Chapter 9 The Surprise
The Surprise
Ava rounded the front porch and walked to the driveway to meet Summer but stopped short at the duo exiting the SUV.
“Hey, guys,” Ava greeted.
“Hey, girl. We come bearing treats,” Summer said with a little too much enthusiasm. She mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ over Avery’s head.
Avery approached with a rectangular box from the Early Bird Café, his dejected face staring at the gravel he kicked up with each step.
“Yum. Thanks for bringing it, Avery.” Ava addressed him directly, picking up on his sour mood.
He lifted his head, a slight pout still on his face. “Dad said you like blueberries, so we brought you a whoopie pie,” he said, holding the box out for her to take.
“He’s right. Come inside and let’s see what else he put in here,” Ava said.
She ushered them inside the cabin through the porch door.
This door opened to the hallway in front of the stairs, the dining room to the left and the living room on their right.
She led them to the dining room and placed the box on the table.
“Hmm, let me guess which one is your favorite,” Ava said, hoping to lighten his sullen attitude. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much to see him upset. Maybe because his wild brown hair and eyes reminded her so much of Owen at his age. His age when they’d first met.
She opened the lid and chanced a glance at Summer, who mouthed ‘chocolate’ at her. Ava took the hint.
“You strike me as a double-chocolate muffin guy,” Ava said.
Avery gave her a small smile, his reluctance still clear. But Ava could work with that.
“I call dibs on the cinnamon roll,” Summer said, as she reached out to ruffle Avery’s hair.
“Ugh, Aunt Summer, stop.” He stepped out of her reach and shifted from upset to annoyed, which Ava took as a good sign.
“Ava, can I use your bathroom?”
“Down the hall behind the stairs, on your left,” Ava directed him.
Avery left the room, leaving Summer and Ava alone.
“Did you get my text? Maddy had to leave today, so Owen asked me to take him this afternoon. He had a meeting he couldn’t get out of. Sorry to spring this on you,” Summer whispered.
“I must have missed it. I went on a cleaning spree today,” Ava said.
Summer glanced at the line of black trash bags propped against the wall. “I’ll say. Are you donating all this? I can drop them off for you at the church thrift store on my way to yoga tomorrow.”
Ava widened her eyes. “I forgot all about the thrift store. I thought I’d have to drive to Augusta to get rid of this crap. Yes, please take the first round for me.”
“You got it,” Summer said.
Ava bit her lip and glanced toward the hallway bathroom, listening for signs of Avery’s return.
“So, I guess that explains the bad mood. Poor kid, I could tell how excited he was to have his mom in town,” Ava said, speaking in a low tone to avoid Avery overhearing.
Summer tugged at the end of her braid in thought, her eyes also glancing at the hallway. “Yeah, he’s always upset when she leaves. She sprung it on him this morning.”
Ava’s chest throbbed with pity for Avery. She remembered what it was like to be passed from one parent to another in the years after her parent’s divorce. The school year with mom, school breaks with dad. The transition was tough, no matter how much you loved both parents.
She didn’t want to add insult to injury by having the kid help her with cleaning. No kid wanted to help their aunt’s friend do chores. She thought about the canoe sitting abandoned by the dock.
Ava walked to the storage area behind the stairs where her dad kept the outdoor chairs and life jackets, along with seasonal decorations.
She spotted the orange life jackets in a pile and rummaged through them, looking for a child’s size.
The bathroom door opened, and Avery’s footsteps padded on the wood floor behind her.
“What are you doing in there?” Avery asked.
Ava found what she was looking for and spun around, holding up the smaller life jacket. “There’s a pond at the edge of the property. Want to go canoeing?”
Avery’s face split into a grin that showed one of his missing teeth, and he nodded eagerly. Ava grabbed two more life jackets and rejoined Summer in the dining area.
“What do you say, up for a canoe ride?” Ava asked.
“Hell yeah. I'll steer.”
