Page 118 of Under the Summer Sky

“There.”

She follows my finger, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the branches. Then she sees it.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh my God.”

The old treehouse sits between two huge cottonwoods near the edge of the lake, built high enough that when we were kids, it felt like we owned the entire world from up there.

Time has darkened the wood, and the roof has been replaced more than once, but it’s still standing. A wooden platform stretches from one side toward the lake, and the old rope still hangs from one of the thick branches above the water.

“You guys built that?”

I laugh. “Our dads did most of the work.”

“Oh.”

I look at her. “What?”

“I was imagining two little boys building that thing by themselves.”

“Would’ve tried.”

“I have absolutely no doubt.”

We reach the clearing, and I dismount before walking over to Honey.

Nora looks down at me. “Now what?”

“Now you get off.”

“Very helpful.”

I hold my hands up. “Swing your leg over. I got you.”

She does, considerably less gracefully than she got on, and I catch her around the waist before her feet hit the ground. She grabs my shoulders, and for one second, we’re too close.

Again.

I let go and step back. “Sore?”