The Summer of Lost Things

by Chantele Sedgwick

  Weird.

  Maybe she knows the Kelly family? She did live here a long time ago. But why would she be weird about them now? Maybe they have something to do with the reason she didn’t want to move back here? Or maybe they have something to do with Susan?

  I drum my fingers on the table, frowning. I’m going to have to do some digging to find out what’s going on. Because judging from her weird reaction, something is definitely going on.

  A text message pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at my phone and smile.

  Oakley: I’m so happy you made it to your

  new house! I can’t wait to come see it.

  Have you gotten settled then? Does it

  need a lot of work? I need details!

  Me: Lots of work, but doable. I’ll have

  to send you a pic of the wallpaper. It’s

  hideous.

  Oakley: Can’t wait! Also, a heads up. A

  wedding invitation should be on the way

  to your house. Watch for it.

  Me: I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to

  see it! And you! It’s been way too long. I

  still can’t believe you’re getting married.

  You’re only a year older than I am! What??

  Oakley: It’s pretty crazy. But when it’s

  right, it’s right! Right? lol

  Me: Of course. I can’t wait to meet him.

  Oakley: Pics don’t do him justice. IMO. I’ve

  gotta go, but we’ll talk later, yes?

  Me: Of course!

  Oakley: You’re doing okay, right, Lucy?

  I hesitate. Am I doing okay? Not really. But I’m not about to tell her that.

  Me: I’m fine.

  Oakley: Lies. But I get it. Love you.

  Me: Love you too.

  I slide my phone back in my pocket, missing pretty much everything and everyone.

  Instead of letting myself sulk, I focus on finding something to make for lunch. I pull some peanut butter and bread from the cupboard and grab some jam from the fridge. Hopefully Mom’s okay with sandwiches, because I have no motivation to make anything else.

  And who doesn’t like peanut butter sandwiches? They’re at least one constant thing in my life and have never let me down.

  CHAPTER 6

  “If you tell the truth you do not need a good memory!”

  —Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

  Mira and Jack show up ten minutes before eight the next morning. She didn’t tell me it was going to be early morning errands. I could have used those last ten minutes to finish getting ready.

  “Hey,” I say as I come down the stairs, my hair thrown back in the fastest ponytail I’ve ever done. Mom’s already talking to Mira near the door, and Jack stands quietly at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Hey,” Jack says. “Nice to see you again. Have any chats with Sherlock lately?”

  “Maybe later for sure. What did I miss?”

  He glances at Mira. “Your Mom and my cousin seem to be hitting it off.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing,” I say.

  He laughs.

  I turn my attention to their conversation.

  “I do know your family,” Mom says. “We grew up together. I knew some of your uncles from school.”

  “Really?” Mira asks. “Did you know my dad?”

  “Which one is your dad?”

  “Brendan.”

  “He was a few years older than me, but yes, I remember him.”

  “Awesome! Maybe we could have some kind of reunion with everyone. I’m sure the family would love to see you.”

  “Maybe.” Mom smiles, but it looks forced.

  There’s an awkward silence for a moment, and I feel like Mom’s about to bolt, so I clear my throat. “So, you guys ready?”

  “Yep,” Mira says. She starts toward the door, and I glance back at Mom, who gives me a small grateful smile.

  “Have fun,” she says. “Be safe, Luce.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll take good care of her, Ms. Nelson!” Mira yells.

  I catch a glance of Jack’s face and he smiles but shakes his head at her.

  He’s quiet as we walk back to the car. He seems shy again. Maybe he is all the time.

  He didn’t have any trouble talking to me at the fence yesterday. Or making fun of me when I was talking to Sherlock.

  I decide to pay attention to see if I can figure him out.

  “Are you always early when you’re picking up random strangers to show around town?” I ask as Mira leads me to her car.

  “My mom always told me it’s better to be early than late. And if I’m going to be late, it’s better not to show up at all. So, I’m always early. To school, church. Everything. Even when I’d really rather sleep in a bit more.” She stretches her arms over her head. “So. Tired. I hate mornings, really.”

  “That’s a good habit to have, though. Being early.”

  I notice the “Mom always told me” instead of “tells me.” I wonder if she passed away or something. I’m too nervous to ask, though. I barely know her to ask her something so personal.

  “If it were up to me, I’d still be asleep,” Jack says. “It’s Saturday. Weekends mean sleep.”

  Mira elbows him. “Don’t listen to him. He’s up at five every morning helping our uncle at the stables.”

  Jack doesn’t deny it. Just smiles and shrugs.

  “Impressive,” I say. “I don’t do mornings. Normally.”

  “Yet, here you are,” he says.

  I stop and look at him, wondering how to reply.

  “Hop in,” Mira says, startling us both as she climbs in the driver’s seat of a little beat up silver car. I have no idea what kind of car it is, but I love it. It has personality with all its dents and dings.

  “In the back, Jack!” Mira says.

  I chuckle at the rhyme, but Mira doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Ladies get the front,” she continues.

  Jack shakes his head but doesn’t argue. He just climbs in the back. I get in the passenger seat and buckle as she starts the car.

