Summer Shadows

by Killarney Traynor

  That little condo had been her first piece of real estate. It was on a private drive, with quiet, respectful neighbors, and only ten minutes from her place of work. Her former place of work. It belonged to another era, an era that had ended, and there was no point in crying about it.

  “Go for it,” she said. “Keep me informed.”

  “Awesome. I’ll get the bank on the line. Want me to call you back when I’ve got their okay?”

  “Sure. Please.”

  “No problem, bye, now.”

  Julia ended the call and looked at the clock. 1:24 p.m. - the kids would be home around 5. She had time to get cleaned up and do some chores around the house.

  She looked around the spotlessly clean kitchen and grimaced. Of course, Ron wouldn’t have left without making sure everything was done. Julia may have been named guardian of the three Budd children, but it was Ron who really ran things. He was the silent watchman, the one who never seemed to say anything but everything got done, thanks to his influence. He was, without a doubt, the most mature, adult, responsible person Julia knew, and he was only eleven.

  She remembered a conversation she had with Amanda a week or two before the accident. Amanda called asking to borrow a set of DVDs from Julia’s collection, explaining that she and Tim were going north and were hoping to get caught up on the series. Of course, it was no big deal and Julia, to be polite, asked for details about the trip.

  “We’re going to Stratton Mountain for a little marriage rejuvenation,” said Amanda. “Just Tim and me and no kids. They have a special Valentine’s Day package. It’ll be so romantic.”

  “Where will the kids be staying?” Julia asked.

  “Oh, Ginny’s coming over to stay with them.”

  “Ginny Rossetti? The party queen?”

  “She was available. It’s only for a few days.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “All she has to do is be present. Ron takes care of everything while we’re away. In some ways, he’s a better parent than Tim or me.”

  Julia didn’t join in on the laughter. “That’s a lot of responsibility for an eleven year old,” she said.

  “Trust me,” her sister answered, “he can handle it. And if anything happens, we’re only a phone call away.”

  That conversation was the first thing that Julia thought of when she received the call on the night of February 14th. She could vividly remember her mother’s incoherent sobs on the other end of the line and her father’s toneless explanation of the accident. The children were still at home, he said, but Ginny had gone to pieces. He and her mother were at the hospital. Would Julia go to the house to be with the kids?

  Of course she went. She bundled herself up against the cold, snowy winter night and made her way through the slippery streets. The drive took longer than the usual fifty minutes, with Julia fretting the whole way about the kids.

  Ron was frightfully calm when he answered the door. When she asked how he was doing, he replied only that he was fine, and the kettle was on if she wanted something hot to drink.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, as an afterthought.

  The house was noisy and sad. Miriam and Walter Budd were already there, comforting the sobbing Dana and the frightened Jack. Ginny had gone home. Ron had mugs with instant coffee in them, and the kettle was whistling, ready to be poured. In a stoic tone, he explained that his mother didn’t like him to handle the kettle and would Julia pour?

  What she remembered most about that night were the tears of Mr. and Mrs. Budd as they stroked Dana’s hair and held Jack. She’d never seen them so emotional, or so protective: they wouldn’t let her near the children.

  She and Ron sat off on the sidelines, watching. Julia felt useless and uncomfortable, as well as sad, but there was no room for her grief here. Ron seemed to feel the same. The expression on his face never changed.

  When the hysterics seemed to be growing worse rather than calming, she got up and went to stand in front of Mr. and Mrs. Budd. They looked up at her, resentful.

  “It’s getting late. The children need baths and to go to bed,” Julia said kindly but firmly. “Let me take them.”

  The grandparents were reluctant to let go. As Julia moved in scoop up Jack, Ron slipped between her and them. He took the two children and led them upstairs like it was the most natural thing to do. The three adults were left to themselves.

  After a moment of strained silence, Mrs. Budd turned to Julia. “Why are you here?”

  Julia drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter.

  Of the three children, Ron worried her the most. He never cried, never lost his temper, never laughed, and never seemed to relax. In fact, the only emotional expression that she could remember was when the lawyer, Steven Hall, had the three children in his office, explaining that Julia was their mother’s choice of guardian.

  Julia was surprised and flattered when she’d learned about the guardianship. For Amanda to have put only Julia’s name on the will spoke volumes of what she felt about her younger sister. The responsibility was not one she took lightly, and it never occurred to her that she could pass it on to anyone else. She was insulted when the Budds suggested it.

  At the lawyer’s office where the will was read, the Budds had been outraged that the children had not been left to them. They didn’t like the idea of their grandchildren being entrusted to an unmarried aunt on the Lamontaigne side.

  Mrs. Budd made a snide remark about Julia’s salary and her condo. Tim’s sister followed this with a snarky question about how Ryan, Julia’s boyfriend at the time, would react to this news. But the look of surprise, doubt, and worry from her own parents was the worst to bear.

  When the children were informed about her guardianship, Julia watched anxiously for their reactions. She nearly came undone when Ron’s face fell, and his veneer of smooth control disappeared. He looked at Julia with anxiety and doubt.

  Whom he had expected for their guardian, he never said. Dana said later that they had thought one of the grandparents would get them, but she was glad it was Julia, because their grandparents sometimes smelled funny.

