Chapter 4 Past
Molly was waiting on the front step when I got there. Wearing what looked like pajamas and a silk scarf tied around her hair, she sprang to her feet and greeted me with a smile and a hug.
“Where have you been? I was worried you walked here and a snake gotcha!”
I held up the now-limp bag of food and gave her my best please forgive me grin.
“Stopped by Neal’s,” I said. “Got your favorite.”
“Oooh! You are forgiven, ma’am!” she said, her thick Southern accent bubbling with excitement.
And just like that, any worry she had about me being late disappeared the second she took a big bite of her egg sandwich.
As we sat there inhaling our food, I told her all about what happened with Nick Newsome—though I left out the little staring contest with Paul.
Molly wasn’t as impressed with Nick or Paul as I was—but then again, she’d grown up next door to them.
Any fascination she might’ve had wore off a long time ago.
Her family had lived beside the Newsomes for years.
They used to spend every major holiday over there, but ever since Katie Newsome died, those gatherings have been few and far between.
“I don’t know... ever since that night, things have been—different,” Molly said, taking another bite. She looked as if she wanted to say more—but didn’t.
I wanted to press her, but she was quick to change the subject.
We’d planned to spend every day of summer together. Stay out by the lake until the sun went down, take her family’s boat out—she’d finally gotten her boating license—and blissfully waste the days away without a care in the world.
Unfortunately, days before school let out, those teenage dreams faded fast when my parents told me they’d lined up a part-time summer job for me at the local soda shop.
I’d be scooping cones and making root beer floats a few days a week.
Honestly, I couldn’t be too mad—I did want to save up for a car.
The truth is, unlike Molly and a lot of the other kids in Shay, we might’ve looked like we were keeping up with the Joneses, but we had our own secrets tucked behind the walls of that big white house.
Some years ago, my mom had fallen victim to the “little yellow pill” craze of the ’50s—and never quite shook it.
My dad, a hard worker and great provider, spent most of his time locked away in his office…
or giving too much attention to his thirty-something, blonde-haired secretary.
He made more than enough, but most of it went to feeding Mom’s habit—and covering his own.
The town gossips might’ve had a field day—if their names weren’t on the same prescription labels. Still, some truths are easier to ignore, especially when they live under your own roof.
In a week, our lazy plans would be interrupted by the smell of sweet cream and sugar cones. I guess it’s not that bad a thing—but I’d take Lake Sanders and Molly over sugar cones any day.
…
After breakfast, we crumpled up our wrappers and headed inside to get our suits on.
Molly’s mom bought her whatever she wanted—I used to think she was lucky, but later figured out her mom had the same problem mine did. The difference was, her mom bought Molly’s silence with new clothes.
And not just clothes.
The Stolls had one of the nicer homes in Shay—a big two-story with tall ceilings, new furniture, fancy curtains that probably cost a fortune.
The kind of house where everything looked just right, because her mom kept it that way...
probably to make up for the things that weren’t so perfect underneath.
Upstairs in Molly’s room, we ripped through her drawers and grabbed our suits. I picked out a skimpy two-piece—nothing my parents would’ve ever allowed. White with red polka dots and a matching pair of red sunglasses.
Molly put on her favorite blue bikini but threw a brightly colored wrap over it. After a quick glance in the mirror, we gathered our things and headed out for a long, lazy day at the lake.