Page 78 of Vows in Sin
“I think we all know how this happened.” Cleopatra gives a sexy waggle of her brows. “You see, Seraphina. When a man and a woman love each other very much?—”
My hands clamp over my ears. “I can’t hear this.”
I’m only afforded a one-minute wallow before the girls are pulling me up and out of the chair. “Come on,” Cleopatra says. “We have a herd of pent-up children that are going to be here in less than an hour. We have a summer camp to create.”
Ophelia does jazz hands. “We’ve got to make magic, magic, magic!”
“Summa camp magic!” Cleopatra grabs my hands, swaying her hips.
Their attempt to cheer me works, and soon we’re blaring Abba Radio, me singing at the top of my lungs, Cleopatra messing up the words, more reserved Ophelia mouthing the words, pretending to sing.
“I really appreciate this, girls. I needed a pick-me-up.”
“Really?” Cleopatra’s brows knit. “I heard you already had a pick-me-up last night.”
Ophelia’s cheeks pinken. “And on the balcony last night during dinner.”
I freeze, slow-mo turning to face Ophelia in my horror. “What did you say?”
“I was on the way to the bathroom during dinner!” She buries her face in her hands, long dark hair making a curtain on either side of her face. “I heard you. Um. Celebrating?”
“Or being attacked by a stray cat. Same sound.” Cleopatra giggles.
“We. Never. Speak of this again.” I look from woman to woman. “Got it?”
“Of course,” Ophelia agrees obediently.
“Sure. As your best friend, I’m never again going to mention the time you did it on the balcony, howling to the moon like a dang lady werewolf.”
They collapse into giggles. I burst into tears.
“Oh my! I’m so sorry. I was only teasing.”
I collapse into the folding chair. Sobs are shaking my shoulders. “It’s not you,” I howl for the second time in 24 hours. “It’s me! I’m such a shitty, shitty friend. I can’t stop thinking about what Tabitha saw last night.”
The girls come to my side, wrapping their arms around me, telling me it’s okay when we all know it really, really is not okay. I tell them the horrible story, and somehow in my humiliation and despair, the three of us end up giggling manically.
Overexcited, sleep-deprived kids start to appear, running full speed towards us on their own, while others drag their feet, hand in a parent’s. Cleopatra, as always, is efficient, checking each one in with an emergency cell phone contact number, “Like I used to do on field trip day for school.”
Eloise finds me, giving me a one-armed hug, her bear clutched to her side with the other.
I drop to a knee, facing her. “Good morning, Eloise.” I give her teddy a pat in greeting. “And good morning, bear.”
She pops her thumb from her mouth long enough to correct me. “Mr. Bear,” then plugs it back.
Standing, I take her hand. “Come on, let’s go find Ophelia. She’s got the sidewalk chalk. We can write Mr. Bear’s name on the patio.”
I gather a group of the younger ones spreading them out on the concrete patio outside the pool house. There’s a bucket of sidewalk chalk and I parcel it out between them. Eloise quickly grows bored with the activity.
“Mr. Bear wants to swim.”
Anxiety prickles at me. We have a few bachelor brothers who volunteered as lifeguards for the afternoon, and seeing the watchful eyes and biceps on them, I finally agreed.
“We can go down to the water when it’s time. But not till the lifeguards get here. And only when you have a life vest on.”
She nods in agreement. Relief.
The groups change hands; the older kids come to me to do crafts, while the younger ones head off to their next activity with Ophelia, bright-colored chalk on their hands. I make sure to run down my list and head count. All twelve of my new batch are quickly settled.
