She believed Drew about as far as she could throw him—not far at all. But his expression was totally sober and he spoke with assured confidence. Fine. It was kind of sweet that he was defending Porter but there was a thing with being twins: there was an inherent instinct about when the other half was lying. It was like having bullshit radar of the highest calibre.
“Whatever you say.”
“That’s the right attitude,” Drew said.
She chomped down on her lower lip to stop from laughing.
Porter’s eyes went from Drew to Copeland before he cleared his throat. “I should go. Copeland, you’d better come back soon too.”
She rolled her eyes. “I will.”
“You should bring Drew by, maybe he could come for some grub later.”
“Sure,” Drew said before she could answer. “I’ll show you how to play some stuff.”
“Right on man. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Porter walked away and Drew pointed to her feet. “No shoes again.”
She shrugged. “I live on the edge.”
“You should really wear shoes.”
“Bad things happen when I wear shoes,” she said, “yesterday is a perfect example. I wore shoes and I fell. Shoes are not only like prison for your feet but they are high risk and that my friend, is irrefutable.”
“If you weren’t wearing the wrong shoes yesterday, you wouldn’t have fell. If you hadn’t fell, you would not have met me,” he pointed out.
Copeland leaned down and picked up her beach bag and her camera. “Well there is always that.” Her camera lens cap was loose and she looked at Drew with wide eyes. “Did you touch my camera?”
His mouth curled up. “Maybe. When I see beautiful things, I take a picture of them.”
Smartass.
“What are you doing today?”
“I was going to read a book, but I have the feeling you’re about to give me a better offer.”
It was now or not at all. She took a breath and squared her shoulders. “Wanna spend the day with me? We can make an adventure.”
His brows drew closer together. “That depends. Will you wear shoes?”
“You’re bargaining with me?”
“You’re limiting what we can do,” he said, “by opposing shoes.”
“Fair enough,” she allowed. “If I go and get shoes, will you spend the day with me?”
“If you go an get shoes that fit and minimize the risk of personal injury, I would love to spend the day with you.”
She smiled. “Fine. I have to go tell my parents though.”
“Are you sure your family won’t mind? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be doing the whole reunion thing?”
“I tend to wander,” Copeland said. “My parents would worry if I didn’t take off. I’ll go get my shoes and meet you back here.”
“Awesome,” Drew said. “I’ll be ready.”
Her father was helping her uncle as they tried to fix a volleyball net that was impaled in the ground, he smiled as she approached. “Hi Pumpkin.”
“Hi, Hola, Bonjour, Guten Tag, and Jambo.”
Her Uncle Edward, shook his head. “You lost me after Bonjour.”
“Guten Tag is german and jambo is swahili. Dad, can I have the keys to the van?”
He dug into his pocket, retrieved the keys and tossed them at her, her hand flew up and she caught them. “Thank you.”
“What’s in the van?”
Copeland stuck out her leg, wiggling her toes. “My shoes.”
“Shoes. Must be important. Where are you headed?”
She had never been anything but brutally honest with her parents. “I am going to spend time with a handsome stranger. But I hope he won’t be a stranger after today.”
“Is this handsome stranger someone I should worry about?”
Copeland smiled. “On the contrary,” she said. “I think you would like him very much.”
“How old is he?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t interrogate him. He doesn’t look much older than twenty or so.”
“You sure?”
“Well given that I didn’t ask him, no, I’m not sure, but you can ask him yourself, Porter invited him to dinner.”
“Your brother has met him?”
“Met him and begged him for a guitar lesson.”
“A man who plays guitar. Thank God. Maybe he can show your brother a song other than Smoke on the Water. I used to like that song…” He stopped fiddling with the volleyball net and looked around, probably to make sure Porter was nowhere within earshot to hear his indirect insult.
Copeland giggled. “So, can I go?”
“Of course,” her dad said. “Be careful.”
“Be aware, be smart,” she finished his mantra for him. “I know.”
“Good girl.”
