Summer Shadows

by Killarney Traynor

  Julia sighed. “Sherri…”

  “I know there’s an emotional attachment and that it’s always difficult to downsize, but you need money and you have that huge mortgage attached to that house. Add all the upkeep and the taxes and the yard, not to mention all the bills that kids run up these days, and economically speaking, moving into a smaller, more manageable place would be the wisest thing to do.”

  “Thank you, but this is their home, Sherri. I can’t just uproot them. There are too many memories here and they’re still so fragile.”

  “Sometimes the best thing for grief is a change of scenery. When my mother died, I was a mess. I was crying every day and eating chocolate like it was going out of style. I wouldn’t go out or anything.” She sighed, then continued, “Finally, my husband had it. He booked a vacation in Bermuda, without asking me, and we went away for two weeks. By the time I came back, I was a new woman, ready to face the world again. I’m telling you, it worked wonders.”

  “I’ve just been fired, Sherri. I have four mouths to feed and three young, growing bodies to clothe. I can’t afford a Bermuda vacation.”

  “Not in that house. It’s a money pit for you, Julia, and the only way to fix it is to get out of there and into something more practical. I actually have several properties in the neighboring areas that you could have for a song. Let me pull some up here – some are bank foreclosures, but most are ready to be moved into on a moment’s notice. Let’s see… Three bedroom, small ranch…”

  She rambled on and Julia let her talk without hearing what she was saying.

  She looked around the master bedroom. Amanda’s room. Her sister was in every nook and cranny, in the color scheme, the decorations, and the arrangements. Julia hadn’t been any more thrilled at the idea of moving into that room than the children had been, but it was the only bedroom available.

  She recalled the day she moved in, the three children standing in the doorway, watching her with big eyes as she invaded their mother’s sanctuary. Ron eventually ushered them away, despite Julia’s invitation for them to keep her company. The subject was never again brought up, but their silence was telling enough.

  Sherri was still talking, and her voice was starting to annoy Julia. She rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily, but the other woman was in full sales pitch and showed no signs of slowing down.

  “…is completely tight and the basement shows no signs of flooding,” she was saying, “The school district has a good reputation, and the tax bracket is one of the lowest in the area. I can arrange a viewing if you are interested…?”

  It took a few moments for Julia to realize that she was waiting for an answer.

  “I’m sorry, Sherri,” she said, “but it’s just a little too soon for me to be considering a move. I just got let go today, and I don’t want to go through all the expense and the upheaval of a move, just to have to move again if I find a job in, say, Boston.”

  “I totally understand. There’s no pressure, I just wanted to let you know that you do have options. Springfield is considered a great place to move to, so you can always get rid of the house whenever you want.”

  “Thank you,” Julia mumbled. She heard a phone ring in the background.

  “Oops, that’s my other line. It’s probably the bank. You’ll have to sign some paperwork and stuff, but that will be easier now, I guess, since you don’t have to take time off from work.”

  “Yes…”

  “I’d really better answer that. Bye!”

  Julia put the phone down and stayed where she was on the edge of the bed, staring at the chocolate brown and raspberry trim walls.

  “Raspberry, Amanda?” she’d said, when first given the tour several years ago.

  Amanda had laughed. “Taryn told me how she’d re-done her and Brian’s room in lavender and pink and all I could think was, ‘that poor man! Talk about emasculation!’ So I asked Tim what his favorite manly color was, and he said brown. I thought, ‘Perfect!’ Brown and pink go so well together, so now we have a room that’s a perfect compromise – manly and womanly and stronger because of it. What do you think?”

  The memory faded, leaving Julia alone in the cold room with the echoes of the question.

  “I think it’s like living in a mausoleum, Amanda,” she said. The sound of her own echoing voice startled her, but her growing frustration made her continue. “I can’t breathe here and the kids can’t grow. What am I going to do with them, Amanda? You left them in my care, which is fine, great and all, but now what?”

  Her words were swallowed up in the empty room. Amanda was not there with her usual bright answer. Julia found her hand on her phone, with a half-formed idea to call her parents, but she stopped herself.

  They were in Florida full-time now, looking after her maternal grandmother, Jean. The move had been in the works ever since last June, when Jean was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. Her mother didn’t want to leave Jean to face the disease by herself, so they put their Massachusetts house up for sale and prepared to move into their winter place for good. Half of their furniture was already in Florida when the accident happened, and by then, the house in Massachusetts had an offer. In the wake of the tragedy, they considered giving up their plans, but Julia wouldn’t hear of it. Besides the fact that Jean needed support and was too fragile to be moved back north, Julia knew intuitively that she and the kids needed some space. They had to do this on their own. Her parents never quite understood that and felt a little left out. But they honored her decision, and carried on with the move.

  She couldn’t call them, not yet. This was her problem, not theirs.

  She took her hand off the phone and went into the bathroom.

