Summer Plans and Other Disasters

by Karin Beery

  “Sticking with a boy then?”

  “I just know it’s a boy ... I think.”

  Callie chuckled. “What if he decides to hang out for a few more days?”

  “We’re ready either way. My mom is planning to take the girls, Charlie’s boss is great and is going to let him take time off whenever I deliver, and I’m ready to scratch my ankles again.” She slapped Callie’s knee, stinging the hot skin. “Enough about me. Why weren’t you paying attention at church?”

  “I was reevaluating why I’m here.”

  “Uh-huh. And what did you find out?”

  Callie wiggled her fingers into the tight front pocket of her shorts and retrieved the now damp piece of paper. “I was looking back at what happened, trying to figure out where I went wrong. How I can get back on track.” The page flopped around as she unfolded it. “Here’s the original plan.”

  • Move in with Jack

  • Work for Jack

  • Contact Kyle

  • Reconnect with Kyle

  “That was the entire summer plan, and I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail. You did do all of this. There’s nothing wrong with your list. You just finished the items faster than you thought you would.”

  That theory did weird things to Callie’s chest. That couldn’t really be true. “Then what am I supposed to do for the rest of the summer?” Her chest clenched again. Maybe a little liquid would help things loosen up. She sipped her water.

  “Do whatever you want.” Mae huffed. “This list doesn’t say anything about spending the whole summer with Jack or dating Kyle. Those were your expectations.” She dropped the soggy paper on Callie’s lap. “Sometimes we’re wrong.”

  The tightness returned. “If I was wrong about these, how do I know I wasn’t wrong about everything else?”

  “Just because you interpreted part of God’s plan incorrectly doesn’t mean the whole thing was wrong. Your plan didn’t go the way you expected, but it still worked.”

  “Technically.” Callie jammed the stupid paper back into her pocket and gave the swing a good push. Ryan’s face flashed through her mind. “And what about Ryan?”

  The swing stopped, but Callie and her glass flew forward, crashing to the ground next to Mae’s foot. She looked over her shoulder to find her pregnant friend leaning forward and grinning.

  “What about Ryan?” Mae wiggled her eyebrows.

  Lunch. The night by the fire. Ice cream. Difficulties breathing. “I don’t know.” Callie sat in the grass so they could see each other. “He’s as wonderful as he’s always been, but he’s moving—”

  “What? Where?”

  She shrugged. “Somewhere in town. I don’t know why he’s moving, but it looks like he’ll be out soon.” Then she wouldn’t have to see him every day. Maybe she’d be able to forget about their lunches and focus on work … and figuring out what she did wrong. “Ryan was never part of the plan anyway.”

  “He wasn’t a reason for you to move here, but he could still be part of God’s plan.” Mae’s eyes twinkled. “You have the whole summer to see what happens.” She patted Callie’s filthy knee, smearing the sweat and dirt. “You don’t have to know all of the details. Just go as God leads. He’ll take care of the rest.”

  “I don’t know.” Two months of spontaneity? “That never works out well for me. Remember the night I went for a spur-of-the-moment bike ride and broke my leg?”

  “Yeah. You spent the whole summer practicing the violin and won a scholarship to that music camp.”

  “Okay, fine. That might have worked out, but what about the box of red hair tint that we decided to buy? My hair turned purple.”

  “Oh, that one.” Mae leaned back and started rocking.

  “I failed the audition for the youth orchestra because of their dress code.”

  “I remember. You didn’t play the violin that whole summer.”

  The memory pricked at Callie’s heart. “I was so upset I could barely look at it.”

  “Yep.” Mae nodded, still rocking. “Instead, you bought a used a guitar and taught yourself to play.”

  Had it been that same summer?

  Mae chuckled. “See. It doesn’t always turn out bad.”

  Callie dropped her chin to her knees. Frustration slipped into her already emotionally overloaded blood stream. “I hate when you use logic.”