Her shoes were buried underneath an emergency survival kit her mother had packed in case of an unexpected breakdown on the side of the road. She grabbed them, returned the keys to her father and figured she should probably change first. She headed to their room in the lodge, bypassing Scarlett and Ana in one of the common areas.
The two were hunched over a laptop, sharing a set of ear buds, enthralled in whatever was on screen.
Copeland stopped and gave a small wave.
Scarlett took an earbud out of her ear. “Hey CJ.”
“Hey. What are you guys doing inside?” Seemed like a perfect way to toss the opportunity to be outside where the trees breathed life and the wind told stories.
“It’s the only place in this wasteland that we can get WiFi access.”
“Oh.” Yep. A perfectly good waste.
“We’re watching Emblem3 videos,” Ana said.
Copeland wasn’t sure what Emblem3 was but Drew who was flesh and blood and not some video on a computer screen, was waiting so she forced a smile, eager to get out of there. “That’s nice. I’ll see you guys at dinner?”
“Yeah,” Scarlett said, shoving the earbud back into her ear. “See you then.”
Drew had his backpack set beside the cooler in the trunk. He transferred a light blanket, waters, cheese and crackers, protein bars and fruit into the pack. He had no idea how long Copeland planned to be in search of a great adventure for but he liked to be prepared. He added the first aid kit, in case of any mishaps, a compass, in case Copeland’s exploits were more than he bargained for and a hoodie, in case the weather was temperamental.
When he spun around, there she was. She wore jean shorts, her bandage still securely taped to her knee. A mint green t-shirt hugged her curves and she sported shoes plus a canvas bag strapped to her back. Her long hair was braided, the plait resting over her left shoulder, cascading down her side. She skipped when she stepped forward, extending her hand. “Ready for our big adventure?”
He shut the trunk and took her hand. “Ready. Do you know where we’re going?”
“Course not,” Copeland said. “That would be less like an adventure and more like a tour. Today is totally spontaneous.”
“I can appreciate that,” he said. “Should we start at the beach?”
“Yes,” she decided.
They had made it the the shore of the lake before she took off the backpack and retrieved the camera from inside, snapping photographs of the water, the shoreline, even driftwood.
She held the camera tentatively. “I’ll have enough manners to ask this time. May I take your picture?”
There was an incredibly short list of things Drew could think of that made him feel weak and when her lashes swept over those curious eyes and she gave a tiny half-smile, Copeland shot to the top of the list. “Yes.”
She held the camera up and Drew gave her a smile. “What’s your favourite thing to take pictures of?”
“Mostly people,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because, the way we feel and experience things is kind of crazy if you really think about it. I mean human emotion in its very basic form is so unprocessed, so—” she worked hard to find the right words.
She didn’t need them. He knew exactly what she was talking about. “You don’t need to explain,” he said. “I get it. Your film immortalizes those things.”
“Yes!” she said excitedly, “exactly. I do like taking pictures of nature. I would like to have a collection of phenomena in nature, but it would be hard to get those kind of pictures.”
His interest was piqued. “What kinds of phenomena?”
“Aurora Borealis, a volcanic eruption or I read once about these lagoons where at night, if you disrupt the water, the algae in the water glows. That would be amazing to see.”
“It would,” he agreed.
They walked along the shoreline for a long while before he suggested that they head to the forest. “I bet there is a ton of things in there you could snap pictures of.” He was right. Copeland photographed just about everything she saw, stopping to switch film out. He watched her captivated by her and the way she observed the world through her camera lens.
She stood in front of a tree trunk that had to be a few hundred years old, camera poised to take a picture of a spider web but she was missing something spectacular.
Drew crept as quietly as he could behind her, sliding his fingers down her arms and over her hands changing the direction of her camera up and to the left. A large owl sat utterly still on a branch. He felt her exhale sharply when she saw what he did as she made some adjustment to the lens of her camera and captured the picture.
“Sometimes,” he said softly into her ear, “you can see more with your eyes than you can with the lens.”
After she took several pictures of the owl, she put the camera away. “I can’t believe we were that close to an owl.”
