We'll Always Have Summer (9 page)

Because I really did believe he was coming. If I didn’t, would I have taken extra care with my hair that morning?

In the shower, would I have shaved my legs not once but twice, just to be safe? Would I have put on that new dress and worn those heels that made my feet hurt if I truly didn’t believe he was coming?

No. Deep down I more than believed it. I knew it.

“Have you heard anything from Conrad, Laurel?” Mr.

Fisher asked my mother. We were standing in the parking we’ll always have summer · 97

lot of the women’s center—Mr. Fisher, Jere, Steven, my mother, and me. People were starting to file into the building. Mr. Fisher had already checked inside twice: Conrad wasn’t there.

My mother shook her head. “I haven’t heard anything new. When I spoke to him last month, he said he was coming.”

“If he’s late, we can just save him a seat,” I offered.

“I’d better get inside,” Jeremiah said. He was accept-ing the plaque commemorating the day on behalf of Susannah.

We watched him go because there was nothing else to do. Then Mr. Fisher said, “Maybe we should go too,” and he looked defeated. I could see where he’d cut himself shaving. His chin looked raw.

“Let’s do that,” my mother said, straightening up.

“Belly, why don’t you wait here for another minute?”

“Sure,” I said. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait.”

When the three of them were inside, I sat down on the curb. My feet were hurting already. I waited for another ten minutes, and when he still didn’t show, I got up. So he wasn’t coming after all.

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I saw her before she saw me. In the front row, I saw her sitting with my dad and Laurel and Steven. She had her hair pulled back, pinned up on the sides. I’d never seen her wear her hair like that before. She had on a light purple dress. She looked grown up. It occurred to me that she had grown up while I wasn’t looking, that there was every likelihood she had changed and I didn’t know her anymore. But when she stood up to clap, I saw the Band-Aid on her ankle and I recognized her again. She was Belly. She kept messing with the barrettes in her hair. One was coming loose.

My plane had been delayed, and even though I’d done eighty the whole way to Cousins, I was still late. Jeremiah was starting his speech just as I walked in. There was an empty seat up front next to my dad, but I just stood in the back. I saw Laurel shift in her seat, scanning the room before turning back around. She didn’t see me.

A woman from the shelter got up and thanked everyone for coming. She talked about how great my mom was, how dedicated she was to the shelter, how much money she raised for it, how much awareness in the community. She said my mom was a gift. It was funny, I’d known my mom was involved with the women’s shelter, but I didn’t know how much she gave of herself. I felt a jolt of shame as I remembered the time she’d asked me to go help her serve breakfast one Saturday morning. I’d blown her off, told her I had stuff I needed to do.

Then Jere got up and went to the podium. “Thanks, Mona,” he said. “Today means so much to us, and I know it would have meant even more to my mom. The women’s shelter was really important to her. Even when we weren’t here in Cousins, she was still thinking about you guys. And she loved flowers. She used to say she needed them to breathe. She would be so honored by this garden.”

It was a good speech. Our mom would have been proud to see him up there. I should have been up there with him. She would have really liked that. She would have liked the roses, too.

I watched Jere sit down in the first row in the seat next to Belly. I watched him take her hand. The muscles in my stomach clenched, and I moved behind a woman in a wide-brimmed hat.

This was a mistake. Coming back here was a mistake.

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The speeches were over, and everyone had gone outside and started milling around the garden.

“What kind of flowers do you want for the wedding?”

Jeremiah asked me in a low voice.

I smiled and shrugged. “Pretty ones?” What did I know about flowers? What did I know about weddings, for that matter? I hadn’t been to many, only my cousin Beth’s that time I was a flower girl and, our neighbor’s.

But I liked this game we were playing. It was like pretend, but real.

Then I saw him. Standing there in the back was Conrad, in a gray suit. I stared, and he lifted his hand in a wave. I lifted mine, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Next to me, I heard Jeremiah clear his throat. I started.

I’d forgotten he was standing next to me. For those couple of seconds, I forgot everything and there was just Conrad.

Then Mr. Fisher was pushing past us, striding over to him. They embraced. My mother swept Conrad into her arms, then my brother came up from behind and pounded him on the back. Jeremiah made his way over too.

