Acclaim for Just Breathe and NYT bestselling author SUSAN WIGGS
âthis is a beautiful bookâ
âBookbag on Just Breathe
â ⦠Unpredictable and refreshing,
this is irresistibly good.â âCloser Hot Pick Book on Just Breathe
â ⦠Truly uplifting â¦â
âNow Book of the Week
âA human and multi-layered story exploring duty
to both country and family.â âNora Roberts on The Ocean Between Us
âSusan Wiggs paints the details of human relationships
with the finesse of a master.â âJodi Picoult, author of Nineteen Minutes
âThe perfect beach read.â
âDebbie Macomber on Summer by the Sea
Deepest appreciation to Elsa Watson, Suzanne Selfors, Sheila Rabe and Anjali Banerjee; also to Kysteen Seelen, Susan Plunkett, Rose Marie Harris, Lois Faye Dyer and Kate Breslin for their enormous stamina and patience in reading early drafts.
Thanks to Dale Berg and Mike Sack for sharing their reminiscences of Catskills camps. Special thanks to Meg Ruley and Annelise Robey of the Jane Rotrosen Agency, and to my terrific editor, Margaret OâNeill Marbury.
Welcome to Camp Kioga
Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said, âAmericaâs greatest contribution to the world is the summer camp.â Anyone who visits Camp Kioga discovers this for himself. Camp Kioga is a place where dreams still live and breathe, where you can dive into the crystalline waters of a pristine lake, hike to a mountaintop and lift your eyes to heaven, gaze into the brightly glowing embers of a campfire at night, and imagine all that life has in store for you.
Camp Kioga Rules
Camp Kioga flies three flagsâthe official camp flag, and the flags of the state of New York and the United Statesâwhich are raised each morning at sunrise and saluted by all campers at reveille. When flags are flown on the same halyard with the flag of the United States, the latter should always be at the peak. When the flags are flown from adjacent staffs, the flag of the United States should be hoisted first and lowered last. No flag or pennant may be placed above the flag of the United States or to the right of the flag of the United States. When the flag is half masted, both flags are half masted, with the U.S. flag at the midpoint and the other flags below.
Olivia Bellamy tried to decide what was worse. Being trapped at the top of a flagpole with no help in sight, or having help arrive in the form of a Hells Angel.
Her plan to raise the flags over Camp Kioga for the first time in ten years had seemed so simple. Then the cable and pulley snagged, but Olivia was undaunted. She had set up an old aluminum ladder and climbed to the top, only to discover she still couldnât reach the snag. Shinnying up the pole was no big deal, she told herselfâuntil she accidentally kicked over the ladder.
You idiot, she thought, hugging the pole for dear life. It was a long way down, and this was not exactly the Batpole. The galvanized steel was old and corroded, and if she slid down, sheâd rip the skin from her hands and inner thighs.
She had just begun to inch toward the ground when a loud snort of unmuffled exhaust sounded from the road. She was so startled that she nearly let go of the pole. Instinctively, she clung tighter and shut her eyes. Go away, she thought. I canât deal with whoever you are right now.
The blast of the engine grew louder, and she opened her eyes. The intruder turned out to be a biker clad in black leather, his face concealed by a menacing black helmet and shades. Behind the black-and-chrome motorcycle, a rooster tail of dust rose in a tall plume.
Just my luck, she thought. Here I am in the middle of nowhere, and Easy Rider comes to my rescue.
Her arms and shoulders were starting to tremble. So much for all those hours of strength training at the gym.
At the base of the flagpole, the biker stopped, dismounted and engaged the kickstand. Then he leaned back to look straight up at her.
Despite the circumstances, Olivia found herself wondering what her butt looked like from his perspective. Growing up as she had, comforting herself with food until sheâd earned any number of unflattering childhood nicknames, sheâd never quite gotten over feeling self-conscious about her figure.
Play it cool, she decided. âHey,â she said.
âHey. Whatâs up?â Though she couldnât see his face, Olivia thought she detected a grin in his voice. She became sure of it when he added, âOkay, sorry. Couldnât help myself.â
Great. Just her luck. A wise guy.
To his credit, he didnât make her suffer. He picked up the ladder and leaned it against the flagpole. âTake it slow,â he coached her. âIâll hold this steady.â
Olivia was sweating now, having reached the limit of her endurance. She scooted downward inch by inch, while her denim shorts rode upward. She hoped he wouldnât notice they were giving her an enormous wedgie.
âYouâre almost there,â called the stranger. âJust a little more.â