Summer Days

by Lisa Jackson

  “Is he feeling okay?” Ellen asked. “Did he catch your cold?”

  “He’s fine. And of course he can make his own lunch, but I like to make it for him. Plus, I’m a lot neater in the kitchen.”

  “Mom, what do I do about Rob?” Though of course, Ellen knew the answer to her question.

  “Apologize?” JoAnne suggested. And then she hung up.

  Ellen collapsed onto the couch. She had an awful lot to think about.

  CHAPTER 20

  The following morning found Ellen parked outside of the house her family had once owned. There was no car in the driveway and no garage in which a car might be stowed, so Ellen assumed the current residents were away at the moment. The last thing her tarnished local reputation (if indeed she had one and wasn’t imagining it) needed was an irate homeowner chasing her away from the property. An incident like that would make the local news and papers and follow her forever.

  Ellen sighed. The house looked so small now, even though she had last seen it only five years earlier, just before her parents had sold it. So small and so foreign. That was the sad thing, that the house she had lived in for months on end over so many years now seemed as unfamiliar as a roadside motel chain. She knew the upper right-hand window was the window in her old bedroom, but she couldn’t remember sitting at that window, looking out onto the front lawn on cool late summer evenings. And yet, she must have done so!

  She knew there was a big old pine out back (she could see its top even now), but she couldn’t remember gathering its fallen cones for crafts. She knew she had made crafts with the cones and other random bits of found nature. Her mother still had some of the pieces Ellen had made as a child. The problem was that she simply couldn’t remember the making.

  Did everyone experience this weird disconnect between the past self and the present self? It was odd, too, the things that did stick with her after all these years, like how hurt she had felt when Rob—Bobby—had made her an object of ridicule. Memories of the motivation behind his childish cruelty—her own bad behavior—were still largely buried somewhere, but she could feel the hurt and the sense of vulnerability his nickname had caused her as if it all had happened yesterday.

  Looking up at her former home, Ellen wondered if her seven-year-old self had had any sense of the consequences of her mischief. Had she been at all aware of the trouble she was causing? Or had she acted with conscious intention, relishing the mayhem that ensued? Why couldn’t she remember!

  Maybe, Ellen thought gloomily, I should go to the bookstore and pick up a book on psychological development in children. Maybe her father’s being sick that summer she was seven had warped her in some irrevocable way.

  Ellen rubbed her hand over her eyes. She must, she thought, have been so very angry with her parents for sending her away to camp; she must have been furious with them for banishing her from their lives. She must have seen being sent away to camp as a supreme abandonment. She thought about what her mother had said on the phone the day before, that she and Ellen’s father had since wondered if they had done the right thing by sending her off.

  Well, second-guessing would help no one now.

  Ellen looked up again at what had been her bedroom window and made the decision almost without thinking.

  “Carpe diem,” she murmured to the interior of the car, as she pulled away from her former home and headed toward Cora’s house. “If not now, when?”

  She was nervous. What would she do if Cora refused to talk to her? Ellen really didn’t know. Burst into tears? Have a long-overdue nervous breakdown?

  Cora opened the door on Ellen’s first knock. She was wearing a splendidly embroidered caftan-like garment in a riot of pink and red. It almost made Ellen smile. Almost.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Ellen said, aware that her voice was a bit unsteady. “I’d like to talk to you. Please.”

  “Of course, dear.” Cora’s expression was understandably guarded.

  “Cora, please accept my apology. I’m so sorry. I behaved badly. There’s no excuse for turning my back on you when you’ve been such a good friend to me.”

  Cora’s expression softened as rapidly as butter melting in a hot pan. “There’s always an excuse for our behavior, dear,” she said gently.

  “No good excuse then.”

  “I accept your apology. Now, why don’t you tell me why you felt the need to run away from your friends back home, too.”

  Ellen sighed. “You’ve been talking to my mother, haven’t you? All right. But can we go inside?”

