Crow's Row

He shrugged. “Swimming. That’s all he does when we come here.”


“Swimming?” I didn’t remember seeing a swimming pool.

Cameron’s eyes sparkled. He took my hand and we went outside. We walked to the back of the

cottage and followed the beaten path into the woods. Being in the woods reminded me of something

I was trying hard to forget. If he hadn’t been holding onto my hand, I would have turned

around, running.

“How did you find me yesterday? I ran pretty far into the woods, but you still found me?” I

regretted asking the question as soon as it hit my lips. All the horrifying images of that night

started rushing through my mind. I choked back the tears and concentrated on putting one foot in

front of the other.

“Meatball caught your scent by the pool. He started sniffing around and bolted for the woods. I

knew he had found you, I ran after him.” He took my hand to his lips as we continued to make

our way among the trees. “You really scared Meatball when you shot at him. I don’t think he

was expecting that kind of welcoming after running all that way. Good thing you have no hand-eye

coordination,” he said. Then he considered with more seriousness, “I’ll have to teach you how

to shoot. You should know how to protect yourself better than that.”

“Cameron,” I said, “I was really far out. He couldn’t have possibly followed the scent that

far.”

“Meatball has spent his whole life learning to follow your scent. Finding you is his favorite

game. He hunted you down through a huge crowd of people the first day we met in the projects,

remember? You’re like his real-life Where’s Waldo.”

The pathway led to a dock and a pond. There were trees and brush that came right up to the water

’s edge and large lily pads floated on the surface with pink and yellow flowers attached to

their underwater stem. The sun was peering through the break in the trees, and the beam of light

glittered on the water. It was magical.

Meatball was swimming around in a circle; his head was the only thing that could be seen out of

the water. He looked like a big muskrat.

We lay on the dock with our hands crossed over our stomachs enjoying the sunshine while Meatball

continued his tireless swim in circles.

I looked at the blue sky through the leaves of an overhanging tree. “What is this place anyway?



“It’s my place,” he said with emphasis. “I come here whenever I need to get away and be

alone. It’s the only place that no one else knows about but Meatball and me—and, well, you

too, now.”

“Spider and Carly don’t know about this place?”

“Nope.”

I paused, debating whether I was going to ask the next question that I really wanted to ask. It

came out well before I had time to dwell on it. “What about that Manny girl? Did you ever bring

her here?”

From my peripheral, I could see Cameron break a smile. “No, Emmy. No one.” He continued to

smile at the sky and, after a few minutes, he turned his body toward me, resting his head on his

fist.

“Well?” he asked staring at me with amusement.

“Well, what?” I tried to make my voice sound as innocent as possible.

“I know you’ve been dying to ask me about Manny. So, go ahead. Ask away. Nothing but the

truth.”

“Do you love her?” As the question came out of my mouth, I realized that I had asked him the

same question that she had asked Cameron about me.

“At some point I think I might have liked her a lot, but no, I didn’t love her.”

“But she spent the night with you?” I turned to him and confessed, “I saw her T-shirt in your

drawer.”

“Yes, she has spent the night,” he answered, alert.

“With you?” My voice sounded more jealous than I had planned to let on.

“Yes, with me.”

“More than once?”

Cameron remained silent.

“Nothing but the truth remember?” I reminded him.

He sighed. “Yes, more than once.”

“Were there other girls like her?”

“I never brought anybody else to the farm,” he replied.

“But you have been with other girls,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” he admitted. He watched me carefully. “This bothers you, doesn’t it?”

It bothered me as much as a broken nose or a nail in the head would bother me. “A little,” I

de-emphasized.

“Does this make you think that I don’t really love you?” he wondered with worry.

That too. “I don’t understand how you could be with someone in that way and not love them.”

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