  It’s a little awkward. We barely know each other. I’m sure they’re as curious about me as I am about them. The silence overwhelms the car as Mira pulls out of the driveway.

  “I need to pick up some milk for my dad first, so the grocery store will be our first stop.”

  “Sounds great.”

  One thing I learn during our drive through town is that Mira never stops talking. She knows everything there is to know about everything and everyone. And I mean everything. “There’s our high school. West Salem. We’re kind of in our own little corner. There’s Salem, and West Salem, which is still technically Salem, just west. I think it’s weird. Why not just call it all Salem in the first place? Because it is.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know why they won’t let me name cities. There would be none of this west and east nonsense.”

  “I have a feeling you’d do the world justice,” I say.

  She laughs. “Thanks.”

  I chuckle at her random thoughts. She’s pretty funny, and it’s nice to hang out with someone with a sense of humor. Jack, on the other hand, says nothing. He’s quiet in the back seat, just listening. Or pondering. Or something. It’s a bit unnerving.

  “So,” I say, when there’s a long break in the conversation. I don’t do well with awkward silences. “You two are cousins then?” I already know this, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

  Mira laughs. “Yep. Don’t we look so much alike?”

  “Like twins.”

  She laughs.

  “But really. No. Nope. I wouldn’t have ever guessed you’re cousins.”

  “Obviously,” she says, flipping her long braids over her shoulder.

  “So, how are you related?”

  “Our dads our brothers. They have a big family. Five boys and two girls.”

  “Oh. That would be nice.”<
br />
  “Meh. Sometimes. My dad met my mom at college. We lived in Nevada for a while, then after my mom died, Dad moved my brother and me back here. Back to his family.”

  “Older or younger brother?”

  “Older.” She frowns, then shakes her head. “But enough about him.” She doesn’t elaborate.

  Interesting.

  “I’m sorry about your mom.”

  She just shakes her head again. “Don’t be sorry. It’s been a long time. Almost four years. I was twelve. Everyone says I look like her. Besides my blue eyes. I got those from my dad. Older people always say I look like Vanessa Williams. Because of my eyes.”

  “Who?”

  “She’s an older singer. Close to my dad’s age. And we do resemble each other, I guess. She’s a superstar, so that’s a plus. Maybe I can get a record deal too!”

  I laugh at that.

  Jack pipes in then. “She resembles Vanessa Williams, I guess, but I think she looks exactly like her mom.”

  Her mom must have been gorgeous. Her dark skin is flawless and such a rich brown. It’s beautiful. And her hair is so long. I wish I could pull off braids like that. I want to ask how her mom died, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t know her well, so I decide to ask her another day. Maybe when we know each other better.

  “Jack’s parents are nice. His mom always makes the best meals. We eat over there. A lot.”

  “She’s pretty great,” Jack says. “Dad works a lot, though. We don’t see him often.”

  We at least have that in common. Besides the working part.

  “Tell us about your family, Lucy. You live with just your mom?”

  “Yep. Just me and Mom.”

  “She seems nice.”

  “She is. She can be a bit . . . eccentric, I guess. Depending on her moods.”

  “Well, if you look at your grandma’s house, I wonder where she gets it from.”

  I nod. “True.” It’s quiet for a moment, so I break the silence again. “Your family seems really close.”

  She nods. “We are. There are a lot of us cousins, but Jack and I are the same age, so we usually hang out together.”

  “I have one cousin who’s close to my age. She lives in California though and is studying marine biology. I haven’t seen her in about two years.” I pause, thinking of Oakley’s texts yesterday. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. “We were really close when we were younger. She’s getting married in August, and we’re going to drive down to be there for the wedding.”

  “That’s cool. So, what about your dad? Where does he fit in?”

  The question is innocent enough, but panic wells up in my chest. “My dad?” I try not to seem nervous, but my voice catches anyway.

  She gives me a weird look. “Well, yeah. You have one, don’t you? Is he out of the picture then? Since he obviously doesn’t live with you.”

  “Yeah. Um . . . he . . .” I hesitate. What do I say? My mouth speaks faster than my brain works and it just comes tumbling out. “My dad died. A long time ago.” The lie comes easy. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and my conscience yelling at me, calling me a big fat liar.

  I’m a big fat liar.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry,” Mira says. “What from?”

  “Cancer,” I blurt. “Osteosarcoma in his leg. Then it spread everywhere else. There was nothing they could do. It was really hard on all of us, but such is life. Life is hard.”

  I want to stop talking. I want to take it back.

  “Cancer’s rough,” Mira says.

  “Yeah. It is. It’s the worst, really.” I think of my cousin Lucas, who actually died of osteosarcoma. He’d be so disappointed in me right now for telling his true story as my dad’s fake one.

  “My mom died and so did your dad,” Mira says. “Pretty crappy thing to have in common.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Guilt fills me and I want to take everything back, but it’s too late. I can’t do it. Besides, who wants to tell a new friend her dad’s in prison? And that’s a big reason we moved here? To start over and get away from where everything started.

