Page 2 of No More Words

She spun around, tugging her siblings along like spinning passenger cars attached to the center pillar of an amusement park ride.

Mrs.Whitman smiled warmly and Olivia felt better already.

“Are you kids hungry? I made sandwiches. After, we can take the canoe out on the lake.”

In unison, three pairs of eyes looked at the lake. Beached on the shore was a colorful assortment of kayaks and canoes. A tire swing hung above the water. A paddleboarder glided across the surface. Mrs.Whitman waved.

Lucas’s hand slipped from Olivia’s. He scooted away, lured by the water.

“Wait until after lunch,” Mrs.Whitman said, and Lucas stopped, heeding the warning tone in her voice. The Carsons lived on oceanfront property. They had a dock with a small motorboat and kayaks, which Dwight took out every weekend. Olivia and Lucas learned to swim while still in diapers. Lily already knew the basics of swimming, enough to keep herself afloat if she fell into the water. But their parents forbadethem to go near the shore. Dwight never took them kayaking or on his boat. He thought them too young, the water too choppy. They could fall out.

But this lake was flat and shimmery like the stained glass windows at church.

“Would you like to play in the water this afternoon?” Mrs.Whitman asked.

Lucas nodded, eyes wide, his brave face radiating with excitement.

“Yes,” Olivia agreed. Even Lily looked longingly at the lake, the murky water gently lapping the shore. Between two trees hung a hammock. Olivia wanted to sketch there and read her books.

“Wonderful.” Mrs.Whitman’s smile broadened. She looked over her shoulder. “Theo. Ty. Come help.”

Olivia looked up at the Whitmans’ kids, who’d been watching their arrival from the front deck slouched over the rail, chins propped on forearms. Both wore swim trunks, their torsos tanned from the high-altitude sunlight.

“Mom,” Theo complained, hiding his face.

Mrs.Whitman rolled her eyes. “He can’t stand it when I use his first name.” She grinned at Olivia.

Olivia smiled shyly. She knew Theo from school. He sat two rows over from her in Mrs.Foster’s class. She also knew he hated his first name and insisted everyone call him Blaze. What she didn’t know was why. Where did he come up with that nickname?

She liked Blaze. He’d always been nice to her.

“Ty, get Lily’s bag,” Mr.Whitman instructed. He’d already picked up Olivia’s and Lucas’s duffels, dusting them off. Tyler, tall for a five-year-old, dragged Lily’s My Little Pony roller up the deck steps. The little suitcase bumped along behind him. Lucas followed them inside, eager to eat and change into his swim shorts.

Mrs.Whitman held out her hand for Lily’s. “Do you like ice cream?”

Lily’s thumb popped from her mouth. “I love ice cream.”

“Will you show me your favorite flavor?”

Lily nodded and took Mrs.Whitman’s hand, leaving Olivia alone with Blaze. She wiped her palm, damp from Lily’s hand, on her light-blue jersey shorts.

“Hi,” Blaze said, his hair mussed and feet dirty.

“Hi,” she said quietly. She twisted her shirt hem.

He squeezed the back of his neck and nudged gravel with his toe. “Ty and I built a fort in the loft. Want to see?”

Olivia nodded.

She followed him into the cabin with brown shag carpeting and faux wood paneling, and up a wide set of stairs to the loft. What Olivia saw could only be described as magical. Multicolored sheets were draped over ropes that crisscrossed the A-shape room that opened to the house below, creating five small tents. Each tent slept one person. Sleeping bags and pillows had already been laid out so that the head of each tent faced the center of the room. If she’d looked down at the tents from the ceiling, they’d form a five-pointed star. Crescent moon twinkle lights framed the openings of the boys’ tents and stars glittered on hers and Lily’s. She knew whose tent was whose because someone had taped hand-drawn name cards to each tent.

“You did this?” she asked, dazzled.

Blaze’s cheeks pinkened. “Ty helped.”

She delicately touched her card. The letters, L-I-V-Y, had curlicues on the ends. Flowers bordered her nickname.

“I made yours,” he said. “Ty did Lily’s and Lucas’s.”

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