Olivia and I take turns hanging out with Duncan in the infirmary, and as predicted, the swelling has gone down enough for him to rejoin our cabin Thursday night. Pending a checkup in the morning, Hannah clears him to return to normal activity on Friday for the final day of camp.
Duncan’s cabinmates herald his return by making him the star of the skit they’ll be performing for the parents. I even let them add a few fart jokes.
Maggie, Kent, and Callie are back for Skit Night, with Maggie fussing over Duncan’s mosquito bite. Hannah told us that the swelling might not go away completely for another week.
After the skits wind down with the fire and Duncan is packed into the car with his sister and dad, Maggie pulls me aside to say goodbye.
“Thanks for taking care of Duncan this week,” she says, squeezing my arm. “You’re a good counselor and agreatbig brother.”
Her words make me stand taller, my chest expanding.I’m a great big brother to Duncan.
Though I tease Annie about being ten minutes older than her, I’ve never really considered myself a “big brother” before. Now I want to buy a T-shirt with the phrase “World’s Best Big Brother” emblazoned on the front. Though I guess getting a shirt like that for myself wouldn’t be very meaningful.
“Thank you,” I tell Maggie. “That means a lot.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something else, then hesitates.
“What’s up?” I ask her.
“Well, I wanted to say that while I don’t exactlyregretnot raising you and Annie myself—your parents are amazing and did such a good job with you both—I do think about what it would have been like to be your mom. I’ve tried to be part of your lives as much as possible, but I know our relationship is more like I’m a cool, young aunt than any kind of mother figure.”
I shake my head, tears threatening behind my eyes as I hear the uncertainty and sorrow in her voice. “Maggie, no. It’s fine. We’re fine.”
“No, I know you are.” She brings her left hand to my other shoulder so that she has a hand on either side of me. She looks up into my face. It’s almost comical because I’m so much taller than her, but the moment is too fraught to be funny.
“I want to make sure you know I love you. You’re my family, Gage. You came from inside of me. I carried you and nurtured you and talked to you for thirty-six weeks even though I was scared out of my mind and had no idea what to do. I never stopped missing either of you after I placed you in Dawn and Ted’s arms. Even when you were with me, right next to me, I missed you. I missed what our relationship could have been.”
I sniffle and wipe my wet cheek against the fabric of my shirt. Everything she’s saying resonates with the deepest parts of me. The parts of me that have been afraid of burdening Maggie with my feelings. The parts of me that weren’t sure if she yearned for me like I do for her.
“I feel the same way. Honestly. I … I sometimes imagine what it would have been like to stay with you. As far back as I remember I’ve done that.”
The sorrow on Maggie’s face about does me in, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt that my admission may have sounded like I blamed her. I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She lets go of my shoulders to wipe her eyes. “No, I’m glad you did. You can tell me the truth, Gage. Even if it’s hard to hear, I’ll listen.”
I wrap her in a bear hug, grateful to have the example of such a strong woman in my life. Adoption hasn’t been a smooth experience for either of us. Having good parents raise me didn’t take away the sting of being separated, but maybe it made it easier for both of us to bear.
Maggie pulls back to look me in the face again. “I’m proud of you, Gage. I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Thanks,” I choke out around the emotion clogging my throat.
“Listen,” she says. “What if you all came to spend Christmas with us this year? You and Annie, and Dawn and Ted. Even Olivia, if you want. We can all celebrate together, like families should.”
“I’d love that. I’ll talk to Annie and my parents.” I grimace. So much is still uncertain in my undefined relationship with Olivia. I’d love to be wherever she is in December. I’d love for her to celebrate Christmas by my side with my family. But all I can do is hope. “I don’t know about Olivia, though.”
Maggie’s eyes soften, and she gives me a melancholic smile. “You love her.”
It’s not a question, so I don’t offer a confirmation or denial. I give her a hug and wave goodbye until the car is out of sight.
Chapter thirty-one
Gage
TheweekafterDuncancomes to camp is Olivia’s birthday. It’s on a Tuesday, which means I’m limited in how I can celebrate her on the actual day, but I have big plans for the following Saturday, which is also the Saturday before the last week of camp.
I do have a few tricks up my sleeve for her actual birthday on Tuesday, though. With Nina’s help, I weave colorful crepe paper streamers around the inside of Olivia’s cabin while she’s sleeping. I wanted to do balloons, but I quickly learned that getting helium-filled balloons delivered out here to Camp Prairie Star was cost prohibitive, not to mention difficult to hide ahead of time. So, streamers it is.
I’m not there to see her face when she wakes up on her twenty-third birthday, of course, but I’m hoping it’s equal parts thrilled and annoyed. I wentextraobnoxious with the streamer placement. She won’t be able to get out of bed without tearing through a couple of layers. Olivia’s a pretty sound sleeper, apparently, because she didn’t stir once, even as I was wrapping streamers under her bed and over the covers.
