Serial Summer Page 6

  She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From Anita and some of the others at the beach.”

  “From Sugar, then.”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  Her hands tense on the steering wheel. “It was stupid kid stuff. Things were different back then but it’s no big surprise she blabbed.”

  That took me by surprise. Why was she so defensive of this? And why the bitter tone about Sugar? “Sounds like fun though—late night hijinks with the cousins.”

  “It was stupid. We were young and it was idiotic. We could have gotten in serious trouble.”

  I hold my hands up in defeat. “Okay, jeez, why so angry?”

  “I’m sorry,” she sighs, turning to give me an apologetic smile. “It was stupid and I’m just mad at Sugar—I’ve been angry with her for decades.”

  “Decades?”

  “Yeah, we had a falling out—a big one, way back. We’ve tried to talk a couple of times and Jimmy pushed us to play nice but, I don’t know, things are too far gone between us.”

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Nope. Don’t even try.”

  I hold my hands up. “What? You brought it up!”

  “I did, and now, I’m shutting it down.” Her jaw is set and I know there’s no use arguing with her.

  I shake my head and mutter, “Typical,” under my breath.

  “It was a long time ago and I’m trying to deal with it. It’s one reason I came back up here this summer. I’ll tell you when I’m ready, but right now the last thing I need is for you kids to gossip about it all.”

  I want to push harder but don’t. Instead I lean my head against the window and close my eyes. If my mother won’t tell me the truth, I know someone who will be happy to share dirt about the family to anyone that will listen.

  Chapter Eight

  “I have a question,” I tell Anita that evening. My mother is holed up in the camper in a writing frenzy. Regardless, I’m not speaking to her right now anyway. Her attitude over family secrets is getting annoying. I’m reading under the canopy when I spot Anita and Sibley walking along the shore out for an after dinner walk. Perfect opportunity to dig for a little information.

  Surprisingly, she replies, “I have one for you, too, but you go first.”

  It’s weird that now that I know we’re related I can see tiny features that are similar to my own or my mothers. We have the same blue eyes and dark lashes and slim fingers. But Anita is small all around and quick to flash a grin and make everyone comfortable.

  “So what’s the deal with our mothers?”

  Anita stops walking and looks at me. “You don’t know?”

  “No, do you?”

  “No,” she says. “Shoot. I was hoping you did.”

  Sibley runs to the edge of the water and sits down in her shorts. “Sibley! No sitting—remember? You’re not in a bathing suit!” The toddler just laughs and splashes her feet.

  “Well, that was a bust—you really don’t know anything?” I ask, once Anita gives up on a dry Sibley.

  “I know they used to be super close and something happened between them, and your mom got upset and never came back.”

  “That’s why she never came back? Because of a fight with your mom?”

  “That’s how I’ve always heard it, but it does seem a little dramatic, right?” she agrees.

  “Weird. I mean, I never knew any of you existed, so I’m clueless. I tried to get it out of her today but she got a bit hostile.”

  “My mom cries,” she says, kicking the sand. “She looks at these old pictures of them and gets sad, but when I ask about it she tells me to mind my own business.

  “Huh.” I’m disappointed.

  “Although,” Anita declares, “I do have one theory.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  I see an excited glint in her eye. “I think Richard is involved.”

  “Justin’s uncle?”

  “Yep. He was the big catch back in the day—I’ve seen photos. He looked like Justin, except with a military haircut. He and my mom dated for a while. There’s a photo of them at a school dance.”

  “Interesting. My mom and Richard were hanging out the other day at our camper.”

  “Oh really?” Anita asks, a tiny smile forming on her lips.

  “Yep. They sounded like they were fighting about my mom coming back to Ocean Beach and something about her book. I don’t know. None of it makes sense to me.”

  “Hmm… I wonder what that’s about. My mom has always kept Richard out of it, but sounds like they all were involved. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always about a guy, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  We walk a little bit, following Sibley as she picks up shells and tosses them in the water. “Okay then, my question,” Anita says.

  “Ready.”

  “What are you running from?”

  I give her a sharp look. “What makes you think I’m running from something?”

  “You’ve just got that look—kind of skittish. Like Maggie before she broke up with her ex. What a douche bag. Thank god she found Ivy.”

  I stop short. “Wait, Ivy and Maggie are a couple?”

  “Duh.”

  “How was I supposed to know? She hangs all over Justin all the time.”

  “That’s just what they do. They’re really comfortable with one another.” Anita frowns. “Stop avoiding the question. What’s going on? You can trust me, you know.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “It’s just hard letting the world know you’re an idiot.”

  “I’m not the world, Paige. I’m like your seventh cousin removed. We have a bond,” she laughs.

  She’s right, and so far Anita has been nothing but great to me. There’s no reason not to trust her. “I’ll tell you but seriously, no one knows about this. I haven’t even told my mom.”

  “I can keep a secret,” she says.

  “Remember the ex-boyfriend I told you about?”

  “Yeah?”

  “He was my teacher—the TA for my creative writing seminar. Pretty much a huge no-no.” I pick another shell up off the ground and toss it in the water.

