The Summer of Lost Things

by Chantele Sedgwick

  “Seriously, I’ve been looking for you for ages,” she says, giving the guy a strange look before eying me. “Am I interrupting something?”

  I say no at the same time the guy says yes.

  I clear my throat as his cheeks turn pink.

  She raises an eyebrow as she glances from me to the cowboy. I reach out to pet Sherlock again, trying to break the new weird tension. “Oh!” she says, surprised. “He likes you. Sherlock doesn’t like anyone.”

  “That’s what I said,” the guy says.

  “Well, he seems sweet.” I stroke his nose again. “He’s a very good listener.”

  She glances at the guy again as he lets out a snort at my comment then frowns at him. “So, am I supposed to just sit here, or are you gonna introduce us, Jack?”

  Jack. A simple, nice, older name. Like mine.

  Jack shrugs. “Not sure yet.”

  She turns back to me. I’m still petting the horse. “He’s pretty picky with people. Usually stays far away from new faces.”

  I’m not sure if she’s talking about Sherlock or Jack.

  She slides off her horse. “I’m Mira. Mira Kelly. Jack’s my cousin, if he hasn’t already introduced himself.”

  She shoots him a look and he only shrugs again. “Looks like he hasn’t.” She rolls her eyes. “Boys.”

  “Hey! I was getting around to it,” he says, but she ignores him.

  “Jack and I work at the stables here, and we both live a few houses over. He lives across the street from me. Anyway. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She holds out a hand and I shake it awkwardly.

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “You’re new, right? Just moved in? I saw your car and a moving van turn down your driveway yesterday. That’s not a common sight since that house has been vacant for so long.”

  “Yeah, we’re new. Well, I am. I just moved here with my mom, but it was her mom’s, or, I guess my grandma’s old house and she left it to us. My mom grew up here. It’s . . . Nice, I guess.”

  “Your grandma? Oh, I adored your grandma. I knew her pretty well. She was a sweet lady.”

  This surprises me. “You knew her?”

  “Yep. She was good friends with our Granny. And I’ve always loved that house,” Mira says, her face thoughtful. “Beautiful on the outside at least.”

  “Yeah, I agree. My gran had some weird tastes.”

  “The yellow carpet on the walls?” She grins.

  I laugh. “Baby chick wallpaper?”

  She laughs as well. “It really is!”

  “Besides the paint and wallpaper, though, it’s nice. We’re going to paint everything in the next few weeks. And do lots of other stuff. More than I want to do anyway. My mom’s excited, which is normal. She likes challenges.” I have no idea why I’m telling her this. But I can’t make my mouth stop moving.

  “Totally get it. You should have seen my house when we moved in a few years ago. It was a disaster.” She glances at Jack, who studies me with a curious expression. “How old are you anyway?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Cool. So is Jack. That means you’ll be in the same grade when school starts. I’ll be a lowly junior.” She glances at Jack. “You’d better be nice to her, with her being the new girl and all.”

  “Only if she’s nice to me,” he says, shooting me a sly smile.

  I raise an eyebrow.

  Mira turns her attention back to me, her long braids turning with her. “Only child then? Or do you have siblings?”

  I shake my head. “Just me.”

  “Lucky.” She lets out a sigh.

  I smile. “I actually wish I had some. I’ve never loved being an only child. It gets a little boring sometimes.”

  “Well, sometimes it’s good not to have siblings to worry about.” She glances at Jack, who just shrugs. “If you get bored, you can hang out with us. If you want, I mean. I know what it’s like to be a bit lonely. And we don’t bite. Promise.”

  “Really? Jack seemed a little hostile when we first met.” I give him a sly smile of my own.

  Mira turns on her cousin. “What did you do to her exactly?”

  He raises his hands in defense. “Nothing! She was talking to the horse and I accidentally caught her.” He cocks his head to the side. “It was a pretty interesting conversation, though. In my opinion.”

