Flashback 1
Ivy
Sixteen Months Ago
I really, really don’t want to burst into tears the moment I see Aunt P. and Uncle Alan…but that’s exactly what happens.
With my flight arriving midday, and my cousins finishing up their last week of school, only my aunt and uncle are waiting for me in the terminal building with balloons and smiles. It’s their kindness—their pure delight to see me and deep reserves of love for me—that opens the floodgates of my embarrassment, disappointment, and hurt. They pull me into their arms for a giant bear hug, and I cling to them fiercely with tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Ivy! What happened?” asks my aunt, leaning away to scan my face. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t stop crying. Tears stream. Sobs rise up from my throat with ugly choking sounds.
“C-Clark ch-cheated on me,” I manage to say.
“Oh, honey! When?”
“Th-three w-weeks ago.”
“Asshole!” mutters Uncle Alan.
“Watch your mouth,” chastises Aunt P., pulling me back into her arms.
I can’t hold it together anymore. I’ve used up all of my strength getting through the last few weeks of school, which included four final exams amid whispered rumors about Clark cheating on me and our subsequent break up.
By the time I boarded my plane to Skagway this morning, I felt like splintered glass on the brink of shattering. All it took was a hug from my aunt and uncle for me to break.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” says my aunt, pulling me close again. “That’s terrible.”
“My twelve-gauge works like a charm,” says my uncle gruffly.
“Now, stop it, Alan,” says Aunt P. “You’re not shooting anyone.”
“Just saying I would ,” he says. “And gladly.”
She tsks him before turning back to me. “Did he meet someone new?”
“I d-don’t know if they’re—they’re a c-couple or if it was j-just a one t-time thing. But I c-caught them to-together.”
She cups my face and looks into my eyes. “Then he wasn’t the right man for you. The right man would never risk losing you.”
As we walk to the baggage claim area, I dry my eyes on my jacket sleeve, feeling better than I’ve felt in weeks. There’s nothing like a good, old-fashioned, heaving, messy, sobby cry to make you feel like a brand-new person.
We pile my luggage into the back of my uncle’s trunk, then drive to the Station Bar and Grill where I drown the last of my sorrows in cold beer and greasy fries while getting an update on my cousins. When we get to my apartment over the Kozy Kone an hour later, my tears are pretty much gone.
As I fill my bureau drawers with summer clothes, Aunt Priscilla peeks into my bedroom.
“All good in here? We got the groceries loaded into the fridge.”
“Thanks, Aunt P. You guys are the best.”
“You know you can stay with us if you want.”
“You have three bedrooms and two daughters,” I point out. “I don’t want to kick Jenny or Vicky out of their own rooms.”
“The girls worship you,” she says with a chuckle. “They’d happily sleep outside on the deck if it meant you stayed with us.”
“Nah. It’s okay,” I say. “I’m good here. And it means I can stay out ’til all hours.”
Aunt P. and Uncle Alan always gave me a very strict curfew when I stayed with them. It wasn’t a point of contention—I obeyed their rules when I stayed under their roof—but I love hanging out at night with other seasonal workers and not worrying about the time. It’s part of the fun of being here.
“Fair enough,” she says, taking a fitted sheet and billowing it over the bare mattress of my bed. She pulls the corners under completely so there’s no risk of it short sheeting in the middle of the night, then spreads the flat sheet over it, smoothing it with her hands. “Can I talk to you about something, Ivy?”
“That sounds ominous,” I say, opening a smaller suitcase that holds neatly packed accessories and toiletries. “But of course! Anything.”
“Do you plan to see Sawyer Stewart this summer?”
I shrug, though my heart beats faster at the sound of his name. I’ve been thinking about him a lot since Clark humiliated me with Mandee. My friendship with Sawyer was always so easy, and he’s the best kisser I ever met. Yes, I’m eager to see him this summer.
“I guess. We hang out every summer. I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”
I sit down on the floor and unpack my toiletries, transferring my shampoo, conditioner and other bathroom supplies to a plastic carry-all.
