Summer Plans and Other Disasters

by Karin Beery

  Her muscles relaxed. Breathing came easier, and Callie realized Jan was talking. “Wait, stop. I missed that. What were you saying?”

  “They’re talking about redistributing the workload because the junior high bands are so small.” Jan took a deep breath. “They want to blend the seventh and eighth grade bands and cut the fifth and sixth grade bands.”

  “What about the strings class? And woodwinds?”

  “Cut.”

  One band, two teachers. The chocolate curdled in Callie’s throat. “What about high school music? What are they doing with Ken?”

  “He would take over all band classes.”

  “All of them? He already teaches jazz and concert band, plus music appreciation classes.”

  Jan sighed.

  M&Ms dropped to the floor.

  “They want him to pick up junior high band too.”

  “So, you and I are fired.”

  “Not exactly.”

  A tear pushed past Callie’s lashes. “We’re vying for the same job.”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  The weight of the reality pressed Callie lower against the wall. “Except you’ve been with the district for two years longer than me.” Her voice cracked. “You’ve got seniority.”

  “I’m so sorry, Callie.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Callie wiped a tear off her cheek. “I know how the union works.”

  “But I don’t want you to think that I called to rub it in. I’m not entirely safe either, so I’ve spent the last few weeks looking at all of my options.”

  “Your options?” Callie sat up. “Like what?”

  “I’ve sent out some résumés, just in case.”

  “You’d leave?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll find anything, but I’m going to look. Things have been getting worse every year. I’m sick of always wondering what I’ll be doing next year. If I can find a better job in another state, it might be time to move on. And if I move—”

  “My job is more secure.” The birds started singing.

  “I haven’t found anything yet,” Jan said, “and I might not be able to find anything, but I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to get a call from someone on the board without giving you a heads-up.”

  Somehow, Callie’s heart managed to rip apart and rejoice at the same time. “I don’t know if I should wish you good luck or not.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Nothing’s set yet, so there’s always the chance that things could change again.” Something shifted on the line, and Jan’s voice muffled. When it cleared she said, “I should get going. I hope I didn’t ruin your day. I just thought you should know.”

  “Thank you. You haven’t ruined anything.” Callie poured the M&Ms right into her mouth. “Thanks for the heads-up,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll call you if I hear anything else.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Callie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know you want to stay in Alma, but it might not be a bad idea for you to start looking around too. Just in case.”

  They exchanged a few quick pleasantries, but handful after handful of crunchy candy stole Callie’s concentration. After she finally hung up the phone, her body collapsed under the stress, tipping to the side and sliding down the wall until her shoulder sank into the disgusting blue carpet. Laying there motionless, heavy with the weight of unemployment, she stared at the wall trying to figure out how she felt, but too many emotions raced through her heart.

  She could lose another job. Even if she kept her position, she’d have to revise her entire curriculum. And she’d only keep her job if Jan left. Callie wanted to cry, laugh, yell, and possibly even quit teaching entirely.

  She might lose her second job in a month. Jack might let her do the housework for a while—cooking, cleaning, more cooking. She’d have to talk with him when he got back. She could dust, clean the furniture.

  Callie popped up.

  The chairs!

  She checked the time on her phone. Oh, no. Thirty minutes. An extra fifteen minutes wouldn’t be that bad, would it? She had sort of read the warning label. Ventilation. Flames. High heat.

  Callie flew out of the blue room, spraying M&Ms across the carpet and into the living room. Her heart raced. She considered following it right off the peninsula. A truck door slammed. Maybe it was just another tourist.

  “Calista Marie!”

  Maybe not.

  A giant, black booger clung to Jack’s gloved hand.

  Guilt stabbed Callie’s heart as she examined the streaks of goopy paint stripper covering the once green chairs. She picked up a dead branch and poked the wood. It stuck to the gooey mess. Bits of bark clung to the chair as she scraped at the destroyed furniture. She yanked the stick away before looking at Jack. “I thought you were fishing today.”

  His eye twitched. “The township called. They need some paperwork for a meeting tonight. I thought I’d run home really quick, get them off my back, then go back out.” He pointed at the chairs. “Obviously I can’t. What did you do?”

  “I, I …” She looked at the chairs, then her brother, then the chairs. Her arms dropped to her side. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Try an explanation.” Jack ripped the glove off of his hand and threw it in the grass. “I told you we’d talk when I got back.” He pointed a rough finger at her face. “All you had to do was sit back and relax. You didn’t have to do anything. Why can’t you just—”

  “I wanted to do something nice for you.” Callie straightened her spine, bracing herself for the worst, but he clamped his mouth closed, breathing deeply through his nose. She tried to make eye contact, but he squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips together so hard they disappeared into a thin, white line. She could have handled yelling, but this? She didn’t even know what it meant.

  A muscle in his cheek twitched.

