The Summer List, page 20
She runs her hand over the farmhouse sink. "This is the kitchen. The one I showed you in the magazine," she says to Marc.
"Do you like it?" I ask.
"I do." Cindy takes in more of the details. Her hand hits her heart when she sees the cookbook. "It's perfect." I let out a sigh of relief.
"There's more. Follow me," I say.
I stop behind the couch and let Cindy take in the living room. She hasn't been over since all the boxes were stacked in here.
"You went through all the boxes?" She asks, standing in the middle of the room. I nod. "And these are my couches?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. I nod again. "And you did all of this without me knowing?"
"You would have said no if I asked."
"Probably." I glare at her. "Okay. Okay. I would have said no." Cindy stares at the fireplace mantle. I decorated it with a few of her candles and family photos. There is one of my parents and me and one of Cindy, Marc, and the boys.
"I thought once the baby is born, we could get a new family photo taken for the middle frame."
"That would be nice," she says, wiping away a tear. "Can we sit for a minute?"
"Sure, of course." Cindy sits down on the couch against the window, and I join her.
"Her necklace," Cindy says, noticing the chain around my neck for the first time.
"Do you recognize it? I found it in a box from my room. I don't know why I had it," I say, looking down at the stone.
"Yes, I remember it. I have one just like it. It was a Christmas present from her mother. You and Natalie always played in your mom's jewelry. This was your favorite. You took it and never gave it back. Mel knew. She wanted you to have it."
Cindy looks around the room and says, "I'm sorry. This is a lot for me to take in and process at once. I feel like a decision was made for me, and I don't have any say in it at all."
"Kind of like I didn't have a say when you boxed everything up. Or when you decided to move out in the first place."
"You were a child. You didn't have to make big decisions." Cindy closes her eyes and lets out a breath.
"I know the decisions you had to make."
"I can't do this." Cindy pushes herself off the couch.
No.
You are doing this.
We are doing this.
"Cindy!" I cry out.
"Mackenzie," she snaps. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to relive that day."
"You don't have to relive that day. But you don't get to walk away. Not from me. Not anymore." I'm not letting her walk away again. "I need you."
"How can you say that after everything I've done? I'm not meant to be a mom. A little late, I know." Cindy puts her hand on her belly. "But I can never be Melanie. She was..."
"The best. I know. You aren't supposed to be her. There are no expectations here. If you think I plan on being perfect, you are mistaken." I smile mischievously. "Come upstairs with me. I want to show you something."
Cindy follows me upstairs. I stop in the hallway before I open the door to the new nursery. Cindy walks in and slowly spins around in the room.
"Natalie painted the floral mural to match the bedding you picked out," I say.
On the dresser is a picture of Cindy and my mom at the lake house. They have their arms around each other and melted popsicle stains on their shirts.
"What's this?" Cindy asks point at the letter on the dresser.
"Open it."
"You've read it." I shrug.
Cindy takes the letter and sits down on the glider in the corner. Her hand is shaking as she opens the envelope and pulls the letter out.
Dear Cindy,
My best friend. My sister. I love you so much. If you are reading this, it means Ben and I have died. That sounds absolutely terrible. I don't like thinking about this, but I wanted you to hear this from me. I pray this letter is irrelevant and you will never see it.
Ben had this crazy idea that we needed to make a living will. You know how he is. So serious all the time. He decided now that we have Mackenzie, we needed it. He's so cute. I couldn't say no. We had to choose a guardian today. I have to be honest; the thought of not being around Mackenzie was hell. I'm glad I only have to do this once.
I know you are traveling and living your best life, but we want you to be her guardian. You are the only person who can take care of our baby girl. I know what you're thinking. Why? The last thing you want is a child right now. Maybe ever. You always said you would be a terrible mother. I never understood why you thought that.