  Ron’s disappointment nearly ruined Julia’s confidence. She would have signed the papers transferring guardianship right there and then, if Jack hadn’t jumped out of his seat and run over to throw his arms around her legs. For the rest of the meeting, he didn’t leave her. He kept his little blond head on her shoulder, his arms and legs wrapped around her tight, as though he were afraid that she’d go driving off into the night and disappear, too.

  Then Dana, who looked the most like Amanda, came over and gave her a hug.

  “Are we going to move into your house?” she asked, after looking anxiously at her brother.

  “It’s too small, Dana,” Ron put in. “We’ll stay in our house.”

  Dana frowned. “Then where will Aunt Julia sleep?”

  “We’ll figure that out later,” Julia said soothingly. “Right now, we’ve got a few other things to take care of, okay?”

  Dana nodded and sat down again. She hadn’t smiled, but she hadn’t flinched either. She looked back at Julia with a quizzical expression in her wide blue eyes. Julia smiled at her, and the little girl breathed deeply and her shoulders relaxed.

  But when Julia looked at Ron, his face was smooth and calm again, and he even gave her a little nod. She knew what that meant: he didn’t know if she could measure up. The weight of the responsibility, his gaze seemed to say, remained on his slender shoulders.

  “Poor kid,” Julia muttered.

  The sound of her own voice, echoing in the empty kitchen, startled her out of her reverie. She remembered, with a renewed sense of failure, that she had been fired. Julia Frances Lamontaigne was thirty years old, jobless, and single. There was no unemployment money coming, because she’d worked for a non-profit. She had three kids that needed food, shoes, clothes,
education, and medical care. There was a house with a mortgage, a weakening roof, taxes due, a huge credit card bill, and a car in need of a tune-up. She had her savings, some money still coming to her from the insurance, and whatever was left after Sherri took her cut from the sale of the condo.

  Perhaps Miriam Budd had been right. Maybe it was too much for her to bear.

  If she couldn’t handle the relatively simple things like bills and finances, how on earth could she ever have thought that she could handle the bigger things? She had three young children in her care. They were still grieving and, in spite of all her tender, respectful care, she wasn’t reaching any of them. Ron was as distant as he was the day his mother died, silently going through the motions of living, and never even once talking to Julia about anything more pressing than tomorrow’s lunch plans. Dana was an emotional wreck who never made it through a day without a breakdown, and Jack still wouldn’t sleep by himself.

  Maybe everyone had been right. Maybe she couldn’t do the job. Maybe she should give up, hand the kids over, and…

  She stopped herself. Just the thought of giving up the kids felt like she was ripping her heart in two. But keeping them for her own sake was selfish, no matter how much she wanted to honor her sister’s memory and wishes. She had to do what was right for them, regardless of what it did to her.

  Amanda wanted the kids with her. She left a letter to Julia, explaining what she wanted.

  I can’t imagine anyone better to care for them, including Mom and Dad, she had written. When I suggested it to Timothy, he agreed: you and no one else. I hope you never have to read this, Julia, but if you do, know that I leave them to your care with gratitude and confidence. I love you, little sister.

  Julia began to sob, breathless and ragged, like she had when Amanda died.

  2

  When her sobs subsided and the tidal wave of pain ebbed, Julia whispered a spontaneous prayer: Please, please help me.

  She didn’t really expect an answer, but when she looked up, she caught sight of a framed picture in the hall in front of her. There it was: the answer, just as she had requested.

  Actually, she thought it was more of a first step. Julia rubbed her eyes and stared at the picture, taking a step forward to look at it more closely. It was Amanda and Timothy, in the first year of their marriage. He had taken their picture by holding the camera at arm’s length from their faces, and it was a nice shot, displaying their youth, vitality, and happiness.

  But it was the building behind them that caught Julia’s eye. An older building, two stories, possibly built in the 1920s or 1930s. There wasn’t much of it visible behind the couple; however, it was enough to start a chain reaction of thought.

  It brought to mind something that Julia had forgotten, something that Steven Hall, the lawyer, told her when they were settling the estate.

  “The Springfield house is mortgaged,” he told her. “Your sister took out a twenty-five year mortgage on it about five years ago and…”

  He talked on, but Julia was caught by the phrase “the Springfield house”. At the first break in his monologue, she asked, “Is there another house? I thought they only had one.”

  He looked surprised. “Oh, no. There’s also the Franklin property.”

  “Franklin? Where’s that?”

  He shuffled some papers while he answered. “In Franklin, that is, in New Hampshire, a little north of Concord.”

  “The capitol?”

  “Right. I have the paperwork right here…”

  “When did they buy that?”

  “About ten years ago. The place was a bank foreclosure, I think. In any case, they bought it for a song and I believe it’s completely paid off… Aha! Here we go.” Steven opened the file and scanned it quickly before nodding with satisfaction. “Yes, they paid it off two years ago.”

  Julia was puzzled. “But, what did they use it for?”

  “They rented it out,” he said, still examining the pictures. “I think they wanted to make a summer cottage out of it eventually, but they never got around to it. It’s not very big, just three bedrooms and the basics, fully furnished. It needs minor repair and the caretaker tells me that it could do with a makeover.”

