Julie In Between

By Elizabeth Taylor

On summer vacation Harris Vane gives Julie Tennant her first kiss but that night he takes Meg to the beach party. Although Harris has his arm around Meg, he stares at Julie through the bonfire flames and suddenly asks Julie to sit with him. He then recounts the legend of his Great Aunt Veronica who drowned at the beach sixty years ago. One evening while Julie and her friends are swimming, she sees the ghosts of her Grandmother and Veronica Vane. Although the other girls can see nothing unusual, Julie watches the ghosts laugh and dance on the water. The legend is true! But why is Gran’s spirit trapped on the beach with Veronica? Julie wants to help free Gran’s spirit - but how? It is up to Julie to discover why the ghosts are staying near the beach and to set them free. Julie also has to decide between Harris Vane and his cousin Chad who both want to be with her

• Language: English
• Publisher: Books for Pleasure
• Release date: Sep 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781553491248

Book preview

Julie In Between

By

Elizabeth Taylor

Copyright Elizabeth Taylor 2001

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-55349-124-8

Published by Books for Pleasure at Smashwords

Dedication

To my husband Michael for his faith and to my children Tess and Annabelle for letting me watch so closely, their lives unfold.

CHAPTER 1

Harris Vane leaned over and kissed me right on the lips.

My first kiss.

His warm breath tickled under my nose. His full lips pressed on mine and lingered long enough for my heart to want to jump out and dance on the grass.

We’d met by chance on the footpath behind Moondog Café. Harris wore a t-shirt and white shorts that showed off his tanned legs. His tennis racket was clutched in his right hand. I was walking to nowhere. I did that a lot lately just to think about stuff.

I’d said, those black clouds could wreck your game. He’d looked up at the sky, then smiled. And that was it. On a plain, ordinary Tuesday morning Harris Vane kissed me, Julie Tennant.

When he stepped back, all I could do was stare at a bumblebee inspecting some clover near my toes.

Nice, he said. I’ve wanted to do that ever since last week at the beach party. But I couldn’t, you know…with Meg around.

Yeah, was my brilliant reply. I’d dreamt about this moment for the past two summers. Harris and I had always just been friends, so now what? Maybe we’d be boyfriend and girlfriend now. We’d go to parties together and…

He bent over and this time he gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Gotta go, Julie. Late for tennis.

Oh…sure. I pointed to my watch. I…uh…gotta go, too.

Later. He waved and threw me a ‘we-share-a-secret’ smile that made my tummy do major butterfly flips.

Bike paths sliced across the large park area known as the Green. A few small stores, Moondog Café and the tennis courts rimmed its grassy edges.

I watched Harris stride away. Usually, I’d call out something silly when I said ‘goodbye’ to a friend but right now, I didn’t trust myself to say a word.

My stomach still bubbled with excitement as it dawned on me that the best looking, richest, sexiest guy at Victoria Beach had just kissed me. I was going to be the envy of every girl I knew. I couldn’t wait to tell them, especially my best friend, Dixie Boulet. Correction, especially snobby Meg Malinsky – Harris’s girlfriend or should I say former girlfriend.

So what was the matter with me? Why did my heart dive bomb from what felt like the top of the world into a black pit? And for some dumb reason a tear dribbled down my face.

I turned and walked towards the road that led to the pier. It stretched down a narrow piece of land that jutted out into the lake with water on both sides. To my left, water lapped harmlessly on the protected bayside of the road. To my right the open lake pounded the worn rocks.

Victoria Beach was on Lake Winnipeg. When the wind blew or a storm was coming, the waves could be humongous.

My sandals scuffled across the loose gravel; a light film of dust covered my feet. I felt as if there was a cover of dust on my heart, too. It was time to try to sort out my seesaw moods.

As soon as Harris kissed me, I wanted to tell the world and that included Gran. But she had died two months ago. Sometimes I still cried like a drippy hose when I thought about her. It was like I had a hole in my body, as if some part of me was missing.

