Cold Summer

by Gwen Cole

  Dad puts the keys in the ignition but doesn’t start the engine right away. He’s looking at the empty parking space where my car no longer is. “I’ve really made a mess of things, haven’t I? You could’ve been killed tonight. It’s not something you ever have to forgive me for.”

  “I could say the same thing.” I give him a small, encouraging smile even though losing my car has a bigger impact than he knows. I’m just not ready to think about it yet. I dug a hole and buried it the moment it happened.

  30.

  Harper

  Breakfast the next morning is a quiet one. We speak a little about Kale talking with his Dad last night and wondered how it went. Uncle Jasper has to be somewhere in ten minutes and I have plans—well, to play video games with my BBFF (Battlefield Best Friend Forever), but neither of us has moved.

  We both sit up when Kale slips through the door. My heart stumbles. The door closes and he stands there, trying to put on his best smile despite his bruises and cuts on his face.

  “What the hell, Kale?” Uncle Jasper stands from the table, an expression on his face I’ve never seen until now. He’s angry. Uncle Jasper says, his voice low and serious, “This has gone too far.”

  “It wasn’t him.”

  Uncle Jasper stops but is on the cusp of walking out the door. “You better tell me who did it then.”

  Uncle Jasper doesn’t take his eyes off Kale, waiting. Kale shoots me a quick glance and then sits down, having trouble looking at Uncle Jasper. I would, too, if the situation were reversed. Uncle Jasper is usually so relaxed and carefree; I’ve never seen him so determined before.

  “You better start talking,” he says, slowly lowering himself into his chair.

  Kale takes a deep breath and tells his side of what happened last night. About how he came home and his dad wasn’t there, and how he found him at the bar. Uncle Jasper’s jaw tightens even more when he hears about Kale’s dad betting on the basketball game. He must know he used to have problems with that before, even though I had no clue.

  Kale stares at the table and tells us what happened in the parking lot. Before and after how his face got to be the way it is. When he opens his mouth to tell us what happened after that, he hesitates, and then closes it.

  He lifts his steady gaze from the table and says, “Bryce told Dad before he left, so I didn’t have to tell him much. The bottom line is, he believes me.” He shrugs it off like it’s not a big deal even though I know it is. He’s been waiting for his dad to believe him his whole life.

  Kale looks between us, waiting for some sort of reaction.

  Uncle Jasper finally speaks up. “Why did they leave?”

  “Who leave?”

  “The guys your dad owed money to. You just said ‘after they left.’ How did he get them to leave?”

  Kale struggles to answer this one, swallowing hard and looking away. “I gave them my car as payment.”

  “Your—” Uncle Jasper has trouble ending the sentence. He clears his throat and attempts to act calm. “They took your car?”

  He nods and Uncle Jasper abruptly stands. “Where are you going?”

  “I have some business to conduct.” Then he says to me, “I’ll be back later.”

  Uncle Jasper leaves and the house is quiet save the clock ticking above the sink.

  “You haven’t said a word since I got here,” Kale says. I look up to see him already staring at me from across the table.

  “That’s because I don’t know what to say…. How does it feel having your dad know?”

  Kale smiles—dimple showing—and leans back in his chair. “Better than I ever thought it would be. It’s like this weight has lifted and I can breathe again.” His gaze focuses on something between us, something I can’t see. “I really feel like it’s going to be okay between us. For a while, I didn’t think it would ever be possible.”

  “But now it is,” I say.

  “Yeah, now it is.” Another smile shows.

  For weeks after seeing Kale unhappy and so unlike himself, he’s finally becoming more and more of the boy who I remember. Not the same, because after the things he’s been through, there’s no way he could be, but he’s becoming something even more than that. He’s becoming the person he was meant to be. “Do you think this will change things? With your time-traveling, I mean.”

  “I don’t know, but I hope so. I guess we’ll find out. It would be nice to spend more than four days here at a time.” He leans forward, putting his elbows on the table. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get to know the girl next door a little better. I heard she’s a lot different than she used to be.”

