The Summer of Lost Things

by Chantele Sedgwick

I’m going to focus on not dwelling on the past. I’m trying to be happier, even when my world seems to be falling apart.

  Things are better now. For all of us, I think.

  Mom and I are struggling a little. She’s been really overprotective because of things in her past. I don’t know if she’s told you about Susan, but I found out she was her best friend who died after high school graduation. She won’t talk about her. Won’t let me do anything because of her. I want her to trust me. To let me be me. I’m not sure how to make her see that I’m going to be okay.

  But I’ll keep trying, I guess.

  For you. For her. For myself. I’m excited to visit with you soon. Mom’s planning it. I hope it works out.

  I miss you.

  I don’t want to remember the last time I saw you. I want to lean toward the future and help you as you put your life back together.

  Sometimes we all have hard lessons to learn. Me especially.

  I love you, Dad. I don’t hate you. I hope you know that. And I hope you’re finding some peace.

  Lucy

  An empty envelope sits in my drawer. I pull it out and write his address on the front, stick my letter in, and lick the envelope before I change my mind.

  I’ll have to find a stamp in the morning, but at least I’ve done it.

  I wrote him back.

  Now to bring myself to actually mail it. After that, I can cross it off my list. I guess it’s not technically forgiving him, but it’s a start. And even though the list doesn’t matter, not really, I feel like a weight has lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t know it was there until now, holding me down, making me feel all that hate and anger.

  The list helped, even though I didn’t write it just for that. I wrote it to find myself again. To help me try new things and do hard things, even if they felt impossible.

  I set the letter on the desk next to Oakley’s wedding invitation.

  I run my fingers over both.

  I need to thank Oakley. For lots of things.

  I glance at the letter again, hoping it will start mending the broken bridge between Dad and me.

  Mom’s face pops into my head.

  It’s time to fix things with her, as well. I just have to figure out how. And when.

  In the meantime, I pull out my sketchbook and dust it off. It’s time to start drawing again. I’m allowed to move on and do what I love. As I flip through the pages, I find an empty one and pick up the pencil again, looking around the room for a subject.

  One of my favorite things.

  A book.

  The pencil glides back and forth over the page and I remember why I love drawing in the first place.

  It’s a good feeling, realizing you’ve found part of yourself again.

  CHAPTER 35

  “It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.”

  —Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

  Oakley and Carson wait for me by the door as I hurry downstairs to tell them goodbye. Carson surprises me and wraps me in a friendly hug.

  “It was so nice to meet you, Lucy,” he says. “I hope we’ll see you at the wedding.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  He smiles and puts his hand on the small of Oakley’s back, pushing her forward. She hugs me tight, tears flowing again.

  “It was so good to see you. It’s been so long.”

  “Thanks for coming. I needed it.”

  She smiles as she pulls away. “You’ll be okay?” Her hair’s in a long braid today and she has it pulled over her shoulder. Bright eyes, a smile on her face. It’s so good to see her smile.

  I sniff, knowing my eyes are still puffy from crying last night. “Yes. I’ll be okay.”

  She nods, hugs Mom, who has a million braids in her hair, courtesy of Oakley, and they say their goodbyes.

  “See you in about a month!” I yell as they get into a Jeep outside.

  Oakley waves and Carson opens the door for her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as she climbs in.

  “They’re adorable,” Mom says. “I totally would have dated him when I was her age.”

  “Ew, Mom. Don’t be gross.”

  She turns toward me, a look of innocence on her face. “What? He’s hot!”

  “Mom . . .” I groan. “He’s like half your age.”

  “I said I would have dated him when I was younger, Luce. Not now. Geez.” She rolls her eyes and we both laugh as we walk back inside.

  I start to go upstairs again and Mom stops me.

  “Wait,” she says. “I know we haven’t really been talking a lot the past week or so, and I know you’re struggling with something. Do you need to talk about it? I’m . . . I’m sorry I freaked that night. I’m just so overwhelmed and things just kind of put me over the edge.”

  “It’s fine, Mom. And I’m fine. I’ll figure it out.”

  She nods. “You’re sure? I’m always here, you know.”

  “I know.” I give her a smile and hurry upstairs. I’m still not sure how to fix things with her, and I know I need to talk to her about a lot, but I need to sit on it more. Think about what she needs from me. Say the right things.

  Right now, I need to apologize to my friends.

  My phone’s sitting on my bed. I reach for it and send a quick text to Mira. I know she may not come, but I need to talk to her. And if she still feels any kind of friendship toward me, she’ll be here.

  It’s time to apologize and fix things.

  And I’m scared out of my mind.

  I wait on the porch swing for an hour before Mira shows up. She didn’t drive, just walked, which is weird. She doesn’t look straight at me as she walks but finally meets my eyes when she’s almost to the porch.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as she walks up the steps.

  She shakes her head. “I’m not here for your fake apologies.” Her braids are up in a ponytail today and she looks just as beautiful as ever. If only it weren’t for the look on her face as she folds her arms, staring me down. She’s still furious with me and I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it. But I have to try.