You've taken care of me my entire life. You were the one who helped me learn how to ride a bike. You kept me company the whole time I had chickenpox. You cursed out Steven Harper when he told me I was ugly. You were the one who helped me through my first broken heart.
You were there with me when my mom got sick. You were the one who got me ready on my wedding day. And you were there when my daughter was born.
I need you to be there for her like you have always been there for me.
Tell her I love her every day. Don't let her forget about me.
Love you always,
Mel
Cindy is close to hyperventilating. Her mascara has run all over her face. "Fuck! I miss them so much," she says, wiping the back of her hand on her nose. I run to the bathroom and grab some tissues. Robbie, Justin, and Marc were standing on the stairs. I held up my hand, asking them to wait.
"I know you do. I miss them too," I say, passing her the tissues.
Cindy's eyes stroll around the room. "The nursery is perfect. The whole house is perfect. I can't believe you got all of this done."
"I had a lot of help. Does this mean you will move in?"
"I don't know how I can say no," she says, standing up next to me.
"She said yes! You guys can come in now." Justin, Robbie, and Marc rushed into the room and wrapped their arms around us in a giant bear hug.
"Thank you," Cindy says to me, resting her head on Marc's shoulder.
28
mackenzie
Our house is loud. Robbie and Justin are wild. They run in and out all day long. Marc put something on the porch door, so it wouldn't slam every time they went outside to play.
Nate and I took them into the woods behind the house and showed them the best trees for climbing. We also managed to convince Nate's dad to fix the old treehouse.
Don't even get me started on little Mel. She howls like a banshee. I visit her at night when I’m woken by one of my dreams. I tell her about them until she falls back asleep. I think she likes hearing stories about her Aunt Melanie.
Her namesake.
I will miss them when I leave for college in a few years.
Today, however, I'm ready for a night away. I've been looking forward to this campout all week.
"Look at them. Sitting over there HAVING ALL THE FUN! Leaving their girlfriends over here SWEATING TO DEATH!" Nat says, wiping sweat off her brow.
"Babe, I offered. Next time don't give me a lecture on feminism and women's rights! You look good, though. Workin' hard." Dillon yells from the dock. It only took him ten minutes to get the boys' tent set up.
"Sometimes, I want to punch him." Nat glares at Dillon.
"You did tell him women didn't burn bras just to have men help them with shit they can do by themselves," I say, hammering another stake into the ground. "This is the last stake to hammer. Then we can go cool off in the water." I can feel my skin burning already. "Done. I think."
"If you tilt your head slightly, it almost looks straight."
"Good enough. As long as it keeps bugs out, I don't care."
"Are you ladies going to join us or leave us lonely all day?" Nate hollers from the dock.
"What is it, Harris? You need me to show you how to catch a fish again?" Nate smiles back at me so big my heart might burst.
"I want to live here," I say, taking a break from my book and looking out at the water. Nate is lying beside me on the dock with his hat over his face. I bet that smells lovely—a nice mixture of sweat, sunscreen, lake water, and car grease. Add a little pine, and it smells just like him.
"In a tent?"
"No, definitely not. I want to fix up the house. Maybe add a few more bedrooms. There is money in the trust. When I'm eighteen, I get access to all of it."
I spent hours scouring through all of the legal documents. My dad had a trust set up for me when they made their living wills.
"What would you do? It's kind of out in the middle of nowhere. Where would you work? You're looking at a forty-five-minute commute minimum."
"Here," I say, moving on to my side. "I have plans, Nate."
Nate takes the hat off his head and props himself on his elbow. "You have plans? Let's hear them."
"The plat we found got me thinking. What if I turned this place into a campground for real? Just like my dad had wanted. It can be a summer camp or even a private school. Only it's for kids like me."
We found my dad's journal. It was in a box along with fast food napkins, fishing lures, and road maps. I haven't had time to read it yet, but I know whatever he wrote will help me pull this off.
"What do you mean kids like you?"
