Page 27 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

“She says they’re about five minutes from the bridge.”

I lean across the bed we’re making and shout into the phone at Rebekah’s ear. “Tell your dad to drive faster!”

“We’re coming downstairs to wait for you outside. See you soon, Elly Bean.” I’m halfway to the door before she even hangs up.

Rebekah was the first to arrive on the island this morning, and since the house wasn’t open yet, we’d spent the time shopping, reminiscing, and eating our weight in shrimp at our favorite dockside restaurant.

Once my aunt arrived with the keys from the realtor, we’d come over to help her stock cabinets and make beds before our wave of relatives rolled in.

“We couldn’t have asked for more beautiful weather,” Rebekah comments as we step out into the sunshine, all traces of last night's rain gone.

I walk down the deck steps and wonder how many times I’ve climbed them in my lifetime. “Hey, remember the year we sunbathed out here and listened to that old Mandy Moore CD on repeat?”

“And we thought those guys across the street with the binoculars were looking at us.”

“How were we supposed to know there was an owl on the roof?”

“That was the year I had that pink suit too.” She tosses her hair. “There’s no way the owl was even close to that cute.”

“Only you would be offended that some creepy guys weren’t checking you out.” I laugh. “I’m surprised your parents aren’t here yet. Didn’t you tell me they were leaving at lunchtime?”

“They’re probably not far. Elias and Kade were going to meet them at the store to grab some stuff to set up for dinner.” She shades her eyes and squints down the road. “There she is!” I watch her bounce on the balls of her feet as the SUV approaches, hardly able to keep still myself.

My uncle doesn’t even have time to pull into the driveway before a back door opens and Elle jumps out, running toward us at full speed. I meet her halfway, colliding with her tiny frame and scooping her up in a massive hug. Rebekah, unwilling to wait her turn, envelops both of us.

We stand there like that for a long time, a pile of intertwined arms and souls, best friends reunited.

Finally, Rebekah releases us, and I step back to survey the girl in front of us.

She’s wearing a flowy sundress and sporting a messy bun.

Huge earrings dangle at the sides of her suntanned face.

She’s beaming. No, she’s positively glowing.

“Elle!” Rebekah gasps, confirming that I’m not the only one who’s noticed. “Look at you all grown up! You look amazing.”

“We sent our little girl off to Europe and look at this stunning woman who’s returned to us,” I gush.

“Stop.” Elle rolls her eyes. But it’s true. How is it that she seems so incredibly different and yet somehow the truest version of herself I’ve ever laid eyes on?

“We’ll help you carry in your bags.” Rebekah walks to the now-parked van that my aunt and uncle and two of Elle’s brothers are emerging from.

“That was quite the reunion.” My aunt pulls Rebekah and me in for hugs in turn. “Your folks here yet?” We both shake our heads. “Well, it’s good to see you girls together again.”

“Is the infamous Dr. Dillon here?” Elle asks as we each grab a suitcase and carry them up to the house.

“He’s coming sometime tomorrow afternoon,” Rebekah answers. “He plays guitar for his church’s band, so he’ll leave after their service. But he’ll be here until Wednesday.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.” Elle enters the house and heads straight for the bedroom the four of us have always shared. “Any word from Sutton?”

“They’ll probably be here later tonight,” Rebekah reports. “Marcail threw up last night, and even though they think it’s probably just her food allergy stuff, they want to wait a little bit to make sure. No one wants to be responsible for another Henry family vomit fest, right?”

“Food allergy stuff?” I drop Elle’s backpack on the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, they’ve had a rough few weeks.” Rebekah pulls open a drawer and starts unpacking Elle’s clothes for her, neatly refolding the piles Elle clearly tossed in five minutes before they left the house this morning.

“They’re still waiting for some tests to come back, but it looks like it may be a long road ahead for our sweet Marcie. ”

The fact that I don’t know any of this shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. After all, I’m the one who has been avoiding Sutton’s calls lately. But this is information I should not be getting secondhand.

Rebekah seems to read my mood and adds, “She’s probably just talked to me more about it since I’m a nurse.”

“Want to see what I brought you?” Elle drops onto the bed beside her backpack and wiggles her eyebrows.

Rebekah and I rush to join her on the starfish comforter. “I’m holding my breath for a matador costume,” I joke.