  “Someone has to keep you sane.”

  “I’m as far from sane as I am from Hong Kong.” And the frustrations just kept mounting. “Do you really think I might be here because of Ryan?”

  “Calista!” Mae popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “You’re missing the point. Why you’re here doesn’t matter. God will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. Stop looking at your so-called failures and just enjoy yourself.”

  “Enjoy yourself.” The unknown future. A summer of uncertainty. At the very worst—two months of chaos. At the very best, well, maybe she’d get stranded somewhere and find a lottery ticket on the side of the road. She pushed herself off the hard ground as she considered the possibilities. More debris clung to her legs and palms. Definitely a dirty summer.

  Mae raised her arms and twisted her midsection, groaning like an eighty-six-year-old arthritic woman. When she finally finished her calisthenics, she looped her arm through Callie’s and led them toward the house.

  “You can do this, Cal. Relax and take each day as it comes. One at a time.”

  “You make it sound like a twelve-step program.”

  She laughed. “With you, the program might take twenty-four steps.”

  Halfway to the house, Mae stopped. She released Callie’s arm and pressed her hand to the small of her back. Her eyes widened. “You might have to work through the steps pretty quickly. Tomorrow might really be the day.”

  Callie tossed another rag into her bucket and closed the closet door. As she stepped out of the bathroom, Jack nearly plowed her over.

  “Do you need anything else? I’m going fishing today, and I’m turning off my phone. You’re on your own.” He stopped beside her and looked into the bucket of supplies. “You’re going to clean again? Mondays and Tuesdays are your day off.”

  “Technically, every day is my day off now. Remember? I figured I’d at least earn my keep.”

  Jack shook his head. His shaggy hair bounced around his stubborn head. “Don’t start. You know this is the best option for both of us. I’m going to Duck Lake. I’ll be late.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  He reached over and yanked on Callie’s ponytail.

  She swatted his hand. “Grow up.”

  He laughed.

  “Are you really not going to let me work for you anymore?” she asked. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

  Jack groaned. Ignoring her, he marched toward the kitchen.

  Callie followed. “I was sort of planning on that money.”

  He stopped on the dining room steps. “Do you need money?”

  “Not yet, but I might.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “Nothing yet, but you know what’s going on with the schools. There are budget cuts everywhere, and I’m a music teacher.”

  Jack’s jaw twitched. “Are they firing you?”

  “Not that I know of, but I want to have a healthy savings, just in case.”

  He nodded and started walking again. “Let me think about it.”

  “Can we talk about it later?”

  “I’m technically back to work Wednesday. Let me think about it until then.” He opened the fridge and grabbed everything off the top shelf. She couldn’t imagine why he needed the half and half, but he obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Jack returned to the fridge for mustard, ketchup, and a jar of capers. Callie was obviously distracting him. Instead of contributing to his ma
dness, she went outside to find his fishing cooler.

  On the way to the garage, she walked past her car, then Jack’s, then the empty spot where Ryan’s car had been. Callie couldn’t identify the sudden tension that seized her chest the first time she saw Ryan moving his things. Now she cringed at his missing car.

  Even though she didn’t have proof, Callie had a gut feeling that Ryan was moving out because of her, though she couldn’t imagine why. Jack would never confirm it, but she sensed she was the reason. Maybe Ryan was trying to be a gentleman and give her space to spend time with her brother. Not that she had asked for time with Jack … or needed it. And if that was the case, why wouldn’t anyone talk to her about it?

  It didn’t make sense for Ryan to move out because of her. She was only staying for a few more weeks. Really, she should be the one moving out, especially since she wasn’t working with Jack anymore. She just had to find a place she could afford with no summer income.

  Inside the garage, she quickly found the cooler and headed back to the house. By the time she returned to the kitchen, Callie hadn’t come up with a single good option that would let her stay in Traverse City rent-free without displacing Ryan. She had the rest of the day to figure out something though.