What I couldn’t figure out was how I could swing from being totally happy to bummed out in the space of two minutes. It had happened often lately and now the excitement of my first kiss was squished right beside this sadness in my heart.

I kicked at a branch that blocked the road. Where exactly was Gran? Maybe if I could decide in my mind that she was okay - not just in some box in the ground, I could stop feeling so depressed. Sure, I’d watched her being lowered into the earth but she couldn’t really be there. Wherever you are, Gran, I whispered, I love you and I hope you like Harris because I sure do.

I glanced around nervously. If someone caught me talking to myself, I’d be labeled ‘weird’ for sure.

A tear spilled on my dusty sandals as I trudged down the long road. I looked up at the coal-coloured clouds scudding off the lake. Where did dead people go? To the stars? To other planets? Or did their spirits return to their favourite place on Earth. I smiled. If that was true, then Gran might be at the Victoria Beach Bakery right this minute. I remembered countless mornings when she would struggle into her pink tent dress with its billows of fabric that covered her big tummy. She’d roll her long gray hair at the nape of her neck and say, ‘I can’t go out without my face on.’ Then she’d slap on her red lipstick and set off down Birch Avenue with her wicker basket.

Soft raindrops on my head reminded me that Gran used to say my hair was the ash-blonde colour of a chattering chipmunk.

Maybe it’s normal to be sad about one thing and happy about another at the same time. My eyes darted around hoping no one heard.

Suddenly a strong wind whipped my face. I hugged my tank top and shivered. I’d better start for home. But when I had to sort out my feelings, I wanted to be alone and I knew Mom and Dad would be back at the cottage, probably huddled around a warm fire. I knew I couldn’t shake this mood without a few more minutes to myself.

The tape in my head rewound and played again for the millionth time since Gran had died - reruns of her last days. A week before she died all she’d wanted to do was gab about tea bags, for pete’s sakes! On and on about which brand made the best tea. Looking back, I wondered if she was trying to take her mind off of what was happening to her. Or was she trying to distract me – save me as much as she could from the pain of her unstoppable fate.

My lips trembled at the memory of those conversations. Was it really only two months ago? And was I really as mean as I remembered? I couldn’t talk to her. All I’d kept thinking was, ‘who cares about dumb teabags and why doesn’t her room smell like lavender perfume anymore’? Why does it smell sour? All I’d wanted to do was get out of there, away from the fear and things that were old.

I should have visited her more often. Even when Mom had finally told me she was dying, it hadn’t felt real to me. I’d figured if I pretended everything was okay, then Mom would be wrong – and the whole nightmare would go away.

But Mom had been right. And now I really can’t talk to Gran – not ever. I’d never asked her how she’d met Granddad or if she’d ever fallen in love when she was fifteen.

Tears blurred my vision. A jumble of brightly coloured shapes swam in front of me and turned into a young mother with two small kids. She walked slowly, her sandals slapping the road. She pulled a wagon loaded with orange and green plastic buckets and shovels, a soggy towel and a deck chair that teetered with every bump in the road. They soon became just a faint rumble in the distance.

Fat black clouds thundered right overhead. I reached the end of the road and ran onto the pier. I sat on the rough sun dried wood with my feet dangling over the edge. It was spitting – nothing much. I didn’t care if I got wet. High waves slapped against the pier. Further out on the lake they chopped and churned in different directions, as if they hadn’t settled on exactly where they were going to pound the shoreline. Unsure, with no direction – like me.

I thought again of Harris’s kiss. I realized now that he must have felt attracted to me, too, a few nights ago at the beach party but he’d had to hide his feelings. He was with Meg, after all.

He’d looked so cool in a red shirt that showed off his arm muscles and little hairs at the top of his chest. But when Meg and Harris, entwined in each other’s arms, did a slow dance on the sand, a green yucky feeling had covered me like slime. I remembered running into the water to try and wash it off.

