The Second Day of Summer

By Joyce McDonald Hoskins

Synopsis:

A dead husband, missing embryos, and a nervous breakdown prompt Serena to seek a fresh start in a new place. She leaves her teaching position behind and returns to her birth state of West Virginia. Arriving at her father’s home, she is focused on her new job, making new friends and forming an adult relationship with her father. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joyce McDonald Hoskins
• Release date: Jul 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386043102

Book preview

Introduction

It began the summer everyone died. Not everyone, of course, but it seemed like it.  First there was Mom, next Paul’s mother, then Aunt Edna, and worse of all, Paul’s niece, only eight years old, and finally even worse than that, Paul. It was the summer I learned to throw a funeral. Not funny, but I say it often, hoping it makes people think I’m okay. I’m not okay.

The psychologist at work suggested it could be post traumatic stress syndrome. She thought I should be treated. She could be right, but I think it’s simpler than that, system overload, that’s all. My brain got too many painful messages and crashed. I didn’t exactly have a breakdown. I just quit for a while. Checked out. 

In truth, I managed to function. I got through another school year, but teaching zapped me. I would come home, put on an old tee shirt, crawl into bed and cover my head. Literally. Often, I would grade papers in bed, turn off the light, sleep a few hours, wake, grade more papers, and so on through the night. School, sleep, force down a little food, school, sleep, force down a little food. That was my life.

Journal entry, 5/31, day before the last day of

school, second year after The Summer,

Serena.

At three in the afternoon on the second day of summer, Serena pulled into her driveway, got out of her car, and checked for mail. Nothing. In the house, she first checked her answer machine and then her email. Nothing. The email was the final straw. Not even any spam. She stared at her tablet and cried. The sadness overwhelmed her. Too tired to even go to her bed, she slid onto the floor, covered her face with the tails of her blouse and sobbed.

A draining cry and a long shower. They deserved the long cry. I deserved the long shower. Soon I will close the door and leave.

Journal entry, June 1, last day of school, Serena

Chapter 1

T.J. tossed the last box into the back of his truck. A quick glance over his shoulder at the house and that was it. He didn’t look back. Six years of marriage preceded by two years of cohabitation. Gone. He got in, slammed the door, accelerated, and peeled out.

Hm. Don’t think that was intentional. Strange. All Mom said, was: Thank God there are no children. He focused on the road. Kind of funny when you think about it. Was she thanking God her grandchildren were never born?

He pulled onto the highway and set the cruise. A van loaded with girls sailed passed him. Several of the girls leaned out the windows, shouting, flirting, waving. He saluted and flashed them a smile. Young, probably excited about graduating from high school. It’s that time of year. Carefree. Careless.

The van crossed the white lines and almost sideswiped a car in the other lane. Sheeze. Bet the driver almost had a heart attack. The car slowed down, changed lanes, and pulled behind him. He noted a sign on the right. Hm, says they have good coffee. Surely, they wouldn’t lie. He flipped the blinker, and pulled into the front of a rustic wood tavern. The car from the near accident also pulled in.

He stepped out, stretched and waited for the other driver to park. Okay, T.J. the deal is: you’re going to act like a human instead of the jerk you’ve been the past year or more. Speak to her. Comment about the close call. When the car came to a halt he opened the door. A young lady slid out.

Smile, Serena. It’s expected. Come on gal, you remember how.

Thank you. She gave T.J a slight smile before she hurried up the four steps toward the door.

T.J. took two steps at a time and one long stride. He managed to open the door and let her enter. Inside, they paused and blinked as their eyes adjusted to the dimness.

Manners. Intro yourself, stupid. I’m T.J. Pierce. He offered his hand.

She hesitated.

He looked directly into her eyes, as he moved his left hand to the back pocket of his jeans. I have I.D. Even have character references and a background check in the truck.

Serena. She took his offered hand and gave it one short shake. Serena Bradley. 

A waitress appeared from the back with two menus under her arm. Two?

T.J. caught Serena’s eye and raised his eyebrows.

She glanced around the empty restaurant. Two.

The server led them to a booth and slapped the menus onto the top. Be back with some water. Famous for our fried fish sandwich and onion rings. She quickly retreated.