  Shame joined her guilt. He had to know that she wasn’t purposefully trying to ruin them. “I’m sorry. I got this phone call, and I didn’t think it would take so long. I was doing everything right, but I wasn’t sure what to do with the waste, so I was looking for a bucket, then I decided to call Ryan for help, but then Jan called. There was no way I could know how long the call would take and Jan totally distracted me, then I forgot about the chairs, and I didn’t think, I mean, the directions … I never thought the sun …” Those stupid tears clogged her eyes again. She sniffed. “I’m so sorry.”

  Jack’s eyes opened into slits. “What were you thinking? Why were you even doing this?”

  “I wanted to repaint them. To make them look nice for you.”

  “So, you used paint stripper? Do you have any idea how dangerous those chemicals are?” He stepped toward her. “Look at what the chemical did to the chair. This is toxic. You could have burned yourself. A nice-looking chair isn’t worth another trip to the hospital.”

  Callie stepped back. “You mean you’re not mad about the chairs?”

  “No, but you shouldn’t be working with these chemicals.”

  With a blink of her eyes, her shame melted away and anger burned in her chest. “Are you serious?” She moved forward until they stood toe to toe and eye to chin. “I am not a child, Jackson. I may not be very skilled with your tools, but I am always careful. I wouldn’t have tried this if I didn’t think I could do it. I may be a little accident prone, but I’m not an idiot. I’m sorry I ruined your chairs, but I’m not sorry that I tried to do something nice for you!”

  “You don’t have to do anything nice for me! I’ve been trying to tell you that since you called and asked if you could stay with me. Why can’t you just relax and stop adding to your problems?”

  Every word out of Jack’s mouth fueled the fire that raged inside. The sweltering sun had nothing on her anger. “Is that what I’m doin
g here? Creating problems?” She jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “Then why don’t you kick me out?”

  “Because I know you’re supposed to be here. I’m just not convinced that you’re supposed to be working for me.” Jack poked her in the shoulder. “I don’t understand why you won’t let this go.” Poke. “I don’t need your help.” Poke. “Just enjoy your summer vacation like a normal person.” Poke, poke.

  Callie smacked his hand away. “That’s not part of the plan!”

  Jack’s eyes nearly popped out. He stumbled backward, shaking his head. “Are you kidding me? This is all because one of your ‘plans?’” She could have forgiven his snarky tone, but the finger quotes pushed her over the edge.

  The ruined chairs taunted her from behind Jack. Jan’s voice echoed in her ears. Her students’ faces jumped up to greet her. She could almost feel their little hands in hers. Sorrow clogged her throat. “It’s not just about the plan.” Tears erupted from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.

  Regret. Fear. It wasn’t just anger that clawed at her heart, tearing her soul to shreds. Jack was right. She destroyed everything she touched. Her love life. Her jobs.

  A glob of stripper and paint splattered on the grass.

  Now she was ruining Jack’s life too. One chair at a time.

  First the yelling, now the tears. Jack’s feet refused to move him away from the hysteria. Even if he could move, he didn’t have a clue what to do. She was the one who’d globbed up his chairs, and she was mad at him? If she’d stop crying long enough, he could keep lecturing her. Instead, she stood there making more racket than his chain saw.

  “Cal,” he said, proud of his good start. The next line kept tripping him up. He cleared his throat and forced the words out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No!” The seagulls scattered. He dug a rag out of his back pocket and handed it to her. She’d wiped grease all over her face before he noticed. Probably best not to mention it.

  He waited for her to calm down, but the sobbing continued. Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, Jack mopped the sweat off his face. “Do you at least want to go inside? Get out of the sun?”

  “Everything’s falling apart.” She kept crying. “And now …” She looked at the chair. Her face scrunched up tight, like she’d just bitten into a lemon. Jack had never heard a sound like that before, but chances were good that she’d scared away the rest of the wildlife, maybe even some of the tourists.

  He scratched his head. “I don’t really know what else to do. It’s just a chair, Cal. Do you think you might be overreacting?” The rag hit him right on the chest, and before Jack could comment on her ridiculous actions, Callie ran into the house. At least she took one of his suggestions.

  The door slammed shut.

  Sort of. Jack grabbed his phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “Stacey, I need help.”

  “Jack? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Callie, and I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  “Where are you? Is she hurt?” Her voice got higher. “Do you need me to meet you someplace?”

  “I don’t think so.” Jack scratched his head again, looking between the clumpy chair and the front door. “I don’t know what happened. I was telling her how dangerous paint stripper is and why she should just enjoy her vacation, then she started crying and ran into the house.”

  The door flew open.

  “Wait, she’s coming back outside.”

  Jack stood in the yard watching. His sister ran down the steps, over the gravel, and to her car. Tears had cut through the grease marks, streaking her face and piercing at his heart. “Oh, man. She’s still crying.”

  The little car peeled out of the driveway, flinging pebbles everywhere.

  “And now she’s gone.”

