“Well, I guess you learn something new every day, right? You should know that, being a college-bound graduate.”
I bite back my response, because Cousin Jimmy opens the cab door, hauling his middle-aged, out-of-shape body behind the wheel. The tight space instantly fills with the smell of grease, sweat, and salty sea muck, and I hang my head out the window. He cranks the truck and warm summer air fills the cab, making it worse.
“I’ll admit, Julia, I never thought I’d see you here again. After you wrote all those books, I thought you’d be living in a big house or in New York City or something.”
My mother laughs while I snort and I feel her bony elbow in my rib. “I could never leave the South, you know that. I stayed in Nashville, but I thought I’d take the summer off to work on my next novel and spend some time with Summer.”
Jimmy gives me a long look from across the cab. “You’re the spitting image of your mother at her age, you know that? She was all legs and arms and wild as the rest of us.”
I look into the side mirror and try to reconcile his words. Her blonde hair is darker than mine and shorter, but our eyes and nose are the same. I have my father’s chin and lanky build. At least that’s what the pictures tell me. I squash the jealousy over missing the genes that carried my mother’s tiny body, hands, and feet.
“You get in as much trouble as she did?” he asks. I shoot my mom a questioning look.
“Jimmy,” my mother warns, with a wink. “Those files are sealed.”
“Ha!” he laughs. “Good one. How come you didn’t tell anyone you were coming?”
“I thought we would settle in first and then have the family reunion.”
I stare out the window, bewildered by the exchange. I knew we had family floating around, but like me, my mother is an only child and the mysterious cousins of her youth seemed like a tall tale. I wondered if she really did plan on seeing them while we were here, or if she only contacted Jimmy because she needed him. That certainly wouldn’t have been out of character.
I sigh and breathe in the salty air. Like mother, like daughter, the tangled webs we weave.
As much asJimmy came as a surprise, he turns out to be a godsend. Not only does he tow us into the Ocean Beach Family Campground, but he hooks us up to water and electricity, which I see as a bonus, since the other option is my mother flirtingwith some campground manager/resident to do it for us. Julia Barnes, in her mid-fifties, is a looker, but she doesn’t need to work it so we can have the camper sewer drain hooked up.
“Thanks, honey,” my mother says to Jimmy. Her southern accent has increased ever since we crossed the state line.
He wipes his hands on his coveralls. “Car should be working okay, too. Bring it by the shop, though, so I can double-check the battery.”
“I will.”
“You should call Sugar,” he says, hopefully. “She would love to hear from you.”
I note her tight smile when he says this, but she still replies sweetly, “I will. Once I get settled.”
Sugar?
“Who the heck is Sugar?” I ask the minute he leaves. We’re standing outside the trailer on our little patch of ‘Summer Heaven’, as my mother calls it. We have a waterfront slot, lined up next to dozens of other campers and trailers. Some, I notice, have been here for a while, judging by the front porch and trellis additions. The one next door has an entire garden of rose bushes. I try not to look longingly across the inland waterway at the island beach houses and condos.
An adventure. That’s what we wanted and that’s what we’d get.
“Sugar is Jimmy’s sister,” Mom says. “We were inseparable as kids.”
My mother has a weird look on her face and is clearly caught up in a memory of her cousin. I can’t tell if this makes her happy or sad. Wistful may be the right word. I don’t have time to ask, since our arrival has brought a trickle of curious residents to our little corner of the Family Campground. At least four or five people wander around, checking on plants or investigating theexterior of their trailers. All I want to do is unpack the back of the SUV and find the beach.
“Can we go inside for a minute?” I ask, hoping we can get away before the onslaught of neighbors begins.
She follows me in and I let the door close behind me with a sharp bang, effectively shutting the nosy neighbors out. We’re now in the tiny living area of our camper. It’s…tight. “What’s really going on here? Why this campground? And this beach? Is there even a book? Did you plan on seeing all these relatives?”
My mother appears offended. “Of course, there’s a book! And this beach is where I spent a majority of my childhood. Mama and Daddy sent me down here from Tennessee each summer to spend time with my grandparents. I have wonderful memories of being here and thought it may be a nice place to relax. I know I didn’t tell you all of that but it’s not like I knew you were planning on making this trip with me.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling ashamed. My tagging along had been a last-minute decision.
She points her finger at me. “Don’t you dare suggest I’m the one hiding something, Summer.”
I had that one coming, since I suddenly decided to come on this trip and not go with my friends to France as planned. In an abrupt turn-around I quit my job, packed my bag, and declared I was not boarding that plane on July 1st.
She waits for me to reply, giving me a chance to confess why I’m really here and what really happened, but I don’t. Things have been strained between us for months and I’m not ready to tell her why. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.
