And with that, he clomped back down the dock, leaving Ethan alone and wondering whether it was the lake that Gus saw as his child—or if it was Juniper Jones.
Sometime in the night, sitting on the dock, Ethan drifted off to sleep. He awoke just as dawn was yawning on the horizon. His body was stiff and freezing, sprawled out on the wooden planks, and his feet were still bare. In the night, it seemed, the air had chilled. It was only with deep, shivering effort that he managed to drag himself back to the path where his shoes waited patiently, facing northwest, the white canvas slightly damp with morning dew.
“Goddamn,” he lamented, groaning as he bent to tie his laces and his body cried out in protest. At a slow, exhausted pace, he dragged himself back up the path, feeling the ice in his bones rattling with every step. His eyes were half shut, maybe frozen with the cold. It was a wonder, he realized once Aunt Cara’s house was in sight, that he’d found his way back at all.
When he climbed through the window and fell against the hardwood floor, he looked up at the clock and saw that it read six o’clock, only a little while before Aunt Cara or Uncle Robert would wake up—he’d made it back before they could notice that he was missing.
Slowly, carefully, he picked himself up off the floor and gathered some wrinkled clothes from his closet, then made his way into the empty hall and to the bathroom. He turned the water in the shower on as hot as it could go and stood under it, his head turned up to the burning stream until the frigid night had been washed completely from his aching body. Then he remained there, washing away the tears and the old, invisible wounds that were peeling open again under the new, until it was all down the drain along with a thick layer of dirt and grime.
He didn’t feel mended when the hot water finally ran out and he stepped out of the shower, but he certainly no longer felt like his bones were made of glass. He toweled off, put on his fresh clothes, and wandered back into his room.
It was hard to tell, after sleeping in the cold all night, whether that talk with Gus had really helped him at all. He trusted the man and his carefully chosen words, but when he thought about Juniper, there was a beam of bright orange sunset, followed by lonely blankness. With a moan that grew from his stomach and made his entire body vibrate, Ethan crawled into bed, under the covers, and pulled a pillow over his head.
It was here that his uncle found him, nearly two hours later, as the sun finally reared its head over the town of Ellison, Alabama, and everyone but Ethan rose for work and play. He heard Uncle Robert’s voice through a hot, hazy fog, saw him through blurred vision.
“I think he’s got a fever,” Uncle Robert said, his voice crashing and grating against Ethan’s ears. “He’s boiling up.”
Aunt Cara’s cold hand pressed against his forehead and she confirmed, “That’s a fever, all right. Poor child must have worried himself sick.”
His head pounded, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
A few minutes passed—or maybe hours—and then he felt a cool cloth settle against his burning forehead. “Shh, there you go,” Aunt Cara said, patting his shoulder. “You get to stay home from work today—Uncle Robert’s got it covered. Just rest.” She walked away, adding, “There’s another bowl of bean soup on your bedside table, if you’d like it.”
Ethan could smell it—the appetizing scent wafted toward him. But his entire frame rattled when the door was eased shut, and he felt too weak to reach for it. He lay where he was instead, drifting in and out of sleep, his body aching and shivering and punishing him for his rashness the night before.
In his more lucid moments, he would think about his conversation with Gus and find some semblance of comfort in the thought of Juniper coming back and showing up at his door the next morning when he was well again, smiling that crooked-toothed smile. At some point, in between restless sleep and check-ins from Aunt Cara, he thought he saw her walk through his door, kneel beside his bed, and smooth back his hair with one soft, freckled hand. He closed his eyes and smiled at the coolness of her touch. When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. He figured it must have been a dream.
Fourteen
Ethan’s fever disappeared as quickly as it had come, and by the next morning he was feeling like himself again—although his shoulders were still sore from sleeping on the dock. Even so, when he showed up in the kitchen ready to eat breakfast before his shift, Uncle Robert waved him away.
“Take another day to rest,” he said, mouth full of grits. “I can handle today.”
Nothing sounded worse to Ethan than taking another day to rest. He knew if he did that, he’d spend hours cooped up in his room, thinking about his fight with Juniper and Aunt Cara’s standing offer to call his mom. It would drive him crazy.
“No, I can do it,” Ethan insisted. “I just wanna get out of the house today.”
Uncle Robert thought for a moment, then sighed. “Tell you what. Come in around six, at closing. You can do cleanup and prep for tomorrow.”
Ethan groaned. He’d been switched to the cleanup shift at Steak n’ Shake a few months in and it had been a nightmare. Uncle Robert raised an eyebrow.
“Really, son, you don’t have to come in.”
“No, no.” Ethan shook his head. “I’ll do it.”
“Whatever you want,” Uncle Robert said, wiping his mouth. “I’ll see you at six.”
The afternoon malt shop crowd was just thinning out when Ethan arrived at seven minutes to six. A couple of stragglers were finishing their milk shakes, and Uncle Robert was watching them with obvious impatience. They didn’t look up as Ethan came inside.
“Afternoon.” Uncle Robert nodded as Ethan slipped behind the counter. “Day go all right?”