  Cora led the way to the kitchen where the two women took a seat at the table. Ellen glanced around, hoping for a glimpse of Clovis, but he was absent.

  “Why don’t you begin at the beginning, dear,” Cora said, reaching across the table to pat Ellen’s hand.

  Ellen did, starting with that summer at Camp Norridgewock, up through the disaster that was her relationship with Peter, and then her decision to hide away for a while in Ogunquit. “And so,” she finished, “just when I was on the verge of—of something good happening with Rob, I learned that he was the boy who had saddled me with that horrible nickname. It . . . It made me a bit crazy, I suppose. And I have a bad habit of running away from everyone I love when difficult things happen. . . .”

  Cora was silent for a few moments. “I met your parents the summer after you had been at camp,” she said then. “I never knew about your father’s struggle with cancer. Your mother never said a word. And he looked so robust.”

  Ellen shrugged. “I guess she felt there was no point in bringing up the past once it was over. My father was well. That’s all that mattered to her.”

  “Yes, I can certainly understand her wanting to move on. And to keep what had worried or troubled her to herself.”

  “I suppose I can understand, too. I didn’t tell anyone that my father had been sick until I was in college. I was superstitious about it. I felt that if I didn’t mention what had happened aloud, the past would somehow be changed. Well, it makes no sense.” And, Ellen thought, look at how I erased all memory of my bad behavior at camp that awful summer. The mind was a very strange beast, often out of its own control and sometimes acting against its own self-interest.

  The two women sat quietly for some minutes. Cora broke the silence.

  “Your mother isn’t the only one to keep a painful past a secret,” she said, her eyes on the table before her. “I myself have kept silent about something that for a time I truly believed would kill me. But it didn’t. I lost my husband, you see, as a very young woman.”

  Ellen felt numb with surprise. She could only shake her head in sympathy.

  “He passed away only a few months after our wedding,” Cora went on, now looking directly at Ellen. “It was quite sudden. A heart attack. He must have harbored some weakness since childhood. He certainly didn’t see it coming. And of course, neither did I, though for a long time I wondered if I should have. I wondered if somehow I could have saved his life.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Ellen had found her voice, but not sufficient words to express her sorrow and sympathy. “Oh, Cora, what can I say but that I’m so very sorry?”

  Cora’s smile was almost beatific then. “Do you know that even if I had known he wasn’t going to live for very long, I would have married him anyway? John was the love of my life.”

  “And all these years,” Ellen asked gently, “has there been anybody else?”

  “Who else would there be?” Cora replied simply. “No, there was never any question of my falling in love again.”

  How noble and strong she is, Ellen thought. But how terribly sad it all was, too. Unless Cora’s memories, the good ones, had been enough to keep her company.

  “I never knew,” Ellen said, more to herself than to Cora.

  “No one does. At least, no one alive now other you and my dear Miss Camp.”

  “I’m honored that you told me. Thank you.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure I should have told you my stor
y,” Cora replied, almost brusquely. “I know all too well I sound like a woman imprisoned by the past. But what I want you to remember, dear Ellen, is that whatever happens between you and Mr. Penn, it’s the present and the future that count most. Not some silly childish mishap that is better forgotten. And,” Cora added, her expression growing fierce, “not some blackguard who broke your heart!”

  Ellen knew there was wisdom in Cora’s counsel. She just wasn’t sure she was capable of acting on the older woman’s advice.

  Clovis crashed his bulk against her leg. Ellen jumped. She hadn’t seen him come into the room. Hot tears of gratitude sprang to her eyes. “Thank you, Clovis,” she murmured. “And Cora? I really like your dress.”

  CHAPTER 21

  This time, Ellen had to ring the bell five times and pound on the door for close to a full minute before Rob appeared. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were covered in daubs and streaks of paint. In his right hand he held a brush and a palette knife.