I was last. I found myself walking over to them. “Hi,” I said. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I left them at my sides.

He said, “Hi.” Then he opened his arms up wide and gave me a look that was a lot like a dare. Hesitantly, I stepped into them. He crushed me in a bear hug and lifted me off the ground a little. I squealed and held down my skirt. Everyone laughed. When Conrad set me back down, I moved closer to Jere. He wasn’t laughing.

“Conrad’s glad to have his little sister around again,”

Mr. Fisher said in a jovial kind of way. I wondered if he even knew that Conrad and I had once dated. Probably not. It had only been six months. It was nothing compared to the time Jeremiah and I had spent together.

“How have you been, little sis?” Conrad asked. He had that look on his face. Part mocking, part mischievous. I knew that look; I’d seen it so many times.

“Great,” I said, looking at Jeremiah. “We’re really great.”

Jeremiah didn’t look back at me. Instead he pulled his phone out of his pocket and said, “I’m starving.” I could 102 · jenny han

feel a little knot in my stomach. Was he mad at me?

“Let’s get some pictures by the garden first,” my mother said.

Mr. Fisher clapped his hands and rubbed them together. Putting his arms around Jeremiah and Conrad, he said, “I want a picture with the Fishermen!” which made us all laugh—this time Jeremiah, too. That was one of Mr. Fisher’s oldest and corniest jokes. Whenever he and the boys would come back from fishing trips, he would yell, “The Fishermen have returned!”

By Susannah’s rose garden, we took pictures of Jeremiah and Mr. Fisher and Conrad, then one with Steven, too, then one with me and my mother and Steven and Jeremiah—all sorts of combinations. Jere said, “I want one of just me and Belly,” and I was relieved. We stood in front of the roses, and right before my mother snapped the picture, Jeremiah kissed me on the cheek.

“That’s a nice one,” my mother said. Then she said,

“Let’s have one of all the kids.”

We stood together—Jeremiah, Conrad, me, Steven.

Conrad slung his arm around Jeremiah’s and my shoulders. It was all like no time had passed. The summer kids together again.

I rode with Jeremiah to the restaurant. My mother and Steven took one car, Mr. Fisher and Conrad both drove separately.

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“Maybe we shouldn’t tell them today,” I said suddenly.

“Maybe we should wait.”

Jeremiah turned down the music. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe today should just be about Susannah, and family. Maybe we should wait.”

“I don’t want to have to wait. You and me getting married is about family. It’s about our two families coming together. As one.” Grinning, he grabbed my hand and lifted it in the air. “I want you to be able to wear your ring, right now, loud and proud.”

“I am loud and proud,” I said.

“Then let’s just do it like we planned.”

“Okay.”

As we pulled into the restaurant parking lot, Jeremiah said to me, “Don’t have hurt feelings if—you know, if he says anything.”

I blinked. “Who?”

“My dad. You know how he is. You can’t take it personally, okay?”

I nodded.

We walked into the restaurant holding hands. Everyone else was already there and seated at a round table.

I sat down, Jeremiah on my left and my brother on my right. I grabbed the bread basket and took a roll. I smeared it with butter before I stuffed most of it into my mouth.

Steven shook his head at me. Pig, he mouthed.

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Glaring at him, I said, “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

“I ordered a bunch of appetizers,” Mr. Fisher told me.

“Thanks, Mr. Fisher,” I said, my mouth partly full.

He smiled. “Belly, we’re all adults here. I think you should call me Adam now. No more Mr. Fisher.”

Underneath the table, Jeremiah gave my thigh a squeeze. I almost laughed out loud. Then I had another thought—like, was I going to have to call Mr. Fisher

“Dad” after we were married? I would have to talk to Jeremiah about that one.

“I’ll try,” I said. Mr. Fisher looked at me expectantly, and I added, “Adam.”

Steven asked Conrad, “So why don’t you ever leave California?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, for, like, the first time since you left, practically.”

Steven nudged him and lowered his voice. “You got a girl out there?”

“No,” Conrad said. “No girl.”

The champagne arrived then, and when all our glasses were full, Mr. Fisher tapped his knife to his glass. “I’d like to make a toast,” he said.

