Chapter Four 

 

 

I wake the next morning with a grin plastered across my face.  I haven’t been able to stop smiling since Kingsley dropped me off yesterday evening.  We kissed for a solid thirty minutes in the front seat of his SUV.  It was difficult to drag myself away from him. 

We made plans to spend the entire day together and I can’t wait. 

With a squeal of excitement, I toss back the covers and hop out of bed.  Even though Kingsley won’t be here until ten, there’s no way I’ll be able to fall back to sleep again.  If this were a Disney movie, birds would chirp on my windowsill and I’d be holding giddy convos with mice about what I’m going to wear on my date.  Since that’s not the case, I dig through my suitcase to find a pink-striped bikini before changing.  Then I throw on a coverup and float down to the kitchen to grab breakfast. 

As if I could eat a bite... 

I stumble to a halt at the sight that greets me.  Mom is racing around, stuffing everything we brought with us for the week into bags.  Dad is on the phone in the adjoining family room, pacing back and forth in front of the windows. 

“Mom?”  My gaze darts between them as a sinking sensation fills my belly.  “What’s going on?” 

This is not normal parental behavior.  Yesterday, I came down to them sitting on the weathered deck, staring at the waves as they rolled toward shore, sipping their coffee, and looking less stressed than they had in a long time.  It was nice to see.  This kind of manic behavior resembles the crazy mornings in Chicago with Mom attempting to hustle us out the door so we aren’t late for school and she can make her eight o’clock morning meeting on time. 

Another bad sign—her face is pale and drawn.  The lines on her forehead are more pronounced than yesterday. 

Mom doesn’t spare me a glance as she gathers up clothes, shoes, and books.  “Your grandmother died this morning.” 

“Grandma Rose?”  My face scrunches as the question falls from my lips.  Considering that my mother’s parents died years ago, it’s the only viable option. 

“Yes.” 

My gaze slides to my father before bouncing back to her. 

This will sound terrible, but we don’t have a relationship with Grandma Rose.  She and my father had a falling out years ago before my brother and I were born, so she’s never been a part of our lives.  I’ve seen her a handful of times and honestly, from what I remember, she was kind of scary. 

I wait for a bolt of grief to strike me, but it never materializes.  Death, no matter who it happens to, is sad.  But even so, that doesn’t explain what she’s doing.  “Why are you packing everything up?” 

Mom straightens before swinging around to face me.  “Because we have to leave.”  She glances at the clock on the microwave before huffing out a breath.  “We need to be on the road in thirty minutes.”  There’s a pause and I can almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she mentally ticks off the tasks that need to be accomplished before we go.  “Can you do me a favor and make sure your brother is awake?  You both need to get packed up and then bring your bags down so your father can load them into the car.” 

“Leave?  But why?  We didn’t even know Grandma Rose.” 

Shitty as it may sound, the words pop from my mouth before I can swallow them back down.  Doesn’t Mom understand that I met the most amazing guy yesterday and am nowhere near ready to say goodbye? 

Her brows jerk together as she blinks in surprise.  “Because your grandmother died, Summer, and now your father needs to plan a funeral.”  Her fingers flutter to her temples as she carefully massages the sides of her head before sucking in a breath, holding it for a heartbeat and then releasing it.  “I realize you were looking forward to spending time at the beach and I’m sorry our vacation will be cut short but there’s nothing we can do about it.  We have to go back.”  

I bite my lip, hating myself for sounding like such a selfish brat.  That’s not who I am.  Well, not normally.  Before she can say anything more, I blurt, “It’s all right, Mom.  I’ll make sure Austin gets out of bed and packed up.” 

“Thanks, sweetie.”  She throws a grateful smile over her shoulder as she moves into the family room. 

All the giddiness pounding through me moments ago seems like a distant memory as I trudge up the staircase and knock on my brother’s bedroom door.  “Aus?” 

Nothing. 

Ever since arriving on Saturday, Austin hasn’t been crawling out of bed until ten o’clock, at the earliest.  Back home, he’s up with the sun before leaving for practice.  My brother lives for football.  It’s his drug of choice.  He’s been playing on the high school varsity team since he was a freshman.  It’s probably the only reason he’s excited about school starting in September. 

