Cold Summer

by Gwen Cole

  Uncle Jasper starts talking about a car that will drop by today. I’m not sure which one of us he’s talking to, but it doesn’t seem to matter. We listen to him ramble, catching each other’s eye from across the table at odd moments.

  I could sit here all day and be happy. But life likes to plays games with me.

  Uncle Jasper suddenly stops talking and looks down the hallway toward the door. “I think someone’s here,” he says, standing up and finishing off his coffee in one swallow. He glances at us, still seated at the table. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he deadpans.

  “We thought you liked answering the door,” I tell him, smiling pleasantly.

  “Don’t be a smartass.”

  Once he’s out the front door, I push my plate away. I can smell her from here—fresh, clean laundry and the deodorant she uses. “I’m sorry about last night,” I say. “Really. I wish I could take it back.”

  “You wish you could take back kissing me?” she asks, smiling a little. “Am I really that bad?”

  I resist rolling my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know, and it’s okay.” Her eyes are sad again, the same way they looked last night. “I probably would have done the same thing. Did you tell your dad about—”

  “No. I don’t want him to worry.” I’m thinking about it again. It waits there, in the back of my mind. My thoughts. Something that cannot be ignored. I hear myself say, “I don’t think I can do this much longer.”

  “Do what?”

  I stare at the table, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

  The countdown within me is flashing double zeros. Flashing and flashing. Telling me it’s time. Telling me I can’t stall any longer.

  “I can’t hold it back,” I say.

  “Kale—” But the phone rings, cutting her off.

  It rings and rings but she stares at me. I can see it again—the look she gets when she’s afraid I’m going to disappear.

  “Are you going to get that?” I ask.

  She hesitates and says, “Just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  Harper walks away without waiting for an answer.

  For which I’m glad, because I can’t make promises.

  38.

  Harper

  The moment I answer the phone, I wish I hadn’t, because the moment I hear Mom’s voice, I realize how much I miss her. Then I hate that I miss her.

  “Harper,” she says.

  I can’t seem to get enough air. It’s all around me, so why is it so hard to breathe? I almost hang up, but then my heart betrays me.

  “Mom.”

  She lets out a breath of relief. “It’s so good to hear your voice again,” she says. “Listen, Harper … I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few weeks and I realize I made a huge, huge mistake. I should have never left without you. I miss you too much.”

  Her words hang in the air.

  After so long of wishing she would change—be the person, and the mom, she was supposed to be and never was—I don’t feel happy like I imagined I would be. I don’t feel relieved or at all hopeful or even like we have another chance making ourselves a family again. That point has come and gone.

  “Now?” I ask. “After all this time, you’re now realizing this?”

  I can tell she’s taken back by this but recovers quickly. “I’m sorry. I just needed time to—”

  “—time?” I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. Every night I cried myself to sleep, brewing anger toward her I’ve never fully felt. Now it’s all coming up at once. “You’ve had years … so why now? Why am I so important all of the sudden?”

  “I’ve made a mistake,” she says. “I didn’t get to realize that until after you were gone. I miss you. Please, Harper. Please try to understand that. I should’ve never let you go. I know I haven’t been the best mom in the past,” she says, her voice cracking, “but I’m asking you to give me another try. I promise it’ll be different this time. I can move back and we can find a new home. Whatever it takes.”

  No matter how angry I am at her, hearing the sincerity in her voice—imagining her sitting in some room by herself with a messy ponytail and dark bags under her eyes—I can’t hold onto it. It only makes me sad.

  “How can you promise that?” I ask, because deep down I really want her to.

  Then she says, “It’s all I have.”

  I feel myself splitting apart. It took me months to realize I had to let her go to get on with my life. I did because I had no choice. I couldn’t hold onto the past and continue on with the future at the same time. I couldn’t have both, and I never would’ve done that without Uncle Jasper and Kale.

  In the end, after everything I’ve gone through to get to this point, I know my answer.

  “I can’t, Mom.” A lump in my throat threatens to keep down my words. “It’s too late for that.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks.

  If Mom had told me this months ago, maybe my answer would’ve been different. It’s easy to forgive when it still hurts. We forgive in hopes it’ll take the pain away. But my pain healed over time and I got over it.

  “Don’t you understand?” I ask. “It’s too late for that. If you would have told me this a couple months ago, it would have been different. But there are times to give second chances and times to move on.” I say that last part thinking of Kale and his dad. It saddens me thinking Mom and I won’t get that chance. “And it’s too late for us. I’m not saying this is good-bye, but I can’t go back to the life I had. You have to understand that.”

  “So you aren’t even going to think about this?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this since I got here.”

  There’s a long moment of silence, and I would do anything to know what she’s thinking.

  “Look,” I start, “I’m just saying I think I’ll be better off here right now.” I pause, needing to say more but scared to. “You hurt me when you left. We can’t make things right between us, but we can start over. This isn’t forever.”

  “And that’s more than I deserve. Will you consider visiting for Christmas?” she asks, hopeful.

  “Of course I will.”

