction of that.
She had loved every minute of the summer, discovering skills and interests she’d never even considered before, never tiring of the beauty wherever she looked, and taking unexpected pleasure in seeing some of the teens thrive with the physical challenges, and others—like Marty and Ford—discover something new in the course of becoming friends. She’d rediscovered something also, her fundamental joy in caring for others—even though the worst of her medical emergencies recently had been a fractured wrist she’d needed to splint until the teen could be seen at a local urgent care center, a host of mysterious rashes that still evaded a diagnosis but that thankfully responded to topical steroids, and the never-routine, ever-present challenges of managing nearly fifty teenagers through small illnesses and injuries.
And then there was Chase.
Sometimes Chase would be on-site to lead an excursion or supervise a technical exercise, but just as often she was out on a call, sometimes for several days at a time. Even though Lily’s days and nights were full, something was missing when Chase was absent. The expectation of that surge of pleasure when she first saw her, the banter that often turned to seduction, the quiet conversations that touched somewhere even deeper, and the moments when they joined—heart and body. When Lily awakened to the steady rumble of the Jeep cresting the road at dawn, she’d rise, her pulse racing, to wait for Chase at the lake. Chase would appear at the end of the dock, her blazing smile vanquishing the memory of missing her with the intensity of her presence. They’d swim, they’d kiss, they’d make love slowly before the day began and duty called them apart.
Other times, when Chase returned at midnight, she’d come silently up the stairs to Lily’s room and through the door Lily’d left unlocked to lie down beside Lily and fold her in her arms. Sometimes, like the night before, Lily’s need for her would rise hard and fast, and she’d pull Chase into the whirlwind of her passion. That need grew stronger as the summer grew shorter. Feeling the ache fill her again, Lily pressed into Chase’s arms, seeking relief in her touch.
Chase kissed the curve of her shoulder and tightened her arm around Lily’s waist, snugging Lily more tightly into the curve of her body. “Morning.”
Lily curled her thigh over the curve of Chase’s hip, bringing her center closer to Chase’s body as her heart beat faster. “Good morning.”
“I think it is.” Chuckling softly, Chase stroked Lily’s back, around the curve of her hip, and slowly trailed up her thigh until she cupped Lily between her legs. “I missed you, Lily.”
Lily drew in a sharp breath.
“I should have let you sleep last night,” Lily whispered, the ache spiraling beneath Chase’s hand clouding her awareness of anything but the urgency of release.
“I always sleep well next to you.” Chase kissed her again, her strokes languid and knowing. “And I need you more than a extra hour.”
“You’ll need to get out of here soon before the lodge fills up.” Lily gasped. “Soon.”
“I don’t like to rush the important things,” Chase whispered against her throat.
“Mmm, keep doing that right there and it shouldn’t take very long.”
Chase kept stroking exactly where Lily liked it, and almost instantly Lily’s stomach clenched, her thighs tightened, and she gasped into the curve of Chase’s neck as the orgasm swept over her.
“See? Plenty of time,” Chase murmured, starting to draw away.
“No. Don’t go just yet.” Lily rolled onto her back and pulled Chase with her.
“Can’t now.” Chase groaned softly and straddled the length of Lily’s thigh. “Whatever you want.”
“This is exactly what I want.”
Lily clasped Chase’s hips and gently urged her to ride, and Chase did. A half dozen hard strokes, and she threw her head back on a sharp groan and came. The sight never failed to leave Lily breathless with wonder. God, she loved her.
How had that happened? How could she have let that happen? And how—given everything Chase had made her feel and everything Chase had opened up around and inside her—could she ever have thought it wouldn’t happen?
Chase settled down upon her, careful with her weight but breathing hard. “You know you destroy me, right?”
And this might destroy me. Lily stroked the damp hair at Chase’s neck and kissed her. “That’s my total intention.”
“You succeeded.” Chase rolled over with a long sigh. Her hand found Lily’s and their fingers entwined. “I really better get out of here.”
“I know.” Lily didn’t want four dozen teens speculating on her sex life—to say nothing of her colleagues. They probably all speculated, but they didn’t need to see the rumpled, satisfied proof. “Go jump in the shower.”
“Yeah?” Chase sounded hopeful.