Now it was my turn. I would be parked in Harris’s arms at the next party. I’m going to have a great summer, I declared to a nearby seagull perched on a wooden post. That kiss was a sign…or omen…or whatever you call it. I know Gran would’ve wanted me to have fun. As quickly as my sadness came, it disappeared – at least for now, as if the sun had come out in my heart. Yeah…Harris and me…this is going to be a dynamite summer. I smiled as I pictured the two of us walking hand in hand down the beach with all the cool kids staring – my fair hair and light skin a nice contrast to his dark curls and bronzed body.

A gust of wind snagged a curly lock of hair and blew it across my face. A final storm warning. I closed my eyes. I wished Harris were here right now. He’d just kissed me not half an hour ago and I thought I’d go crazy until I could be with him again. He could make my summer almost perfect.

I turned and raced towards the blue and white clapboard cottage we rented every year. The humid air smelled of pine needles and wood smoke from chimneys. I inhaled it deeply. It entered my body and I felt clean and free.

Then suddenly the serious rain came – buckets of water out of the sky. A few minutes later, drenched, I turned in at the Saskatoon bushes and ran up the path to our cottage. Every time I came up that path I wished this really was our place. We rented it for so many years Gran used to say, it feels like my own place anyhow.

The screen door slammed behind me. I kicked off my runners and grabbed a towel that hung near the door. I dried my hair and yelled, I’m home. Get out of the bathroom everyone. I’m having a shower.

Agatha, our fat orange cat, sidled up to me and meowed a cat-hello.

Where is everyone, Aggie? I scratched her soft, fuzzy head as she nuzzled her ear into my hand. They can’t be out in this weather.

Then I spied a note on the big white table in the living room. Dripping wet, I walked across the room and picked it up.

GONE TO HELP DAD AT PATRICIA BEACH – ACCIDENT! DON’T WORRY.

MOM

CHAPTER 2

Help Dad?

Dad was hurt!

I jammed my feet back into the damp sandals, my fingers fumbling with the straps. Too impatient, I ran out of the cottage with them flapping against my heels.

I hurried towards the beach. It was still raining. Muddy water splashed up my legs from puddles in the road as I repeated, Dad is fine. Dad is fine. Dad is fine. But what else could happen on a beach except…

I stopped, breathless, and realized I still had Mom’s note clutched in my hand. I stared at the words. Spots of rain blurred some of the words. Slowly I repeated them out loud. ‘Gone to beach’…okay. ‘Help Dad’…what? ‘Accident’ – that’s bad. Dad had an accident and needed help. That’s better than not being helped. Or could it mean ‘help Dad’…out?

Was he helping someone in trouble?

At the corner of Arthur Road and Fourth Avenue, I glanced over at the strange little cottage that looked like a box of crayons. It was painted bright red with lime green trim around the windows and a yellow door that could hurt your eyes. Hollyhocks stood at each side of the purple gate and blue delphiniums danced in the wind near the door.

There she was sitting by the window the way she always did – Old Lady Window Watcher. Does she think she’s living in a rainbow? Bet she’s spent her whole life on the sidelines.

Window Watcher has white fluffy hair and blazing blue eyes that pierced through the glass. Even weirder was the green and red parrot about the size of a crow that was always perched on her shoulder. It looked like a stuffed toy until it moved. Creepy. Suddenly, the old lady waved at me. I pretended not to see her and kept moving.

The smell of fish and seaweed became stronger as I reached the stairs to Patricia Beach. Victoria Beach has many beaches that line its shores.

All I could see was a few screaming seagulls flying close to shore and Ernie, a black lab that belonged to Mr. Granger. Ernie wagged his tail and walked up the stairs for a pat. I stroked the soft black fur. Where’s the accident, Ernie?

Hi there!

I swung around. Dixie Boulet! Thanks for the heart attack you just gave me. Look, I can’t talk. I…

Sorry, Julie. Dixie’s bright pink lips broke into