  “It’s not fake. I’m really sorry. About everything. I’ve been thinking about what you said. That everyone has something they’re dealing with. We just don’t know it. I should have trusted you more. I should have told you the truth. And I feel awful about it and will apologize every single day of my life if it means we can be friends again.”

  She looks at me but doesn’t say anything.

  I stand and take a step closer to her. “I’m sorry about your mom. And your brother.”

  “She was a good person,” she says. “Her addiction didn’t define her. She didn’t mean to . . .” She trails off, wiping tears from her eyes. “She was a good mom. If she wouldn’t have been in so much pain . . .”

  “I know. I don’t doubt that she was the best mom ever. I know she was a good person by the way you talk about her. She sounds like the best.”

  She lets out a long, slow breath. “She was sick a lot. The doctors couldn’t really give her an answer about her pain or why she was sick so much. They said it was in her head . . .” Her voice breaks and she shakes her head. “When she died, my brother Aiden didn’t know how to cope. He’s the one who found her. She just never woke up. Then he started taking pills, too.” She sniffs and wipes a tear away. “I haven’t seen him in two years. Since he stole from my dad and me and he ran after dad called the police.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry anymore. You don’t have any idea . . .” She wipes another tear.

  I sigh. “I know I don’t.”

  She takes a shaky breath and turns to leave. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Wait,” I say, “please. Just hear me out.”

  She hesitates but stops and turns back around, still wiping away a few tears. After a moment, she takes another breath and folds her arms. “What do you need to say? I need to be som
ewhere so I don’t have a lot of time.”

  She won’t look at me.

  “Mira, I just wanted to apologize, for real. My dad is a good man. Was. Is.” I shake my head, trying to get my jumbled thoughts out. “He became addicted to using meth a few years ago and put our family through a lot. One night, he was driving while he was high and hit another car. The couple in the car, newlyweds, they both died and he went to prison for it.”

  Her mouth drops open just a fraction, but she closes it again.

  “I’ve been struggling since we came here to tell you all the truth. When the truth came out in Wyoming, I had friends who treated me different once my dad went to prison. A few parents wouldn’t let their kids hang out with me because they thought I was a bad influence. Not from anything I did, but from my dad’s actions.” I take a shaky breath as my eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t want that to happen here. I didn’t want you to react like that and think I was some convict’s kid who was eventually going to take after her dad. I was afraid of feeling ashamed of who I am. Where I come from and who my parents are. I don’t want to feel like that. I love my parents. Even my dad. Even with the stupid things he’s done. I just don’t want to be judged by his actions. That’s why I lied. I didn’t want to be treated differently or be an outcast because of it.” I wipe a few tears away. “I’m sorry.”

  She stands there a moment. Then, to my surprise, she closes the distance and wraps me in a hug.

  She’s crying and so am I.

  We’ve both had hard things happen. We’ve both had people judge us from mistakes our loved ones have made. I hope and pray we can move past this now and become close friends, and I know at that moment, I’ll never lie to her again.

  She steps back and wipes a few stray tears away. “Thank you. For telling me the truth. And for making me come here. I don’t want to lose your friendship.”

  “That’s why I needed to tell you everything.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  I reach out and squeeze her hand. “Can you tell me about your support group you go to? I think I might need something like that in my life.”

  Her eyes widen. “Of course.”

  “Do you think they’d let me come with you?”

  “Yes, I know they would. It’s been good for me to see other people going through the same thing I am. You can come with me next Tuesday.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’m sorry I freaked out at you. I was just so upset. You’re my friend. One of my best friends, actually. I just couldn’t wrap my head around why you’d lie about something so important like that.”

  “I know. And I deserved it. It never should have happened and it won’t happen again. I swear to you, it won’t. No more lies.”

  She nods. “I’ll hold you to that.” She glances at her phone. “I’ve got to get back home. My dad needs some help with the house today.”

  “Okay. Can I call you later?”

  She smiles. “Yes.” She starts walking away but stops. “Oh. There’s someone else you may want to talk to.”

  My heart quickens. “I know. Jack.”

  “Yeah. He’s . . .” She trails off. “He’s really broken up about it. You should go talk to him.”

  “Will he let me?”

  “He will. Don’t you know him? Even if he didn’t want to talk, he’d still let you. That boy is too nice.”

  “I know.”

  She walks back over and puts a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. He still has feelings for you. I know he does. And feelings don’t just go away in a week. I promise. He misses you. He’s been so mopey around the stables. His parents have even mentioned it. It’s been so annoying.”

  I chuckle at that, but my stomach tenses at the thought of talking to him. Partly because I know he’s mad, and partly because I can’t wait to see him again. I’ve missed him. “Do you know where he is?”

  She shrugs and gives me a look like duh. “Where else would he be?”

  CHAPTER 36

  “I have to remind myself to breathe—almost to remind my heart to beat!”

