Most stories finish with an ending. This one ends with the beginning.
The beginning of a dream made reality. The beginning of my new career.
The beginning of Camp Carter.
It’s been a decade since Nick died, but his legacy lives on through the camp, where children with cancer can come to enjoy themselves, as Nick did in life.
It took ten years – I guess even dreams run on Backstreet time – but finally, the place is open for operation. The campus is beautiful, set on three-hundred acres of land, centered around a lake and surrounded by woods. There is an impressive lodge where the campers come to eat and hang out, a fully-staffed clinic where they receive their treatments, a theater with auditorium seating and a full stage for shows, and a cluster of cabins with all the comforts of home. At Camp Carter, no one has to rough it without electricity – each of the cabins come with a flatscreen and video game consoles already installed. It is, after all, Nick’s camp.
Kevin and Howie are the co-owners of Camp Carter, and I am the camp director. I oversee its day to day operations and plan activities for the campers. I have a full staff of medical personnel and counselors to support me, and the Boys visit often. Brian drives up every other week to give voice lessons, while Leighanne makes jewelry with the girls and gives them fashion tips. Baylee’s actually working here all summer, before he heads off to college in the fall. AJ and Rochelle will be here next week to run workshops on puppetry and stage makeup.
Most of our activities revolve around the arts, as we show the kids different ways to be creative, have fun, and take their minds off their illness. A lot of them are bald from chemo or missing limbs from surgery, but here at camp, they don’t have to feel self-conscious or try to hide their condition, the way Nick did for so long. They can be themselves and do the things they love, like Nick tried to do as long as he could. I think he’d be thrilled if he could see his idea for this camp realized. I hope that he can.
I’ve been thinking about him a lot this summer, as our first season gets underway. Tonight has made me especially nostalgic. It’s Big Band Night, a theme night of my choosing, and we’re having a dance in the lodge. Everyone’s dressed up and eager to try out the swing dance moves they learned this week. As I look out into the sea of suits and dresses and sweaty, smiling faces and hear the jazz orchestra play, I think back to the night Nick took me out dancing at the Cicada Club for Valentine’s Day. I remember how handsome he looked in his formalwear, how glamorous I felt on his arm, and how much fun we had on that date.
I look down at what I’m wearing, the burgundy silk evening gown Nick bought me for that very occasion. I had to let it out in order to squeeze into it tonight, and it’s still tighter than I remember it, particularly in the hips, but it still makes me feel beautiful and loved. Next to my wedding dress, it’s the most exquisite garment I own, and it has the same sort of sentimental value. I’m glad I’ve kept it all these years.
The man standing next to me sees me looking, catches me smoothing the silk over the bulges around my middle, and says, “You look amazing tonight.”
I turn, smiling, to Dr. Tom McAlister, the medical director of Camp Carter and my husband of five years. He grins back. His smile is much different from Nick’s. It’s not the kind of crooked smirk that can make my knees quiver, but a full-on goofy grin that goes all the way across his face and is infectious. I can’t help but smile when I see him do it. Thankfully, he’s given me plenty to smile about these last few years.
We met in Franklin, where I lived and worked after moving to Tennessee. He was an oncologist at the hospital where I worked as a nurse practitioner, and even though I avoided the cancer unit like the plague, I caught his eye in the cafeteria one day. He pursued me for months, until I finally agreed to go out on a date with him. We took things slow; he knew I’d had my heart broken, but he helped me put the pieces back together. He helped me heal. Tom was no Nick Carter, but he was charming in his own way, with his red hair, boyish grin, and goofy sense of humor, and over time, I fell in love with him. We got married in the fall of 2016, the same year they broke ground on the camp.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing myself to stop fiddling with my dress. “I’m nervous, though.”
“You? Nervous about performing in front of a bunch of kids?” He laughs.
“I haven’t performed in a long time, though. Especially that song.”
“You’ll be fine,” he assures me. “Better than fine, actually. You’ll be amazing. You are amazing.”
“And you are too flattering,” I reply, touching the tip of his long, freckled nose with my gloved finger. “But thanks.”
“Break a leg,” he says, prodding me forward, as the band finishes their song.
Kevin steps up to the microphone, looking suave in his pinstriped suit and fedora. It’s hard to believe he’ll be fifty this year. The touch of gray in his beard just makes him look distinguished. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, speaking to the crowd of mostly teenagers, “It’s my pleasure to introduce a singing sensation, making her Camp Carter stage debut tonight… our very own Carolyn McAlister!”
The kids clap, cheer, and catcall as I walk out onto the small stage, smiling nervously. But, as always, once the band strikes up my first song, I feel right at ease. I sing a set of some of my favorite swing era tunes, the stuff my grandparents listened to when they were young and brought me up to appreciate. Then I grab my ukulele and start strumming the chords of something more modern, a song that’s familiar to some of us in the room tonight, even if the kids are too young to know it.
“Lookin’ at your picture, from when we first met… you gave me a smile, that I could never forget… and nothin’ I could do could protect me from you, that ni-i-ight…”
As I sing, I see Nick in my mind’s eye. He’s smiling his usual smirk, his face frozen in time, forever thirty-one.
“Wrapped around your finger, always in my-y mind… the days would blend, ‘cause we stayed up a-all night… yeah, you and I were everything, everything to me…”
I think of those long days we spent on his tour bus, the late nights in his hotel room. I remember our whirlwind romance that started in Illinois, grew in Tennessee, and ended in California. I wonder how much longer it might have lasted, if it hadn’t been so cruelly cut short.