Unlike me, academics have never come easy to Austin.  He was diagnosed with dyslexia at the end of third grade.  By the time it was caught, it was too late, and he’d already come to hate school.  If he didn’t have football to keep him in line, the guy would probably have major truancy issues.  As his twin, I’ve always been there to help him, doing my best to smooth over issues with teachers and make his academic life more tolerable. 

When thirty seconds slide by without so much as a rustle of sheets from inside the room, I knock again and raise my voice.  When he fails to respond for a second time, I suck in a breath, squeeze my eyes tight, and fling open the door.  I send up a quick prayer that he hasn’t slept in the buff.  We might be twins, but I’m not looking to inflict any mental scars on myself. 

Once in the darkened room, I take my chances and crack open an eye. 

Phew.  Totally covered. 

“Austin,” I whisper-yell, “wake up!” 

He grumbles and rolls over so that his back is to me.  With an aggravated sigh, I step further into the room and give his shoulder a good shake. 

“Stop it,” he mumbles.  “Can’t you see I’m sleeping?” 

“Yeah, I know, but you need to get up.” 

“Why?”  The word comes out sounding more like an unintelligible grunt. 

Knowing that Austin feels the same way I do about our grandmother, I don’t bother sugarcoating the situation.  “Grandma Rose kicked the bucket.” 

“Who?”  Some of his grogginess falls away.  He sounds genuinely perplexed, which only reconfirms that Dad’s mother wasn’t the kindly old granny she should have been to us. 

“You know, the woman who birthed our father?”  I pause before adding, “I guess she died this morning and now we need to head back to Chicago.”  At least, I assume that’s where we’re going.  We packed for the beach, not a funeral.  I have nothing appropriate to wear.  None of us do.  A mental image of us showing up at the gravesite in full-on swimwear is enough to make me snort. 

“The really mean one?” he asks, as the picture in my head dissolves. 

Exactly.  “Yup, that’s her.” 

“Ugh.”  He flops onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes to shield them from the nonexistent sun that should be pouring in through the windows.  This place is like a cave with room darkening curtains.  “That sucks.” 

I don’t bother to clarify if he’s talking about Grandma Rose’s death or the fact that he needs to haul ass out of bed at this ungodly hour.  If I were a betting woman, I’d go with the hour of the day. 

Now that my work is done here, I head for the door.  “Mom wants you up and packed so we can leave in thirty.” 

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he gripes. 

“I wish I were,” I murmur sympathetically. 

“Fuck me.” 

My sentiments exactly. 

“Language,” I joke in my best Mom voice. 

When he grumbles, I walk out of his bedroom and into my own.  Thankfully, I never unpacked my clothing.  I’ve been living out of my suitcase, so everything is still neatly folded inside. 

I glance at the black clock on the wicker nightstand next to the queen-sized bed.  Maybe if I pack quickly enough, there will be time to stop at Kingsley’s place and say goodbye.  We never exchanged numbers.  The thought of leaving without a way to contact him makes my heart clench. 

I don’t know if he wants to stay in touch or if this was nothing more than a way to pass time.  Contemplating the issue, I grab the dirty clothes from the floor and stuff them inside the bag.  Then I head to the bathroom and clear all the makeup and hair products from the counter. 

“We’re leaving in fifteen,” Mom calls from the bottom of the staircase. 

I haul my suitcase out to the hallway and pause outside Austin’s bedroom.  Since he’s crashing around inside, swearing like a sailor, I assume he’s out of bed and packing up his stuff.  Decision made, I drag my bag down the steps and park it by the front door where there’s a pile of luggage.  Dad huffs and puffs as he jogs up the front porch stairs to grab more stuff. 

“I’m sorry to hear about grandma,” I say before stepping closer and wrapping my arms around him. 

“Thanks, Summer.”  Somberness fills his voice.  “I appreciate it.” 

That’s all it takes for Grandma Rose’s death to hit me and become real.  It’s not that I’ve lost a grandmother or someone I was close to, but more that my father has suffered the loss of his mother.  They had their issues, but now both of his parents are gone.  If he’d been holding out any hope that they might one day put the past behind them and reconcile, the possibility has been snuffed out with her passing.  And for that, I’m sorry.  Whatever state their relationship was left in is how it will now remain. 

Before I can offer any more condolences, he changes the subject.  “Is your brother up?” 

