Summer Shadows

by Killarney Traynor

  “We’re going shopping?” moaned Dana, as they trooped down the stairs.

  “Just a quick hit, Dana. We have to get some spray for the ticks and some cleaning supplies for the house.” She opened the screen door, looking around. “And, if we manage to find a hardware store that’s open, we can pick up some paint chips. Start thinking about what colors you’d like– we can do whatever you want.”

  Julia was excited, but both Ron and Dana, who were trailing behind on the stairs, stopped in mid-step and looked at one another. Julia went out the door, but came back in when she noticed that they weren’t following.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  Ron noticed the circles under her eyes and hesitated, not wanting to irritate her. But he was unnerved by this decorating idea. Was it a scheme to get them to want to move up to Franklin permanently? This house was too small for them; and anyway, there weren’t too many jobs up here. Everyone said so. Besides, he didn’t want to leave his home – the very idea hurt. But how could he say any of that?

  Dana had fewer inhibitions than he did. She blurted it right out: “But we aren’t staying here.”

  Julia’s frown deepened. “Well, we are, actually.”

  Dana’s face fell. “We are?”

  “For the summer, Dana,” she said patiently. “We’re going to fix the place up to sell, remember?”

  Dana shot her brother a puzzled look. “So, we aren’t living here, right?”

  “No, of course not. What would make you think that our plans would change?” Then, to everyone’s relief, Julia caught on and shook her head. “Oh, for goodness sake. When I said you could pick the colors, it wasn’t because you would live in them for the rest of your lives. I just thought it would be fun for you to have a hand in it. We’re only staying here until the fifteenth of August, then we go back to Springfield to get ready for school. You have my word on it, okay?”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Julia,” Ron began, but she dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand.

  “Not a problem. But if we don’t get that van emptied soon, we won’t be able to get to the store before it closes, and that means we won’t have enough supplies to clean with. So let’s get a move on. Ron, you and Dana start unloading and put everything in the dining room for now. That seems to be the cleanest. Jack, you can stay in the kitchen and play with Yellow Teddy until you wake up all the way.”

  “I want to watch cartoons,” he said.

  Julia laughed, shifting her grasp on him. “So do I, pal, but let’s wait until we have the van unpacked.”

  6

  Julia had spotted a hardware store when they went through town earlier, so she knew exactly where they were going when she piled the kids back into the van. Looking at their drawn, tired faces, she felt guilty about dragging them back out on the road again, but she simply couldn’t let them sleep in the house as it was. Thanks to the profusion of tick-infested grass, sleeping outside in the tent was no longer a possibility.

  She jotted down a quick list of things to pick up at the store just to get started. As she buckled Jack in his seat, she thought of more items, but decided against adding to the list. She didn’t want to try the children’s patience any more than she had already had done.

  She buckled herself in and started the minivan. With more cheer in her voice than she felt, she said, “Well, we’re on our way.”

  Ron, silent again, nodded. Dana wore a wounded expression and kept her eyes focused out the window. Jack was busy eating animal crackers, and didn’t notice that she had said anything.

  Julia backed the car carefully out into the street, noting with some envy the tidy lawns of the pretty houses on either side. She reflected that soon enough, she’d have her house in equally good shape. She wished for a few more hands to help, but decided it was no use moaning about what could not be changed. They would have to do what they could with what they had.

  As they pulled away, Ron craned his neck to look back at the driveway, then turned to her with concern.

  “Shouldn’t we have locked up the bikes?” he asked.

  They had left the bicycles leaning against the side of the house with no chains or locks. Julia wanted to face-palm herself for overlooking them, but she also wanted to spare the boy worry.

  “Oh, no, they’ll be fine,” she said. “They’ll be safe for an hour or so. This is a nice, established neighborhood – the people here won’t be going around stealing unsecured bicycles.”

  “But I thought you said it was a rental community, and that everyone here was outsiders.”

  Julia decided that she’d have to reconsider her policy of full disclosure to the kids on all major subjects. A little mystery, she thought, was a good thing.

  “True, but not this street. Besides, this is a very safe town. I was talking with Mrs. O’Reilly about it. She said the police are overpaid for the amount of work that they have to do.”

  Ron thought about it, and silence settled over the van. Dana stopped listening in and looked out the window again. Julia relaxed, and was not prepared for Ron’s next statement:

  “I guess they need a larger police force here because of the prison.”

  Her foot slipped off of the pedal. “The – what?”

  “The prison. There’s one on the outskirts of town, near the state nursing home. I looked it up online before we left.”

  Julia did not like the sound of this at all. “There’s a state prison here in town?”

  “Yep.”

  She shook her head, mentally smacking herself again. “Yes, that would be a good reason to have a large police force in town. Is it a big prison?”

  He shrugged as Dana said, “Aunt Julia, are there criminals in town?”

  “Yes, but they’re locked up safe and secure, sweetheart.” Privately, she was thinking about door alarms, shotguns, and German shepherds. She had the first, but was now feeling a keen need for the latter two.

  She knew that any tension or nervousness on her part was sure to be picked up on by the kids, and that she had to hide her fear and stay alert without frightening them.