She tucks the corners of the flat sheet under the mattress. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what?”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Are you going to…you know…”
“What?”
She winces. “Hook up?”
My face says what my mouth doesn’t: None of your business, Aunt P.!
“I know. I know. It’s none of my business…but, hear me out, okay?” She spreads a comforter over the sheets, then sits down on it. “Last summer, I really noticed you two for the first time. I noticed him . The way he looked at you. The way he spoke to you. You spent a lot of time together, and well…I think he really liked you. As more than a friend.”
“No, no, no. Aunt P., you’re on the wrong track here. It’s not like that between us,” I say, shaking my head. “Sawyer and I are just summer friends. And yes, we also kiss sometimes, but it’s just for fun.” She’s still staring at me with a skeptical look. “We don’t have sex. It’s just a fun summer friendship that includes some occasional kissing when we’ve been drinking. That’s all. It’s super light and casual. I promise.”
She looks a little relieved, but not entirely convinced. “It’s light and casual for him, too?”
“Yeah. I mean, yeah, I think so. Definitely.”
She takes a deep breath, then lets it go slowly before speaking again. “When you got serious with Clark, I was sort of relieved for Sawyer, you know? I was relieved that you wouldn’t—I don’t know—lead him on again this summer.”
“Whoa! I’ve never ‘ led him on ,’” I tell her, feeling slightly offended. “Sawyer knows I come to town in May and leave in September. Neither of us have any expectations beyond the summer. No one’s leading anyone anywhere. Come on, Aunt P! Sawyer and I have been summer friends since we were eight or nine years old. And he’s tons of fun over a night of pool and beer, and yes, we kiss sometimes. But that’s it. When the summer ends, so do we. Every time.”
“And that’s what he wants, too?”
I shrug. “I’ve never asked him, but we don’t talk after September. Never have. He doesn’t text me at Christmas or send me love letters at school or anything. Besides…”
“Besides what?”
“Sawyer Stewart isn’t boyfriend material.”
“But Clark-the-cheater is?”
I give her a look because that comment feels below the belt.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just trying to understand. Why isn’t Sawyer ‘boyfriend material?’”
“Well, for one thing, he’s…from here.”
She frowns. “ I’m from here.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“I know! I know! I don’t mean anything bad by it. It’s awesome here, and you know how much I love my summers here. But you went to college and worked in Anchorage for a few years and then came back to Skagway. Skagway was your choice after you’d seen, like, the world, and other options. Sawyer’s barely left Skagway his whole life. He’s a local tour guide in the town where he was born. He still lives up in Dyea with his whole family. He never went to college or traveled or anything. He’s only got one perspective. He’s…” I shrug. “No offense, Aunt P., but he’s a townie from a teeny, tiny Alaskan town. He’s kind of basic, you know? Super sweet and a fun summer friend…but, basic.”
“Basic.” Her brow creases. “Huh.”
Suddenly, I feel like the world’s worst snob, and it’s a very uncomfortable feeling with my beloved aunt. I rush to try to explain better.
“Don’t get me wrong. Sawyer’s super nice and very fun. He’s awesome. And you know I love Skagway. It’s the most amazing summer place ever. But I’d never want to end up here with him.”
“Because that would be a bad thing?”
“Because it wouldn’t be enough for me. He wouldn’t be enough for me.”
Or for my father.
I still haven’t had the guts to tell my father that I broke up with Clark. No matter how legitimate the reason, he’s going to be crestfallen. I’d never seen him as happy as the time I introduced him to Clark Clement Rupert III as my boyfriend. His whole face had lit up, and for the first time in my life, I’d felt the bright, warm sunshine of his approval. I’d done something right, and I’d been rewarded with his pride and affection.
“I see.” Her voice is tinged with disappointment, and I hate it that I’ve let her down, but I can’t help how I feel. Sawyer Stewart is fine for summer fun, but I don’t feel more than flirty friendship vibes for him, and I never really have.
