AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Consider it my welcome-to-town gift. Plus, I still enjoy bossing my son around every now and then. He and his friends are always in for a workout.”
“If you insist. Thank you. That’s very kind. Your farm is beautiful, by the way. I’ll be back soon for fresh veggies.”
“Sounds good, Solia. We got all kinds, and corn will be ready toward the end of summer. I’m biased, but it’s the best around.”
I take off back to the cabin, satisfied with how much I accomplished. Before getting out of the truck, I text my parents a quick hello and tell them I met Janice. I leave out the part about her offering to have my wood stacked. No need to inform them I don’t plan on stacking it myself or that the local elementary school is a dead end. If my mother senses I’m getting off easy, I’ll never hear the end of it. I hit Send and a pang of uncertainty creeps into the back of my mind.
If I don’t find a full-time job, there is no way I can support myself.
Deep breaths. I’ll figure it out. I have time.
I haven’t even been to the lake yet, and there’s still a couple hours of daylight left. I climb the stairs to the cabin, grab a quick PB&J, change into my bathing suit and cover-up, and snatch a tube from the garage. Using the beach sticker isn’t in the cards today. I’ll enjoy the walk.
At the end of Chasm Drive, I cross a narrow street and then meet the sand. People are scattered along the shoreline, but it’s quiet, just the way I remember it. I set my stuff on the sand, I don’t have to worry my belongings will disappear. People around here look out for one another. I toss my cover-up onto the beach, drag the tube into the water, and paddle out.
The water in Newfound Lake is far superior to any other in my opinion; people brag and say they have the best lake, but there is no cleaner, more beautiful lake than ours here in Meriden. Locals want to keep this gem hidden from the rest of the world, and I don’t blame them. Part of the allure of this location is its remote setting wedged between two powerful mountain ranges.
The sun is strong, hovering above the mountains in the west. I glide to the swim rope, lace my feet around the line, and gaze across the water. I could stay here forever.
Watercraft zoom around the lake. Pontoon boats loaded with families cruise the outskirts, while others in speedboats tow children on tubes. The bass from boat speakers vibrate faintly through the air. Jet Skis fly by, sending a wave toward shore, tilting my tube enough that I have to grip the handles for dear life. Toward the left side of the lake, I catch the sight of a white pontoon boat decorated with streamers around the tower bimini and a poster board duct-taped to the side. I lean forward, pull my sunglasses to the end of my nose, and read the sign.
No way, they still do this? The ice cream boat!
Here in Newfound, you’ll never see an ice cream truck, but you will see the ice cream boat. It’s the best thing ever. When we were kids, we’d hear the jingle in the distance and we’d hit the shore running. Every kid made a beeline to their parents for money that we then had to keep dry after grabbing a tube, sprinting into the water, and heading toward the boat. The swim line would fill with kids, like moths to a flame. The ice cream boat would stop outside the swim line and shut off the motor; it was fair game after that. Minutes later, nothing but tubes as far as the eye could see, kids floating within the swim line licking their melting ice cream. Those were the days.
Traveling through that time machine, I’m ten years old again. I unwrap my feet from the rope and start backstroking as speedily as I can. My money is inside my phone case, on my towel, on shore. Looking out at the boat and back to the sand, I’m certain I can make it. I can already taste the vanilla ice cream and sweet hot fudge melting in my mouth. The ice cream boat used to add chocolate sprinkles and double cherries—I hope they still do.
A couple of kids are already halfway to the swim line.Damn it, they’re going to get there before me.I double-time it, sweat dripping down my chest. My butt hits the sandy lake bottom, scratching the back of my legs. I’m in a foot of water, a twenty-six-year-old idiot in a tube. Directly in front of me sits an older couple. The woman points my way, giggling, and her assumed husband waves.I’m so glad I’m providing amusement.
Keeping my feet planted in the sand, I lean forward to get out of the tube. I’ve managed to wedge my ass in the tube so well, I fall forward on my knees, hands in the sand, and my butt sails into the air, still inside the tube. An eruption of laughter from my fans echoes loud and clear. Luckily, I lean up and force the tube off my rear end.
I take a bow, my fans clap, and I dart to retrieve my money. My phone is wrapped up in my towel, so I remove the phone case and grab a ten-dollar bill. There’s still time—I can deal with being last. I stand, money in hand, and immediately spot a black pickup cruising the lake road.
Jackson.
I freeze, sand digging into the soles of my feet. Vehicles have to drive at a snail’s pace on this road. I should wait and say hello.But damn it, I want ice cream.I’ve got enough time for both. I walk up to the tree on the side of the road, wishing he’d get here quicker. As the truck approaches, I spot a woman on the passenger’s side, and I step out of view. I’m certain it’s Jackson’s pickup, and I’d recognize that backward hat and grin a mile away.
Pressing my body against the tree trunk, I look at the woman inside the cab as they slowly roll by. Her white teeth gleam as she smiles and tosses her hair in the breeze. All I can see of Jackson is the lid of his hat from behind. The exhaust from the truck takes the wind out of my sails. The truck passes the tree, and through the back window, I spot them high-fiving each other.
What the fuck?You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew there was something off the other night. How is it I constantly attract assholes? Seriously.
Tears run off my cheeks, dripping into the sand, as I throw myself on my crumpled towel. I gaze out into the crystal-blue lake to the sound of the ice cream boat honking and kids cheering and waving. Taking every ounce of strength I have, I raise my arm and wave as I watch the boat travel by with my ice cream sundae still aboard.
9
Finally, Friday night arrives. My grandparents are getting too old to manage any of the physical requirements of the orchard, so each year, I find myself taking on more and more responsibility. My body aches from working the fields, cleaning and maintaining the machinery, and loading and boxing countless crates of vegetables of every variety for delivery. Our vegetable side hustle has expanded over the years, thanks to the new greenhouse. The crates go to local markets, a few travel many miles to restaurants and bakeries, and several ship farther distances.
But right now, my muscles are sore, I need a shower, and my bed is calling my name. I unscrew the cap to my water bottle and chug a huge gulp. Looking left across the field, I spot Brynn leaning against the side of my truck. Tightening the cap, I quicken my pace.
“Hey, Brynn, what’s going on?”
“Hey, Jackson, I hate catching you at the end of a long day, but as you can see, I’ve got a little problem.” Brynn lifts her chin in the direction of her Toyota Camry parked a few yards away. I scan the car from left to right and spot the front deflated tire.
“Ahh, you got yourself a flat. Let’s see what we can do.”
“I dropped off a box of pastries to your grandparents. Greg figured they’d enjoy them. When I was on my way here, the car wasn’t driving straight unless I tugged the wheel to the left. I’m a little nervous to drive home. AAA said they’d be here in a bit. A bit can mean many things—twenty minutes or three hours—it’s a toss-up. I’m supposed to meet my parents for dinner at their place, so I was wondering if you’d give me a ride? If not, no worries.”
“No, I don’t mind. Hop in. Where do they live?”