  I can see Uncle Jasper though the screen door, talking to another man near his truck. Now that I’m here, I couldn’t imagine leaving. This is more of a home than I’ve ever known.

  “I’ve got to go, Mom, but I’ll keep my phone on me if you want to give me a call sometime.”

  “I would like that.”

  We say good-bye and hang up, and I don’t know what to make of the conversation. Half of me wishes she never called, and the other half is glad she finally admitted fault.

  I go back into the kitchen—about to tell Kale we should go out for lunch—but he isn’t there. The words stick in my mouth, and I’m left staring at his empty chair.

  “Kale?”

  There’s no answer, and I spin around and am out the door before I can catch my breath. Uncle Jasper stops mid-sentence, turning around.

  “Have you seen Kale?” I ask.

  “I thought he was inside,” he says.

  I can only shake my head and back away into the house, not wanting to believe what’s happening. I shove my feet into my shoes and run out the back door, hoping to catch him before it’s too late, if it isn’t already.

  Movement catches my eye across the yard and I stop short. Kale is sitting on the old swing under the tree, staring at the ground.

  When I swear, he looks up. “What?”

  “I thought you left.” I walk the remaining distance, but Kale stands and gestures for me to stay where I am. The sunlight hasn’t reached over the trees yet, leaving him in the shadows.

  “I haven’t yet, but I’m about to. So you can’t be near me.” His voice shakes, and then he asks. “I need you to tell me what date you saw.”

  I swallow and say, “January eighth.”

  Kale looks away and his mouth silently moves as he counts, hand fidgeting in front of him. “J
anuary eighth,” he murmurs, “Okay. That gives me maybe two more travels before then.”

  “Or maybe more,” I say suddenly, my mind going through possibilities.

  Kale stops. “What?”

  “I want you to try coming back earlier. And not back to that old house—I want you to come back here.”

  He’s already shaking his head. “Harper, I don’t think—”

  “Stop.” I walk up to him, keeping only a foot of distance between us. “I don’t want to hear about how you’ve tried and how you can’t control it. I think that’s bullshit and I think you can control it. You just have to learn how.”

  “It’s not going to change anything.”

  “You don’t know—it could. I’m here now, and you know what that means—I don’t give up. And I’m never going to give up on you.”

  Kale leans in for a kiss and pulls away too soon. He looks across the yard and nods. “I’ll try, okay? I can’t make any promises. I have to go.”

  He steps back and then he’s gone. It’s like I blinked and he wasn’t ever here to begin with. Too fast to be real.

  “You remind me of your Aunt Holly,” Uncle Jasper says behind me.

  “How’s that?” I stare at the spot where Kale was standing seconds ago, wondering if I’m giving us false hope for trying. But having hope is better than having none at all. It’s not over until it’s over.

  Uncle Jasper says, “You never give up.”

  39.

  Kale

  When I’m in the past, it’s like I’m actually living in that time. I don’t think much about the present because I’m not there. It doesn’t stare me in the face like the past is. It’s hard to explain. It’s like both are real life. Equally mine but separate.

  My helmet is heavy on my head and my legs are tired, grounding me to this time.

  We’re walking today, trying to find a new place to hold our ground. It’s quiet with just the sounds of boots hitting the ground and sighs of cigarettes. No tanks or jeeps because we’re too deep in the woods with little more than rough paths for roads. A squad scouts ahead for mines or any signs of the Germans. Everyone is on high alert; they could come from any direction at any time.

  I still question why I was placed on the front lines. Was it dumb luck, or did the past put me in front of that officer on purpose—to make sure I made it here? Am I even doing them any good? So many questions with no answers.

  Perkins walks beside me smoking a cigarette since he doesn’t have to worry about Germans when he has no gun. I routinely scan the woods. Hoping we won’t come across anyone today. There’s not much snow on the ground, but it’s cold. I’m able to ignore how my jacket isn’t warm enough when we’re walking. Stiles found me a pair of gloves—I didn’t ask him from where and I don’t want to know—and I cut out holes for my trigger fingers.

  So today isn’t so bad.

  Not until we come to a crossroads where the road bends out of sight. Our scouts went both directions, but their tracks double back and continue on straight. We walk on silently, and when I’m passing over the other road, a horse suddenly gallops into sight. Everyone freezes, including the German on his horse. Then he turns it around and kicks it forward.

  I hear Captain Price shout, “Jackson!”

  I have my gun up and into my shoulder before his voice is done echoing through the forest. My finger pulling the trigger right before the man is out of sight. His body jerks and then falls off the saddle. The horse startles but stays nearby, its eyes wide with the smell of blood. Price motions for a couple of us to go with him, including me and Perkins. We jog down the road, scanning the forest for more surprises.

  When we come to the body, Perkins rolls him over and checks his pulse even though we already know he’s dead. His eyes stare at the sky and an exit wound punctures his chest. Private Woods checks the man for any documents and only comes up with a little black journal. I don’t look away fast enough and manage to see a picture of his family.