Ethan shrugged. He’d spent the morning lying on the front porch reading comics and the afternoon playing records. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Glad you could make it. Let me show you what you need to do.” Much like he had on Ethan’s first day, Uncle Robert walked through all the steps of closing. He pointed out the key ring on the hook just inside the kitchen, opened the cabinet with the cleaning supplies, and explained the prepping process. Ethan nodded along.
“Got it,” he said, when the instructions were done. “No sweat.”
“Great. I’ll see you at home.” He ducked out of his apron and hung it on the peg. “Did Cara say what’s for dinner?”
“Pot roast and baked beans.”
Uncle Robert grunted in what Ethan had come to recognize as a show of approval. He stepped out from behind the counter and glanced at the kids who were still drinking their milk shakes. “Hey, closing time,” he said. “Get on home.” The pair stood immediately, mumbling their apologies as they left. Uncle Robert tipped his head in Ethan’s direction as he followed them out the door, flipping the sign to closed on his way out.
When the door shut, Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. There was something calming about work, even if it was work as annoying as washing dishes and scrubbing the floor. Arming himself with a wet rag in one hand and a broom in the other, he circled the store, attacking smears of chocolate on the tabletops and sweeping crumbs from the floor. He collected used glasses on the counter.
As he was fighting a particularly stubborn stain on one of the tables, the bell above the door jingled. A couple of soft footsteps crossed the threshold. Without looking up, Ethan muttered, “Sorry, we’re closed.”
Whoever it was didn’t move. Ethan rolled his eyes. “Hey, I said we’re—”
“I know,” said a familiar voice. “But is it too late for a vanilla milk shake?”
Ethan looked up sharply. Juniper Jones was standing just inside the doorway, her eyes downcast. She clutched a single, giant sunflower to her chest.
“Juniper,” Ethan said, colder than he intended. He set the rag down on the table. “What are you doing here?”
“I passed Mr. Shay on the way to your house. He said you were closing
today.”
Ethan sighed. “What do you want?”
“Apology flower.” She held the flower out to him with both hands. When he didn’t move, she shuffled toward him, arms still outstretched. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Really, really, really sorry. I’m not good at saying that ’cause I don’t like being wrong. But I was this time. And I wasn’t fair to you.”
Ethan didn’t take the flower, just looked at her with a frown. Part of him was still hurt, and angry that she thought a flower could fix that. But a larger part of him remembered what Gus had said, about how much she cared for him even if she didn’t always show it the right way. And that part of him really, really missed his friend.
Juniper looked at him worriedly, her small smile wavering. “Ethan. Please?”
After another moment of hesitation, Ethan reached out and took the flower. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
“Ever since the other day, I’ve been thinking a whole lot. Just sitting in my garden with all the flowers and thinking about what you said. And you were right. I love my aunt, and she’s my family. But”—Juniper took a deep breath—“part of being family is about making each other better people. And I can’t make any promises that she’ll change. But I’m sure gonna try my best.”
She peered up at Ethan, who was staring down at the flower, a feeling of warmth sweeping over his chest. For all the anguish he’d felt the past few days, and as guarded as he felt still, he was relieved to see Juniper. He felt better when she was around. Absently, he twirled the flower in his hand.
“Thank you,” he repeated. “Yeah. I don’t know. Thank you. I mean it.” He frowned. “And I’m sorry, too, for freaking out on you. I know you didn’t mean to make me mad. I know you’re trying, which is more than most people here are doing.”
Juniper nodded. “And I know it’s not always easy being my friend,” she said, “so I know you’re trying too.” In a singsong voice, she added, “We’re all just trying the best we can,” as she twirled in a slow circle.
Ethan felt a smile begin to creep up on his lips—noticing it immediately, Juniper grinned, pointing at his face. “I knew it!” she cried. “I knew I could get you to smile today. So, what do you say? Are we cool?”
She held out a hand, just as she had when she introduced herself to him weeks before, and Ethan shook it. “Yeah, Starfish. We’re cool.”
Juniper stuck around for the next hour, helping Ethan clean as he told her, at her request, about his past few days. There wasn’t much to tell, of course, so while they mopped the floor Ethan found himself acting out the parts of a radio show he had listened to. They sang his latest favorite song as they washed dishes. When his voice cracked on a high note, Juniper burst into laughter.
“Hey, I’m trying my best!” He swatted suds in her direction and she blew the bubbles out of the air.
“Well, your best is bad,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel next to the sink. “Hold on. I’ll get us some proper cleaning music.”
She disappeared into the restaurant and Ethan heard coins jangling into the jukebox. A moment later, a popular Elvis song—Ethan could never tell them apart—began playing through the speakers. Ethan groaned and covered his ears.
“Oh God, please no, anything but this,” he begged as she danced back into the kitchen. “I hate Elvis.”
“I know!” Juniper said, swiveling her hips in a wide circle. “And I take that as a challenge.”
Scrunching his nose, Ethan turned up the sink so the water spattered loudly above the sound of the song.
“Don’t fight it,” she cried, shimmying her shoulders. “This is the best music in the world.”
“That is definitely not true.”
“Well, I think it’s true. And you know what? I’m putting myself on official jukebox duty. Trust me, dishwashing goes much faster with a little music.”