“Alone.”
Chase sighed but didn’t move and, after another moment, asked quietly, “When are you leaving?”
Lily bit her lip for an instant until she was sure her voice would be steady and light. “A week from today. I wanted to wait till all the campers left over the weekend. I imagine Sarah will need help getting the inventory and paperwork squared away too.”
Chase’s grip on hers tightened briefly. “Will you start back to work right away?”
“I don’t know, probably.” Talking about not being here was almost easier than thinking about it. Thinking about it only brought up a sense of longing, as if her mind got stuck on the one inescapable reality—her life would be one without Chase in it. “I’ve talked to my boss, and of course he can’t wait for me to get back.” Lily chuckled wryly. “So I assume sometime next week.”
Chase leaned on her elbow and kissed her. “Well, you’ve got a week left.”
Chase’s tone was curiously flat, and Lily tried to read her face, but Chase turned away too quickly. The rigid set of her shoulders as she reached for her pants didn’t invite a touch, and Lily kept silent.
Chase stood in just her pants, her T-shirt balled in her fist, and a totally neutral expression on her face. “Give me five minutes in the shower.”
When she emerged, dressed and hair still damp, less than five minutes later, Lily asked, “I’ll see you for breakfast?”
“Yep,” Chase said as she headed toward the door. “I’ve just got to check in and make sure the weather works for today’s trip.”
“I’ll wait,” Lily called after her, and then Chase was gone.
Lily sighed. That went as well as it probably could have, even though putting words to the reality left her feeling mildly ill. She’d always known what would happen when this time came, but knowing hadn’t prepared her for the sinking sensation she carried around with her all day long. She’d never before had trouble dealing with hard truths—all her training had been focused on accepting the randomness, vagaries, and sometimes outright unfairness of life so she could continue to do her job with compassion and hope. She’d struggled with that in the face of so much failure the last few years, but she’d survived it and recovered her professional balance this summer.
She’d expected to miss Chase when she returned to the city the way she’d missed Sarah—a friend she loved, a friend she missed, and a friend she always rejoiced to see again. How foolish she had been. Chase was not her friend—Chase was her lover. Time had no meaning where the heart was concerned, and she’d lost hers.
* * *
At four thirty in the morning, Chase was used to the lodge being nearly deserted. Clara was usually up, though, and the coffee was usually hot and ready. Chase wasn’t bothered by what Clara might think about her having spent the night upstairs and not in her quarters across the way. Clara had known her since she was fifteen and was used to seeing her come in at all hours, a fond smile her usual welcome.
This morning, Sarah greeted her at the coffeepot.
“Morning,” Chase said briefly and reached for a cup. All she wanted was to snag some caffeine and go. She’d been serious when she’d told Lily she had things to do, but mostly she’d needed to shake off the hit she’d known all summer was coming. In a week Lily would be gone. They’d played by the rules—grabbed every moment they could and made the most of it—and each second was more than she’d ever imagined. Oh sure, the sex was fabulous, as anyone looking at Lily for a heartbeat could have predicted. But the rest—the easy silences, the even easier revelations, and Lily’s endless understanding—filled a hunger she’d never recognized and knew now she’d never be able to sate with anyone else. She’d never wanted to feel what she felt for Lily, and she should have been more on her guard. Hadn’t she seen it before and sworn that would never be her—the one left behind to grieve? She’d watched her mother grieve her father’s absence until the day she died, and Chase mourned them both still, as she knew Sarah did.
She had never been looking for love.
“Hi,” Sarah said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Chase gave her a look. “I didn’t. I was upstairs.”
“Ah.” Sarah smiled softly.
Chase gritted her teeth. Could she just walk out with a wave? Like that had ever been possible with Sarah.
“It’s hard to believe camp season’s almost over,” Sarah said with studied nonchalance.
“The season isn’t,” Chase said just as nonchalantly. “Once the campers leave, you’ll still have tourists coming up for the guided hikes and the fall foliage shuttles and the Halloween—”
“Stop!” Sarah laughed. “You’re giving me a headache. I haven’t even gotten the kids out of here yet.”
“Everyone will be gone this time next week,” Chase said flatly.