“I just want you to kno-ow… that I’ve been fightin’ to let you go… so-ome da-ays I make it through… and then there’s nights that never end. I wish that I could belie-eve… that there’s a day you’ll come back to me… bu-ut sti-ill I have to say… I would do it all again… just want you to know…”
I look up to the ceiling, my arms stretched toward the sky. I wonder if Nick’s up there somewhere, looking down me and listening. I wonder if he’s met up with my mom yet. Wherever they are, I hope they’re both proud of me.
“All the doors are closing; I try to move ahead… and deep inside, I wish it’s me instead. My dreams are empty… from the day… the day you slipped away…”
It hasn’t been easy, getting to this place in my life. I was lost for a long time, even after I moved to Tennessee. Nick’s death left me in darkness. Tom was the light that helped guide me to a new beginning… and my happy ending.
“I just want you to know… that I’ve been fightin’ to let you go… so-ome da-ays I make it through… and then there’s nights that never end. I wish that I could belie-eve… that there’s a day you’ll come back to me… bu-ut sti-ill I have to say… I would do it all again… just want you to know… that since I lost you… I lost myself… no, I can’t fake it… there’s no one e-el-else…”
Despite all the pain, heartbreak, and sadness, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m happy now and in love with my husband, but I’ll always love Nick, too. He’ll have a special place in my heart forever, and I hope that, through this camp, his legacy will outlive us all.
“I just want you to kno-ow… that I’ve been fightin’ to let you go… so-ome da-ays I make it through… and then there’s nights that never end. I wish that I could belie-eve… that there’s a day you’ll come back to me… bu-ut sti-ill I have to say… I would do it all again… just want you to know.”
I finish the song with tears in my eyes, but they are mostly happy tears. I feel good, especially when I see Kevin and Brian on their feet, applauding. I take a little bow and hurry off the stage, into my husband’s waiting arms. “What did I tell you? You were amazing,” he says, kissing me.
I don’t regret never getting my singing career off the ground, but I must admit, it’s still fun to perform. That’s the beauty of this camp; it combines three of my greatest loves: music, medicine, and… Nick. He was right; I’m the perfect person to run it.
The dance is a huge hit, and when it’s over and all the campers are sent off to their cabins, Tom and I head back to our summer house on the edge of the property, where we live while camp is in session. During the off-season, we’ll go back to the house in Franklin, but for now, this is home.
The house is mostly dark, but the porch lights are on to welcome us home, and I can see the soft glow of a nightlight in one of the bedroom windows. “We’re home,” I announce softly, as we walk in through the front door.
Mason, sitting in darkness on the couch, quickly changes the channel so we won’t see what he’s been watching. I pretend not to notice, smiling as he stands up to greet us. “Hey… how’d your dance thing go?”
“It was lots of fun. How did everything go here?”
“Fine. We had fun, too. We played with cars, watched Finding Nemo again. We had the frozen pizza for dinner. I didn’t burn the house down.” I laugh; he has the same dry sense of humor as his father. The eyebrows, too.
“Well, thanks for babysitting tonight. We appreciate it. Tom will pay you and drive you home.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Cary.”
“’Night, Mason. Thanks again!” I leave Tom to settle up with him and head down the hall, eager to change into some more comfortable clothes. But before I enter our bedroom, I can’t resist peeking into the room across the hall. The door is cracked open, and the nightlight is on. The little lump under the covers is still. I slide off my heels, slip into the room, and tiptoe over to the bed. I don’t want to wake him, but I can’t go to sleep without kissing my son goodnight.
Three years old, he is sound asleep in his big boy bed, lying flat on his back with his stuffed monkey clutched to his chest. He sleeps just like his father did. He looks just like his father, too – same angelic looks, same devilish grin. It’s hard to say no to that face. I reach down and brush his silky, blonde hair away from his forehead, whispering into his ear, “Goodnight, Theo. I love you.”
Theodore Carter McAlister. His first name means “divine gift,” and that is exactly what he is: a gift from Heaven; a gift from Nick.
I know people look at me and Tom and wonder how a brunette and a ginger can make such a beautiful, blonde baby. But whenever anyone comments on this, we just laugh and say, “Aren’t genetics weird that way?”
Of course Tom knew, when we first started trying to get pregnant, where the embryos we used had come from, but it’s never been a point of contention between us. We are both grateful for the miraculous baby with which we’ve been blessed, and even though Theo is the spitting image of his biological father, he is Tom’s son.
I kiss him lightly on his cheek, which is flushed and warm from sleep. He stirs, but doesn’t wake. I back slowly out of his room, hardly taking my eyes off his face. If I could, I would stand and stare at him all night as he sleeps, studying every feature of his face, listening to every breath he takes. Each one is precious.
But instead, I carry my shoes across the hall to my own bedroom, where I take off my own and change into pajamas. I consider climbing into bed to wait for my husband, but I’m still too wired, so I go outside to sit on the front porch.
It’s a beautiful night. A cool breeze ruffles the leaves, but the warmth of the summer sun lingers. Crickets chirp; cicadas hum. The sky is clear, and the stars shine brightly. I look up and suddenly remember sitting with Nick in the back of a pick-up truck on a night like this, looking up at the stars. He was so impressed with how many he could see, away from the city lights. I was just mesmerized by him. To me, he was more beautiful than any star.
I still miss him. I’ll never be able to truly let go of him, even though he’s been gone for a lot longer than he was with me. But I’ve always cherished the short time I had with him, and I’ll continue to carry it with me, as I go on with the rest of my life. His memory is alive and well inside me. For as long as I live, I’ll never let it die.
***