  I step away and watch the woods, pretending nothing is wrong.

  Someone leads the horse away

  Price says between me, “Alright, let’s get back.”

  I trail behind them and join up with the rest of the division, like nothing happened at all. I’m lying to myself, but it’s better not to think about it right now. I will later, when I’m in my foxhole and alone. There, nobody can see my hands shake.

  “You good?” I turn to see Perkins walking next to me again.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  But I’m not and he knows it, too.

  I don’t leave early, but somehow—and still don’t know how—I’m able to come back outside of Uncle Jasper’s house. I was sitting against a tree, on watch for another two hours, when the pull became so strong, I couldn’t ignore it.

  No … I didn’t want to ignore it.

  The day before, I tried to trigger it. Thinking of summer and Harper and everything about home. I got close once, I think. It’s hard to tell. I was thinking about Uncle Jasper’s kitchen, the way it always smells like toast or sometimes frozen pizza. Of how warm his house always is whenever I’m cold.

  I felt it then. But someone shouted my name and I couldn’t hold onto it.

  So three days passed, and now I’m standing in the field next to Uncle Jasper’s house. My skin is still cold from the winter, and I’m hungry from the rations they lowered. They’ve been having trouble getting supplies to us through the forest with no roads.

  It’s evening now, and I can hear the baseball game coming through the open window. I can’t wait to see his face when I walk in the front door. My legs are a bit numb, but they warm up as I walk.

  I still can’t believe I did it.

  For the first time in forever, I came back to a different place. A place of my choosing.

  I don’t bother knocking—I just open the front door and walk in. Uncle Jasper looks at me twice before his eyes go wide and he comes to give me a hug. “Harper!”

  Her feet are fast coming down the stairs, and I turn to pull her into my chest. She’s so warm and smells like home, and I finally realize how I came to be here. Because I wanted to be here, more than anything.

  “You really did it,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “Where did you come back?”

  “Just right outside in the field.” I still don’t believe it. Then my stomach growls and Uncle Jasper puts a hand on my shoulder. “How do you feel about pizza?”

  I take a shower upstairs to get rid of the dirt and cold, still thinking about what I did and wondering if I can do it again. This small crack in the door might be the beginning of me learning control. It’s hard to have hope when I know what’s to come, but at least it’s something to work on.

  When I come back downstairs, Miles is sitting next to Harper at the table, talking to Uncle Jasper.

  Not expecting him here, I stop in the doorway. “Miles.”

  His face lights up when he sees me. “Kale.” Miles comes around the table and throws his arms around me, but then pulls away saying, “Harper told me what happened.” And that’s when I remember. I’m supposed to die. I feel my smile fade away. Miles continues, “You know I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what.”

  “Right now, I could use some food.”

  “You’re in luck; I brought the goods.” He gestures to the table where an open box of pizza sits, and I take my place across from Harper. The chair is hard and familiar—making this place feel like the home I know it is. I know it’s the love I have for it that made it possible for me to come back here.

  And I think I can do it again.

  They try to hold conversation while I eat, but Uncle Jasper glances at me every now and then, worry in his eyes and stress in his shoulders. When I’m finally done eating, they all sit silent, waiting for me.

  I say, “What do you want to know?” I settle my gaze on Harper because she’s biting her lip and she only does that when she wants to say something.

  “I want to know how you
did it. Maybe if we figure it out, you’ll know how to do it again.”

  “I think I can do it again … but really, is there a point? Unless the report of my death is drastically wrong, I don’t think I’ll be coming back at all.”

  Harper is already shaking her head. “But you can. Whatever happens, you’ll be able to leave and come back, maybe even earlier than usual. And if you come back here, maybe we can help you.”

  Uncle Jasper chimes in. “It’s the only chance we have. You must understand that.” He puts a heavy hand on my arm and I almost can’t look at him. “Don’t give up on us yet.”

  I won’t break down in front them. But I feel it coming. I want to say maybe it’s easier to give up. I want to say it but I don’t. That’s not who I am.

  So I tell him, “I’m not.”

  “Good. So tell us what happened.”

  “I tried to leave after two days, but I got distracted. I felt like I was close,” I shake my head, trying to remember exactly what I felt, “but I’m not sure.”

  “Do you remember what it felt like?” Harper asks. “What you were thinking of?”

  “I was thinking about this house, actually. How it always smells like toast—“

  She says, “You were thinking of details. That must be what triggers it. What about that time in the grocery store?”

  Uncle Jasper looks at me, “What happened at the grocery store?”

  “It was the cold from the freezer section,” I tell him. “But that was more of a panic attack than anything.”

  “But you still had the pull to leave,” Harper says. “What came to mind?”

  “The snow … the sounds.”

  “Details.” Harper smiles and nods. “That’s what it is. You have to hone in on the details and you’ll be able to do it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “Because I can’t promise anything at this point.”

  Miles is still silent next to me, my ever constant support when I need him. Uncle Jasper is trying not to look hopeful but it’s all he has left. And Harper is more optimistic than all of us put together.