One Last Summer

by Jo Noelle

  Chapter 5

  Jenna Brennan

  The next week, Cole and I set out early, driving to SeaTac to retrieve some lost luggage for guests who checked in last night. Before we head back home, we stop at an IHOP near the airport. When the server approaches for our order, I say, “He’ll have sirloin tips and eggs, sunny-side up.”

  Without missing a beat, Cole says, “And she’ll have dessert for breakfast—banana and Nutella crepes with a side of strawberries.”

  Our server leaves with our order, and I ask, “What if I’ve changed and don’t eat dessert for breakfast anymore?”

  “We eat breakfast every morning together at Walter’s—pancakes. Pan. Cakes. You eat cake every day. What if I’ve changed?” he mockingly defends.

  We pass several minutes looking around, but not talking much until Cole asks, “Why didn’t you come back last year?” His tone is light—he sounds genuinely curious.

  But this is the start of the conversation I didn’t want to have yet. I try to give the obvious answer. Maybe he won’t dig any deeper. “I told you. I had an internship.” Then I lift my mug and take a drink like that’s all there is to say.

  “Was it because of what I said the summer before—that I love you?”

  “No.” Yes. He said it, and I believed it.

  I take another long drink from my mug. I don’t want him to see that I’m terrified that I’d follow my mother into her family business. That I’d be incapable of love—that could destroy Cole.

  “Maybe. We never even had a real date, and you tell me you love me. I guess I freaked out a little. It seemed like you were with a lot of women, but just for the summer. I didn’t want to be one of them.”

  The airport kiss shattered the wall around my heart. All I had to do was see him, and I jumped into his arms. I’m not immune to Cole, and I don’t really know what to do about it yet.

  It makes me a little nervous that he said “I love you” instead of “I loved you.” I expected my reaction to be much worse. Maybe I’m ready to consider that.

  “You wouldn’t have been one of them. You’re not my summer. You’re my every year,” Cole says with a slanted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’ve loved you since we were ten.”

  My heart races. That’s more than half our lives. But I know it’s true. Cole has always been true to me. The server returns with our plates. We both start eating and let Cole’s words hang in the air. We’re super quiet. I literally hear our silverware hit the plates each time either of us takes a bite.

  Turns out we aren’t as hungry as we thought and leave the restaurant quickly after that. Cole walks to the driver’s side. Usually, since he drove here, I’d drive back—that’s the deal—but with eight stitches in my palm, he’s been doing the driving for the past few days. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s sore, and I don’t want to risk doing something to cause more pain.

  Heavy silence fills the cab all the way home, neither of us knowing what to say next. The only sounds are the engine and the wet slosh of our tires on the road.

  As the highway turns toward the cottages, I break the silence. “No matter where I’ve been, I love coming here. I love the tall, dense forests. I love the rocky beaches around Hood Canal. I even love the rain and look forward to it washing everything clean. You’re lucky you’ve always lived here—I’ve never had a real home.”

  Cole gives me a smirk that shows he thinks I’m a little crazy, and with a chuckle, he says, “I’ve had the same zip code all my life, but I wouldn’t call living in apartments and motels having a home. No, I’m not lucky. My childhood was lame, and I can prove it. I caught my mom shooting up in the bathroom during my ninth birthday party.”

  “No, no. You don’t win that easily. I had a pathetic life too. Technically, I guess I have a home. Mom bought a house using embezzled money from my college account and her nest egg from settlements for the down payment. She’d been squirreling money away to pay for it with her alimony settlements so future divorces can’t touch it. It’s in a trust in my name, and I can’t live there. That college fund was the only thing I had from my real father.”

  I’ve been so embarrassed about all this, I’ve never told anyone, but Cole is safe. He’s probably the only person I could tell.

  With a faint glimmer of sadness in his eyes, he counters, “I never knew my father.” He pulls into the carport, switching off the engine. I reach for his hand, placing mine carefully on his, although the stitches have dissolved, it’s still a little sore.

