Page 29 of The Summer of ’98

Jacob shot him a warning glare but even I could see Noah’s point of view.

“What’s the plan for getting that started, honey?” Eleanor asked, bringing my attention back.

“I’ve studied chem and biology at home and at school for a long time. I have a lot of knowledge on the skin, how certain elements react to certain people, the cells, the regenerative process, that sort of thing. The next step is a business and accounting course. There’s one that they run not too far from home back in Waco. I’ll sign up there when I’ve saved the cash.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” she said.

“Noah knows a thing or two about business and finances,” Jacob said, gesturing his fork at his younger son, who had finished his dinner and was now slouched in his seat with his arms folded. “He took it as an elective last year. Pick his brain if you want.”

I smiled but doubted that Noah and I would be gelling over the subject of business anytime soon. Some moments with him were better than others, but for the most part, he didn’t seem to want much to do with me.

After dinner, Leroy and his dad threw the football around for a while. Jacob had a great arm, considering his age, but that wasn’t surprising. He was fit and obviously taking care of himself. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a burnt-orange glow across the lake. Dusk was mesmerizing in this open space—everything appeared incandescent and warm, as if warm was an appearance and not a feeling.

“Come and join,” Leroy said to Noah, holding the football in one hand.

“Nah,” Noah said, leaning back on his palms. “I’m tired.”

“Come on, son,” Jacob said. “You too, Ellie.”

I was helping Eleanor with the dinner clean-up, so I pointed at the paper plates in my hand. “I’m jus—”

“I’ve got it, honey,” Eleanor said, swiping the plates from me. “Go on. You too, Noah. Join in.”

Noah made a big show of being exasperated at the idea of getting up, but he did, wiping sand off his hands. The four of us stood in a square, leaving enough room for other people to safely walk along the waterfront without getting a ball to the head. The first thing I noticed was that Noah was a natural, like his brother and dad. It looked like he was barely putting any force behind his throw but the ball traveled so far. After a while, it was obvious he was enjoying himself too—as much as he tried to hide it, the smile that he wore while he cracked jokes with his dad gave him away.

When it was dark, Leroy and I settled down on a rug with a blanket so we could watch the fireworks. We could hear music from other camping sites drifting toward us, we could hear the lap of the water hitting the shore, and stars were glittered across the cobalt-blue night. It was beautiful.

“How’s the evening been?” Leroy asked from behind me. He was sitting up and I was between his legs against his chest, his chin resting atop my head.

“The best,” I said. “Your family is . . . so warm.”

“Warm?”

“Yeah, warm. Inviting. I feel so comfortable and welcome here. It’s hard to describe but I feel like I belong.”

He held me a little tighter. “I’m glad that you feel that way. Because you do belong here.”

The first lot of fireworks were abrupt, and I jolted with fright. Leroy laughed behind me and we watched the bursts of beautiful color exploding above us. Red, blues, and whites, blooming like unfolding flowers. What Leroy said made me feel an inexplicable amount of joy. Because I meant what I said; I felt like I belonged here in a way that I didn’t even feel at home sometimes.

Noah was in a better mood the next morning. We were in Leroy’s room so that we could talk to him about our plan to have the house to ourselves tonight. As cheerful as he was, that did not translate to cooperative.

“Noah, come on.”

Noah leaned against the doorframe while Leroy attempted to coax him into agreement. I watched from the bed, legs crossed and hopes high.

“Let me get this straight,” Noah said. “You want me to tell Mom and Dad that I’ll be here tonight. But you actually want me to leave so that you two can have some alone time.”

“As if I haven’t made that clear,” Leroy sighed with frustration.

His smug stare darted between the two of us, silence settling while he deliberated his response. If he didn’t agree to tell his parents that he would be in for the night, it would be harder to get them out of the house. And then if he did spend the night in, we wouldn’t be alone. So, the success of the plan was on his shoulders.

“Nah,” he finally grinned. “I think I’ll stay in. Perhaps I’ll even have a few friends over, since Mom and Dad will be out and all.”

“I’ve been polite,” Leroy seethed. “I could just pummel you into submission.”

He engaged in a frightening stare-down with Noah. I had a feeling that physical fights weren’t all that uncommon between the two brothers. And from the way that Noah’s expression became less smug by the second, it was safe to assume that Leroy often won.

“Fine,” Noah said. “I’ll go and see Cass.”

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