  Anita’s eyes pop wide open. “Wow.”

  “Right.”

  “So that didn’t work out?”

  “No, not really. I mean, things were kind of hot and exciting for a while. We snuck around and left each other stupid messages and little love notes. I’d go to his office for a meeting and we’d make out behind the desk for an hour. I’d hang around after class, wait outside the building, you know, whatever I could do to see him and not get caught.” Just talking about it sent a thrill up my spine.

  Again, all she says is, “Wow.”

  “Say something else!”

  “I don’t know what to say? I mean, that’s crazy! And yeah, I get why it would be kind of hot, all the sneaking around and crap. It reminds me of when Bobby used to sneak into my room back in high school.”

  “I can totally see him doing that,” I laugh.

  “It was all fun and games ‘til his my dad caught him halfway out the window one night. You can’t imagine the humiliation.”

  I make a face. “Trust me. I can.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Who caught you?”

  “Well,” I grimace. “That’s where things get interesting.”

  “His boss?”

  “Nope. His wife.”

  “No shit.”

  I nod.

  “You didn’t know.”

  “Nope,” I tell her. Like I needed to add any. “I had no idea. No ring, no pictures, nothing to clue me in—except all the stuff that should have. The sneaking around. Never taking me to his house. His stupid whispery late night calls.”

  “Okay, so yeah that is way worse than my dad. Even though he had a shotgun. It’s not like he was going to use it.”

  “Nicole didn’t have a shotgun but she had photos a
nd she threatened to share them with the dean and anyone else she could think of, if I didn’t leave school. Immediately.”

  “Oh no, what did you do?” Sibley runs up to us and hands us each a pile of sandy shells and rushes back to the water.

  “I had already completed two exams so I broke it off, took an incomplete in his class, and ran away with my mother in a shiny silver disco ball to live by the ocean.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Wow. Now you know how I managed to royally screw up my life.”

  “Have you heard from him?” she asks.

  “Oh, yeah. Phone calls, texts, emails. I was supposed to go with him and a group to France for the summer. My friends keep begging me to reconsider the trip, but I don’t want to see him.” Tears build in the corner of my eyes.

  “I can see how that would be hard. Do you still love him?”

  “I don’t know. I see everything differently now. What I used to think was passion and romantic, now I see was creepy and possessive. Plus all the lies. I’m not sure I could ever love a cheater. My dad left my mom for another woman. I feel like shit that I hurt someone like that.” I pick up a shell and toss it in the water. “I never, ever, would have started something with him had I known.”

  Anita gives wraps her arm around my waist and gives me a hug. “Sure, not your best moment but the guy is obviously a sleaze. You were a student.”

  “Still my fault. And the worst part is, a couple of my friends know and they just don’t get it. They think it’s some star-crossed romance. It makes me sick.” I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Yuck.

  We walk along the shore a while longer, turning back when we get to the point. When we’re close to the boardwalk, Anita says, “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Why not?” I figure I have few secrets left at this point.

  “What’s going on with you and Justin? And don’t say nothing.”

  I’d expected this. “Ummm…nothing?”

  “Lies,” she laughs. “There’s something. Tell me.”

  “I don’t know—he flirts, I’m sure you know this,” I say.

  “True, but he’s been around a bit more than normal. Typically we see him at the parties and stuff but not so much day to day. Plus, I saw you two on the boat.”

  I step into the water to cool my feet. I’m hoping the feeling with help the burn in my cheeks. “He was just showing me around or whatever. Nothing happened.”

  “Yet.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Is he a player? Should I avoid him? I’m just here for the summer and I don’t know, just broke up with my…” I bite back the word boyfriend.

  “Well, you’re right, Justin is a big flirt but he’s also a sweetheart. And smart. Not to sound lame but he’s probably just as attracted to you being a college girl than anything else. He has aspirations of being bigger than all this.” She spreads her arms as wide as they will go. “Like Richard. He’ll stick around because his family and friends are here but he will also make a success out of himself.”

  “I’m not sure I’m together enough for him. I’m kind of a walking disaster lately.”

  “Honestly, If you want something fun, a little rebound from the other guy, he may be a good choice, I’m not sure he’s ready to settle down or anything either.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not sure I’m ready for the rebound yet or anything else.”

  “Well, whatever you do just be honest. That’s kind of his thing.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, thinking of all the lies and deceit I’ve stirred up in the last six months, which leads me to think of Mark and then to the week or so I have left before they leave for France.

  Sibley starts to run away from the steps and back toward the water. Anita pretends to growl and chases her across the sand. Swooping the girl in her arms, she turns back to me and smiles. “I say go for it, Paige. I have a feeling Justin would be happy to share in your little summer adventure. What do you have to lose?”

  ~*~

  “Jump!”

  I ignore the other catcalls and demands from below.

  “Jump, Paige!” Anita shouts again. She’s floating in the shade of the boat. Everyone else is either in the water, gliding along with the tide in life jackets or swimming to the sand bar separating the waterway and the ocean. I spy Justin and Ivy close to the bar.