  “Thanks.” Jack relieved Callie of the cooler. He removed the lid and leaned it against the counter. Using both hands, he swept an armload of food into the abused Igloo.

  Callie pulled a couple of ice packs out of the freezer tossed them on top. “You promise that we’ll talk when you come back?”

  “I promise.” He pressed on the lid. Something popped.

  “Can we also talk about why Ryan’s suddenly moving out?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. I’ll see you tonight.” He didn’t look at her when he picked up the cooler or when he put on his hat or when he passed her on the way out the door.

  She followed him onto the deck and across the lawn. What had just happened? “Are we good?” she asked.

  Jack stopped. He looked back at her and winked. “We’re always good, Squirt. I’ll see you later.”

  The charred wood glared at Callie. Crossing her arms, she inspected the chair again. Blackened paint covered the front legs of Jack’s Adirondack. Only one leg needed serious attention, but she doubted Jack had the right color paint for a perfect match, and a trip to town would take too much time. She wanted to surprise Jack. The sooner she finished, the better.

  Her phone twittered. Curiosity tugged at her, but the chairs held her full attention. She didn’t know how long they would need, and they were her top priority. Reaching into her pocket, she silenced the ring tone. Time to get started.

  Callie entered her brother’s lair. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered the entire back wall of the garage, and assorted cans of paint and chemicals bulged off of each one. The closer Callie stepped, the more the wall overwhelmed her. So many options.

  Picking a shelf, she grabbed the first can she could reach. Not even half full. Perfect. She could eliminate all of the small cans and anything less than half full. There was no way she was going to run out of paint.

  Nearly an hour later, after lots of can-shaking, she lined up her options on the workbench. Stains were out of the question—they would require too many coats. White, pink, and pale green paint. She couldn’t imagine Jack sitting on any of those, so she put them back on the shelf. Periwinkle. Why did he have a can of periwinkle paint? She’d ask him about that later. Until then, that color went back on the shelf. After discarding a few more questionable cans, Callie had five masculine options left. Her heart palpitated when she imagined picking a color Jack hated. Snagging the phone from her pocket, she called Ryan.

  “Good morning.” She could hear his smile, which calmed her nerves. “What’s up?”

  “I’m in the garage. I need a hand.”

  “I get off work at five, but I can probably skip lunch and make it back earlier.”

  Callie’s innards fluttered. Working with Ryan would be nice, but that might not give her enough time to finish before Jack got home, and she had to think about Jack. And his chairs. And how she almost burned them up. “Thanks for the offer, but I really just have a question. I’m repainting Jack’s chairs, and I don’t know what color to use. I have tan, brown, gray, slate blue, and something that looks like rust.”

  Silence. Something scurried across the roof.

  “Ryan?”

  He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to paint them? They’re in rough shape as it is.”

  “The chairs are in great shape. They just need a fresh coat of paint. I might as well do it, since I charred the one.”

  “Cal—”

  “I’m going to do it. Jack has paint stripper in the garage someplace, so I can’t possibly gouge myself again. I can handle paint. I just need to know what color to use.”

  Ryan sighed. “Why don’t you wait for me to come help you? Please?”

  Something in Callie’s gut clenched, killing off any remaining flutters. “I’m not a child, Ryan. I didn’t call for help. I called for color suggestions, but I’ll figure it out myself. Bye.”

  She’d just stuffed the phone back in her pocket when it dinged. A quick glance told her the text was from Ryan. Her jaw tightened. Blue. Callie’s stomach relaxed. Setting the blue paint aside, she returned the rejects back to their shelves.

  She took half an hour to decipher the paint stripper from the paint thinner from the other assorted chemicals, but after she found that, it only took a few minutes to round up the rest of her supplies and step outside.