  She smiles. “I apologize for you meeting him first. He’s always been a bit awkward around the ladies.”

  “Mira,” he starts, his ears turning pink.

  She waves him away. “Seriously. He is.”

  I laugh at his expression. He looks embarrassed and furious at the same time.

  “Jack’s a good guy but not as fun as me.”

  He rolls his eyes at her before smiling at me. “Actually, I’m the funnest. Obviously.”

  “Funnest is not a word,” Mira says. “How many times must we go over this?”

  Jack rolls his eyes again. “Everyone says it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It sounds like you don’t know how to speak proper English when you say it.”

  “I’d have to agree,” I say, teasing.

  He just shakes his head and kicks his toe into the dirt at his feet, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like English professor wannabes under his breath.

  “I like you already,” Mira says.

  “Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed. She’s just being nice. But she’s a person. A real person who is having a real conversation with me. Maybe we can be friends.

  “Well, I need to get back.” She looks at Jack. “You coming?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  Mira climbs back on her horse, but before she leaves, she looks at me again. “Do you want to hang out or something tomorrow? I have a few errands to run if you want to come with. Jack can even come along.” She gives him the side eye. “I guess.” She chuckles and shoots him a smile. He sighs and shakes his head. “What’s your name, anyway? I totally should have asked you that first. Sorry about that.”

  “Oh, don’t apologize. You’re just fine. I’m Lucy. Lucy Nelson.”

  “Oh! My first dog was named Lucy. Nice name,” Mira says.

  I crack a smile at that and put a hand to my chest. “I feel so honored.”

  Jack chuckles. “Nice, Mira.”

  She just shrugs.

  Jack meets my eyes then. “Lucy’s a great name.” He grins.

  “Thanks, I think.” I grin back.

  Mira clears her throat and we both look up at her. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she says, eyeing Jack again, a slight frown on her face. “Sometime in the morning alright for you?”

  “Sounds great. It was nice to meet you, Mira.”

  “You too,” she says, smiling. She turns her horse around and heads back across the field.

  I watch her go, my mouth slightly open. “I don’t know how people ride horses like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like making them run with you on them. I’d be way back here lying in the dirt if that were me.”

  Jack chuckles. “It’s not too bad. Once you learn how to properly ride a horse, it comes easy. Like riding a bike.”

  “Sure . . .” I say, the sarcasm thick.

  He stands there, awkwardly for a moment, then looks away. “Well, I’d better get back. My uncle’s probably wondering where I am.”

  “Okay.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Lucy Nelson.”

  “You too, Jack . . .” I have no idea what his last name is.

  “Kelly.”

  My eyes widen. “As in, the Newsies, Jack Kelly?”

  He laughs. “Smart girl. I’m obviously no Christian Bale, but yes. Jack Kelly. My Mom was obsessed with that show when she was young and decided to name me after her movie crush, since she married a Kelly and all. So here I am. Jack Kelly. Minus the newsie hat.”

  “No way! That’s awesome! I’m named afte
r my mom’s favorite book’s author, Lucy Maud Montgomery.”

  “So, it’s official. We both have weird parents,” he says.

  “Yes, we do,” I say, chuckling.

  Jack shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, uh . . . Anyway. I’ll see you. Later. Sometime.”

  “You too,” I say.

  He pulls a hand out of his pocket, tips his hat at me, and walks toward the stables.

  I watch him go and pet Sherlock again. They were both so nice. Maybe I really can make some new friends. And hopefully my summer won’t be so boring after all. Maybe I can get them to help me with my list.

  “Thanks for the chat, buddy. You’re a great listener, you know that?”

  Sherlock whinnies in response.

  CHAPTER 5

  “We must go on, because we can’t turn back.”

  —Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island

  As soon as I through the door, Mom begs me to pick a house project before I do anything else. I decide on looking at paint samples and helping her pick what colors we want to paint each room.

