“Yudi he’s your father. You don’t have to make excuses.”

“Ha you don’t have to make excuses with your father Mr. ‘Shira’le how’s your headache? What did you make for supper? How’s Yudi?’ He wants to talk to you. My father isn’t that guy.”

Shira sat down across from her husband. “Listen Yudi get over it. He’s working in camp and you wish you were right? So you can spend your summer second-guessing him and being bitter or you can believe in Hashem…”

“Shira leave Hashem out of this I don’t need a speech.” Yudi laughed when he said it but he looked annoyed.

“Okay fine but you get what I’m saying. He’s there and he’s your father so help him out.” “I hear you Shira. Can we eat supper now?”

Chaim had spent the day helping the new nurse stock the infirmary. Rather than go to Target with a shopping list he’d called his friend Wagner who sold these things wholesale and he’d saved the camp a bundle of money. He’d immediately sent Penner an itemized list showing the savings. Then when the van arrived Chaim got to work unpacking. It felt great to work again and he was exuberant when he arrived at supper.

He pulled a chair out for Rivky.

“Come sit and tell me about your afternoon Rivk.”

She made a face as she sampled the strange-looking soup. “Are these fruit?” she said peering into the bowl. Chaim didn’t stop eating. “Nu tell me?” She sighed. “I don’t know it was nice. We walked the path from the baseball field that leads to old Lucas farm. When I was a kid we called it Old MacDonald’s Farm. The path had blackberry bushes and we would pick the berries. Mommy sometimes made jam.” “So it was nice? Memory lane?”

“No it was hard. Mommy wanted to walk fast but she really can’t so she was out of breath and a bit cranky. There were a million mosquitoes. Then on the way back I scraped my ankle on a rock and it kills.”

“Uch sorry.” Chaim brightened. “Hey you can come to my infirmary and we’ll fix it. Iodine? Neosporin? We’re prepared.”

Chananya Singer approached and stood by the table awkwardly as if he wanted to say something. “Hey what’s doing?” Chaim said looking up. The soup was pretty lousy.

“It’s like this: There’s this guy Kenner he’s the C.I.T. counselor. He’s been all over and knows what’s going on in all the camps. He’s giving me a hard time says every camp breaks out the new season with some kind of matzav on the first night. That’s tonight and we have nothing planned. Regular night activity nothing more. Do we have any kind of budget for this and any ideas?” “My father would say ‘Who cares what other camps do?’ ” Rivky whispered.

“Yes he would. But he’s also taking a nap on his front porch” Chaim told her.

Chaim cleared his throat and looked up at Singer. “Tell me what does he say about the other camps what are they doing?”

“Well Meromim had a huge delivery of snow and there was this major snowball fight. Apparently it was crazy.”

“I hear.”

“And Chevras Kayitz had horses in the dining room.”

“Wow.”

“So what can we do? Any ideas? I know it’s last minute but I thought maybe you know we can try something?”

“Let me think okay?”

“Are you going to do something? Can you even if you want to?” Rivky asked after Singer ambled off. Chaim sighed. “I have no clue. Is that really my job? And what do I know about breakouts?”