A Summer Remade (10 page)

“It was nice meeting you both. See you in the morning.”

She walks away, and I punch Drew in the ribs. Might as well show him how I feel rather than try and explain it.

Marching up to the front porch steps, I open the door with
my
key, and before it can slam shut, Drew catches it.

He barges in. “You really thought you could stop a sale?”

“Go away.” My steps are angry as I make my way down the hall toward the back bedroom.

“You realize how that sounds, right?”

I whirl around. “Crazy? Is that what you want me to say? That I’m crazy? That I’m pathetically hopeless because I’m losing everything all at once?”

“Everything?” Drew stops walking, his question an invitation, not an interrogation.

I tick the list off my fingers one by one. “My parents, my family, my childhood, my past….
this
home
!”

Drew studies me. “That’s a lot.”

I know he’s trying to trick me into being calm, into being rational, into not being a slave to my feelings. But I’ve tried his way. And it doesn’t work.

The narrow hallway closes in on me slowly. “Yes.”

I expect him to say something more. Add some guru words of wisdom. But Drew doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, waiting for me to continue.

I rest my hand over my heart. “I’ve tried…I’ve tried to kill it, to numb it, to ignore it. But it won’t stop.” My voice breaks on the word. “This pain…it never stops.”

I push past him into the living room, half expecting him to stay put, half expecting him to walk out the front door and not come back. Instead, he sits on the sofa and crosses his ankle over his knee.

I swipe at a rogue tear with the back of my hand. “That…” I point to the hand-carved chest in the corner of the room, “is filled with family pictures. Dad brought them here so mom could scrapbook the last time we were on the island together as a family. But she never got around to it. So there it sits. A chest full of memories.
Dead
memories. Just like their dead marriage. Just like my dead childhood.”

Then, my adrenaline is gone. A
whooshing
sound leaves my chest, and I slump against the nearest overstuffed chair and bury my head in my hands.

“Memories don’t die, Joss.”

I sniffle.

“You get to keep those pictures
and
all your memories. I know what this cabin means to you, but…” Drew’s words trail down a long path of silence. “But the sale of this cabin, just like your parents’ marriage, isn’t in your control. Maybe it’s time to stop holding on so tightly to everything that was and try to accept what is.”

I know he’s right, but whether I’m Joslyn the child or Joss the adult, the pain of that truth is the same.

Drew crouches in front of me. His warm hand brushes over the top of my head and skims the length of my hair. “What are you thinking?”

I lift my face to his, steady my gaze. “That I’d like to jump off the dock. With you.”

He pulls me to my feet and hugs me. “You’re strong, and if anyone tells you differently, you can send them to me.”

I pull back just enough for him to see my face.

“Don’t you mean I should go tell ‘my neighbor, Drew Culver?’” Not only do I nail the tone and verbiage of his casual introduction to Dotty only minutes ago, I seem to have struck a nerve.

Drew’s almond-shaped eyes sharpen on my face, his gaze blazing a path to my lips. He’s not amused by my impersonation.

“You’re more than my neighbor, Joss.”

“How much more?” I’m baiting him. And by the slight crease at the edge of his mouth, he knows it.

“Enough to wish I could redo our first kiss every time I see you.”

Drew’s hands slide up my back to cradle my head. The pads of his thumbs rest under my jawbone, my pulse thrumming wildly against them. In mere seconds, the steady current between us sparks like a downed, live wire, flailing with want. His lips brush across mine, as if to test the charge.

Drew takes the risk.

Tightening his grip in my hair, Drew pulls me forward, my hands pressing flat against his chest. His mouth covers mine, his lips urging me to follow his lead, to find a rhythm that’s all our own. Knocking hard against my palm, Drew’s heartbeat hums the cadence of desire. I lean closer, invite him to take our kiss deeper.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Not the setting sun or the buzz of cell phones or even the lure of a legendary dock floating above placid water could pull us from this kiss, this moment.

Because whatever we’ve discovered, it’s something.

And something is significantly more than a summer fling.

‡

F
luffy spun sugar,
chewy caramel popcorn, and every kind of skewered meat that money can buy are the pungent aromas of Fourth of July on Lopez Island.

We were at Harve’s warehouse till late last night, applying the finishing touches on the
Trash or Treasure
parade float. Really, there wasn’t too much left to be done, but once again, Drew had managed to get me out of the cabin during yet another round of showings. This trick has become a new favorite pastime of his: knocking on my front door with some ridiculous emergency, or a food craving, or a sudden itch to go fishing off the Culver’s dock.

Over the course of the last week, a half-dozen families have walked through my cabin. And little by little, showing by showing, the cinched belt around my heart’s been adjusting, one notch at a time.

Drew secures my hand in his, and together we walk to the end of the parade route, to Harve’s old Ford. The float platform is attached by a trailer hitch, and seeing this huge steampunk-style clock finished in all of its unique glory makes me smile.

We did this.

Drew squeezes my palm as we approach a familiar three-legged dog and his master. “Hey, Harve.”

“There you two are,” Harve says, clearing his throat. “Thought you should do the honors.” He tosses a ring of keys at Drew.

“Wait. You want us to drive? In the parade?” I ask, speaking the confusion written on Drew’s face.

“Yep. I’ve looped that parade route more years than you two have been alive.” His wrinkles crease deep trenches on either side on his smile. “Just don’t forget to throw the candy. The kids love it.”