I go back to sorting my toiletries, trying to ignore the awkwardness in the room. “Tell me more about the girls. I’m dying to see them! What are they up to this summer?”
“We can talk about the girls in a minute,” she says softly. She looks pensive for a moment, then says, “How about this…if you don’t take him seriously at all and can’t ever imagine having real feelings for him, then maybe the right thing to do would either be to a) tell him that so you’re on the same page, or b) leave him alone this summer. What do you think?”
What do I think?
I don’t like her suggestion.
If I tell him I don’t take him seriously, it’ll hurt his ego, wreck our friendship, and we’ll never hook up again. And frankly, I love hooking up with Sawyer. It’s one of the highlights of my summer. I like the way he looks for me in crowds, and when he finally finds me, I love the way he smiles. The way he looks at me across a room, his eyes dark and filled with longing, makes my stomach flutter. And the way he kisses? My knees go wobbly at the thought. I really don’t want to give that up, especially now, in the wake of Clark’s betrayal, when I could really use a boost of self-confidence.
“Ivy.”
I look up, and the expression on my aunt’s face isn’t one I’d generally trifle with. She’s serious, and she wants an answer.
“I don’t know,” I hedge, reaching for a safety razor and plopping it into the carry-all. I’ve never really had a mother figure aside from Aunt P., but let’s be so real: she’s not my mother. “And seriously, Aunt P., I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but why are you getting involved? Isn’t this sort of between me and Sawyer?”
“I’ve watched you two for years,” she says. “The way he looks at you, the way he shows up for you at a moment’s notice, the way he—well, I’m not positive, of course, but—the way he appears to love you—I’ve noticed it. I have to believe you have, too.”
I blink at her in shock. She’s so wrong, it’s nuts. “Aunt P.! He doesn’t love me. You have to stop now!”
She leans forward. “Just because he’s from a small town and didn’t go to college, he can’t fall in love?” “Oh my god. He can ! Of course he can. But he’s not in love with me! Stop. Please. What we have is a summer friendship and the occasional kiss. It’s easy. It’s fun.”
“It’s fun for you ,” she says, standing up. “But maybe it’s more serious for him. Think about it. Think about him . That’s all I’m saying.” She smooths out the bed one last time, then crosses the room like she’s leaving. At the bedroom doorway, she turns around. “As for your question about why I’m getting involved? You deserve an answer, and here it is. I knew his mother, Ivy. She was an awesome lady.”
“He doesn’t talk about her that much. She died a long time ago, right?”
“Seventeen years ago this January,” says my aunt. “It was an honor to know her. She was smart and funny, well-educated and well-traveled. Clever, but gentle. Strong. Athletic. Interesting. She chugged a beer faster than any man I ever saw. She was a great reader, too. The best book club meetings I ever attended at the library were organized by her.” She gives me a grim look. “And her family meant everything to her, Ivy. Everything. I don’t know how much you know about Sawyer’s parents, but it went like this. Emily came up for a summer job, met and married Garrison, a Skagway townie, had six beautiful kids with him, and never left.” She tilts her head to the side. “The life she found here was more than enough for her. If it’s not enough for you, maybe leave her son alone.”
She’s being so dramatic. I must have hurt her feelings when I inadvertently insulted Skagway .
I can say with ninety-nine percent certainty that Sawyer Stewart would say the same things about me that I’m saying about him. I can hear it now in his low, sexy voice: Ivy Caswell? Awesome girl. She’s cute and fun, and fine for a summer fling, but when I’m ready to fall in love, I’ll find a nice local girl, get serious, and settle down.
He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t. My aunt’s wrong. I know it in my bones. We’re summer friends-with-light-benefits, and neither of us has a problem with it.
That said, I feel really uncomfortable with the way my aunt is looking at me and want to assure her that everything’s going to be okay.
“Aunt P., I hear your words,” I say, placing a container of shower gel next to the razor before standing up to hug my aunt goodbye. “But you worry about me too much. When it comes to me and Sawyer Stewart, no one’s got strong feelings and no one’s going to end up getting hurt. I promise.”