“Next time,” Elle says and pulls out three red soccer jerseys with yellow lettering. “In honor of it being a World Cup year.” She tosses us each a shirt. “I’ve already come up with a long list of soccer star siblings, so I hope you guys are bringing your A game.”

“My favorite this year is Tim Cruise,” Rebekah tells her.

Elle grabs her hand. “Oh my gosh, I know exactly who you’re talking about!”

“You guys want to go for a walk on the beach before dinner?” I suggest, setting my jersey on the nightstand while Rebekah meticulously folds hers in her lap.

“Yes!” Elle jumps up. “You don’t think Sutton will mind if we go without her, do you?”

“We’ll go again when she gets here,” I promise.

The Atlantic swirls around our ankles, and I savor the familiar pull of the tide as I watch it take the sand from under my feet.

“It feels so good to be back at the ocean.” Elle closes her eyes and breathes in the salt air.

“We’re just thankful to have you on this side of it.”

“If I'd known we were going to be out here for this long, I’d have put on sunscreen,” Rebekah comments.

“You know you’ll be burnt by Wednesday either way,” Elle tells her. “But we should probably head back soon.”

Rebekah pulls the phone from her back pocket and checks the time. “They’ll be setting dinner up. And we don’t want to miss fried chicken.”

Arm in arm, we walk to the beach house that sits across the backyard from ours. Folding tables are set up in a row, loaded with buckets of chicken and tubs of mashed potatoes, slaw, mac and cheese, and green beans. At the end of the line sits a huge pile of buttery biscuits.

But an even more welcome sight than the feast is the faces of so many of my favorite people in the world.

When we step under the house, we’re hit with a wave of hugs and high fives and smiles and questions and updates.

It’s overwhelming in the best sense, and I feel my soul fill the way it only does this specific time of year.

After we’ve all exchanged greetings and my granddaddy has shouted a prayer over the yard, we line up and pile our plates high, then find spots to sit.

I look out over the other tables, camping chairs, blankets, steps, porches, and concrete seating areas.

These yards are more crowded than any popular restaurant.

I’ve just bitten into my biscuit when Rebekah gasps.

“Sutton’s here!” My stomach turns. I should be as ecstatic to see her as my cousins are, and I am, but I’m also keenly aware that things are not as they should be between Sutton and me.

And keeping things at surface level is much easier over text than face-to-face.

Still, I hop from the bench to join the welcoming party.

“Finally!” Rebekah takes Marcail from Sutton’s arms, and Elle jumps into them.

“You have no idea how much we missed you, ElleBelle,” Sutton whispers as Marcail starts screaming.

“I think she needs changing,” Rebekah says.

“Story of my life today,” Sutton grumbles.

“I’ll take her upstairs; someone in this house will have diapers, I’m sure.”

“I’ll come with you.” Elle kisses Marcie’s red face. “Our nurse deserves a break from bodily fluids on vacation.”

Three diaper changers seem like overkill, so I’m left standing in front of Sutton and Chris, searching for something normal to say.

“Glad you’re here,” I offer awkwardly. “Can I fix you a plate?”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” She smiles halfheartedly and walks away to load up on hugs and chicken.

Chris pulls me into a side hug. “Long day. She’ll be fine.”

But Sutton clearly is not fine all through dinner nor while we sit and catch up on the porch afterwards. And she’s still not fine when she bids us goodnight and walks back early to the room she’s sharing with Chris and the baby because “Marcie doesn’t want anyone but mom right now.”

Hours after she leaves, I slip under the covers of the bed I’m sharing with Elle. I don’t even have to pretend to be tired as I tell her and Rebekah that I’m going to turn in but please not to stop whispering about charming doctors and Spanish cafes.

I lie awake until their voices die down, no longer drowning out the ones in my head.

Out of habit, my hand finds the pendant at my throat, and I imagine I can see the kitchen light from the blue house next door.

I wonder if Jude’s typing away on his computer or writing something in the notebook.

I wish I could walk downstairs and sit on the stool next to his, ask him about his day, talk to him about mine, and watch him work until he gives up and makes us both a snack.

Elle’s steady breathing is the last thing I hear before succumbing to sleep, but the last thought I have is this: for the first time in all my summers of Henry family vacations, I feel homesick.