  Julia changed the subject. “Ron, when we get to the hardware store, why don’t you and Dana go over to the paint section and see what they have for decorating ideas and paint chips. We can bring some pamphlets home and discuss it over dinner.”

  “I want purple walls with orange around the edges,” Dana said brightly.

  Julia imagined the horrified expressions of potential home buyers as they saw the room. “Uh, that’s pretty strong coloring for a bedroom.”

  “Besides, the people who come to look at the house may not like it,” Ron added. He had a strange habit of picking up on her inner thoughts and verbalizing them. He twisted around in his seat to look at Dana. “We have to think about what they would want when they come looking.”

  Dana scowled. “But I like purple and orange.”

  “We can’t just do what we’d like, Dana,” said Ron. “We have to think about what people will want to buy.”

  “But…”

  “We can talk about this all tomorrow, guys,” Julia said firmly, hoping to cap what seemed like a rapidly-degenerating conversation. “We’re all tired from our trip, and we still have a lot to do. So we’re just going to pick up a few things, and then we’ll head back to the house. We’ll do a little cleaning, Ron will set up the TV, and we’ll have a relaxing night. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” Ron said. “Right, Dana?”

  Dana muttered something that sounded like she agreed, and then fell silent.

  Ron faced front, and the car became quiet again. Julia wondered whether that was a victory or a loss. She suspected that it was something in the middle.

  The downtown was also quiet. There was nothing to indicate that there were any vacationing families in the area, enjoying a warm Saturday afternoon, and Julia n
oted the abandoned appearance of the buildings and the sad old houses that seemed to slouch as they passed.

  The one exception was an ice cream shop, which was doing some good business. The lines stretched to nearly the end of its parking lot.

  Dana perked up. “Can we get some ice cream?”

  “We already had some,” Ron said wearily.

  “Please, Aunt Julia?”

  Julia eyed the line. “Not today, Dana. The line’s so long, I’m afraid we’ll miss the hardware store.”

  Irwin’s Hardware was a large place with a big front porch overrun with summer goods. Its sign was edged in green, lettered in orange, and under it, another sign proclaimed Summer Sale! in big red letters. The parking lot was nearly empty.

  Julia pulled up to the porch and stopped, peering through the gloom of the front porch, seeing a light from inside. It was 4:15, and the place was still open. She breathed a sigh of relief and thought, I don’t have to go looking for a motel tonight.

  “All right, everyone out,” she said.

  Ron beat her to getting Jack out of his seat. The little boy was rosy-cheeked and covered with animal cracker crumbs. Julia brushed him off and felt his forehead; he was very warm, almost too warm. She thought she might have to stop to get some ice cream after all.

  “Okay, little buddy,” she said. She swung him up onto her hip. Although small for his age, and being almost unfairly cute, he was getting heavy. She wondered if she was inhibiting his growth by carrying him so often; but he wrapped himself around her and fastened his arms around her neck with a panicked grip. She could almost hear his thoughts: “Don’t let go – don’t lose me!” and her own grip tightened instinctively.

  I won’t lose you, buddy. I’ve got you.

  Perhaps she was inhibiting him. But he was a little boy who’d lost his mother, and he was still healing. She couldn’t - and wouldn’t - rush him.

  “Let’s go get some supplies.”

  She hadn’t realized how hot she was until she opened the door and received a blast of cold air. The van’s AC was weak and probably in need of some repair, and there was none at the house yet. Jack squealed and buried his hot face in her neck. Julia was surprised by her rush of maternal affection.

  She grabbed one of the carriages by the door, plopped Jack into the seat, and looked around to get her bearings.

  It was a low-ceilinged, orderly place with an open layout and clearly marked aisles. At the far right was the paint aisle. At the far left was the checkout line where a teenaged girl sat reading a magazine. There were only two other people: a sales associate and the man he was talking to. Both were engrossed in their conversation and barely glanced at the newcomers.

  Julia turned to Ron and Dana, gesturing towards the paint counter.

  “You can go look at the paint samples and see if there’s anything you like,” she said quietly.

  Dana folded her arms. “But no purple and orange, right?”

  Julia gave her a stern look. “I said that we would decide on that tomorrow. Right now, you go and bring back chips of whatever colors you like, okay?”

  Dana nodded glumly, and Ron took her hand.

  “I think,” he said, “that maybe it would be quicker if we helped you instead, Aunt Julia.”

  “That’s very nice of you, Ron, but you will be helping me by getting me those samples.”

  Reluctantly, the two of them turned toward the paint and wallpaper. Julia shook her head in exasperation, and then reached into her purse. “All right, Jack. Ready for some speed shopping?”

  He nodded eagerly. “I like shopping.”

  “I know you do. You’re a boy after my own heart. You want to hold the list and the pen?”

  He did, and proceeded to doodle over the entire thing while she gathered the items on it. After filling the page, he started on his arms and then his legs. Julia noticed just in time to save his shorts from a similar fate.

  “Good heavens, Jack,” she said, snatching the pen from his hands. “You need a bath.”

