Page 20 of The Edge of Summer
It’s only now, as I turn toward my sister, that I notice the woman trailing behind her. Today Delilah is wearing another pair of ass-hugging denim shorts with daisies embroidered on one of the pockets. Her dark hair is fashioned into a ponytail. This time, it’s held together by a long white ribbon.
Fuck. Me.
What is she doing here, in my family’s home? The memory of Delilah rear-ending me comes flooding back, and I know any hope I had of this woman only sticking around for the summer is gone. My jaw tightens when I put the pieces together. This woman is going to be living in Muriel’sold house for who knows how long. And now she’s here, spending time with my family.
“Delilah,” Clara says, “this is my older brother, Luke. Luke, this is Delilah and her siblings, Parker and Sophia.”
Her little sister grips her hand tighter. Behind Delilah stands the teenage boy I recognize from the other day, his face giving away the fact that he’d rather be anywhere but here.You and me both, I want to say.
Delilah offers me a tentative smile. She can clearly see the displeasure on my face.
Ever the peace-keeper, Mom jumps in. “Delilah, sweetie, this is my husband, John,” she says. “And my youngest son, Gabriel. He is Abbie’s father.”
Delilah’s smile is much more sure this time. “It’s really nice to meet you. Thanks again for letting us intrude on your family time.”
Like we were given a choice.
My mother shoots me a disapproving look and points toward the table like she did when I was in trouble as a kid. Then she forces a beaming smile onto her lips. “Food’s ready!”
We all squish into the space around the kitchen table. It’s an okay size for the six of us, but nine is a bit of a stretch. And of course, I wind up sitting right next to Delilah. The food gets passed around and we pile it on our plates. Before we can all dig in, Delilah decides to open her mouth.
“Luke and I have actually already met,” Delilah says out of nowhere.
My head whips up from my plate.
Mom’s face is full of surprise. “Oh. At Dockside?”
Delilah’s eyes flit to mine, and then she sets her mouth into a sheepish smile. “Oh, no. I actually rear-ended him our first morning on the island. Even though I’m sure I made him late to work, he was super nice about it.”
Gabe coughs in athat’s bullshitsort of way. I kick my foot out, nailing him in the shin. Clara just sighs as she rolls her eyes. Dad looks on in quiet amusement. And Mom looks like she doesn’t quite know what to do with all of us, even though she’s had thirty-odd years of practice.
“I’mhungry,” Abbie whines, cutting the weird tension that has settled over the rest of us. “Can weeatnow, Grammy?”
After Abbie’s begging, we all abandon conversation and tuck into the food. Mom makes an assortment of things, from pancakes or waffles to scrambled eggs to bowls of fruit. It’s like a hotel buffet breakfast, but ten times better.
Sophia started out in a chair beside Delilah, but rather quickly she climbed into her older sister’s lap, still painfully shy.
Brunch went by as it always does: with great food and ample banter. Still, I couldn’t shake the tension in my shoulders from havingherthere. Gabe and Clara seemed unaffected, carrying on ribbing each other as usual, but I was caught up in knowing that Delilah’s eyes were on me.
After they were full, Abbie coaxed Sophia into playing with her dollhouse, and then two pairs of tiny footsteps thundered up the stairs.
We’re in that phase after everyone has finished eating where no one has found the energy to get out of their chair when Gabe starts to fiddle around on his phone. The musicwas turned down considerably when we sat at the table, and it still plays quietly in the background. The current song abruptly stops. Then the familiar opening chords of “Hey There Delilah” begin to filter through the room.
And then, something kind of magnificent happens. Delilah laughs. The sound catches me completely off guard. Her eyes crinkle as her head tips back, and her cheeks flush that pretty pink colour I’ve seen once before.
“Stop, please!” she pleads, covering her face with her hands. “This songhauntsme.”
Beside her, Clara cackles. “How many promposals?”
Delilah peeks out between her fingers. “Too many.”
This sends my family into another fit of laughter. I try, but I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Delilah. I clear my throat, averting my eyes.
“So, Delilah,” Dad starts after the laughter has died down, “what brings you to Kip Island?”
It’s a standard question. Anyone would ask this of someone new to town. But Delilah looks almost pained as she formulates her answer. Beneath the table, she fiddles with the frayed edge of a hole in her distressed shorts.
“Truthfully,” she says eventually, “I saw it on a postcard and just thought it was pretty.”