  A few minutes later she was in the tub, listening to the classical music station playing a Bach concerto, blissfully losing herself in a swirl of warm water and fragrant suds. One thing she was grateful for was Amanda’s expensive tastes. Although paying for it all was a headache, she enjoyed the luxuries of driving the Audi, the exquisite furnishings, and relaxing in the hot jet streams of a Jacuzzi.

  Julia let the music and the water take away her cares and thought of nothing but violins and soft grassy meadows.

  Then a commercial came on for a summer camp for the offspring of the rich and bored. She was reminded of an incident a few weeks earlier, when she was going over the bills and budgeting the summer.

  Jack had been drawing pictures in the high chair next to her. Dana and Ron were doing their homework. It had been a quiet night, and if it hadn’t been for the bills and the depressing state of her finances, Julia would have been feeling very much at peace. But she had come to a conclusion from her research, and she could no longer put off telling the kids.

  She cleared her throat, and Dana and Ron looked up expectantly. Jack was oblivious, and busily decorating his tray with the washable marker.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” said Julia hesitantly. “I have some… disappointing news.”

  Dana shot Ron a look of dismay, but Ron never took his eyes off of his aunt.

  “I’ve been going over the books and, well, I’m afraid…” She shook her head and gestured toward her ledger sheets. “There’s just not enough for summer camps this year. I’m so sorry.”

  She expected tears and outrage. It was a Budd tradition that the children each got to go to a special camp each summer, with the younger ones going to day camp. This would have been Dana’s third year at a summer art camp in a place that Julia had never heard of for an astronomical sum that she could not justify. It was what their parents had done, and so Julia wanted to do the same, only she couldn’t. Going over the past several years of her sister’s bookkeeping, she couldn’t figure out how they managed it, even on two salaries.

  “We can’t go?” Dana asked.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she said, with another wave at the checkbook. “We just don’t have the money this year.”
She added, “Except, Ron - your mom paid for yours back in January, so you can still go, if you’d like. Um… Well, the rest of us will just have to have a great time here on our own, that’s all.”

  She was flushing now. It felt terribly awkward.

  Dana looked at Ron as though for instructions. Ron said, in his implacable way, “We’re in trouble?”

  “No, no,” Julia said, hastily. “No, we’re doing fine, as long as we stay within our means, and, for this year, camps are out of our means. But I’m going to start putting away money now, so that next year you can all go. I am sorry, guys.”

  Ron appeared thoughtful and Dana looked hesitant. Jack took his red marker and drew a line on Julia’s sleeve.

  “Can you get a refund?” asked Ron.

  “Sorry?”

  “My camp deposit. Can you get a refund?”

  “Well, um, yes, but…”

  He nodded and returned to his homework as though the matter was settled. “Cool. Then we can put it towards next year’s camps.” He looked up at her again and said firmly, “For all of us.”

  Julia felt chastised. She thought she ought to say something, insist that Ron go in honor of Amanda’s wishes, but she couldn’t. The matter was closed. Ron had diplomatically turned a tragedy into a triumph of self-sacrifice. His gesture had cleared his sister’s face of all disappointment and jealousy.

  He went back to his homework, and indicated that Dana should do the same.

  Dana said, in a happier tone, “We can start collecting money for them. I could sell lemonade like last year. I’ll bet we make pots of money!”

  Jack added a purple stripe to Julia’s red one, as she wondered how she was going to manage to keep happy and busy three active young children for two and a half months.

  As Julia sat in the tub, listening to the snap of the suds, she thought that at least now she didn’t have to worry about working a full-time job at the same time. Until the money ran out, she had all the time in the world.

  She sighed and drew her head underneath the bath water with a quick jerk. Under, she couldn’t see and all she could hear were the jets. She let the water caress her face, felt her hair flow freely about her ears, and her shoulders relaxed. At last, the air in her lungs gave out and she had to surface.

  The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a bunch of dusty pink silk roses in a brown vase on the shelf over the tub, a display she never would have picked herself, and a blunt reminder that this wasn’t her tub. Someone else had picked out the colors, bought the equipment, installed it, tested it, and enjoyed it. It was something that Julia wouldn’t have bought, partly because she couldn’t afford it, and partly because, until recently, she hadn’t been a bath person. That had been Amanda’s favorite way to relax…

  Suddenly, Julia couldn’t get out of the tub fast enough. She nearly slipped on the cool tiles as she scrambled for her robe, gritting her teeth as she shut down the jets and let the water drain. She hurriedly left the bathroom, and found herself standing in front of the full length mirror.

  She had never been fond of full length mirrors. She had found them to be much more honest than flattering, and she avoided them whenever possible, but increasingly, in the past few months, she found herself standing in front of the mirror. It had become her one confidante and she needed one now.

  She scowled at the image of the soft, curvy figure in front of her.

  She said, “I can’t stand this house. It’s closing in on me – we can’t breathe here, we can’t grow here, and we can’t forget here. Every time I turn around, I expect to run into Amanda or Tim. The kids can’t move on. I can’t move on. I can’t even run the household without thinking first if what I’m doing is what Amanda would do. And if I find that it isn’t exactly what she would want, I change it until I’m so tied up in confusion that I can’t do anything. I can’t break free and I can’t go on like this!”

