Cicada Summer

by Maureen Leurck

  “I guess so. See you around,” she said without turning back.

  What was that about? I thought as I walked back to Traci. I rolled my eyes and shook my head when she asked me what happened.

  “So, what else? More rides, or should we head out?” I said brightly before she could ask any more questions.

  She looked down at Chris, whose eyes were glazed over as he looked at the ride. “Maybe head home.”

  I nodded as my phone beeped. I pulled it out and saw that I had a new e-mail. It was from Jill Springform. A forward, from a woman named Corrine Griffin. As I scanned the text of her e-mail, my hand began to shake.

  I glanced up at Traci, my eyes wide. “We might have found her.”

  “Who?” she said without looking up as she wiped Chris’s hands.

  “Elsie’s daughter. A woman named Corrine e-mailed the reporter. She thinks she might be her. Same birthday, geographic match, and—get this—she has a wing-shaped birthmark on her shoulder.” My voice broke and I shook my head.

  Traci dropped the napkin in Chris’s lap. “You’re kidding.”

  I reread the e-mail again and smiled. “I’m going to call her in the morning. I’m going to make sure it’s her, and then I’ll tell Elsie.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Wow. That’s amazing.”

  I put my phone in my back pocket and leaned down and gave Abby a hug. “Should we do one more time on the carousel?” I whispered.

  She shrieked and grabbed Chris’s hand, and they ran toward the spinning horses, happily handing over their tickets and climbing aboard.

  As Traci and I watched them spin around and shriek in delight, a cicada landed on the bench next to us.

  “See you again in seventeen years, buddy,” I said as I plucked it off the wood and held it in the air until it took flight and disappeared somewhere over the lake.

  CHAPTER 41

  I watched as Eddie threw the paintbrush down into the tray. He stepped back and put his hands on his hips, surveying the dining room. I had chosen a light blue for the room, to accent the beautifully restored woodwork, finally free of all that white paint. It was the last room to be painted, and Eddie just needed to touch up a few spots.

  “Boss?” he said without turning around.

  “I love it,” I whispered. I could see, in my mind’s eye, a cherry dining table in the center of the room. A china cabinet would fit on the wall across from the giant window, six feet tall by three feet wide. The newly restored leaded-glass doors on the built-in buffet waited for glassware to be placed inside. The pewter and wrought-iron chandelier in the center of the room perfectly fit with the original woodwork. I had bought the chandelier years ago at a garage sale, intending to use it in my old house with Matt. I couldn’t think of a better Plan B place to hang it.

  Eddie turned and smiled, saluting me. “Same here.” He looked around and whistled. “She’s a beaut, that’s for sure. Not so much when we got her, though.”

  I slowly walked through the dining room into the kitchen, gleaming with refinished cabinets, butcher-block countertops and an island with four stools. Frank, the electrician, had hung two pendant lights over the island that I fitted with Edison bulbs. Since there really wasn’t anything we could salvage from the previous kitchen, I used it as a modern space, incorporating everything that any home buyer would look for today.

  I pictured two, maybe three, kids sitting at the island, scarfing down breakfast as their parents frantically made coffee and packed lunches before school.

  In the living room, I swept my hand across the wall, where I imagined someone might place a couch, across from the wood-burning fireplace. Chris’s rocks were sunk in the floor of the hearth, ready for their first fire. We had hung a new mantle, since the old one was too singed after the fire, but before we did so, Eddie, myself, his crew, Abby, and Chris all signed our names on the wall behind it.

  I eyed the corner where the Moores used to put their Christmas tree, and thought about how the multicolored lights would bounce against the detailed plaster trim along the ceiling that had thankfully survived not just the past century, but the recent flood and fire. I had painted that room a warm gray, a touch of modern style to complement the historic elements. The wood trim around the original windows gleamed with linseed oil polish that showed off the beautiful variations in the wood.