Sarah let out a breath. “You know, Chase, Lily mentioned how much she liked being the camp medic this season, and that she might want to come back again.”
Chase gave her a long look. “Lily has a job and a life in New York City, Sarah.”
“People change,” Sarah said.
“Do they? I’m not so sure.” Chase shook her head. “Besides, what we had has been what Lily needed. You can see she’s ready to go.”
“What about you?” Sarah asked. “Has it been what you needed?”
Chase grabbed her cup and said firmly, “It’s been exactly what I wanted. And I’m fine that it’s only been this summer. So don’t worry.”
Sarah merely nodded, and Chase finally escaped. She’d meant what she’d said. Lily had been who she’d wanted, and that would have to be enough.
* * *
Marty stirred when Ford crept out of the cabin before anyone else was awake. Marty debated following for a few minutes, but since everyone would be rising soon for breakfast anyhow, they didn’t figure Ford would mind the company, and they could bring Ford the pack she’d left by her bunk. They dressed quickly, grabbed the day pack that they’d readied the night before with everything necessary for the day’s activity, and carefully crossed the room to the bunk Ford shared with Shannon. They probably didn’t have to worry about waking Shannon, who’d come in just before Alisha made her last rounds at midnight. Marty usually woke up when Shannon snuck in, and that was most nights now. At the beginning of the summer, Ford used to go out with her, but not any longer. Not since right around the William Henry night, as Marty thought of it. That had been a special night—not just cool to see the lake and the fireworks. Which had been cool. That was the night they’d known for sure they and Ford were friends.
“So,” Ford had said as they leaned on the rail as the William Henry steamed up the lake, watching the waves spread out in frothy crests, laughing as the spray drenched them both, “I saw you talking to Suwallia earlier. You going to do the archery thing?”
“Yes,” Marty said, “I thought I would.”
“That’s all good then.” Ford paused. “So, um—who was the guy who was there?”
“You mean Keno?” Marty asked. “He’s Suwallia’s cousin. He came with the rest of her family for the tour.”
“Huh. Maybe you can introduce me later.”
Marty stared. “Like tonight?”
“Well, yeah,” Ford said as if they were clueless.
“Sure. Now?”
Ford gave them another hello look. “No, not now. We’re talking.”
“Okay. Right. Later.”
Ford watched the water another minute. “I decided what I’m going to do next year.”
Marty struggled to keep up with the conversation. “You mean college?”
“Not college.” Ford turned to meet their gaze. “I’m going to join the Coast Guard.”
Marty stared. “Wow. That’s…that’s so awesome.”
Ford grinned. “Yeah. Hey, it’s sailing, right?”
“So, um, did you tell anyone else?” Like your parents?
“Not yet.” Ford looped an arm through Marty’s. “Come on. Let’s go find Suwallia.”
The memory still made Marty smile as they ambled down the trail to the lake. Like they’d figured, Ford was swimming off the end of the dock. Marty plopped down on the end and called out, “You know you’re not supposed to swim alone.”
“You know all those rules and regulations clogging up your head are going to break something,” Ford called back and swam with strong firm strokes over to the dock. She flung the hair out of her eyes and smiled up at Marty. “Give me a hand?”
Marty leaned over and stretched down, then hauled Ford up onto the dock. “I brought your pack down.”
“Thanks—I’d have had to go to breakfast in my suit.” Ford grabbed a towel and T-shirt out of the pack to dry off. “Why are you awake?”
“I wanted to get down to the lodge early to check the weather radar online,” Marty said. “If there’s a lot of cloud cover we can’t go today.”
“Oh right,” Ford said with mock sarcasm. “We’re hiking up a mountain, then we’re climbing up a big-ass tower, all so we can look at birds. Have you ever glanced around this place? There’s a bird in every bush.”
Marty grinned. “Uh-huh. But they’re not ospreys, and they don’t have fledglings. And if we’re lucky, there might be a peregrine falcon. They’re endangered but that’s a raptor sanctuary up there.”
“Right. I’m rapt.”
Marty groaned. “That’s really bad.”
Ford laughed. “I know. Come on, I’m starving.”
Ford swung her pack onto her shoulder and, as they walked down the end of the dock, asked, “Have you heard from your dad?”