T.J. opened his menu. Famous? Is that why it’s empty?

Serena looked at the Bud Light clock over the counter. It’s not 11:30 yet. There could be lots of folks by noon.

Perhaps. He remembered the near accident. I saw those kids almost sideswipe you. Bet that shook you up.

Serena thought about it. Oddly, it didn’t. I just thought how awful it would be for the families, but I didn’t feel much. She realized she had been silent too long, and forced herself to reply. A bit.

Crazy kids. Hope it scared them enough to slow them down.

Yeah. I’ve taught kids that age. It’ll slow them down, but not for long. Fortunately, most of them survive.

So, you’re a teacher? T.J. asked.

Not anymore. Career change. Taking a director’s job in a hospital.

The waitress returned with the water. Ready?

Guess I’ll have the famous fish sandwich, onion rings, and iced tea, Serena said.

Me too, except I’ll have coffee.

Good choices, the waitress mumbled as she walked away.

T.J. frowned. Lots of personality, huh?

I can’t say I’d take any Miss Congeniality prizes myself. She decided to trust her instincts. Life can beat you up pretty bad sometimes. Can’t it?

Got that right. Guess I should cut her some slack.

Where are you heading with your references, background check and all? And why?

West Virginia. I’m a P.T. Physical Therapist. Be honest but brief. Divorced, looking for a new start. Regrouping as they say nowadays. My mom lives in a small town you probably never heard of. Clarksburg. My buddy at work, the other kind of therapist, he pointed at his head, said that sometimes the road back leads by home. Sort of a good line whether it’s true or not.

The waitress arrived. T.J. checked her name tag. When she finished placing the food, he gave her a warm smile. Thank you, Faye.

Welcome. She smiled, slightly. Y’all enjoy.

Do you have a job waiting for you in this Clarksburg? Serena made eye contact with T.J.  Good girl. Look him right in the eyes. Welcome back to the world.

Pretty sure. A school chum said I was a shoe-in, unless the new hospital administrator is a barracuda.

Serena was about to take a drink of water. She set the glass down before she broke into uncontrollable laughter.

T.J., brow knitted, watched.

She paused for a second, looked at his face, covered her mouth with her napkin and started laughing even harder. She finally took a deep breath and pulled herself together. I’m sorry. I haven’t laughed for so long, it’s difficult to stop. 

Oops, I wonder if . . . He took a drink of water and cleared his throat. Did I say something funny, or would you be . . .?

She somehow managed to speak around her giggles. . . . the barracuda.

He blushed. What do I say now? I’m sorry.

She continued to giggle and put her hand back over her mouth. Shaking her head and making a stop sign, she let her hand drop. Don’t. Don’t apologize. What a coincidence.

I’ll say. He studied her face. You okay? Could I order something? Maybe hot tea or coffee might help.

I’m fine. Actually, I really needed to laugh. I won’t go into it, but I’ve had a hard time lately. I’m sort of going by home to start over, too. Although, Clarksburg was never really home. I was born there, but left as a baby. My parents divorced. Mom remarried and I only got to Clarksburg to visit my father a handful of times as I was growing up. He still lives there. Mom’s dead. My father and I get along okay, but our relationship is rather formal.

Are you going to live with him?

He made me the offer, but I only plan on staying until I find a place.

I’m going to stay at Mom’s and help her sell off some property. I’d like to have the old house torn down and build her a small energy-efficient cottage. If we sell off the land around the old place, she’ll be pretty well set for her retirement years. Then I can move on.

I’m picking up the pieces and putting life back together again, too. And it is a chance to get to know my father.

Were you married? T.J. paused and thought a moment. Or, are you married? I guess that’s what I should have said.

Was. He’s dead. Car wreck.

Gosh. That’s tough. Sorry.

Thanks.

They ate in silence. T.J. put his fork down first. His eyes scanned the restaurant. This place is filling up. The food was good but heavy.

Yes, no dessert for me.

Me neither. Mom said she made an apple pie. I had to laugh. Going home to Mom and apple pie.

Sounds like a good thing to me.

Your mom been gone long?

No. She died less than a year before Paul’s accident. Her eyes filled with tears.