“It was pretty cool,” Drew agreed. His stomach twisted in a knot. It was lunchtime. “Do you want to stop and have something to eat?”
“Sure. That sounds nice.”
Drew led her to a clearing, where he spread out the blanket he’d packed.
“I love picnics.”
“It’s not much of a picnic,” he said. “Just cheese, crackers and fruit.”
“Yum,” she said, flopping down on the ground. She sat cross legged waiting for him to finish emptying the contents of the bag before selecting a slice of honeydew. “So aside from playing the guitar, what else do you do for fun?”
“I like to skateboard.”
“Do you surf? Not to be horrifically stereotypical but you’re from Huntington Beach.”
“I surf,” he said. “Ever tried it?”
Copeland shook her head. “Hell no. I can’t swim.”
“What? Are you serious?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I keep meaning to take swimming lessons but I can’t bring my camera in there so…”
“Ah yes. The beloved camera.”
“Don’t knock the camera.”
“My friend Keaton loves photography but he also loves surfing.”
“I don’t need to know how to swim,” she said. “I have my feet firmly planted on the ground. Fish can do their job for the ecosystem and I’ll do mine.” She scooped another piece of melon, “works out for all parties involved. The only water I like falls from the sky.”
He could sit there until time ended listening to all the things that she loved and hated, the dreams she had, the things that made her tick.
“Why do you love the rain?”
“Too many reasons to count. For one, it smells good. Like if I could bottle it and wear it as perfume, I would. If the very essence of being alive had a scent, I swear it would be rain.”
Every word she spoke confirmed that she was as unique as he’d thought.
“Two,” she continued, “is the sound it makes. Next time it rains, close your eyes and listen. It’s like a symphony orchestrated by nature. Music.”
Copeland should write poems to accompany her photographs, he thought.
“Thirdly, it can be soft, nothing more than a sprinkle or it can be fierce and angry and powerful. Rain is the closest inanimate thing in nature that mocks human emotions. Maybe that’s why I love it. I hope we get at least one rainstorm when we’re here. I’d love to get a shot of lightning hitting sand.”
Drew helped himself to a protein bar, removing the wrapper. “Did you know when lightning hits sand it can make these insane glass sculptures?”
“I thought that was an old’s wives tale,” she said, grabbing a slice of cheese.
Drew shook his head. “It’s true. It’s called fulgurite. So the lightning makes these hollow glass tubes in the craziest forms. They’re beautiful.”
She licked her lips, picking minuscule pieces of cheese off of her larger piece. “Drew. I wish I could do a rain dance. I really want to see something like that.”
“Copeland,” he said smirking, “If I could steal rain from the sky and bring it down for you, I would.”
She grinned. “It’s the thought that counts.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon, exploring the campground. Drew pointed out so many interesting things she didn’t see and by the time they were headed back to the lodge, Copeland was wondering if he had had a point earlier about about looking from the other side of the lens for once.
They made a quick stop at his campsite to deposit his backpack and pick up his guitar. As they made their way to the lodge, Drew spoke up. “You sure your family doesn’t mind having an extra mouth to feed?”
“Not at all,” Copeland said. “My mother and father are eccentric.”
Drew made wide eyes. “You don’t say?”
Yeah, she got his playful jab. “They met at Woodstock,” she said. It was a fun fact she liked to share. “They’re going to love you. My Grandmother is really going to love you.”
They went from the front to the backside of the lodge, where there was an abundance of fire pits, picnic tables, a volleyball net and a view of the lake.
Porter was setting the ball at Uncle Eddie who was struggling to keep up. Copeland’s mother was sitting with the Aunt’s drinking wine from plastic glasses and chattering. Grams was fiddling on her tablet. Cousins were everywhere and Scarlett was sitting on a lawn chair with Ana’s foot on her knee, brushing a coat of nail polish on her sisters toes.
The polish went clear up her foot when she jumped out of her chair and screamed. “Drew!”