"Kids who are lost and need help finding their way. I don't know. I think I want to be a counselor. I can't believe I'm saying that. I want to help people."
"You're going to need help. There is a lot that goes into running a camp."
"I know. I can figure that out." I lay down again and stared at the water. I know Nate has his plans, but I want his support. I need his encouragement.
"I'm in."
"You're in?" I ask, creasing my brow. "What about your plans?"
"You were my plan," he says with that smile that is only meant for me.
We followed the trail down to the beach. It weaved in and around trees. Every step felt familiar. I knew when the next bend was coming and when the rocks would turn to sand beneath my feet. I knew that the tree twenty feet off the trail was the one that could never be torn down.
"Mack, where are you going?" Natalie asks.
"Follow her," Nate says behind me.
I walk around the giant oak tree tracing the bark until I see it.
B. T. Benjamin Turner
M. M. Melanie Mackenzie
C. T. Cindy Turner
"Let's put our initials on the other side," I say.
"We need to find a sharp rock or something," Dillon says.
"No, we don't. I have a pocket knife." Natalie announces.
"Why do you have a pocket knife?" I ask.
"We're in the woods at a creepy cabin. I don't care if we've been here dozens of times. I'm not taking chances."
Fair enough.
The four of us took turns passing the knife around and carving our initials into the tree. I walk around to the other side of the tree and trace their initials one more time.
"I've made fire!" Dillon screams, pouring more gasoline on the fire.
"Next time, try it without the gasoline and matches." Natalie jests.
The night air is starting to chill as summer gives way to fall. Natalie passes me a marshmallow on a stick. I hold it over the fire until it catches a flame, quickly remove it, and blow it out.
"Alright, summer superlatives," Natalie announces. I look at Nate and Dillon in confusion. "We are going to go around and give out awards. I'll start." Natalie takes a bite out of her marshmallow then says, "Best road trip partner."
"Nailed it," Dillon says, holding up his hand.
"Yeah, no. You snore, you sing off-key, and you take up way too much legroom. Mack gets this one, hands down." I bow to her. The two of us drove to Nashville for the night a few weeks ago.
"Well, that was rude," Dillon says, feeling cheated out of his win. "Okay, my turn. Best karaoke performance goes to Nate."
"We had to bribe him to sing! He should be disqualified." Natalie protests.
"You started this game," Dillon says, holding up his hands. "You should have set some rules."
"Okay. Best catch..." I say.
"Mackenzie when she caught my heart," Nate says.
"Oh my gosh. You did not just say that." I start laughing. "That was terrible. I mean, it's sweet, but that was bad."
"It was awful." Natalie agrees.
"Obviously, best catch goes to Troy Bishop when he caught Nate's fist in his face," I say. Nate stands up and takes a bow.
"I'm sorry I missed that one," Natalie says.
"Next time, I'll text you first."
"I'll bring snacks." I joke.
"Funny. My turn. Best tattoo. Since I can't give it myself, I'm going to let Turner take this one," Nate says. I know I said I wouldn't get one, but I was inspired.
"It's cute, right?" I run my thumb over my wrist. The tattoo is a single lily, and the stem twists around to form two hearts. Natalie helped me design it. It's small enough. I don't think it will look weird when I'm ninety. I wanted something to remind me of my parents and this summer.
When I look back on my life, this summer will be the one I will remember most. This was when my life changed. It wasn't the day my parents died. It was when I decided they get to live. They get to live on through me.
"I think there's only one thing left to do," I say. Nate looks over the fire at me. His eyes are a beautiful amber. I walk over and take his hand. I pull him out of the chair and start walking towards the dock. "Come on, Nat. Dillon!"
I stop at the beginning of the dock and strip down to my underwear. "This is the closest you're going to get, Harris," I say to Nate.
"I'll take it," Nate says and takes off his shirt and shorts.
"We're doing this now?" Dillon asks. "It's cold."
"Yes, we are," Natalie says. "Take your clothes off."
