Page 17 of If the Summer Lasted Forever
I jam my hands in my pockets as we trail after Caleb. He bounces from sign to sign, reading each one out loud, utterly fascinated.
A Steller’s jay, a cousin to our town’s namesake, cackles from a nearby stand of pine trees. The greedy thing is probably hoping we’ll leave food.
“This must have been a crazy place to grow up,” Landon says as Caleb gazes at the small mine Gideon Bonavit dug himself. It’s blocked off, but the Forest Service has constructed thick plastic at the entrance so you can see inside if the sun is just right.
“It was pretty cool.” My words are contradicted by my listless shrug. Landon gives me a knowing look, and I laugh. “I mean, I like it here—it’s home, after all—but someday I’d like to look out my window and see something other than pine trees.”
“Have you thought about college? Technically you could leave in a year, go anywhere you want.”
“I don’t know.” I always feel uncomfortable when the subject comes up. “Mom needs me to help run the campground. I can’t just leave.”
Landon studies me, neither judging nor questioning. It’s more like he’s trying to figure out who I am. I’m not used to people looking that closely, and the attention makes me fidget.
“I’ll probably do online classes or something,” I say when I can take it no longer. “What about you? Do you start college in the fall?”
Landon furrows his brow. “I think I’m going to take a year off, travel a little more. But after that, yeah.”
“Sounds nice,” I say, my tone a touch wistful. The idea of traveling, visiting all the places other people in the campground seem to go to on a regular basis, would be awesome.
We stop by the shanty and Landon peers in the windows, looking at the scene that’s been reconstructed inside. There’s a tiny cot, a pickax, and a small table with a tin cup and kettle on it—not a lot considering Gideon lived here two years.
“If you could go anywhere,” Landon asks me after he reads the sign. “Where would you go?”
“The beach,” I say without even thinking about it. “I want to see the ocean more than anything.”
Startled, he looks at me, his eyebrows raised. “You’ve never been to the ocean?”
I shake my head.
“Where have you traveled?”
“Nowhere, really,” I say with a laugh. “I have an aunt who lives in New Mexico. We visited her once when I was little, just after my parents bought the campground from my grandparents. I don’t remember much about the trip, but apparently, I was terrified of the bats at Carlsbad Caverns.”
In fact, the thought of caves still makes me edgy.
Landon looks up from the sign and meets my eyes. “I want to hide you in the RV and take you everywhere.”
He says the words lightly, but my stomach warms.
“Maybe to a beach?” I ask, playing along.
“Lots of beaches.” His voice is lower, and like magnets drawn to each other, we shift closer. His eyes are the most mesmerizing shade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pale green color quite like them.
“Landon!” Caleb shouts. “Look at this!”
Landon clenches his eyes shut, chuckling under his breath. “Be right there,” he calls.
Both disappointed and relieved, I step away, putting space between us.
We spend another thirty minutes looking around, taking the short hike to a scenic point that looks out over dozens of natural lakes hidden in the trees. Caleb reads all the signs to us even though he’s already been to each one twice.
I stay out of the way when Landon takes out his video recorder. He narrates like he’s going to send the video to friends or family back home. He explains where he is, what we’re doing, who he’s with.
“Wave, Lacey,” he commands, pointing the lens at me.
I give in, pursing my lips to hold in a nervous giggle, and do as he requests.
After a while, we take Caleb to the ghost town that’s just a little farther up the main road and let him explore the aged, wooden houses.