  He looked hurt and his lips trembled with emotion. A meltdown was prevented only by the fortunate discovery of a lollipop in Julia’s purse. As he sucked on his pop, Julia examined what she could read of her list again and saw that only tick killer remained.

  She hesitantly fingered the plastic bottles of insecticide. Each listed ingredients, promises, and warnings. Some were organic, some boasted that they were as strong as the professional grade stuff, and suddenly Julia felt overwhelmed by the choices.

  Help arrived then, in the form of a sales associate whose nametag read John I.

  John was shorter than Julia by two inches, and most of the hair on his head had migrated to his exposed legs, but his smile was friendly and he knew just the right thing to say.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  “Oh, I hope so,” she said, gratefully. She explained the situation to him, and he knew exactly what she needed. He pulled out a jug of insecticide, gave her instructions on how to use it and how long to wait before she let the kids play in it, and then related his own experiences with a tick-infested lawn.

  “You should cut it first,” he said, as he walked with her to the checkout line. “Otherwise, you’ll be wasting a lot of insecticide.”

  “Oh, shoot,” Julia said, stopping short.

  Do we even have a working lawnmower?

  John was watching her with concern, so she said, “I don’t even know if I have a lawnmower at this point. We just moved in today and it didn’t occur to me to check.”

  “You just moved in today?”

  “Yes, we just came here for the summer, but you know, I always forget how much work is involved in getting from one place to the next.”

  “It’s a bigger hassle when you have so many kids,” John said. “If you’re really strapped for a lawnmower, though, I got a few older models that I could let you use. Or better, I know some people who do lawn care. I could give you their card, if you want.”

  Julia did some quick mental calculations, trying to remember what she had available in the check book, then surrendered to necessity and nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

  John went behind the counter, where the teenaged girl ignored him. Rustling about a drawer for a few minutes, he pulled out a business card that was a little crumpled around the edges and handed it to her. “It’s my son’s business, actually, but he’s a good hard worker and a few ticks won’t bother him. Whereabouts is your house?”

  “We’re on Whipple Lane,” Julia said. She read, John Irwin III, Handyman, Lawn and Garden Care.

  She looked up, surprised, “So, you’re John Irwin?”

  He smiled. “Yep, that’s me. John Irwin, Junior.”

  “This is your store, then?”

  He smiled again, seeming proud as he started up the cash register. “My dad started it back in the sixties, and my brother, Michael, and I took it over. Then Mike left for Vancouver and now there’s just me. So, whereabouts are you on Whipple Lane?”

  “I’m at the Budd’s house. It’s the one with the jungle for a front lawn.”

  Jack tried in vain to reach the candy display as Julia began to unload her cart. From somewhere, a bell rang, announcing a new customer in the shop.

  “The Budd house?” John shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know the Budds.”

  “I don’t think they ever stayed in the house. They just used it as a rental property. I didn’t know it even existed until a short time ago.”

  “We’ve got a few of those in town. A lot of people like to come up to Webster Lake in the summer.”

  “So I’ve heard. I was wondering, can you tell me anything about the neighborhood? Is it quiet?”

  “Oh, real quiet. A lot of longtime residents live there. Which end are you at?”

  “We’re at 134.”

  “134?”
He paused. “Oh, wait, the old Purcell place? You’re moving into the old Purcell place?”

  “If its 134, I am.”

  “Permanently?”

  “No, just for the summer. I’m cleaning the place up to hopefully sell in the fall.”

  “You are? Well, you’re in luck. That place is sound and sturdy. I’ll bet all it needs is a lick of paint and some cleaning.”

  “I sure hope so, but I am a little nervous with the children. So, it is a good neighborhood?” she asked again.

  “A good neighborhood?” He chuckled. “One second, ma’am.” He craned his neck, looking around the store, then raised his hands to his mouth and hollered, “Robert! Got someone here I want you to meet!”

  He smiled reassuringly at the startled Julia. “You know, I’ve always liked the old Purcell place – I might be placing a bid myself when you put it on the market. Franklin is a real nice place to spend the summer. There’s the lake, and the Fourth of July celebration, and Concord’s right down the street. We’re a real old fashioned community, and…”

  Julia handed him her credit card. Still talking, he slid it through with the ease of a practiced hand. She was astonished. She’d heard that New Hampshire natives were cold and standoffish and John Irwin Junior seemed to be going all-out to welcome them.

  He handed her the receipt and a chewed-up pen to sign it with, then nodded over her shoulder.

  “Ah, Robert,” he said. “Meet the new neighbor. This young lady and her little family just moved into the house right next door to you.”

  Julia looked up from the receipt and did a double-take. Robert was a tall, lanky man with dark, almost black hair and a boy-next-door face. He was carrying some supplies, including a box of nails and a new tape measure, and his stance reflected the easy familiarity of a frequent visitor. He gave her a friendly nod.

  But none of these particulars were what took Julia by surprise, or what filled her with a sense of relief. It was the fact that he was wearing a policeman’s uniform, complete with a heavy belt and a strapped-down automatic. She felt a gush of relief, almost affection. Her next-door neighbor was a cop? That was better than a shot-gun or a German shepherd any day.