“If a sub is a sandwich, wouldn’t a hot dog be a sandwich? The bread is cut the same way, you just eat a hot dog cut-side up is all,” Summer pushed her paddle against the current to slow down the canoe, sending them coasting into the bed of lily pads on the far-side of the pond.
“Absolutely not,” Ava said.
“No, that’s weird,” Avery agreed.
“Why not? A hot dog bun is just a different loaf of bread. What about hoagies? Hoagie bread is basically a hot dog bun,” Summer continued.
Ava glanced over her shoulder, catching Avery’s scrunched-up expression from where he sat in the middle of the canoe.
He’d wanted Ava’s spot in the front, but that would’ve left the canoe unbalanced.
They convinced him he could be the navigator and tell them where to go.
He’d directed them to all corners of the pond, excitedly pointing out fish and turtles along the way, each new discovery lifting his spirits more.
Somewhere in their conversations, they started getting philosophical, pondering the all-important questions like whether queso dip is a soup and if a lobster roll counts as a sandwich or something closer to a hot dog.
It may be silly, but it made Avery laugh, so they carried on.
After a couple of hours on the pond, Ava could admit the kid was growing on her.
It made her feel awful Summer had hidden this part of her life all these years.
“Hot dogs are their own thing. Like hamburgers,” Avery said.
Ava nodded in agreement.
“If you have to cook something to assemble it, I think that takes it out of the sandwich category,” Ava said.
“But what about bacon? You have to cook bacon. You’re telling me you wouldn’t consider a BLT a sandwich?”
“Didn’t think about that,” Avery muttered, deep in thought.
“Okay, okay. I take it back. You can cook stuff that goes on a sandwich. But a hot dog still doesn’t count, and that’s my final answer,” Ava said.
She turned to look at Avery and Summer behind her.
“What she said.” Avery shrugged.
“OK fine, but—”
“Look, it’s a moose,” Avery interrupted Summer, pointing at the canopy of trees to their right. “You see it? Do you see it? It’s huge.”
Ava followed his gaze, searching between the dense trees. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, getting closer to early evening, casting long shadows from the tree trunks.
“Holy cow, you’re right, squirt. You see it yet, Ava? To the left of that pine tree closest to the shore. One of its antlers is broken off at an odd angle.”
Ava scanned the shoreline again before she spotted it. Avery wasn’t exaggerating. The moose was massive.
“I see it now. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw a moose,” Ava said. “My dad always swore there was a moose living near this pond, but I never believed him. Thought he was just messing with us.”
The memory came back unbidden, reminding her of all the summers they’d paddle out on the water, her dad swearing if she looked hard enough she’d see a moose.
Every time she kept her eyes trained on the shore, hoping for a glimpse, wanting to be in a secret club with just her dad, who could say they saw the moose.
Her throat unexpectedly caught.
“My dad says moose can have thousands of ticks. He said to never try petting one or I could get line disease,” Avery said.
“Line disease? Dude, it’s Lyme disease,” Summer said.
“Like the fruit? A lime? That doesn’t sound right,” Avery rebutted.
“Well, it’s not line, like line dancing. I can tell you that,” Summer argued.
Ava turned to look at them bickering, their conversation so ridiculous, and so innocent, and she started laughing. She tried covering it behind her hand but failed when the giggles overcame her.
Summer joined in.
Then Avery.
When Ava recovered and searched for the moose again, it was gone and the shadows under the trees were longer.
Summer slapped at her arm, cursing the no-see-ums under her breath.
“I think it’s time to head back to the cabin. It’s getting dark,” Ava said.
“Wait, can I do one more thing?” Avery asked. “Can you get us closer to those lily pads right there?” He pointed to a cluster of lily pads with flowers blooming atop them.
They obliged, and Summer grabbed the strap on the back of his life jacket when she realized he was reaching into the water. He plucked two white water lilies, handing one to Summer and the other to Ava.
“Now we can go,” Avery said.
Ava exchanged a look with Summer over Avery’s head. His sweetness tugged at Ava’s heartstrings, the gesture so genuine and childlike.
“Beautiful. Thank you,” Ava told him, tucking the stem behind her ear, even if it meant she’d have water dripping down her neck.