It was so over the top, that Porter missed his intended trajectory and spiked the ball right into Uncle Eddie’s face. His hands flew to his nose and he cursed.
“Sorry,” Porter said, shooting Ana a nasty glare. “What the hell, Ana?”
Ana looked down sheepishly. “Sorry.” She looked at her dad, who was now being nursed by Aunt Bea with a paper towel. “Sorry Dad, I didn’t mean to yell so loud but there is a famous person at our campsite!”
“It’s not a campsite,” Porter said. “It’s a lodge.”
“Hi Ana,” Drew said and added with a nod, “Scarlett.”
Copeland turned. “What are they talking about? How do you know their names?”
“They came to my campsite the first day I got here and asked for my autograph,” he admitted.
What? “Why would they want your autograph?”
“Because he’s famous!” Scarlett squealed.
Oh God. She looked at her mom. “If we had cable, I might know this.” She directed her attention back to Drew. “You don’t seem famous.”
He gave a small laugh. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to seem a particular way.”
“He’s in a band,” Ana offered. “Called Emblem3 and he doesn’t seem famous because he’s humble and down to earth and ah-mazing.”
“Shut up,” Scarlett scolded. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“You’re in a band?”
Drew nodded. “I am.”
“A famous band?”
“Depends who you ask, I guess,” he said.
“Well that explains your exemplary guitar playing skills.”
“Yeah,” Drew said. “I play a lot.”
“Also explains that song,” Copeland said.
Drew stepped closer to her, tilting his head down. “I hope it doesn’t change anything.”
Copeland put her hands on her hips and gave it some thought. “Well I never told you that I’m not famous, so I guess we’re even.”
“Good,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
After the initial commotion settled, Copeland introduced Drew to the entire family, person by person. “I hope there is no test after this,” Drew said.
“Nope,” she assured him. “I can hardly remember their names.” She steered him by the shoulders to Grams, who looked up from her tablet. “I did save the best for last though. Grams, this is my friend, Drew, Drew this is Grams.”
“Nice to meet you,” Drew said, sitting down beside her.
Her boney, wrinkled hand touched his arm. “Aren’t you a catch?”
Copeland giggled.
“I used to be famous myself.”
Drew quirked a brow. “Oh yeah?”
“She was in a toothpaste commercial when she was five,” Porter said as he joined them. “She thinks that makes her famous.”
“It does,” Drew said. “I mean, everyone watches toothpaste commercials.”
Oh God. If it were even possible the way he spoke so kindly to Grams made her adore him more. As more family joined Drew was particularly good spirited about fielding questions from every corner.
“Copeland doesn’t bring many people back to meet the family,” her father had said.
“I can’t possibly overstate why. You guys are smothering him.”
“We’re simply curious,” Aunt Bea said.
“Too curious,” Copeland mumbled under her breath.
“It’s okay,” Drew said loud enough for only her to hear.
After they ate, her father started a fire. Drew told Porter to get his guitar and spent the next couple of hours showing Porter how to play a few songs. The gratitude in her father’s eyes was evident.
Scarlett and Ana sat infatuated with each word he spoke, and when Porter finally set the guitar down, making faces and rubbing his fingers, Scarlett chirped up. “Will you play us a song?”
“Hasn’t he played enough?” Copeland wanted to rewind the day. To when it was only Drew and her. She didn’t like sharing him with her nosey family.
“It’s okay,” Drew said. “I can play a song but then I’m stealing Copeland away for a while if that’s okay.”
Oh. Okay. That sounded promising.
“Are you going to rap?” Ana asked.
“You rap?” Copeland asked, surprised.
Grams held up her tablet. “Yes he does. I found it on ZooTube.”
“YouTube, Grandma,” Porter corrected.
Drew laughed. “How about just a song?”
Ana shrugged. “Okay.”
Drew adjusted his guitar and turned to Copeland. “For you,” he said. He started playing the same song he was singing at the beach the day she fell into his life. Watching him, listening to him, Copeland realized that maybe she was in trouble. She’d known Drew for all of two days but it felt like a lifetime.