  “I’d like this blue for mine,” I say, still shivering at the thought of my pink room. It’s hideous, and I’ll stand by that fact forever.

  “You’re getting rid of the pink?”

  “Mom, it’s pink wallpaper. I can’t deal.”

  “But it’s so cute! So girly!” She sees the look on my face and sighs. “Fine. I guess it’s a little outdated.”

  “A little?” I smile at her tiny grin.

  “Okay, fine. A lot. Sometimes it’s hard to change things when you’re used to them being the way they’ve always been. Even if it’s ugly wallpaper.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Changes make me think about Dad. About our new life without him. It’s really hard. And strange. They’ve been divorced for about six months now, and he wasn’t around much before that, but still. It’s weird. Weird that I won’t see him like most divorced families where the kid gets shuffled from parent to parent. They don’t let parents raise children in prison.

  Which is a good thing.

  I wonder if Mom will ever date again. If I’ll get a step-family someday.

  So many “ifs.”

  “I’ll go pick up some blue paint tonight if you’d like,” she says.

  “Yes, I’d like that.”

  “Oh. I almost forgot. This came for you in the mail today.” She hands me a letter.

  “Who would be writing me letters already?”

  She doesn’t answer, just watches me as I take it. The familiar handwriting makes my stomach hurt. Dad’s handwriting. “You should read it,” she whispers.

  I stare at it for a moment, so many emotions rushing through me. Panic, anger, frustration, sadness. The anger wins. There is no way I’m going to read this. “No.”

  I try to give it back to her, but she pats my hand instead. “He wrote to you. Not me. You. He’s trying to fix things, honey. He still loves you. Whatever is in that letter is good, not bad.”

  I’m shaking my head before she even finishes. “Did he try to fix things before he went to prison? Did he try to work things out with you? Did he try to stop doing drugs? No. He didn’t. That’s why he is where he is and we’re where we are. Alone.” Since she won’t take it, I drop the letter on the floor and fold my arms. I don’t want anything to do with it. Not right now.

  “People make mistakes, honey.”

  “Not that big. I can’t name one person I know with a parent in prison. Not one. This is not a normal thing that happens to families. And it shouldn’t have happened to ours.”

  “Every family has baggage. Sometimes you just can’t see it because they hide it so well.”

  I shake my head. She doesn’t understand. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not the same. Our baggage is like a freaking mountain for everyone to see.”

  “No one even knows around here.”

  “I’m sure someone does. And if they don’t, they’ll find out somehow.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about that. No one will judge you for it. There are worse things, Lucy. You know that.”

  I laugh, but it’s not funny at all. And I know there are worse things. What if I didn’t have Mom? What if we were homeless? What if one of us had cancer? But still. This is huge, too. I should be grateful for so many things, but the anger keeps building and that’s all I can see. At least for the moment. “Mom. Do you have any idea what people are like these days? People judge each other over what color socks they wear! That’s how ridiculous people are!”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Most. You post one thing on social media and people pick it apart. Even if it’s a good thing!”

  “Then stay off the computer.”

  “I do! Our computer’s not even hooked up yet!” I have a few sites I normally visit but nothing excessive.

  Mom picks the letter up and sets it on the table in front of me. “Please read it. It might help you heal.”

  I lean away from it. “I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I don’t want to have any part of him in my life. I’m done. I was done when he walked out our door and never came back.”

  “He’s your father. He’ll always be a part of you whether you like it or not.”

  My hands clench into fists. She’s right, but I don’t want to admit the fact. I can make him go away, though. I don’t have to accept it. “He’s a drug addict and a murderer. Why would I want any part of that?”