  If we wouldn’t have moved to Wyoming for Dad’s new job, he never would have met his dealers. He never would have gotten way too stressed at work and turned to prescription pills to dull his senses. The changes came gradually after that. The no sleeping, the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hands shook when he needed more pills. When the pills weren’t enough, he somehow found his way to heroin. He’d wear long sleeves in the summer and stay up all night, staring at the TV, but not really watching. He was still Dad, but he wasn’t. Not really.

  Mom tried everything to help him, but things just got worse. When we found out he was on meth, everything changed. He became paranoid and angry. Only caring about his next fix. Watching him spiral out of control was unbearable and eventually, our family was torn apart.

  If we would have stayed in Idaho, we’d still be together.

  I look out the window and let out a slow breath. If I told them the truth, they’d look at me like I was a freak. Or they’d pity me. I want no one’s pity. So the lie sticks.

  I feel sick.

  “You’ve been to California before, then?” Mira says, gratefully changing the subject.

  I nod. “Yep. We went to Disneyland a few years ago. We went to the beach for a few days, too.”

  “Have you seen our beaches yet?” Jack asks, making me jump. I forgot he was even back there.

  Listening to everything.

  The lie.

  “No, not yet.”

  “We’ll have to take you. And we’ll have to take you cliff jumping, too. There are a bunch of spots in Oregon.” His voice has an energy that hasn’t been there before. He must really love cliff jumping. Or extreme sports.

  “Cliff jumping?” My heart races. That sounds pretty dangerous. And exciting.

  “Yeah! It’s awesome. If you like thrills, I guess.”

  “I’d love to go.” And I would. Deep down, though, I’m terrified of the prospect.

  He laughs. “You don’t sound too convinced.”

  I put a little pep into my voice. “I really would. It sounds crazy.”

  “It’s an adrenaline rush, that’s for sure. You have to be careful, sure, but—”

  “Don’t scare her already, Jack! Then she won’t want to hang out with us,” Mira says, turning onto a bridge. There’s gorgeous blue water on both sides.

  “What is this river called?” I ask.

  “Willamette River. Beautiful, huh?”

  It really is.

  “Thanks for letting me come with you today. You have no idea how happy I am to actually be doing something.”

  Mira pats my hand. “You’re welcome. I’ve been the new kid before. It’s not easy. Or fun.”

  No, it’s not. But hopefully things are starting to look up. Even if I just lied about my life.

  But I don’t know how to fix that without ruining everything I’ve already started.

  So the lie sticks.

  For now.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I have taken to living by my wits.”

  —Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

  “We should show Lucy the stables,” Mira says. “What time do you have to get home?”

  “Just before dinner. My mom likes to eat together. Family time.” I shrug. I know I should actually be home sooner, since Mom really wants me to work on the house, but I don’t want to leave just yet.

  So, basically, I just lied again.

  What is wrong with me?

  “I like your mom,” she says.

  Ten minutes later, Mira pulls down the road before my house. I’ve seen the land the horses run around on but haven’t been up close to the stables or barn, or whatever it is. We pass a house on the right. It resembles my house. Old, farmhouse, white paint, green shutters. It looks like the owners have done a lot of work to it, though. I think about some of the paint-chipped shutters dangling from our windows.
/>   We have a lot of work to do.

  “That’s our grandma’s place,” Mira says. “She was good friends with your grandma, actually. They would have a glass of lemonade every Monday night and sit on the porch and chat. They’d always give us cookies.” She frowns. “I really want some cookies now.”

  My stomach growls on cue. “Me too, actually.”

  “Jack makes some amazing chocolate chip cookies.”

  I glance back at him and he looks like he’s sunk halfway into his seat. “You bake?”

  “Sometimes.” He doesn’t say anything else, just looks embarrassed.

  “Oh, don’t be so modest, Jack.” She leans closer to me, half whispering, “Seriously. They’re like the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.”

  “Really,” I say. “I’ll have to try these famous cookies.” I glance back at him and instead of continuing to look embarrassed, he smiles.

  “Maybe.”

  “That house is Jack’s,” Mira says, gesturing toward the left.

  The house sits back in the trees, yet is still visible from the road. It’s about the same size as the other one we passed.

  “Mine’s right across the street. She points to a pinkish house, then turns left into a parking lot. A building that says Kelly Stables on the front stands tall ahead of us. The wood is painted a dark red and the doors to the stables are a shiny black. There’s another building next to it on the right that looks exactly like the first one, then one on the other side of that, but it’s a bit smaller and a faded brown.

  “Wow,” I say. “This is a nice place.”

  I get out of the car and look over the land to spot my own house across the field. Neighbors, but not right next door. If you want to walk an acre or two, or three, then sure.

  “Welcome to Kelly Stables,” Mira says. “Home of a whole lotta horses. People board there horses here, so we have a lot of stalls. Uncle Mike has a big staff and Jack and I work for him, too, along with a few friends and more cousins.” She shrugs. “It’s a family thing.”

  “You’ll like it here,” Jack says. “To me, it’s home. Maybe you’ll feel at home, as well. I mean, once you get to know the horses and things.” His ears turn red and he looks away.

  I smile at him. He gets embarrassed easy. “I do like animals. Unless they’re trying to eat me.”