“Yup, he’s packing.” 

“Good.  We need to get moving.”  Even though the day has only begun, he blows out a breath as if already exhausted.  “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us.” 

“Do I have time to run over to my friend’s house and say goodbye?” 

“Ummm.”  He glances at the sports watch adorning his left wrist.  “Sure, just be quick about it, all right?” 

A smile of relief curves my lips as I press a kiss to his cheek.  “Thanks, Dad.  I will!” 

With that, I race out the door and down the porch stairs before hitting the gravel driveway.  Then I head north, jogging along the side of the road.  Only now am I wishing that I’d paid more attention to where his house was located.  If memory serves me correctly, it was a gray two-story with white trim.  Hopefully, I’ll recognize the place when I see it. 

If not, I’m screwed. 

Even though it’s early, and the temperature is in the low eighties, a fine sweat breaks out across my forehead and gathers at the back of my cotton shirt.  It feels like I’ve been running for half a mile.  Did I somehow miss it? 

Time is running out.  My parents have enough on their plates without me delaying our departure.  My feet slow to a stop and I’m about to turn around when the gray behemoth comes into view.  Nerves explode in the pit of my belly as I haul ass up the brick drive.  Parked near the front door is Kingsley’s silver Range Rover. 

This is definitely the right place. 

I pound up the front porch stairs and peek through the beveled glass door.  Nothing stirs from inside.  Sucking in a breath, I rap my knuckles tentatively against the glass and wait.  As the seconds tick by, my nerves stretch taut and I hop from one foot to the other.  When there isn’t a response, I knock a little louder. 

My efforts are met with more silence. 

I chew my lower lip before huffing out a breath.  One more time and then I have to take off.  There’s nothing more I can do.  Maybe this fledgling relationship with Kingsley wasn’t meant to be anything more than a couple of amazing hours spent together in the sun. 

When I knock again, the sound reverberates loudly and I wince.  The last thing I want to do is wake up his parents. 

Movement from inside catches my eye.  As the person grows closer, I realize it isn’t Kingsley.  I’ll apologize profusely and hopefully they’ll understand the situation.  The door swings open and an older, dour looking woman glares at me from the other side of the threshold. 

“Hello,” I say anxiously, “I’m so—” 

“Can I help you?” she asks, cutting me off with a clipped tone.    

Maybe it’s better to get right to the point.  “Yes, ma’am, I’m looking for Kingsley.” 

“He’s still asleep.”  Her sharp gaze rakes over me.  Only now do I realize that I’m a sweaty hot mess.  “You’ll have to return later.”  She tacks on with a grumble, “Or preferably not at all.” 

“Oh, I—” 

“Look, young lady,” she snaps, “it’s early, and the household is still asleep.  You need to vacate the premises before I’m forced to call the police.” 

“Call the police?” I echo in disbelief, eyes popping wide.  “What for?  I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“You’re trespassing and refuse to leave.”  The woman folds her arms across her chest as she stands in her robe. 

“But I’m not trespassing,” I say with frustration.  “I’m friends with Kingsley.” 

A skeptical look flickers across her face.   

“I am,” I gulp.  Obviously, this was a terrible idea.  I shouldn’t have come. 

With her lips pressed into a tight line, she glares until I shift awkwardly beneath the scrutiny.  Unsure what else to do, I point to the road beyond the driveway.  “I’m going to leave.” 

“Excellent idea,” she grunts before slamming the door in my face. 

Birds chirp from the trees that surround the property as I stare at the glass door in shock. 

What am I supposed to do now? 

My cell phone rings, breaking into the whirl of my chaotic thoughts.  With shaking fingers, I pull the slim rectangle from the pocket of my shorts before sliding the green button across the screen. 

“Summer?”  There’s a pause.  “Where are you?” 

Dad.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut.  I’m out of time.  There’s nothing else I can do but leave. 

“I’m on my way home right now.  Sorry it took so long.” 

“All right,” he sighs.  “We’re all packed up and ready to go.  Just waiting on you.” 

“Be there in five.”  With that, I disconnect and slip the phone back into my pocket. 

Well, this sucks.  Then again, maybe it’s better this way.  No hurt feelings. 

What would have really happened between us? 

I guess the world will never know.