  By the time Callie reached the chairs, the late morning sun was baking the air. She dropped her things and tightened her ponytail. The forecast called for an unseasonably hot day, but Callie was determined. She didn’t want to disappoint Jack again. If she could at least remove the burned paint before he got home, he’d know that she wasn’t a complete tragedy. She could fix her own messes.

  Callie picked up the small metal can of paint stripper and found the directions. Well ventilated … clean rag … away from flames, high heat … protective clothing. She skimmed the back panel until she found what she wanted.

  Apply liberally… check progress after 10 to 15 minutes by scraping a small area with a paint scraper. Oh, well. If the paint is softened all the way down to bare wood, the stripper is done. If not, put more stripper on the scraped area and wait five more minutes.

  “I can do that,” she told the can, then pulled on a pair of Jack’s rubbery work gloves. She twisted off the cap and doused a rag with chemicals.

  Fumes seared in her nostrils and burned her eyes. Callie tipped her head away, but she didn’t stop. Tomorrow Jack’s chairs would look like new. She wasn’t just fixing a burn, she was preserving a part of his past. That thought soothed her aching sinuses.

  A breeze stirred, blowing away the chemical stench, but also carrying away the clouds. The sun baked Callie’s skin. Her hand trembled and dripped as she swiped a thick coat of stripper over the arm of the chair. Sweat rolled down her forehead.

  Silence.

  The chair didn’t collapse. Nothing exploded. She wasn’t bleeding.

  Callie laughed. An unknown weight lifted from her shoulders. The first successful swipe eased her heart and mind. With a bit more confidence she covered the supporting pieces, the legs, the back. The sun cooked her. Sweat dripped. She kept swiping.

  As she coated the last piece of wood with paint stripper, Callie sighed. Jack and Ryan were wrong to doubt her. In ten to fifteen minutes she’d prove them wrong. She’d also have to figure out what to do with the paint after she scraped it off.

  In the garage, she found a metal pail, a plastic bucket, empty paint cans, old take-out containers. Maybe she should make one more quick call to Ryan, just to make sure she picked the best one.

  Callie peeled off the sweaty, sticky gloves and grabbed her phone. It
started ringing in her hand. She didn’t recognize the Alma number, but she answered anyway “Hello?”

  “Callie, finally! I’ve been trying to reach you. We’re getting laid off.”

  Callie stared at the demon apparatus in her hand, the one destroying her life and her career. She could not lose her job. “Who is this?” she asked.

  “Jan.”

  The middle school music teacher, and the person Callie kept forgetting to call back. “What are you talking about?”

  “The school board. They have to make cuts.”

  Callie’s heart dropped to the ground, right next to her disgusting gloves. Layoffs had been happening all over the state for the past few years, which was why she’d always worked during the summer. Suddenly, she didn’t care about working with Jack. Her job—her real job—was on the line.

  “Are you still there?”

  Callie shook her head. “I’m sorry, yeah. I’m here. You just caught me at a bad time.” She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the worse. “What’s going on?”

  “The state budget came back, and the school board has to make cuts.”

  “They always have to make cuts, and they’re never as bad as we think it’s going to be.” This couldn’t be happening. “They’ll present a worst-case scenario, then we’ll go back to school with sandpaper-brand toilet paper to save money.”

  “I know they’ve done that before, but this time it’s serious. You haven’t responded to your work emails, so I thought I’d call. I know you’re out of town and didn’t know how much you’ve heard.”

  “About what?”

  “Nothing’s set in stone yet, so …”

  “Jan, you called me. What’s going on?”

  Silence.

  Budget cuts. Phone call from Jan. The worst summer of her life. “I’m fired, aren’t I?” Callie braced herself, squeezing Jack’s work bench until a splinter pierced her skin.

  Chocolate. Now.

  She ran into the house and straight into her bedroom. The bag of M&Ms pulled her into their gravitational field. Grabbing them from her desk, she dropped to the floor. Crunchy candy coating crackled in her mouth. Creamy, sweet Valium.