He gave her a bashful smile and pointed to the opposite shore where the cabin was. “To the cabin,” he directed.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Summer said.
Their paddles sliced through the water, cutting a path home. Halfway across the pond, the mated pair of loons glided alongside them before dipping under the surface, much to Avery’s delight.
“Oh, by the way, squirt, it is Lyme disease. Ask Ava.”
“Sorry, Avery, it’s true,” Ava backed her up.
“I’m going to ask dad anyway,” Avery said, not believing them.
“Speaking of your dad, I haven’t heard from him yet. Looks like you’re stuck with us for a while longer. Anyone up for a movie?” Summer asked.
They approached the dock and fumbled their way out of the canoe, getting only partially wet from the jostling water.
Summer pulled the canoe onto the shore, and Ava helped her flip it upside down so it could dry.
They hurried up the steep slope to the cabin to escape the growing darkness and buzzing insects.
Ava rummaged in the kitchen to scrape together some kind of dinner. Her dad had to have something left behind she could work with. Summer and Avery wandered into the living room to check out the movies.
“I can’t believe your dad still had so many physical movies. He never moved to streaming, did he?” Summer called out.
Ava spotted a pizza in the freezer and preheated the oven.
“No. And he never changed his internet plan. I can’t even load a YouTube video out here,” Ava shouted back.
The only TV in the cabin was in her dad’s room, but the living room held a pull-down screen installed above the windows overlooking the lake, and a projector perched on a shelf above the couch.
Growing up, they would all gather on the couch to watch movies, sometimes making blanket forts for extra coziness.
Those kinds of days felt more special as Ava grew older and family movie days turned into movie dates with Owen, hidden away from the outside world.
The memory sparked an idea. She shoved the pizza in the oven and joined them in the living room.
“Summer, do you still remember how to make a blanket fort?”
“Do I remember how to make a blanket fort? What do you take me for? I’m the best aunt ever. Of course, I know how to make one,” Summer scoffed.
Avery pulled a movie from the shelf and held it up. “Mom and I are reading these books. Can we watch the first movie?” Avery gave them a hopeful look.
Ava’s heart clenched. “I’ll get the projector ready. Summer, you get started on the fort.”
Summer set to work assessing the blankets strewn about on the couch, and Ava drew down the blackout curtains to prevent any shadows.
In short order, Ava had the projector screen pulled down, and the movie queued up to play as Summer put the last touches on their fort.
Avery sat in the middle of the fort with the earlier forgotten box of treats and more pillows than Ava realized her dad owned stacked around him.
Ava pulled the pizza out of the oven and divvied up slices on paper plates she found in the pantry, setting them on top of the box in Avery’s lap so they could join him.
Then they crawled into the fort on either side of Avery.
She had a feeling no matter how many pillows she had stacked under her, her back would still hurt from sitting on the floor.
A viewing of the first movie turned into the second of the series, and more snacks found their way into the fort.
The box of pastries had long been polished off, and it was becoming harder for Avery to keep his eyes open.
Halfway through, Avery lost the battle and fell asleep, sprawled among the pillows and blankets.
They turned the volume down on the movie, leaving it as low background noise.
“Thanks for today, Birdie. He needed this,” Summer whispered.
Ava glanced at Avery’s sleeping face, his messy brown hair spread out in a spiky halo. A pang of regret bloomed in her chest. Sharp and sudden, and so painful.
Then a small, long-forgotten desire wormed its way out of the tiny box she’d packed it inside.
Alongside the box where she stored her memories of Owen and the much larger box barely containing her grief about her dad.
She was great at compartmentalization, but eventually, the boxes would tumble like they were doing now. And that tiny box fell first.
Her dad would never meet his grandchildren.
He wanted to be a grandfather so much.
I wanted to be a mother.
She shoved the thought back into its box and hid it away where it’d be hard to find, somewhere near her abandoned hope of impressing her mother. When she wrestled back control, she answered Summer.
“I think I needed this too,” she whispered.