Wow, life sure can be like an avalanche sometimes.

Right. Serena watched Faye total the check and place it on the table.

T.J. reached in his pocket and handed her two twenties. No change.

Faye smiled, thanked him, and hurried away.

Well, that got a big smile out of her. Serena reached for her purse. I’m paying my half.

He opened his mouth to protest.

Best do what you’re told, or you might not be a shoe-in for that job you want.

T.J. laughed, took the bills she placed on the table, and shoved them into his pocket. He grabbed his cell phone. Let’s exchange numbers and stop in two or three hours to have a soft drink or something. My treat. He waited, but she didn’t respond. Oh, come on. I do have those references.

Serena took her phone from her purse. Don’t really know how to program it. Just got it. Higher tech than my old phone.

It’s like mine. He extended his hand. Let me.

She hesitated a moment before she handed it over. Figured all I needed to know was how to call out.

He showed her the steps as he programmed the numbers. When he handed it back he lightly touched her hand as it folded around the phone. Look, I’m not looking for a relationship, but I could use a friend. Truthfully, I’m in desperate need of a friend. He took a deep breath and blew it out. I think I might be speaking for both of us. My divorce isn’t final. You’re grieving. Sounds like a couple of people who might need to talk now and then."

She nodded.

And if you are in charge of the hiring, and it doesn’t work, don’t worry about it. Plenty of other places around and I’ll find a job. We can still be friends.

It’s what I told myself I was going to do. Start a new life. Make new friends. Start acting like a human being again. She smiled. Okay. Friends.

She heard her Dad speaking on his old-fashioned answer machine as she opened the door. Hey, hon, if you get there before I do, there’s cold cuts and potato salad in the fridge. I’ve got a customer coming by when he gets off work. I’ll be home by 6:30 at the latest. Looking forward to seeing you.

She set her cosmetic bag on a chair. I’ll get the rest later. She noted the group of pictures of her on a desk beside the door. He had put her wedding picture away. Dust still outlined where it had been. Cleaning lady every other week, I think. She sighed and thought about the man who was her father. I’ve never told him I also call my stepfather, Dad. 

Ed Fallon, a good man with a stellar reputation, owns a used car lot that belonged to his father before him. Serena knew it was one of the reasons the hospital hired her. Graduating top of her class and ten years teaching business math didn’t mean as much as being the daughter of Ed Fallon. Not in Clarksburg.

I want to know him. The real man. Not the father, who always showed up on important occasions, pecked me on the cheek, hugged me in an awkward manner, and left as soon as possible.

She looked around the house that had belonged to her grandparents. Hasn’t changed. Same old TV. Same outdated phone and answering machine. She studied a picture of her in his arms when she was about three. He didn’t come when Mom died. Called, sent flowers followed by a letter a few weeks later. She picked up a picture taken on the only trip she remembered going on with him. Ocean City, Maryland. She was around seven years old and partly buried in the sand. Her cousin Jimmy was patting sand around her.

Dad came when Paul died. I don’t know how he got there so fast. Brought me a car. When I refused his offer to come here with him, he flew back. I never have bought a car. He gave me one when I was sixteen, and replaced it every few years. Always almost new.

The phone rang and startled her. She shook her head to shake away the memories.

Should I answer? The machine picked up and she heard his voice. Hey hon. Pick up if you’re there.

Hi, Dad.

Hi, yourself. Just wanted to know you got home okay.

Home? She thought about the word a moment. Just got here.

I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Talking to the Chevy dealer. Good friend of mine. Said he’d make us a good deal if you want a new car.

I don’t need a new car.

We’ll talk about it later. See you in a few minutes.

Take your time. I’ll start unpacking.

You leave the car for me to unload, ya hear?

Sure.

I don’t need a new car. Of course, I’ll always think of the one I have as the one Dad brought me when Paul died.  It’s time I bought my own car. I’ll insist.

Chapter 2

Okay. I did good. Very good. I have a number in my phone, a man’s. Thought I’d make female friends first, but I feel comfortable with him. So, maybe we’ll do something. Sometime.

Dad seems overjoyed to have me here. Hope we can get comfortable together. I like the room he gave me, especially the three small windows overlooking the backyard.