I wait for Natalie and Dillon to get undressed before I start the countdown. "1..." I take Natalie's hand, and she takes Dillon's hand. "2..." Nate locks his hand with mine. "3!" The four of us take off, running down the dock as fast as we can.
epilogue
I've traveled all over the world. Aunt Cindy encouraged us to travel while we were young. Paul and I did our fair share together too. Out of all the roads I've traveled, this one is still my favorite.
The long gravel drive twists and turns through the trees. In the distance, you can barely make out the rows of cabins. I park in the visitor parking lot and send Ben a text. He is always late.
The Welcome to Hope Lake sign is overgrown with grass. I will have to get Tommy down here to mow it this weekend. I want everything ready for Justin's daughter Emily when she moves in on Monday. She will have enough to worry about getting this place up and running again.
It's been a year since anyone has been to the lake house. When mom started to get sick, she took priority. I moved her in with me. Paul and I live closer to the hospital. It made more sense. She, of course, pitched a royal fit about it. The woman could barely walk on her own, let alone live by herself. Yet, she didn't want to part with this place. I don't blame her.
Opening the front door, you get hit with the smell of fresh lavender and pine. It still smells like them. My father brought the forest with him everywhere.
The house still looks the same as it did when I left. The front room doubles as a living room and a waiting room for parents. To the left is a desk for new campers to check in. It was a humble setup, but mom was adamant about making the place still feel like a home.
Family photos were scattered all around the house. They littered tabletops, shelves, walls. They were everywhere. Family was the most important thing to her. It wasn't just us. She included all the campers too. Their photos line the hallway and the mess hall across the camp.
I pick up my favorite photo off the mantle. It's mom, dad, and Aunt Natalie jumping off the dock. The one after their high school graduation.
"You're late," I say as the door creaks open.
"A little help here." Ben's arms are full of boxes that are slipping out of his hands. "I'm late because you made me run around town getting everything. You're welcome."
"Thank you." He smirks at me in his irritated brother fashion. "I don't know where to start."
"We only have to pack up mom's things. Her personal items. We can leave everything else for Em."
"Everything was personal to her. You know how she was. She only kept what was important to her." You would assume someone who lost their parents at a young age would be a packrat, but my mother was the opposite. She said their memory isn't in their things. It is in me. I just close my eyes, and they are with me. "Where are you going?" I ask Ben.
"I'm looking around. Give me a minute. It's been a while since I've been back home. I want to see my old room."
I take one of the boxes and tape the bottom. "Do you think Emily will want to keep all the photos?" I yell at Ben as he's walking back down the hall.
"Probably knowing her. I say we pack them up for now and let her decide. It will be easier for her to do the repairs if the house is empty anyway."
"What are those?" I ask, nodding to the library of books he has in his hands.
"Mom's journals. She had them stacked on her nightstand. We can read them now and not get our hand smacked."
"Bring them here," I order. Ben and I sit down on the couch and stare at the cover. "Are we sure we want to do this?"
"Jane, are you serious right now? Yes."
Together we open to the first page of the journal and begin to read.
Junior Year
I finally caved and started journaling, as Ms. Crawford suggested I should as part of my therapy. Dumb right? She thinks it will help me work through the grief. I would call it bullshit, but everything she’s told me to do so far has helped. I might as well give this a try too.
Daily ramblings of how I feel and what I’m doing. I already hate it. I feel stupid. That’s how I feel right now.
I survived the first day of school. I miss summer—the end. On a happier note, Olivia, the evil witch, transferred to Becker. There's always a silver lining. You just have to find it.
"Skip ahead some," Ben says, and I flip through to the middle of the book.
They asked me to give a speech at our graduation. I've been thinking about what I should say. I don't think I'm the right person to give advice to anyone. Cindy disagrees. She said I'm the perfect person to give an inspirational speech. Fuck. I don't know what I could say that would be remotely inspiring.