  “Does this mean you’ll be able to take me on a date now?” I try not to show how hard my heart pounds when I smile back.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Kale and I haven’t said a word about whatever it is that’s going on between us.

  And I have no idea what to do. The closest thing I’ve had to a boyfriend was in fifth grade when a kid named Jeremy pulled on my ponytail under the yellow slide. I’m crossing into unknown territory with a reckless heart, ready to take a step toward something new.

  “Yes,” I start, wincing a little, “but I don’t know how good I’ll be at this.”

  “Like I’ll be any better? The girls at my school wouldn’t even look at me.”

  “I don’t know, you seemed like you knew what you were doing last week.” I bite the inside of my lip to keep myself from smiling any wider. I have to force myself from looking down at his lips—even when there’s a cut running across the bottom one, I still want to kiss them.

  Something flickers across Kale’s face, too fast for me catch. “Are you sure this is okay? Me and you?”

  Every second of silence that passes between us feels like forever, and the table separating us is a mile too wide. I can’t bear it anymore. My feet touch the tiled floor and I walk around to the other side of the table. I bend down, softly touching the side of his face, and kiss him. His jaw moves under my fingers and he leans into me, his lips matching with mine. I slowly pull away, going against every fiber within me.

  Kale looks up with eyes I know too well, his lips still wet from mine.

  “Is that enough of an answer for you?” I ask.

  “I’d say it’s more than enough.” Then he smiles—a real one this time that I can’t help but return.

  I sit down in Uncle Jasper’s empty chair, still wishing the cuts and bruises on his face would disappear. “At least you’ll be okay in a few days, right?”

  “Should be.” Kale’s smile fades and he absently picks at his sleeve. “It feels weird that the only thing I have to worry about now is trying to control my traveling. It feels good, though. Like I’m finally moving on.” He steals a quick glance from downcast eyes, not able to hold my gaze. He used to do that all the time when we were kids when he didn’t want to admit something. “Sometimes I wake up thinking maybe I’m not the only one like this, and it makes me feel more normal. That there are others out there who struggled with the same thing or still are.”

  I lean in with my elbows on the table. “Kale, you don’t have to feel normal, because you’re better than normal. I know you hate the fact that you aren’t, but without it, you wouldn’t be you. This makes you, you.”

  He finally lifts his eyes—committing this time. “And that’s a good thing?”

  I can’t imagine him being anyone different. “A very good thing. Plus, it’ll probably make dates more interesting once you can control it.”

  “What do you mean?” His question sounds too serious.

  “I mean your time-traveling. Dates in this time will be fun, too, but—” When his eyes become hard, I know I’ve said something wrong. “What?”

  “Harper, you can’t—” Kale takes a deep breath and stands up too fast. He walks over to the sink and grips the edge of the counter. A blue vein laces the swell of his bicep. After taking a deep breath, he says, “I’m sorry, it’s just … even if I can control it someday, I’
m not sure if I’ll ever be okay with taking someone with me.” He stares down at the sink, his shoulders drawn tight. “If you ever went with me to the past, and something happened and we got separated …” Kale turns around and his chest raises and falls with forced breaths. “You could be stuck there forever. Okay?”

  I stand up, keeping close to the table. I can’t imagine a worse outcome than being stranded in some past time, not ever able to go home again. The possibility never crossed my mind, but now that he’s said it, it’s so obvious. “Can you even take anyone with you?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to find out.” Kale reaches out for my wrist and draws me closer. “But I won’t ever let that happen. I’m always careful so nobody is around when I think I’m going to leave. It’s a mistake I’ll never make.”

  I nod, still imagining myself gone from here forever. I wonder if this is how Kale feels when he leaves. Does he ever worry he won’t come back at all? He already told me he did once, but I never knew what that would feel like until now. It’s a frightening thought.