  “I think I’ll just stay here,” I say, pretending sweat isn’t pouring down my back and that the water doesn’t looking inviting and wonderful. And dangerous. I mean, this is basically the ocean and in the ocean there are sharks and other bitey, pinchy, stinging things.

  “Lame,” Anita says and rolls her eyes at me before swimming off with Bobby. Her mother has Sibley for the day, the last thing she wants to do is babysit me on the boat.

  I drop in a cushioned seat inside the boat and recline. This is not my world, I think, closing my eyes and blocking out the happy laughter from the water. Everyone here is great and has accepted me into the group but times like this prove our differences. Not just the private school education or lack of a pure southern accent, but this inability to relax and have fun with the rest of them.

  I’m wallowing in this difference between us when the boat heaves and I feel water dripping all over my stomach and chest. Shading my eyes, I look up and find Justin standing over me.

  “I’d push you away,” I tell him, “but that water feels really nice.”

  “Get in,” he says, offering me his hand.

  I shake my head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Come on,” he grabs both my hands and pulls me off the seat. “I won’t let anything get you.”

  “See,” I frown. “You basically just admitted there are things in the water that can get me.”

  “There might be one thing,” he says, lifting an eyebrow while keeping his fingers linked with mine. He’s very close to me, his skin all kinds of muscular and wet. “But I promise to behave. Come in with me, I’ll keep you safe.”

  He says it sincerely, in a tone of voice that settles in my chest and establishes trust. I want to trust him. I want to make normal choices. Better ones. Choices that let me have fun with this cute, flirty, half-naked man in front of me.

  “It’s the waterway. It’s like swimming in a lake. The tide is there but the water is deep enough you won’t touch the ground or anything until we get to the sandbar.”

  After a pause I say, “I’m wearing a life jacket.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I mean, I can swim, but you know…”

  He hands me a purple and red jacket and helps me inside, cinching the strap around my waist and snapping it together. His fingers linger near my stomach and he spends a moment adjusting the collar.

  “All secure,” he says, before walking to the edge of the boat and jumping in, causing the boat to bounce around from the waves. I hold on to the railings; it’s a large boat, able to carry fifteen of us out here.

  “Throw me that jacket,” he says and I toss him a life vest. He struggles for a minute but eventually gets strapped in while the waves bob him up and down.

  I shuffle to the edge, unsure if this is what I want to do. I wrinkle my nose and say, “Are you sure there are no sharks in here?”

  “Paige,” he says, “the sooner you get in the water, the sooner you get to the sandbar. Come on.”

  I realize he didn’t say no, which makes me uncomfortable but he’s patiently waiting for me in the water, risking his own life via shark attack so I just jump, crashing feet first and submerging to the top of my head.

  “It’s cold!” I shout when I reemerge, pushing the water and hair out of my face.

  “You okay?” he asks and I feel his hand graze across my lower back and I fight a chill.

  “Yeah, but let’s get over to the others.” I have no idea why I think there is safety in numbers with sea creature attacks, but I do. I expect Justin to swim off but he doesn’t, instead he flips to his back and starts talking.

  �
�How’s your mom’s book going?” he asks.

  “Okay, I guess.” I swim next to him. “She’s obsessed with finding victims that got away or something, which probably just means we’ll be knocking on every door from here to Myrtle Beach next week.” He laughs and I splash him. He kicks his feet and glides easily out of my way.

  I swim after him but my foot catches on something and I yelp. “What the--“

  Justin flips over to his stomach and stands up. I realize my foot touched the sandy bottom, nothing more. Tentatively, I stand too, relieved to be close to shore. “You made it,” he says as we walk toward the others. He’s already peeling off his life vest, exposing his brown shoulders and back.

  “Paige!” Anita yells from her spot on the sandbar. “You came!”

  The others wave and Ivy passes me a drink and for a quick moment, I feel it. The inclusion of being part of this beach group. I catch Justin’s eye and mouth the words, “Thank you.”

  In return I get another one of those smiles, bright and quick in the hot summer sun and I realize I can do this. I can move past the drama and Mark and everything left behind, if I’m willing to take a chance.

  Chapter Nine

  Somehow, when it’s time to leave, Justin ends up in my car. We’re both sun-kissed from playing in the ocean and everything has that salty-sunscreened smell.

  He rinses off everything back at the marina before placing it back in the car. Then he piles a cooler and towels in the back seat. I’ve noticed he’s meticulous about some things—boats, cars, especially his work ethic. Anita is probably right, that he has bigger dreams than living on this tiny part of the coast, but at the same time he seems perfectly at ease with his life.

  “Here,” he says, handing my flip-flops. They’re wet but clean and I slip them on my feet. I’d offered him a ride when the others quickly left the marina and he was still securing the boat.

  “You have so much more patience than I do,” I tell him. We’re in the car now and I’ve cranked the air-conditioning to cool my burned skin. He wastes no time moving the seat back to accommodate his long legs and he fiddles with the knobs on the radio, and settles on a classic rock station. I laugh at his choice. “What, no country?”

  “Don’t knock it,” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “And whatever, you live in Nashville, that’s about as country music as you can get.”