My mother rolled her eyes just barely. Mr. Fisher was famous for making speeches, but today actually called for one.

“I want to thank everyone for coming together today to celebrate Susannah. It’s a special day, and I’m glad we we’ll always have summer · 105

can share it together.” Mr. Fisher lifted his glass. “To Suz.”

Nodding, my mother said, “To Beck.”

We all clinked glasses and drank, and before I could put mine down, Jeremiah gave me this look like, Get ready, it’s happening.

My stomach lurched. I took another gulp of my champagne and nodded.

“I have something to say,” Jeremiah announced.

While everyone was waiting to hear what it was, I snuck a look over at Conrad. He had his arm draped over the back of Steven’s chair, and they’d been laughing about something. His face was easy and relaxed.

I had this wild impulse to stop Jeremiah, to clap my hand over his mouth and keep him from saying it.

Everybody was so happy. This was going to wreck it.

“I’ll just go ahead and warn you—it’s really good news.” Jeremiah flashed a smile at everyone, and I braced myself. He was being too glib, I thought. My mother wouldn’t like that. “I asked Belly to marry me, and she said yes. She said yes! We’re getting married this August!”

It was like the restaurant got really quiet all of a sudden, like all the noise and chatter got sucked out of the room. Everything just stopped. I looked across the table, at my mother. Her face was ashen. Steven choked on the water he was drinking. Coughing, he said, “What the?”

And Conrad, his face was completely blank.

It was all so completely surreal.

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The waiter came by then with the appetizers—calamari and cocktail shrimp and a tower of oysters. “Are you guys ready to order your entrees?” he asked, rearranging the table so there was room for everything.

His voice tight, Mr. Fisher said, “I think we need a few more minutes,” and glanced at my mother.

She looked dazed. She opened, then closed, her mouth. Then she looked right at me and asked, “Are you pregnant?”

I felt all the blood rush to my cheeks. Beside me, I could feel rather than hear Jeremiah choke.

My mother’s voice shook as she said shrilly, “I don’t believe this. How many times have we discussed contra-ception, Isabel?”

I could not have been more mortified. I looked at Mr.

Fisher, who was beet red, and then I looked at the waiter, who was pouring water for the table next to ours. Our eyes met. I was pretty sure he’d been in my psychology class. “Mom, I’m not pregnant!”

Earnestly, Jeremiah said, “Laurel, I swear to you it’s nothing like that.”

My mother ignored him. She looked only at me.

“Then what is happening here? Where is this coming from?”

My lips felt really dry all of a sudden. Fleetingly, I thought of what had led up to Jeremiah’s proposal, and just as quickly the thought flitted away. None of that we’ll always have summer · 107

mattered anymore. What mattered was that we were in love. I said, “We want to get married, Mom.”

“You’re too young,” she said in a flat voice. “You’re both far too young.”

Jeremiah coughed. “Laur, we love each other, and we want to be together.”

“You are together,” my mother snapped. Then she turned to Mr. Fisher, her eyes narrowed. “Did you know about this?”

“Calm down, Laurel. They’re joking. You two were joking, right?”

Jere and I shared a look before he said in a soft voice,

“No, we’re not joking.”

My mother swallowed the rest of her champagne, emptying her glass. “You two are not getting married, period. You’re both still in school, for God’s sake. It’s ridiculous.”

Clearing his throat, Mr. Fisher said, “Maybe after you two graduate, we can discuss it again.”

“A few years after you graduate,” my mother put in.

“Right,” Mr. Fisher said.

“Dad …” Jeremiah began.

The server was back at Mr. Fisher’s shoulder before Jeremiah could finish whatever it was he was going to say. He just stood there for a moment looking awkward before asking, “Do you have any questions about the menu? Or, ah, are we just doing appetizers today?”

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“We’ll just take the check,” my mother said, tight lipped.

I was right before. This was a mistake, a tactical error of epic proportions. We never should have told them like this. Now they were a team, united against us. We barely got a word in edgewise. There was all this food on the table and no one was touching it, no one was saying anything.

I reached into my purse, and under the tablecloth, I put my engagement ring on. it was the only thing I could do. When I reached for my water glass, Jeremiah saw the ring and squeezed my knee again. My mother saw too—