  “I knew all seven of mine.” A wry chuckle slips out with the words. “In fact, at my mom’s sixth wedding, she met her seventh husband.” I shake my head. “Really, who does that?”

  Cole leans back against the headrest. “Here’s one. Right before my mom moved away to Montana, I had to pick her up from a bar. What she was wearing—well, it was skimpy, so I wrapped her in a tablecloth and tossed her over my shoulder. They wouldn’t let us leave until I threw a fifty on the bar to pay her tab.” He cringes at the memory.

  “Oh, my gosh, that’s terrible!” We pop open the doors and get out. “My mom swears this husband is different, and she isn’t getting divorced again.” I lean over the hood and finish, “And they’re moving to Belize.” I walk around and stand beside him, leaning against the fender. “I doubt I’ll see her again.” The truthfulness is too real. I tip my head over and lean on Cole’s shoulder.

  “I won’t see mine either.” His head lays against mine too. “She died.” His arm wraps me tightly to his side.

  Shock flies through me and I gasp. I pull back to look at his face. My heart aches for him. Although I’ve never thought they were close, she was still his mom. Am I supposed to ask about that, or am I not supposed to?

  “Oh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I wish I had been a better friend and not so focused on myself so you could have told me about it.” It seems too late to be a comfort to him, but I still want to. I reach for him with my good hand and lace our fingers together. “This might be the most awkward and depressing competition we’ve ever had. Did I lose, or did you?”

  “I think we both did. No one deserves the moronic parents we’ve had.”

  We’ve known each other for years, and if someone had asked, I’d have said I knew everything about Cole. I knew his life was hard. I even knew some things I doubt he told anyone except me. But I didn’t know any of this. “Do you mind if I ask what happened with your mom?”

  “She came here last year in March.” He swallows deeply, his eyes lowered.

  I wait patiently, trying to give him the time he needs. His mom left him when he was fifteen. She met someone, and they were moving to Montana. Not only did Cole not want to leave, but she didn’t want him to go with her.

  Uncle Walter stepped in, becoming his legal guardian while Cole was a minor. It seemed to me that Cole had a stronger connection to Walter than to his mom even before that. Still, there was a lot of pain in that separation for Cole.

  “She had pancreatic cancer, and the doctors gave her only weeks to live.” His voice breaks, and his eyes glance into mine. Then he looks back down at the ground.

  I wrap my arms around his waist and give him a hug. Almost reluctantly, he hugs my shoulders and lays his cheek on top of my head.

  “Her husband put her on a bus and sent her back to me.” His words are hard. “I guess it was too much trouble to have a sick wife. She was only here seven weeks before she died—a year ago last week.” Cole rakes a hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” My hands stretch up his back, and I hug him tightly.

  “Thanks,” he responds, pulling me to him. “I missed you,” His hand touches my face and traces from my cheekbone to my chin, sending tingles straight to my heart. When my eyes meet his, the longing is apparent.

  My pulse pounds like a drum, though I’m barely breathing. When I rise to my tiptoes, his lips meet mine, gently brushing back and forth. One hand p
resses on the small of my back, and the other cradles my neck.

  I love him. The harder I try to ignore this truth, the more it persists. I can no longer deny it. At this realization, heat climbs up my chest, and I press my lips firmly to his. The kiss becomes air to us—each of us taking the lead or allowing the other to explore in turn. His lips slant across mine and mine part, longing and sorrow and comfort all mix together.

  When he breaks the embrace, he kisses my cheek and my forehead. “I should get back to work.” His voice is rough and low. He clears his throat and says, “I’ve got a ton of homework waiting for me.”

  My knees feel weak as we walk across the lawn to the porch. I’m a little disappointed we only kissed once—tonight, anyway. I wish I knew exactly what to think about Cole, but I hardly think at all when he’s that close.

  Before we go in, I ask, “You’re going to class on Tuesday and Thursday nights, aren’t you? Didn’t you graduate in April?” I feel guilty knowing we’ve been so out of touch with each other for more than a year.