  The pain on her face is raw and I take a deep breath, knowing the depth of her emotions are mirrored in my own expression. “It was an accident, Lucy,” she whispers. “You know that. We’ve talked about this a thousand times. He didn’t mean to do anything wrong. They were both just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened if he wouldn’t have been on drugs. He’d still be here with us. Our family wouldn’t be so broken!” I don’t mean to yell, but it just comes out. My body is shaking and I’m breathing hard, trying to keep my emotions in check and failing. I fight the tears clouding my eyes. I’ve lost too many nights of sleep and wasted too many tears on him because of his mistakes. Not my mistakes. Not Mom’s. Just his.

  Not anymore.

  She sighs and rubs the back of her neck. She doesn’t berate me. Doesn’t do anything. She’s used to fixing things for people, being a certified life coach and all, but not today. Instead of lecturing me or making me share my feelings, she just stands there for a moment, taking measured breaths. Possibly to keep herself from crying. She doesn’t like crying in front of me.

  And I hate seeing her cry.

  I feel bad I overreacted. Again. But it’s so hard. I don’t know how she can be so calm about this. He was her husband. How can she forgive him so easily? How can she forget all the things he did to us? To her? It’s not fair and it doesn’t make sense. He took her happiness away. I know she tries to put on a brave, happy face, but I still hear her crying at night. Though she’d never admit she does.

  I would do anything to go back to the days when Dad would come home from work, drop everything and wrap me in a hug, then talk to me about friends, school, anything. To watch him hurry over and kiss his wife, asking about her day. To hear him tell everyone to jump in the car because he was taking us for ice cream. Just so we could talk and spend time together. Laugh together. He was a good dad.

  Before.

  “Mom . . .” I start, the guilt creeping in as I stare at her stiff, yet defeated posture.

  “I’m sorry, I just—”

  She shakes her head and clears her throat, cutting me off. “It doesn’t matter. Did you have fun on your walk earlier? Where did you go? Not too far, right?”

  I twitch at the change of subject, then relax, grateful we’re talking about something else now. I can’t focus on Dad very long. But we need to talk about it. I know that. I’m just too angry to do it without freaking out. “Yeah. I actually met a few people.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Ye
ah. Two kids around my age. They seemed nice. They want to hang out tomorrow. Which is weird, since I just barely met them. But I’m kind of excited to go with them.”

  “I thought we were going to repaint the kitchen tomorrow?”

  “Well, I can help with that, but I’d really like to make some friends, too, Mom.”

  “You can make friends with coworkers when you get a job.”

  “Mom. Sometimes coworkers are like sixty-year-old ladies. I have nothing against old ladies, but I’d like to have some friends my age. And they even go to my new school. We’re just running a few errands around town. Nothing crazy.”

  “Well, if you’ll be close, I guess it’s okay. Just make sure you take your phone with you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have it with me.”

  “So, what were their names? Where are they from?”

  “The girl’s named Mira Kelly. The boy is Jack Kelly. They’re cousins, I guess.”

  Mom drops the paint sample she’s holding and stares at me. “What?”

  “They’re . . . cousins?” I say slowly.

  “No, the name. What was the name again?”

  “Oh. Jack Kelly. Like the newsie.” I smile. “Isn’t that hilarious?” I still think it’s funny.

  She stares at me a moment, then picks up the paint sample again, seeming very interested in it. “Kelly, is it? From next door?”

  “Yeah?” I frown. Why is she being so weird? “They have horses and stuff. A lot of land. A whole ranch or something it looks like. So, kind of next door? It’s quite a walk.”

  “Not really a ranch. Kelly Stables. They’ve been there for years. They do rodeos, board horses, and teach horseback riding lessons. Stuff like that.” She stares at the wall, her eyes misty.

  “Mom, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  She doesn’t answer for a moment, and just as I’m about to ask her again, she shakes her head. “Nothing.” She forces a smile. “I’m fine. Really. Just . . . have fun tomorrow. And be careful. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and please don’t be gone long. I really need your help around here.” She grabs the paint samples I picked. “I’m going to go to the store to buy some paint. Can you make us some lunch?” She gives me a quick hug, then hurries into the other room, I assume to get ready.