  —Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  Jack is in the stables, exactly where Mira said he’d be.

  He’s brushing down Sherlock in his stall and doesn’t turn when I approach, though I know he hears me.

  “Hey,” I say, clasping my hands together. I stop a few feet away, my whole body shaking from nerves. I’m not one for apologizing. Or contention. It takes a lot out of me and my stomach is in so many knots, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  “Jack,” I say, “I’m here because I want to apologize to you.” He stops brushing Sherlock but doesn’t face me yet. Just stands there, listening. That’s all I want him to do right now. “I never should have lied to you. To anyone. I was just so . . .” I gulp, tears pricking my eyes. “I was just so embarrassed. I didn’t think anyone would understand what it’s like to have an addict for a father. An addict who killed someone when he was high. Even though it was an accident, it still shouldn’t have happened. If he wouldn’t have been high, those people would still be alive and he’d be here and my life would be normal again.”

  But would it? Mom and I would still be up at night worrying if he’d be home or if the police would show up to tell us he was dead.

  Would it be normal?

  I know it wouldn’t.

  No one’s life is normal. Not really.

  “I was just afraid . . .” I trail off and look away, wiping a traitorous tear off my cheek.

  “Afraid of what?”

  His voice catches me off guard. I didn’t think he’d speak to me or even look at me. Not with how mad and hurt I’d seen him the last time we were together. But his dark eyes watch me now. Curious, angry, sympathetic even.

  He takes a step toward me and opens the stall door, stepping out of it and closing the door behind him. He’s in front of me now, his eyes searching mine. “Afraid of what, Lucy?”

  I gulp and take a shaky breath. It’s harder to speak now that he’s looking at me.

  “I was afraid I’d lose you. And Mira. What we have. Especially you.” I glance up at him. “Knowing I have a felon for a dad? What does that make me? A troublemaker, according to some of my old friends’ parents. They thought I would turn out just like him, so they forbid their kids to hang out with me. And I didn’t even do anything wrong.”

  “Does it matter now, though? You’re here. And I haven’t heard any rumors at all.”

  “People will talk when they find out. That’s what people do.”

  He folds his arms. “Then let them talk. You need to stop caring about what everyone else thinks and focus on what you think and believe. That’s all that matters. You. Your family. Your true friends. They are all that matter. Who cares what other people say? You know the truth and you know you’ll be okay no matter what they think.”

  “How do I think that way, though? I’ve tried! I was so afraid to tell you the truth because I thought you and Mira would think the same things. My new friends finding out my dad is in prison? What would you have thought if I came out and said that?”

  He reaches out, slow but certain, and links my fingers through his. “Do you love your dad?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, not even skipping a beat.

  “Even with all the crappy things he’s put you through? I assume your life has been hard, with what I know.”

  I close my eyes. Tears stream down my cheeks as awful memories flood back in. Staying up late, worrying for days whether or not he was alive. Hearing him and Mom fight. Knowing my life was so screwed up because of him. “Yes. I still love him. Even with everything he’s done.”

  He takes me by the shoulders, gentle but firm, and looks me straight in the eye. “Then that’s all that matters. And if you would have told me that in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

  He’s silent for a moment as I gather my thoughts. “How can you forgive me? I’m so sorry I lied to you about it. I shouldn’t have, bu
t I was so afraid of losing everyone. And I lost you anyway.”

  “You haven’t lost me.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face and wipes at my tears. “You apologized. And I understand, now, why you lied. That would be hard. And I forgive you for it. But you have to understand something: every family has issues. No one is perfect. And when you have friends who care about you? Learn to trust them. Because Mira cares. And . . .” he gulps, “I care. Too much, I think.”

  He pulls me toward him and into a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist, tears falling. He kisses the top of my head. “You’re going to be okay.”

  I feel safe in his arms. “I know.”

  “And you can talk to me about anything, alright? No more lies.”

  “No more lies. Can we start over?” I ask as I pull away slightly. His arms still linger around my waist and I don’t move. “I feel so stupid.”

  “I don’t want to start over, but I do want to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.”

  “This is real,” I say. “The stuff about my dad wasn’t. That’s it. Everything else was me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, everything else was me. The good and the bad. And the embarrassing, unfortunately.”

  He chuckles. “I look forward to more embarrassing moments.”

  “I don’t.” I smile. “But I’ll look forward to them anyway.”

  He brushes another strand of hair away from my face. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  He leans down and kisses me, and I swear to myself that I’ll never ever lie to him again.

  CHAPTER 37

  “She made herself stronger by fighting with the wind.”

  —Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

  Jack comes over the next day, and I’m so grateful I told him the truth. I can’t imagine not having him as a friend. Or more. He means too much to me to lie to him again. Or anyone else, for that matter. I won’t lie again. Ever.

  “So, what’s next on your list?” he asks as we rock slowly on the porch swing.

  “What’s next on yours?” I ask, challenging him. “Or did you even really make a list?”