  There’s nothing more I want than for Kale to learn to control his time-traveling, for him to have a chance at a normal life. But even if he can’t, my feelings for him won’t ever change. He’s Kale, and he always will be. Flaws and all.

  31.

  Kale

  Three days pass and I don’t feel any different.

  I feel anchored here more than I have in years.

  I’ve gone to Harper’s house every day, but every day I’ve been stuck working with Uncle Jasper in his garage. I don’t complain, and I don’t try to get out of it when he asks me to help him. Harper and I haven’t done anything in front of him that might’ve tipped him off about what’s going on between us, but I think he already knows.

  And I think he’s doing it on purpose.

  Just to see how long we can last before we slip up in front of him.

  So between working with Uncle Jasper during the day, and spending time with Dad in the evenings when he gets home from work—since he’s been persistent about having dinners together now—I’ve barely talked to Harper at all.

  I’ve seen her sitting on the porch. I’ve seen her come and go from her car at least once a day. Hanging out with Grace.

  Once in the while, she’ll come visit us in the barn. Harper will sit on the old couch and flash me smiles when Uncle Jasper isn’t looking. I make more mistakes when she’s here.

  It’s hard acting normal with her because it isn’t normal with her.

  We’re passed normal.

  Now it’s my fourth day stuck in Uncle Jasper’s garage, and I’m determined to escape when he’s not looking. Unfortunately, he seems set on keeping an eye on me.

  “How ’bout those Royals last night, eh?” he says from under his latest project.

  It’s a 1975 Mustang. And it looks too much like my own car for me to look at it long without creating an ache in my heart. Dad promised me he’d make it up to me. Something I don’t see possible.

  “Yeah … sure,” I finally mumble, leaning against the car.

  I flip a wrench over in my hand absently.

  Top to bottom. Top to bottom.

  Uncle Jasper keeps talking about the game last night and how the Royals are looking like they’ll make it into the post-season. Something he’s very proud of. Enough to keep him talking for so long.

  The faint sound of the front door closing echoes across the lawn. I look up in time to see Harper stepping off the porch. I stand up a little straighter and watch her as she heads for her car.

  Uncle Jasper’s voice is background noise.

  I say “uh huh” when he pauses, and he keeps going, unfazed.

  I silently take a couple steps forward and catch Harper’s eye. The corners of her mouth turn up when she sees me. She’s about to yell something from across the yard so I hold my finger up to my mouth, motioning for her not to talk.

  Then I mouth “Save me” and point back to Uncle Jasper, whose legs still stick out from under the car. Harper catches on quick. She holds up one finger and points to her car. I nod and glance back at Uncle Jasper.

  “—really think they could make it this year. And I’m not just saying that.”

  Harper gets into her car and gently pulls her door shut.

  “That’s what you said last year,” I say over my shoulder, ready to make my escape.

  Just when Harper gives me the signal, Uncle Jasper starts rolling himself out. I make a break for it. Harper starts the car as I’m running across the lawn. Uncle Jasper shouts my name from behind.

  My heart races, but I’m grinning as I open the passenger side door and jump in. Harper gives Uncle Jasper a friendly wave as she swings around the driveway. He stands in the large doorway with his arms crossed, shaking his head.

  I’m not blind enough to miss the smallest smile touching his lips.

  We finally won his game.

  Once we’re on the main road, my heart starts to calm to its normal rhythm. Or whatever that rhythm could be called when I’m around Harper.

  I look over and say, “Hi.”

  The breeze from the window blows loose hair across her face as she looks over. “Hi.”

  “So where are we going?” I buckle my seat belt and hang my arm out the window. I’m not cold today. I haven’t been since I got back.

  Harper slips on her sunglasses and shifts gears. “We’re going to the grocery store. We ran out of bread, which is something of a tragedy in the house, as you know. Sorry it couldn’t be more of an exciting trip for you.”