  He nods, then answers, “Yes, I have class. No, I haven’t graduated yet. You win that one.” He shoots an easy smile my direction. That’s the old Cole. “I’ll graduate in August, if I finish all my projects at the same time I renovate a cottage, work full time, and win Walter’s contest.”

  Cole has become an amazing man. He’s strong and caring and easy to be with. “Why didn’t you already graduate?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

  “I took fall semester off last year to earn enough money for tuition.” Unspoken pain fills his voice. “My mom’s care and funeral expenses wiped out my savings.” His expression softens. When I squeeze his hand, he continues, “I don’t regret it. We both got closure.”

  Cole had always been a sensitive kid. It’s nice to see that he’s grown that quality into being a compassionate man. He takes care of those he loves. He lets go of the past—he’s forgiving. I hug him once more before we go back to work, and feel a little longing to be someone he takes care of and someone who takes care of him.

  Three days later, I wake up with a bowling ball sitting on my face. Well, not literally, but it feels like it. Every muscle in my body aches, and the light is ten times brighter today than it’s ever been. All I want to do is stand in a hot shower to breathe the steam and then snuggle my pillow in the dark.

  Seal’s nose peeks over the edge of my mattress, his eyes watching me. Soon his whole snout rests near my elbow, then his paws sneak up, and finally, he licks my arm. I scoot over next to the wall and let him up to lie beside me.

  When I don’t make it downstairs for breakfast, Walter comes up to check on me. He takes my temperature, one-oh-one, and pronounces me sick. “Stay in bed and don’t worry about us. It’s a slow week. We’ll get it all done just fine.”

  Cole checks in with me at lunchtime. My mother’s voice blasts through my foggy brain. If a man sees you without your hair done and your makeup on, the only kiss you’ll get is a kiss good-bye. I pull the covers up to my chin, wondering how bad I look. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. His eyes are filled with concern.

  I try to shove my mother’s words out of my thoughts.

  “I brought cold medicine,” He lifts a shopping bag up to show me. “And delivered your gift baskets to the guests checking out. What else do you need?”

  The small baskets are part of my plan to win the second contest for customer service contest. I set a goal to have three contacts with each guest—by name whenever possible. It had been going great, I thought, but now I’m out of it. I hope I had enough votes before getting sick.

  My heart tugs a bit, and I consider that Cole is more concerned about me than he is about winning the contest. He had to know that the gift baskets were part of my customer service plan. He did it anyway. If my eyes weren’t watering already because of the cold, they would be now from Cole’s kindness.

  He sits on the edge of the bed. Seal reluctantly scoots to the foot of the bed to give Cole room.

  After dinner and again at bedtime, Cole plays nurse—filling my water bottle, dropping off a coloring book, adjusting my pillows and blankets, bringing a humidifier into my room, and replacing the hotel-issue tissues for the kind with lotion. My nose now owes him a life debt.

  This is the second time in two weeks that Cole has taken care of me. This seems a pathetic excuse to keep him close to me. I realize that my best friend has turned into a compassionate, caring man.

  By the end of the second day, I feel well enough to go back to work—that same morning, Cole is down in bed. I climb the stairs above the laundry facilities into his room. It had been the maids’ quarters when they worked here, but was converted to his room when Walter became his guardian. I filled the bowl too high and have to concentrate not to spill the chicken soup. I enter his room, and he gives me a look.

  “What?” I ask. “I’m pampering you.”

  “Yes, but it’s your fault I’m sick.”

  “Fine. I’ll never kiss you again.” My stomach sparkles as I say it. I’m being flippant, but I know I want to do exactly that.

  “No. Don’t say something we’ll both regret. I’m happy to take the risk.” He sneezes, then blows his nose. “Just not today.”

  Saturday is the last day of the customer service contest. Cole is back among the living and joins us at breakfast. Walter announces that I’ve won the first contest.

  “I’ve still got another day. You can’t announce it yet.”

  Walter shakes his head. “You may have another day, but we don’t have enough guests to close the gap even if they all voted for you. Jenna wins.”

  Cole nods, and an impish look comes over his face. “Well, I had a fever of one-oh-two. So I won being sick.”