  Upstairs, the four bedrooms had wood floors, and new paint (and plaster, electrical work, plumbing, and just about everything else). The two bathrooms had pedestal sinks and subway tile, with wood trim around the doors. I was able to find wood doors for each room at a resale place, along with antique doorknobs. I would have dared anyone to guess that the pieces weren’t original to the house.

  Before I walked outside, I gave one last glance to the staircase, stained a deep brown and also free from layers of paint and shellac, and took a deep breath. Eddie followed me.

  “So, is this it?” he said. Before I could answer, he squinted across the lawn and put a hand to his ear. “Hear that?” I shook my head. “Nothing. They’re gone. The cicadas are finally all gone.”

  I cocked my head to the side and listened. Their buzzing and chirping had grown quieter with each passing day, with more crawling back into the earth to begin another seventeen-year slumber. “You’re right. It’s over. It’s amazing how quickly I got used to their sound. And now, it’s like they were never here. They’re gone.”

  “As am I.” Eddie turned to me. “Well, boss, on to the next one, right? Any idea what that will be?”

  I shook my head. “Not sure yet. I need to get this one on the market and then figure out my plans.” I rolled my eyes slightly. “And see what kind of profit I have left over after I have to split it with Jack.” I wasn’t about to tell Eddie that I had already spotted a few historic properties in nearby Burlington, each one in worse condition than the Maple house. I figured I could give him a few days of rest and serenity before he wanted to bang his head against the wall.

  “Don’t give that snake a dime.” He laughed. “I’m going to grab my stuff and then get out of here.”

  I nodded and stayed on the porch. I slowly went over and sat on the porch swing, gently pushing my feet against the light blue–painted porch floor. As I waved good-bye to Eddie, I stayed, swinging on the porch.

  I inhaled the deep scent of the rosebushes that surrounded the porch, and the roses that once again climbed up the arbor in the backyard. I closed my eyes and could feel the peace running through the house, through the wood floors and up the plaster walls.

  I stood, and pulled the heavy wooden front door closed, rubbing a tiny spot out of the leaded-glass transoms. I put the key in the lock and turned until I heard a click. I gave it one last glance before I got into my car, tears pricking my eyes.

  My work was done. The house was ready.

  CHAPTER 42

  I drove the For Sale sign into the ground, giving it a hard shove with my shoulder until I felt it sink into the dirt. I stood back, admiring the way it looked in front of the house. It was the moment that I had dreamed of since I bought it, yet it was still sad to think of letting it go. It was similar to what I felt on Abby’s first day of kindergarten. Pride mixed with the emptiness of letting go. Bittersweet in the sharpest, most beautiful way.

  I turned to Elsie’s house, and she gave me an encouraging smile. Her arm was healing and had been placed in a brace. She was once again dressed in bright colors, beautiful inside and out, just like the house. On that morning, she wore a Kelly green pantsuit and gold jewelry, with a lapel pin in the shape of a peacock. I smiled as I thought of her as the peacock, showing off her extraordinary feathers.

  I started to walk over to her house, but stopped when I saw a silver Audi pull into the driveway. The woman behind the wheel had short blond hair and a square jawline. Even while wearing sunglasses, I could tell that she was Elsie’s daughter, Corrine. I knew that she and Elsie had spoken, but I didn’t realize they would be meeting so soon.

  Cor
rine got out of the car slowly, and I could see her hand shaking as she closed the car door. She didn’t take her glasses off, but stopped when she saw Elsie, her hands dropping to her sides. I watched as a million different emotions flashed across her face. Shock. Sadness. Confusion. Surprise.

  Elsie slowly rose, her legs wobbling. I stepped forward instinctually to help her, but stopped. This was their moment, not mine. So I remained on the lawn, an observer.

  Corrine walked up to the porch, and I saw them grasp hands and then slowly embrace. They sat down on her front porch, their knees touching in intimate conversation.