  He was frowning.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead,” Ellen said in a rush. “I . . . I was afraid that maybe you would tell me to get lost.”

  “I might have,” Rob admitted. “But you’re here now so . . .” He stepped back, and Ellen followed him inside.

  “So . . .” he said. “I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

  “There’s an apology to offer,” Ellen said. “I’m sorry I stormed off that night when I found out who you were. I mean, that you were Bobby. And I’m sorry I was so—well, so difficult that day on the beach, when you were sketching.”

  “You’re forgiven.”

  Ellen felt her eyes widen. “Just like that?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can tell that you mean it,” Rob said. “You’re sincerely sorry. It would be rude and childish of me not to accept your apology.”

  “Thank you. Um, do you remember if I put a snake in your bed that summer at camp?”

  “A snake?” Rob smiled. “Not that I remember.” He reached for her hand, but Ellen took a step away from him.

  “No, Rob, please,” she said. “That can’t . . . That can’t happen now.”

  Rob looked genuinely puzzled. “Why?”

  “Because—”

  Because, she thought, she was a mess and Rob was a nice, normal guy, someone with energy and talent and a good nature. He didn’t deserve to be saddled with a person who might once again try to destroy his art projects or cut up his clothing for reasons she couldn’t even name.

  “Just because,” she said lamely.

  “That’s all the explanation I get?”

  Ellen looked at her feet. “Yes,” she said. “It’s all that I can give. I’m sorry.”

  Rob sighed. “I guess I’ll have to accept it, but I don’t have to like it.”

  “You should know that I apologized to Cora, too.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  Rob shook his head. “Tell me what? Okay, to be honest I assumed that something might have happened between you since she hadn’t mentioned your name in a few days.”

  “And you didn’t tell her what had happened between you and me?”

  Rob shook his head again. “It’s our business.”

  “Well, you see, I kind of . . .” Ellen took a deep breath. “I told Cora that something had happened—I didn’t say what—and that I needed my space so I wouldn’t be seeing her for some time. And I asked her not to come to my house.”

  “Ouch. That’s not something Cora would understand.”

  “Yes. My mother pointed that out to me. Anyway, I turned away from her like I turned away from my friends back home. It’s a habit I have when things go wrong. I know it sounds ridiculous.”

  “Not ridiculous. Maybe not the best plan of action, but not ridiculous.”

  Ellen smiled. “Thanks. Anyway, I think I went a bit crazy. I was just so completely surprised by the things you said about me. I mean, about the seven-year-old me. And I couldn’t remember having done any of it. At least, I’m beginning to remember, but who knows how much of that summer will come back to me now.”

  “Maybe,” Rob suggested, “it’s better not to remember that summer too clearly.”

  Ellen didn’t know about that. “After all this time,” she said, “you’d think my unconscious would be tired of carrying around all that mess and just let it out.”

  “It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you,” Rob said gently. “When you were back home, it probably made sense to erase the past two months. And then, the erasure just became a habit. I believe it’s called a coping mechanism.”

  “I guess. But what else have I forgotten? At least I know for sure that I was the scourge of Camp Norridgewock!”

  “I’m sure there were worse kids than you in the camp’s history. After all, how much harm can one seven-year-old girl do?”

  “According to you,” Ellen said darkly, “an awful lot.”

  “Well, maybe I’m misremembering, you know, exaggerating how bad you were.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think so.” Ellen forced a small smile. “I should be going.”

  “Why? I mean, do you have somewhere else to be?”

  Did she? No.

  “You’re working,” she replied. “I interrupted you.”

  “I need a break. Stay for a while, please.”

  Ellen fought back tears. Why did Bobby—she meant Rob—have to be so nice? She had not misjudged him this summer. She had recognized him as a person of quality. “I can’t,” she said. “But thanks.”

  And before she could relent and fall into his arms, she turned and hurried out to her car. She did not look back at the house before driving away.

