I slammed the car door when we arrived and breathed in the spicy Tawasentha air. “Have you ever smelled ferns like that?”

Jack climbed out and stood there, sniffing respectfully. I was proud to be in possession of the key to the house. The flimsy lock in the doorknob would not keep out anyone who decided to get in. But no one ever did. Tawasentha Lake was one of the safest places in the universe. Not that I was safe anywhere. The door jammed as usual and then crashed open all at once and we were met by a whole other set of smells, including mouse droppings, mildew, and air freshener, cinnamon flavor.

“Wow, nice,” said Jack, though we were in the mudroom, where all he could see were light switches and a bench for taking off your shoes. Despite my new rights to his body, the sight of Jack in the mudroom, tossing the car keys and catching them in a sideways swipe with his strong fingers, made me shy. The house was empty. No one was coming. Nothing stood in our way.

“Remember to call your mom,” said Jack.

My stomach turned over when I heard her voice on the phone. She was in one of her playful moods. “How many speeding tickets did he get?”

“Jack’s a good driver,” I said. “You’d be impressed. What’s Robin up to?”

“Just got a big commission.”

“What for?”

“A corner unit. It’s hideous, apparently. Have you been down to the lake?”

“Not yet.”

“Go on. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Mama?”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

When I’d hung up, Jack reached for me and I burrowed my face into his neck, trying my best to relax. I had spent every summer at the lake house since I could remember. I was as much at home there as at my real house. My child self was at the window looking in at Jack and me hugging, and she was feeling a little left out. For her sake, I pulled away, leaving small placating kisses on his face.

Jack followed me to the utility room. I turned on the electricity and showed him the back bedrooms, leaving the living room for last. The front windows were so huge, the lake might as well have been right inside the house. This time I was the one who reached for him. It was easier to relax when there was something to pay attention to outside of ourselves.

“Want to go down to the dock?”

“Can we eat something first?” said Jack. “I’m starving.”

We made peanut butter sandwiches and ate them at the kitchen counter.

He waved his sandwich at the hall ceiling. “What’s that?”

“Oh, there’s a pull-down ladder. It goes up to the attic.”

“What’s up there?”

“Just attic stuff. It was going to be a playroom, but Mom never got around to having it converted. Robin says he’s going to.”