Page 2 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

I was eight the fateful July day the pink boogie board snapped in half. The four of us had finally agreed on a color, pooled our wrinkled dollar bills, and talked my Aunt Mary into driving us off the island to the little beach store to make the purchase.

We’d only stopped by the house afterward long enough to shed the clothes we’d worn over our suits and to throw some juice boxes and crackers into a canvas bag before making a beeline for the beach.

“Don’t forget to put on sunscreen!” my mom called from her post at the kitchen counter as she tore off another long sheet of aluminum foil and covered a dish.

It was her night to help make dinner for the masses.

She didn’t even ask about which adult would be supervising us because it was a given that someone’s mom was sitting in a foldout chair in the sand at all times.

Our flip-flops popped on the asphalt as we crossed the little street that separated us from the ocean. “Who’s going first?” Elle adjusted the Little Mermaid towel slung over her shoulder.

“Oldest to youngest,” Sutton stated matter-of-factly. Of course.

Rebekah rolled her eyes at me, but none of us argued.

The sun was high in the sky and the moat around our sandcastle was almost finished by the time I unfastened the sandy Velcro strip from my wrist and offered it to Elle.

“Oh, can I have a turn?” Rebekah’s brother Elias jumped up from the pile of shells in front of him.

“After me!” Elle smiled, one front tooth missing. “Come on!” The two of them ran into the waves, Elle wobbling under the weight of a board almost as big as she was.

I’d just sat down on my striped towel and torn open a pack of peanut butter crackers when Elle came running back up the beach sobbing. Elias jogged behind her, a piece of the broken board in each hand. “I’m sorry, Elle. I said I was sorry!”

All three of us found our way to her side, as usual. “It’s okay, Elle.” Rebekah rubbed her back while Sutton wiped the stream under her nose with the corner of a towel. I pulled out a cracker; food was a love language we shared.

“I didn’t mean to,” Elias defended himself. “I just wanted to see what would happen if I tried to stand on it like a surfboard.”

Rebekah took our broken treasure from his hands and set it reverently by our feet. Elle burst into fresh tears.

“Don’t cry. You can borrow ours.” The unfamiliar voice was a surprise; we weren’t used to encountering many people not related to us on this strip of shore.

Two boys stood to our left. The taller one with shaggy blond hair smiled sympathetically at Elle, and the younger one with short brown hair and glasses held out a green boogie board with the silhouette of a palm tree printed on top.

“We live next door to the house you guys stay in every summer,” he blurted out. “Well, one of them. How many people are in your family anyway?”

“Don’t be rude.” His brother cut eyes at him. “I’m Gavin,” he said. “And this is Jude.”

Jude, who looked like he couldn’t be much older than our Elle, was undeterred. “But seriously, we tried to count once when you were eating dinner in the backyards. There’s, like, a lot of you.”

“Forty-nine,” Sutton said proudly. “And counting.”

“Whoa.”

Sutton smiled at the awed look on Gavin’s face.

“Are you guys all brothers and sisters?” Jude asked.

“We wish,” Rebekah said. “Elias and I are siblings. But us girls are cousins. Our dads are brothers. There are eight of them all together. And then, with all their kids plus our grandparents and our two great aunts’ families and their kids . . . my dad says we’ll need a fifth house next year.”

“That’s really cool.” Gavin squinted and shaded his eyes from the sun. “But eight brothers? I’m not sure I could handle more than the one I’ve got.” He shoved Jude’s shoulder playfully, and I decided I liked him.

“So you guys rent the house next to ours? The blue one?” I asked.

“No, we don’t rent it. It’s our house.”

“Wait. You live there, live there?” Sutton gasped. “Like all the time?”

Both boys nodded eagerly, clearly sensing our excitement.

“That’s so cool!” Elle had forgotten all about the broken board. “Wouldn’t it be awesome to live on vacation?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be vacation then,” Sutton explained. “So it’s just the two of you?”

“And our big sister Kelsey. And our dad.” Gavin looked at Jude, but the younger boy just stared at his sand-coated toes.

“So.” Gavin turned to Elle. “Are we boogie boarding or not? I can show you how to catch the good waves.”

And that’s how our friendship with the Alford brothers began.

“You’re sure you can’t come stay with me? It’d be fun.”

“I wish!” Rebekah’s voice echoes over the speakerphone as I turn on my signal and exit the interstate. “Do you know how hard I had to fight my boss just to get off the week of the reunion?”

“Does your boss know how many people would have come after her if she’d have said no?”

Rebekah laughs. “So where are you staying anyway? It’s not like you to do something spontaneous like this.”

It’s true, but it still bothers me that she said it out loud. My little car bumps over a pothole in the country road I’ve just turned onto, and the grocery bags in my backseat rustle. “Did you just call me boring?”

“Not boring.” She pauses, and I can picture her tugging on the ends of her hair like she does when she’s thinking. “Just . . . cautious. Your parents were cool with this?”

“Well, considering I’m almost twenty-two, I didn’t exactly ask their permission, Bek.” I glance in the rearview mirror and add, “They did send me with laundry detergent, pepper spray, a wad of cash, and multiple bottles of sunscreen.”

She giggles again. “That sounds more like the aunt and uncle I know. Did you pack your boogie board or are you hoping to borrow one from some handsome strangers on the beach?”

“Oh, I brought my own. It’s in the trunk right next to my box of Barbie dolls.”

“You joke,” she retorts, “but our Barbie days were the best. Hey, I’m gonna let you go; I’m getting another call.”

“A handsome med student, perhaps?”

“Maaaybe.” I love that I know exactly which smile I’m hearing in her voice. “Or it could be Granddaddy calling to update me on his latest fishing trip.”

“Okay, tell him I said hi. I’ll call you back when my book is finished.”

“You’d better call me back as soon as you set foot on the beach. And send me a picture when you go over the bridge!”

I adjust the air conditioning and reach for the phone button. “I’m telling my mom you’re encouraging me to text and drive. Bye.”

Twenty more minutes and I’ll be on the main road of the biggest town next to our island.

It’s my best bet for finding an economical long-term hotel situation.

If I can be careful with my savings and the money my dad gave me, I may be able to make it stretch until the beginning of August. If not, I’m sure I can apply for a seasonal part-time job and work around my writing time.

It’s the closest thing to a plan I have, and I can’t afford to overthink it now.

I close my hand around the necklace at my throat and remind myself why I need this summer, why we all need this book.

Everyone else may enjoy flying down the slippery slide of time, but all I can see is the possibility of pain ahead.

I’m not ready to let go yet. I have to find the words that will keep my cousins from forgetting the best days of our lives.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to move forward until I sort through everything that lies behind us.