  Julia grimaced at the idea of this added expense. “Is it still rented?”

  Steven Hall conferred with his papers again. “No. It’s been locked up since September. Franklin is not exactly a thriving community, and renters were only interested during the summer. It’s near Webster Pond, you see.”

  “Ah.”

  “It might be worth your while to make the repairs and do over the place. As it is close to the capitol, you may be able to sell it to someone who works there.”

  “Does anything have to be done immediately with it?”

  “Oh, no. The caretaker there is paid monthly out of this office, and she looks after things pretty well. I’ll send her your information in case anything comes up.”

  “Thank you.”

  The subject was dropped. Then, while dealing with the challenges of moving out of her condo and into her sister’s house, adjusting to sudden family life, and making the myriad of decisions that came with the new responsibilities, Julia forgot all about it.

  She took up her purse and keys again, and went upstairs in a pensive mood. In her room, she changed into a robe, turned on the bath, and sat on the edge of the tub while it filled. She selected a soft, fragrant soap and poured in a generous amount, but she had difficulty shaking the Franklin house from her mind.

  All at once, she made a decision. She stopped the water and went back into the bedroom.

  Amanda, in an uncharacteristically old-fashioned whim, had installed a land-line telephone on the nightstand, right next to where Julia’s cell phone was charging. Julia sat on the bed, located Sherri’s number, and dialed it into the landline. She pulled her hair free of its bun and swung her feet as she waited through the rings.

  Sherri sounded puzzled when she answered.

  “Hi, Sherri. It’s me, Julia, again,” said Julia.

  “Hi, Julia!” She sounded as though she was talking through a mouthful. She coughed and then said, “Sorry, I was confused for a moment. My ID said you were calling from home.”

  “That’s where I am.”

  “Oh, nice! Day off?”

  “Not exactly.” Suddenly, Julia felt the urge to share the news with someone. She spoke quickly, “Actually, I was let go today.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. It was a surprise.”

  “Oh goodness! Oh, I am so sorry.”

  “Thank you…”

  “Well, I guess this condo thing came through just in time then.”

  “You said it.”

  “I’m working with the bank now. I haven’t got exact figures for you yet, but everything is going really smooth. We’ll be able to close quickly.”

  Julia twisted the phone cord around her finger. “Awesome.”

  “But how about you? What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but something will come up. Actually, I’m calling you for another matter. Have I ever mentioned my sister’s place in Franklin?”

  “New Hampshire?”

  Julia could hear Sherri’s fingers already pounding away at her keyboard and grinned. Sherri was the consummate realtor who lived for the next commission.

  “Yes. It’s a rental place, not very big. I think it was on…”

  “134 Whipple Lane?”

  Julia was impressed. “Yes. So I did mention it.”

  Sherri’s tone was less than enthusiastic. “You did several months ago and told me that you might be interested in selling. I did some research on the place. I know a realtor in the area and got him to do the leg work for me.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine. His name is Char
lie Jean, if you know anyone who needs a realtor in that area. Anyway, he went up there to have a look at the place about a month ago. The caretaker wasn’t around to let him in, so he just peeked in the windows and looked around the outside. He says that, structurally, it’s pretty sound, except for a few shingles missing from the roof. He couldn’t tell about the heat, or the pipes, naturally, but it looked like everything was pretty well packed up. It needs a lot of cosmetic work, though.”

  Julia was impressed. “You are amazing, Sherri.”

  “Well, don’t congratulate me yet. The market up there is dead. Nothing’s moving. Charlie says he hasn’t sold a house in Franklin in a year and a half, and he has all the better properties to sell. Your house isn’t on a bad street, but it’s small, run down, and old looking. Families want newer houses and bigger neighborhoods. They can’t afford fix-me-ups. I’m sorry, Julia.”

  Julia sighed. So much for her big revelation and the sudden source of income. Now all she had was a crumbling, crummy old house, eating up her savings in tax dollars.

  Wonderful. She ran her hand through her hair again and willed herself not to cry.

  Sherri must have felt sorry for her, because she said, “Look, maybe if you did the place over, fixed the roof, and made the place look gorgeous, we’d have a shot at it. People who work in Concord don’t want to live there, and I’m sure between Charlie and me, we could swing something. But getting a handyman and decorator in there will be expensive, and I can’t guarantee that you’ll earn it back in the sale.”

  Julia heard Sherri typing as she spoke, but the wheels in Julia’s head were turning.

  Cosmetic work…

  “But, look…” said Sherri, in the tone she always used when proposing something that Julia might find objectionable. “If you are looking to rid yourself of one of your properties, I have a proposition for you.”

  “Oh?” Julia couldn’t hide the wariness in her tone. She knew what was coming and braced herself. “What is it?”

  “I’ve gotten a lot of calls lately for people looking for homes where you are now. I know this is a stretch, but I could get you a real nice deal for your Springfield house if you’d be willing to put it up for sale. Springfield’s become a hot spot in the market – I could sell this house, get you into a smaller one a few towns over, and leave you with a considerable sum in the bank.”