  “I don’t care as long as I’m out of that garage. Plus …” I steal the chance to look at her while her eyes are on the road. Even now, I can’t believe things turned out the way they did. Harper—the girl who lived next door every summer when we were younger, and the girl I’ve never been able to forget—is sitting next to me now, making the summer warmer and my blood run fast. “Plus,” I start again, “as long as you’re there, it doesn’t matter where we go.”

  Harper grins. “That was really corny.” She pauses and looks over. “But I like it.”

  Even when I look away, I can feel myself smile. The familiar fields and houses pass by. The gas stations and empty lots. Even though I’ve driven down these roads countless times in my life, it feels different today. Newer. I haven’t felt this happy in months.

  I keep waiting for something to take it away.

  “I’m sorry about your car,” Harper says when she stops at a stoplight.

  I stare ahead at the traffic waiting in front of us, trying not to think too deeply about the fact I’ll never see it again. The bruises and cuts on my face have healed over the last few days.

  I wish I could say the same about what I lost.

  I turn the subject around in a way she doesn’t notice. “Have you named yours yet?”

  The light turns green. “No, but I will. I promise,” Harper says after she sees my unconvinced look. “Naming things is hard.”

  I give a skeptical look. “I think it’s just you.”

  She pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store and finds an empty space. We’ve never been here by ourselves before. It was always with Aunt Holly, or Bryce when my parents would send him to get something. Libby would rarely tag along, but we would.

  So, like it was all those years ago, Harper and I are here again.

  Just the two of us this time.

  We pass through the sliding doors where the dry air of the air conditioning battles against the hot air from outside. The beeps from the checkout lines echo through the store. There are only two cashiers on duty—proof of the small town.

  Harper has already grabbed a cart and is making her way over to the meat department. I’m about to follow her before a couple of book titles catch my eye, claiming to have time-traveling in them. I haven’t read a book in years, but I miss it. Leaving the books without seeing what they’re about, I catch up to Harper and do my best to walk up quietly behind her. Her hair is in
a ponytail, pulled over one shoulder and leaving the back of her neck exposed. I can’t stop looking.

  “Does Uncle Jasper like pork or sausage more?” she asks, tilting her head back toward me.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  Harper places a package of pork chops in the cart, already knowing the answer. “Maybe you aren’t the only one with a superpower.”

  My smile fades. “Don’t call it that. Please.”

  “If it’s not that, then what is it?” She waits for my answer with her eyebrows raised.

  I can’t count how many times I’ve wished I was normal, though I know some people would do anything to have what I have. But all I want is for it to go away.

  “An inconvenience,” I answer.

  I push the cart for her down the mostly empty aisles. Harper doesn’t say anything else, but I know she’s thinking—she’s biting one corner of her lip and her eyes roam the shelves, not really seeing anything.

  An old country song plays over the store radio and people pass by, pushing their carts with squeaky wheels. The lights overhead need replacing. This place hasn’t changed since I was born.

  “If you could go to school for something, what would it be?” Harper asks, stopping in front of the shelf of canned soups.

  “I don’t know—I haven’t thought about it.” Why would I? I’ll never be able to go to school unless I learn to control my inconvenience. With it as it is, the future has never been my top priority.

  “You’ve got to have some sort of idea.” She glances from over her shoulder. “What were you best at in school?”

  I smile jokingly. “History.”

  “What about being a history teacher?” There isn’t an ounce of sarcasm in her voice.

  “You’re serious.”

  She’s still staring at the canned soup. “Why wouldn’t I be? Give me one reason why you wouldn’t be a great history teacher.”

  I open my mouth.

  And no words come out.

  I’ve never thought of myself in any other place except where I am now—it’s never been possible. I don’t like dwelling on things that might never happen. There’s less disappointment later on. For years, I wanted to graduate with a baseball scholarship, because that’s what I loved. When that was taken away, I never felt more lost. So now when she’s asking me about my future, I don’t have an answer.