  She stopped and took a deep breath. She took in her reflection, her tousled hair and weary, sad eyes. Then she realized how very much her eyes looked like Ron’s. The shape, the color, the unwavering gaze, the spacing, and even the lashes were alike. It was the first time she’d ever thought of there being a physical resemblance between her and the children.

  This realization pleased her. It did more than that: it steeled her.

  “These are my children now,” she said, very calmly. “They are my responsibility and no one else has a claim to them. There’s me. Just me. Only me.”

  It was terrifying, but freeing. Although this wasn’t the first time she’d said these words to herself, it was the first time that she actually believed them.

  “So, if I decide that something is in their best interests, I have the right to carry it out, even if others disagree. Even if the kids disagree.”

  She nodded and smiled weakly at her reflection.

  With a shuddering sigh, Julia turned and looked around the room again. The ghosts of Tim and Amanda hung heavily in here. She could feel them pressing in on her again, clouding her judgment. She grew unsure – her resolve was slipping.

  She turned back to the mirror.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” she announced. “Or… or just tear everything out of this house and start all over.”

  She stopped and thought for a second. Yes, she could do that. She had done extensive work in her condo when she first bought it, and she grew up helping her father with his part-time handy man work. She knew how to paint, remodel, and fix. The cost would be much more manageable if she did the work herself, and she could get the kids to help her, too. It would be a great summer project, a good way to keep her busy in between interviews. The family would grow closer together, the kids wouldn’t be bored, and she could redo the entire house, room by room, until it wasn’t…

  Then she thought of Ron’s face, Dana’s fragility, and Jack’s bewilderment. It was bad enough that she couldn’t send them to camp like their mom would have done and that she stole their mother’s room. Now she has to tear down every last trace of her world.

  No, not this house. Not yet.

  “Then we can’t stay here,” Julia declared. “Amanda, I can’t stay here all summer with nothing for us to do but mourn. Look at your son – he hasn’t laughed or smiled since you died. He can’t even act like a kid any more. We need something to do, something to build together, or a new place for the four of us to explore.”

  Franklin.

  She’d never been there. In fact, she’d only been to New Hampshire twice, both during the skiing season. And, according to what the lawyer told her, the kids had never been there either. It was new territory – completely new for all of them.

  Just like that, she had a plan. It was perfect. A little New England town to explore. A month, maybe two, where it would just be them, working on the renovations to make the place sellable. She could work off all her anxieties through the demolition and rebuilding. Ron could help, or he could ride his bike and just be a little boy for a few weeks. Dana and she could get closer by cooking the meals and such. Jack would be able to play outside in the yard, because of course there’d be a yard – it was New Hampshire, after all.

  She still had some savings, and if she didn’t get work right away, they could make it for a few months without resorting to peanut butter sandwiches. They were due another payment on the insurance, and there was that guy across the street who had offered her a nice sum for the Audi. With all that, the savings, and some ingenuity, they would have enough for the repair supplies, too.

  Brilliant.

  There was a lake, so they could all go swimming. They could attend the fireworks in Concord or even just in town, if they had them. They could get ice cream cones and drive up to Maine for a day on the coast. They could walk the country lanes or go to the state capitol and hang out in the museums. They could, for once, just act like a real family, not like a broken one.
>
  The kids wouldn’t like it. Not one bit, not at first. But the more Julia thought of it, the more she became convinced that it was not only what she ought to do, but the only thing she could do.

  She dressed quickly. There was much to do in a short space of time. She wanted to have all the information at her fingertips when the kids got home, before Ron could come up with an argument.

  The first person she called was Sherri.

  “Hey, Sherri? Listen, do you have a phone number for the caretaker at my place in Franklin?”

  If she hadn’t been so excited, she might have noticed that it was the first time that she had referred to any of these properties as her own.

  3

  The old rattle trap of a bus pulled away from the curb, leaving the taste of exhaust in Ron Budd’s mouth. He stood on the sidewalk with his backpack in one hand and a trumpet case at his feet, glad the day was over. It had been a long day of studying, social pressure, and extra band practice in preparation for the graduation ceremony that was one week away.

  Ron was always the first one home, and the one responsible for unlocking the house and turning off the alarm. The kids, as he referred to them, would arrive at 5:15, and Aunt Julia at six. It was 5:00 now, so he was surprised to see his aunt talking with their neighbor, John Kehoe.

  She stood with her arms folded, watching Kehoe run his big hands all over the engine of the Audi. Kehoe shot rapid-fire questions, typical of a used car dealer, and Aunt Julia answered in what Ron thought was an eager sort of way.

  Julia caught sight of him and waved, so he gave her a brief wave back.

  Ron shook his head, wondering why she wasn’t at work. He hated when the schedule was disrupted and he wasn’t informed ahead of time; besides, he didn’t like John Kehoe very much. He was a greasy, dirty-minded man who made Ron feel uncomfortable.