  I walked back to my house, and sat on the porch swing. I occasionally glanced back at them, and saw each wipe their eyes at times. Finally, Elsie and Corrine rose and walked over to me. I met them on the front yard, near the For Sale sign.

  “And this is her,” Elsie said as she pointed to me. “She’s the one who did all of this. She made this all possible.” She looked up at the house and then to her daughter.

  Corrine met my eyes, and it nearly took my breath away when I saw that she had the same aquamarine-blue eyes that sparkled when I had heard Elsie describe David.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m not sure what else to say but . . . thank you.” She turned back toward Elsie, who put her hand on hers. She looked up at the house and smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It was your father’s,” Elsie said simply.

  “Would you like to see the backyard?” I said.

  As we walked around the house, Elsie smiled and said, “Corrine has two sons, A.J. and Patrick.”

  “You’re a grandmother.” Corrine smiled at Elsie. She turned to me. “They’re seventeen and twenty, and act every bit their age.”

  “Two sons. What a wonderful blessing. A family,” Elsie said.

  “Well, I suppose it’s your family now, too,” Corrine said.

  I saw Elsie swallow hard, and she brushed at her eyes as she nodded. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  My chest tight with emotion, I stopped in front of the maple tree in the backyard and pointed to the carvings on the back. Corrine leaned forward and traced the letters E.S. and D.M. “Elsie and David,” she said. She turned to me. “It’s like something out of a movie. Lost love, a child. A reunion.”

  I smiled. “Like a storybook.”

  * * *

  Elsie and Corrine went into her house for lunch, and I remained at my house. They invited me in, but I knew they needed time alone, and I also had to wait for Matt to drop off Abby.

  I swung on the swing, back and forth, back and forth, watching the butterflies flit around the hydrangeas, and the bumblebees lumber around the roses, before I saw the Yukon pull into the driveway. I stood and outstretched my arms, pulling Abby toward me as she came flying up the restored front porch steps, her hair streaming behind her like a ribbon.

  “Mommy, can I swing on the porch swing?” she asked when I set her down.

  “Of course.” I was about to sit down next to her, when I noticed Matt was still standing on the driveway, leaning toward his car but facing me. “I’ll be there in one minute,” I said to Abby before I walked down the steps.

  “Alex, the house looks . . .” He trailed off as he craned his neck upward, shielding his eyes from the sun. I noticed the same gold glint in the center of his eyes, the shimmer that I had once studied all those years before. “Unbelievable,” he finished.

  I glanced back at it, and the same familiar feeling of pride ran down my arms to my fingertips. “Thanks.” I turned back to him. “And thanks again for your help, with the historical status.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you think it’ll help sell the house?” he said. He leaned back against his car and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tan khaki shorts. I noticed he was dressed more casually than I had seen in a while, in an old Gordy’s ball cap, blue T-shirt, and flip-flops.

  I nodded. “I do. I think whoever buys it will appreciate what it means.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “So, what happened with Waterview? Anything?”

  “Oh. Well, they weren’t thrilled when they heard through the grapevine that I might have helped you,” he said.

  “And?” I pressed.

  “They said they would be taking their business to another firm,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a half shrug.

  “Oh, man. I’m so sorry. I know that they were your big client,” I said. I shook my head. Matt had once told me that they represented some huge percentage of his business, and I couldn’t imagine what losing them would do to his bottom line. “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

  He nodded. “Well, can I see it? The house, I mean,” he said.

  I stood up straight in surprise. “Well, sure.” We walked from room to room, as I explained what I did to each space. He didn’t say much, just nodded and looked around with his eyes wide. Abby trailed at our heels, twirling through the house and sweeping her arms around like she was Miss America walking down the runway.

  When we reached the backyard, she ran down the steps of the deck and began to smell the roses around Elsie and David’s maple tree. Through Elsie’s kitchen window, I could see her and Corrine seated around her table, coffee cups in front of them.

  “Will it be hard for you to sell it?” Matt asked.