“Juniper, I swear, I’ll kick you out of the store!”
But she was already dancing away to the jukebox. “Please, Ethan Charlie Harper! I’d like to see you try.”
With Juniper’s help—and, though Ethan would never admit it, the music—they finished in half the time it would have taken Ethan alone. When everything was done, they sat across from each other at a table and surveyed their work.
“Well,” Ethan said, “I’d say we did a pretty good job.”
“I’d say you’re right.” She slouched back into the seat, her eyes half closed. “Hey,” she said with a yawn, “you never finished telling me about your week. You ended with your awful singing.”
Ethan rolled his eyes but thought back over the days since he’d last seen her. He opened his mouth, about to insist he had nothing more to say, when he remembered Aunt Cara’s offer from the day before. To let him call his mother. He didn’t know how he’d managed to forget it for so long.
“Actually,” he said, “Aunt Cara told me something kinda crazy.” Juniper perked up immediately and her jaw dropped as he explained.
“Ethan!” she cried, jumping in her seat. “That’s amazing news! You have to do it, you know you do. Now that you know your aunt and uncle are okay with it—I’ll tell you, I knew they would be, but that’s not the point, you have to.”
“I don’t know. I mean, my mom and I almost never speak. What if she doesn’t want to talk to me? Or what if she does, but then I have to explain the whole Ellison thing to her, and then it turns into another big fight with my dad?” He shrugged. “Or, I don’t know, what if she doesn’t even pick up the phone?”
To his surprise, Juniper laughed. “Oh, Ethan, you big silly—I don’t think you should call her. I think you should go see her.”
“What?” Ethan blinked, unsure if he had heard her correctly.
“Yeah! I mean, why not? Montgomery’s not far, and I’ll bet Mr. Shay would drive you if you asked real nicely. Think about it, Ethan—wouldn’t it make you feel better to spend some time with someone who understands?”
“No. Definitely not. I can’t do that?”
“Why not?”
“Because—” Ethan hunched into his chair. “Because I’m scared of what I might find out if I do. About my dad, and my parents’ relationship, and our family. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
Juniper’s face softened. “It’s not stupid, Ethan. I get it. But when are you going to get this chance again?”
Ethan stared at the floor, considering. He hadn’t seen his mom in person for over a year, when they’d had a quick two-day visit in Seattle. Those were the only days she could manage to get off work. He loved her and knew she loved him—but they barely knew each other. For as long as Ethan could remember, parents meant just his father.
But like Juniper had said, when would he get this chance again? And when, in this summer of loneliness and hurt, would he be able to tell someone what had happened here and have them say Yes, I know. I understand. And mean it. She was right; he had to do it. But not by himself.
“Will you come with me?” Ethan blurted. Juniper looked at him in surprise.
“Really? You want me to come?”
“Of course, June. I mean, Uncle Robert would have to agree to driving us first. But you’re my best friend, right? This is definitely a best friend job.”
Grinning, Juniper said, “Well, then. Count me in.”
“Good,” Ethan said, relieved. “Look, why don’t you come over for dinner? Aunt Cara’s making pot roast. I can ask Uncle Robert.” He paused. “I think it’ll help if you’re there. They kind of have a soft spot for you.”
“You had me at pot roast,” Juniper said.
When Ethan unlocked Aunt Cara’s front door and Juniper followed him inside, both his aunt and uncle all but jumped up from their seats.
“I invited June for dinner,” Ethan said awkwardly. “Hope that’s okay.” He stared at Aunt Cara, willing her with his eyes not to pry.
> Instead, she rushed over to Juniper and enveloped her in a tight hug. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she said. “When Ethan told me y’all were fighting, I was so worried. Rob was too.”
“I was,” Uncle Robert added, sauntering over to hug Juniper as well.
Ethan cringed, but Juniper just smiled. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Shay, no need to worry. Everything’s all square between Ethan and me.”
“That’s wonderful to hear.” Aunt Cara smiled. “Come in then, please, take a seat. Dinner’s almost ready.”
It had been a while since Juniper had spent time at the house, and Ethan had forgotten how much warmer the place was when her voice was there to fill it. She spun stories for the table about a raccoon she’d met while gardening and a particularly intense game of solitaire she’d played with herself, and Ethan wasn’t sure if they were true but laughed nonetheless. When Juniper was around, Aunt Cara and Uncle Robert were warmer too—whatever kindness they’d learned to show him grew under Juniper’s unintentional guidance. Even Uncle Robert managed to crack a few smiles.
By the time the pot roast was down to scraps and Aunt Cara placed a tray of chocolate chip cookies in the middle of the table, everyone was in a good mood. Juniper looked at Ethan, and before he could react, cleared her throat.
“Mr. Shay,” she said solemnly. “Mrs. Shay, Ethan has something he wants to ask you.”
“What is it, honey?” Aunt Cara asked, frowning.
“I, um—well—”
“Come on, Ethan,” Juniper urged. “Just ask ’em.”
Ethan looked nervously around the table, at Juniper’s imploring eyes and his aunt and uncle’s concerned gazes. If he backed out now, it would be uncomfortable for everyone. He took a deep breath.
The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones Page 15