“Yeah. End of the month at the earliest.” Marty shrugged. “That’s okay. He’ll be stateside for months this time. I can wait.”
“So how are you getting home?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine.”
“Marty,” Ford said with exaggerated patience.
“Bus?”
“Um, no.” Ford snorted. “You know, if he’s not going to be back until September, you could come stay with me the rest of the summer. I could teach you to sail.”
Marty stumbled to a halt. The invitation was so outside their realm of possibility they didn’t know what to say. “Seriously?”
Ford rolled her eyes. “No, Marty. I’m used to saying things I don’t mean. You probably noticed that.”
“True. And, um, I’d really like that.”
“Great.”
“What about your parents? Will they care?”
“No, and even if they did, I wouldn’t. No matter what they want, I get to choose my own friends. Only I have to warn you, there may be some security lurking around.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m used to that sort.”
“And I’m planning to tell my parents about the Coast Guard when I get home. You’ll be my backup.”
Marty got that feeling again, like on the William Henry, of knowing that this moment mattered. “Totally done deal.”
* * *
Chase didn’t come to breakfast, and Lily had no chance to speak with her once they started loading the vans for the trip to the raptor observatory. The campers lined up for the three vans by cabin number while Lily and the counselors checked them off their lists as they entered. Once they were ready to go, Lily climbed aboard the van Chase was driving and settled into the front seat opposite her. The campers’ chatter made conversation on the thirty-minute ride impossible, and she might have been imagining it, but Chase seemed…distant. Usually whenever they were anywhere within sight of each other, she could feel Chase’s gaze upon her. A brief smile, a wink, a raised brow—all carried a special message that spelled interest. And desire. The absence of those subtle connections left her vaguely uneasy, as if she’d lost something but couldn’t see clearly what it was.
“We’ll take a ten-minute break at the information center for everyone to fill their water bottles and use the accommodations,” Chase announced as she turned into the lot. “Make sure you do—there’s no public water available within the borders of the sanctuary. Do not carry any food in your packs. Do not collect any souvenirs—not even stones. This is protected land, so stay on the trails at all times—do not overtake the group ahead of you and stay behind your guide.”
The instant the van stopped, the teens tumbled into the aisles in a chaotic shuffle to gather packs and belongings.
Chase stepped over to Lily. “You all set?”
Lily nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good. It’s a special place.” Chase smiled, a smile that carried a hint of sadness Lily was certain she was not imagining.
The six groups started off at three- or four-minute intervals with Chase and Lily’s group going last. As they walked, Chase elaborated on the nature of the bird sanctuary that encompassed an area of cliffs and undeveloped mountain ranges bordering 12th Lake and the raptor tower—a platform atop a hundred-foot steel base. The crags and crevices were favorite spots for raptor nests, and from the tower, they’d be able to observe the flights and feeding without disturbing the nesting grounds or the young families.
Lily’d already studied the bird guide, so she hoped she’d be able to identify some of the hawks, eagles, falcons, and other winged predators, but in her experience, birds in flight all tended to look the same. But then, Chase was always able to tell them apart, and when their group had climbed the steel stairs to the massive platform at the top, Chase called everyone to the railing.
“Watch the rock face off to your left,” she directed. “There’s a big osprey nest at eleven o’clock, below that clump of spruce.”
“Over there?” someone called.
“No, those are pines,” another voice answered.
A few teens groaned.
Someone said, “Now we have to be botanists?”
More laughter while several kids pointed out the direction to look.
Lily smiled. She’d miss this—their energy, their insecurities and bravado, their curiosity and their optimism. She watched Chase move from group to group, answering questions, guiding their observations, explaining the life cycles of the great winged hunters.
She’d miss so many things, but none as much as Chase. She turned away, her throat tight. Blinking away the sudden moisture in her eyes, she scanned the cliff tops and, beyond those, the massive mountain ranges. Strange to see fog so late in the day with the sun so high. She blinked again, but the gray haze remained.
“Chase,” she murmured, and Chase instantly appeared at her side.
“Lily?”
“Why is it so foggy—” Lily sensed Chase stiffen and glanced at her, instinctive alarm prompting an adrenaline rush that heightened every sense.
Chase’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fog. It’s smoke.”