Pete whimpers near Harve’s ankle, and the old timer bends to scratch behind the pit bull’s ears. “Let’s go get us a bite to eat, Pete.”

“You’re sure?” Drew calls out to Harve’s backside.

Harve lifts his hand and shuffles away. “As sure as the coming rain.”

I lift my eyes to the sky. Clear. Blue. Sunny.

Drew chuckles at my expression. “Don’t second-guess him.”

“Um…there’s not a single cloud. It’s a gorgeous day.”

He nudges my shoulder with his. “I tend to trust the instincts of people who’ve outlived me by half a century.”

And once again, Drew has a point.

A bright spear of sunshine spotlights the bulky buckets of candy in the Ford pick-up. My heart smiles as I think of old man Harve, who just like candy, has a sweet center.

I laugh more in the next two hours than I’ve laughed in the last six months. My forearm sports a permanent indentation from leaning out the window, tossing candy to hoards of patriotically-dressed children screaming for sugar.

One last time, I reach into the bucket as Drew nears the last corner of the parade route. I toss a hefty handful of candy to a couple of knee-height toddlers waving their miniature flags. They aren’t quite old enough to collect the treats that tumble over the curb onto the pavement, so I aim the candy at their feet. The festively dressed woman next to them waves at me, thankfulness in her smile.

Satisfied, I sigh and fall back into the cab. Drew slides his hand onto mine and flips my palm over to intertwine our fingers. Two tiny shivers dance up my spine at the contact of his skin on mine. I could melt into this touch.

“How did I get lucky enough to have a pro candy thrower as my co-captain?”

I lean my head against the seat, the sun’s rays kissing my face. “You were the expert parade driver. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Five miles an hour isn’t exactly expert-level driving.” He slows the truck to a stop and parks under the leafy branches of an oak tree. “I could have fallen asleep at the wheel and no one would’ve noticed.”

As if intoxicated by sunshine, sweets, and celebratory happiness, I rotate in my seat to face him. The words slip through my lips without hesitation. “I would have noticed.”

Drew’s prominent boy-next-door grin, the one he’s worn since my first night on the island, no longer feels innocent. A prickly heat fills my chest.

His eyes linger on mine, a stretching silence that spans the distance of our shared bench seat and pushes us closer, pulls us together. There’s no first move, no grand gesture, no spoken invitation. We simply answer the silence.

Our lips meet.

The bright, cloudless sky might prevent the visibility of fireworks until nightfall, but within the depth of Drew’s kiss, an explosion of fiery color extends from my head to my toes.

Under heavily lidded eyes and through raspy, uneven breaths, Drew presses his forehead to mine. “Joss.”

There’s an ache in his voice I’ve come to recognize. The same desperate plea that’s taken a hold on my heart. A tone that carries with it a kind of pleasurable pain that plagues as much as it pacifies.

“I know,” is what I want to say, “I’m falling for you, too.”

But, instead, my words are lost to a kiss I hope will last until the real fireworks begin.

*

“It’s so loud.
Where are you, Syd?” I cup my hand over my opposite ear and adjust the phone. The phone beeps a warning into my ear.
Low battery
. I step off the blanket Drew laid out for us hoping for a great view of fireworks over the water.

“My mother’s ridiculous bachelorette party. Hang on. I’m almost inside. I just wanted to check in with you.” The peppered beat of a drum fades, and suddenly I can hear her again. “I haven’t heard from you since we texted last week.”

I hike my way to the top of the short hill. “I know. I’m sorry.” My apology is lame, but trying to come up with an excuse that will satisfy Sydney, or any of my friends, would be even more so.

“When are you headed back?” Sydney asks.

If only “back” were an actual place. “Um…I’m not exactly sure yet.” I glance down at Drew. He’s entertaining a family of six with card tricks galore. The fireworks show isn’t set to start for another hour. “The island’s been good for me.”

“You mean Doo-Doo Drew’s been good for you,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Not funny, Syd.” I’m starting to regret telling her about him at all.

She laughs. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. I’m sure he’s every bit as hot and charming as you claim, but what does Drew have planned when this little summer rendezvous is over?”

The word “rendezvous” punches me in the gut.

“He’ll go back to school. He’s a senior on scholarship at UW with the rowing team.” I swallow the uncertainty that swells in my throat, and anticipate her next question.

“And then, what? Do you think you’ll do the whole long distance thing? Or is this just a—”

“How’s Myrtle Beach?”

She laughs at my poor attempt to reroute her. “Haven’t seen much of it yet. Bridezilla and all. I’m so ready for this wedding to be over.”

“I bet.” I draw a heart in the sand with the tip of my sandal and pretend I haven’t thought about how impossibly hard it would be to watch one of my parents remarry as many times as Syd’s mom. Or remarry at all.

“So…”

I stop moving at the hesitation I hear in her voice. Sydney never hesitates. She says what she means, means what she says. “I talked to your mom yesterday, Joss.”

“
What
? Why?” The voice that squeaks out is small and tight.

“Because she’s worried about you.”

I brush my foot over my art in the sand and turn my back to Drew and the pack of goofy kids calling out card games to play. “What did you tell her?”

“The truth. That I’ve been worried about you, too.”

“Sydney!” I slam my eyes shut, search for a tangible calm inside. I find none.