  Stacey sighed. “Jack, did you really just call me because your sister is crying?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Stacey laughed. That didn’t make sense to him. “I think you’re old enough to figure out how to handle your sister,” she said. “Why don’t you just ask her what’s wrong?”

  “I did, and now she’s gone.”

  “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  Jack recapped the situation, from seeing the chair, talking to Callie about safety, urging her to relax, her unexpected tears. None of it made sense to him. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Not good. “I don’t know Callie that well. Does she usually cry?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a dying elk.”

  Stacey coughed. A lot.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but something sounded funny.

  Jack was pretty sure she was laughing at him. “This isn’t helping.”

  “I’m sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I’m okay now.”

  “So, what do I do?”

  “You need to talk to her, but you should probably give her some time to calm down. You need to find out what happened so you can apologize and move on.”

  “Apologize?” Jack looked at the chair again. Heat waves radiated up from the wood. The stench of chemical fumes crept toward him. “I’m not really sure that I’m the one who did anything wrong.”

  “I’m not saying that you did, but you were the one yelling at Callie when she started crying.”

  “I wasn’t yelling!”

  “Really?”

  Jack mentally replayed the conversation. “Maybe.”

  “So, it was either something you said or the way that you said it that made her cry.”

  “How?”

  “That doesn’t matter. Somehow you played a part in upsetting your sister. It might not have anything to do with you, but you were there. You’re the one who sent her over the edge.”

  Jack kicked at the ground, connecting with one of Callie’s gloves and launching it through the air. It splattered against the chair, sticking to the goop. Great. Now he needed a new pair of gloves. “This is why I hate talking to my sister. I don’t understand her, especially when she gets so emotional.”

  “Do you love her?”

  His jaw dropped. “Of course I love her!” He’d done everything he could to keep her safe and relaxed since she got there.

  “Then it doesn’t matter why she gets emotional. You don’t need to figure that out. You just need to be her big brother and support her.”

  “But if I can figure out why, maybe I can help her.”

  Stacey blew into the phone. “Jack, do you want my advice or not? Because you called me, but you keep arguing with everything I say.”

  “If I didn’t want your help, I wouldn’t have called.” He kicked the second glove at the chair on purpose. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “I told you. Talk to her, but don’t try to fix her. Just ask her what’s wrong, then listen. Don’t offer any advice unless she asks for it.”

  “But that doesn’t—”

  “Jack!”

  He snapped his jaw shut. When had beautiful little Stacey learned to channel his mother?

  “This is the advice I’m giving you. Take it or leave it, but I’m not going to argue with you about it anymore. I have to get back to work.”

  “Then why did you answer the phone?”

  She hesitated. “Because I saw that it was you.”

  Nothing about the way she said that reminded Jack of his mom. Those were the nicest words he’d heard all day. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I really have to go now.”

  Jack nodded but suddenly didn’t want to hang up. He tried to think of something to keep Stacey on th
e line, but he didn’t want to keep her from her work. “Can we talk again later?”

  Apparently, the question surprised Stacey as much as it surprised him. She didn’t say anything.

  “Stacey?”

  “I, I’d like that.”

  He smiled. “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.” She squeaked. “Bye.”

  Jack clipped the phone back onto his belt. Strolling to his chairs, he pulled the gloves off as he listened to the birds sing. No, it wasn’t the birds. He was whistling. The fishing trip was ruined, but suddenly the day had potential.

  Callie had obviously overreacted, but maybe he had too. Sure, the paint stripper was toxic, but she wasn’t going to eat it. In fact, she had the chairs outside, gloves on the ground, and a trowel nearby. It looked like she had everything under control.

  And he could save the chairs. Another thick application of stripper and he’d be able to clean off the wood, but not in this heat. Using the ruined gloves, he picked up the goopy chairs and hauled them into the shade.

  The chairs could wait, though. Right now, he needed to call his sister.

  Ryan pulled into the driveway and parked next to Stacey’s subcompact death trap. Next to Jack’s behemoth truck, hers looked like an abused clown car. Ryan climbed out of his Jeep and wondered where Callie had gone. Maybe she and Stacey were out together.

  He grabbed the laptop bag out of the Jeep, ignoring the photo-happy tourists, and walked straight to the house. As he stepped inside, he almost tripped on a tiny pair of sandals. Then he heard the talking—high-pitched and chatty. Not Callie’s rich, musical voice. He looked at the shoes again. Too small to be Callie’s. “Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stacey?”

  “Hi, Ryan.”

  Warning bells. Not the kind that made him fear for his life but the kind that made his head spin. Something very strange was happening. He left his bag and keys on the counter before heading up to the living room. Jack sat on one end of the couch. Stacey sat in the middle.

  Ryan blinked. He wouldn’t have been more surprised to find the Russian ballet practicing in the house. Everything looked the same, but the two people on the couch—together—confused him. Jack stared at him. Stacey smiled. The fan overhead hummed, stirring the air and Ryan’s confusion.