  CHAPTER 22

  Ellen neatened the stack of art books on the coffee table in the living room. The stack hadn’t needed to be straightened, but she had needed to do something, to keep occupied. Next, she dusted the mantel over the fireplace. Then, she reorganized the kitchen pantry and changed the sheets on the bed for the second time in as many days.

  But busy work only went so far in keeping the darker thoughts away. The fact was that Ellen had decided to move back to Boston within the month. Yes, she would lose a huge amount of money; the rent on the Ogunquit house was nonrefundable. But she felt that she had no choice. Until then, she could manage to hide from prying eyes, go into town only when absolutely necessary, shop at the Hannaford farther away in Wells, rather than the one in York. Until then, she could manage to virtually disappear.

  Of course, Cora would invite her to parties and events, but Ellen would politely and firmly decline. It could be done. It had to be done, and now Cora would understand, if not entirely approve. There was simply no way Ellen could stand being in the same room with Rob, pretending to make small talk with the likes of Mr. Green and Marion from the post office, while across the room Rob chatted with tall, willowy women who no doubt had never pulled a nasty prank in their lives.

  Yes, settling down in Ogunquit year-round was now out of the question. Rob Penn had gotten to her the way no one, certainly not Peter, had gotten to her ever before. She could never handle seeing him arrive at the start of every summer, a tall, willowy, dark-haired woman, or even a short, plump, blond-haired woman, on his arm. And what if he got married and had kids and rescued a big fluffy dog from a local shelter and she had to pass the happy Penn family in the street and run into them on the beach and bump into them at the grocery store?

  The very idea was unendurable.

  An intense scraping at the front door interrupted Ellen’s depressing thoughts. It was a sound she knew well by now. She would have to pay her landlords for the damage Clovis was inflicting on their home.

  This time, instead of heading straight for the kitchen, Clovis stalked into the living room, jumped up onto the couch, and glared at her until she took a seat next to him. Ellen was surprised and pleased. His purr was deafening, b
ut she was glad for the comfort of his proximity. She reached for her laptop and began to type out an e-mail message.

  Caroline—

  I should know by now that a friend is someone who doesn’t judge you when you make a mistake, even if it was a big one, like I made with Peter. I should know by now that a friend is not someone who says, “I told you so” when the man she warned you against hurts you.

  The fact is that my embarrassment is beginning to feel a lot like pride, and that can’t be good, can it? The wrong kind of pride, I mean. And it also feels a bit like cowardice. That’s not good, either. I think I have to learn not to run away from the ones who love me when bad things happen, but to let them help me in all of my weakness and despair. Then, when it’s my turn to help them, I’ll be ready, able, and willing!

  By the way, I’ve decided to come home at the end of the month rather than stay on through August. It would be wonderful if you could find some time to visit me here before then. The house is beautiful, there’s plenty of room, and I have so much to tell you—face-to-face. And you just have to meet Old Mrs. Compton and her sidekick!

  Many thanks, Caroline, and much love from your friend, Ellen.

  And then, she pressed Send.

  Clovis shifted his bulk so that he rested heavily against Ellen’s thigh. Carefully, she placed her hand on his back. “I’ll miss you,” Ellen whispered. Clovis sighed, stuck a claw in her leg, and went back to sleep.

  CHAPTER 23

  Ellen woke the next morning to a sky that was burdened with clouds, heavy, low clouds the deadly color of lead and dirty puddle water. The local news stations were predicting a storm of almost freakish intensity. Freakish was Ellen’s adjective. Gale force winds, accompanied by hail (hail!), rain, thunder, and lightning. If that wasn’t freakish—and frightening!—what was?

  Of course, it was a good thing that the rain was finally coming. The farmers would be happy, and maybe the water restrictions would be lifted. That would please the serious gardeners, too. But a storm of the power the meteorologists were predicting could also be a very bad thing. Mother Nature had a tendency to make up for months of her absence and neglect, but she could do it in a perversely nasty fashion.