  I turned to him in surprise, but he didn’t look at me. His gaze was on Abby, down on the lawn. “I hope not.”

  “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, will it be hard for you to let it go?” He turned to me slightly, and I could see his mouth was twitching down, like it always did when he was nervous.

  “Probably.” I took a long, deep breath. “But it’s time. It’s time for its next family. For its second chance to be a home.”

  A wind swept through the backyard and lifted my hair off my neck and across my face. Matt reached forward to brush a strand of hair away from my cheek but stopped quickly. He put his hand in his pocket and looked down.

  “Alex, I—”

  The sound of my own blood rushing through my ears became nearly deafening, and my heart started to pound so hard I could see the front of my shirt moving.

  “I know that I don’t deserve, well, anything from you,” he said, his voice shaking, “but I was wondering if you ever thought about us. If you ever thought about being together again.”

  Yes, I wanted to say. Yes, I think about it all the time.

  He slowly reached out and his fingertips brushed against my right hand, on the finger where I used to wear the gold band. “You took it off,” he said quietly.

  “What about Julia?” I said as I pulled my hand back. I felt my face flush, and I swallowed hard, taking a quick step back from him.

  He looked at me in surprise, his eyebrows raised. “We broke up a few weeks ago. It just—” He stopped and shook his head. “We were better as friends.”

  “Well, that’s a bullshit answer. What really happened?” I said.

  He gave me a knowing look. “She wasn’t thrilled that I was helping you with the historical status. Gave me an ultimatum, actually. And, well, here we are.” He outstretched his arms in a half shrug.

  I didn’t know what to say. I felt as though the last five years were compressed into one moment, a point of light in the future that I had been moving toward without knowing. Like looking through a telescope at a distant star, and finding out that it looked very different than anyone ever thought.

  We had grown up together, and then away from each other. We moved toward different lights, willingly or not. And yet here he was, reaching back across the divide in an invitation.

  It wasn’t my choice leading us to separation, but now it was mine to come together.

  He moved his hand toward me, holding his palm out, waiting. I swallowed hard before I slowly placed my fingers in his hand. His hand closed around mine, and I took a step toward him. The hair on the back of my neck pricked with the familiarity of his body. I knew exactly where to rest my head as he w
rapped his arms around me. It was the same embrace that we had shared since we were teenagers, the closeness remaining the same despite all the sharp edges that life had chiseled away, despite all the things we had done to each other, and for each other. The things we had done to get away from each other.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling a sense of calm settle in my bones. For the first time in a long time, I knew exactly what we were supposed to be to each other.

  He kissed the side of my head, and whispered something that I couldn’t make out, but I knew it was his attempt at an apology. It would never take the past five years away, of course, but it was the start of a new beginning.

  “Can we start over?” he said into my shoulder.

  “No,” I said. “We can’t start over.” I felt him loosen his grip. “But we can keep going.” He pulled me back into him, tighter than before.

  “Say it,” I said to him.

  “Everything will be okay, I promise,” he said with a laugh.

  I shook my head against his chest. “You can’t promise that, neither of us can. But we can try.”

  We broke apart as Abby shrieked in delight across the yard. “Mommy! Look! I found a cicada shell.” She held the small, translucent shell in the air, left over from when the cicadas returned to the ground. The delicate shell nearly crumbled in her hand, but she cupped her fingers around it to protect it from the breeze.

  “A cicada summer,” I whispered as I intertwined my fingers with Matt’s.

  CHAPTER 43

  Four months later

  “Did you fix it?” I poked my head out the front door of my house, the icy air hitting me in the face. I squinted into the darkness, out onto the front porch. Snow was beginning to fall, blanketing the neighborhood in a sugary dusting of sparkling snowflakes. The wind picked up, whipping the snowflakes around the front yard in a gentle wave.

  I pulled my black sweater tighter around my waist as I stepped out onto the porch. “Everything okay?” I called.