Page 3 of The Lake House (Southern Charm #2)

Chapter Three

Julie waded through a murky cloud. It seemed strange that there were clouds around her feet, but not so strange that she should question it.

So, she walked forwards, hands outstretched, thrashing them about as if to move the clouds away.

But the clouds wouldn’t budge. They simply floated around her hands, like the little fish she used to try to catch when she paddled on the edges of Jackson Lake.

When she blinked, she found that she was actually in her house.

Back at home with Mom. She could hear her mother downstairs in the kitchen, clanking around making supper.

She hoped it would involve biscuits or hoecakes.

Anything with biscuits or hoecakes was just fine with her.

As long as there was a tonne of butter and strawberry jelly to go with them, or maybe some buttermilk.

Mom called her name from the kitchen. Julie traipsed happily down the stairs.

When she saw her mother standing at the counter, with flour on her hands and a little dab on the end of her nose, a rush of joy and pain swept over her.

She leapt at her mother with a little cry and buried her face in Mom’s shoulder, grasping onto the floral apron tied neatly around her neck and trim waist.

Mom stroked her hair, laughing. “What’s gotten into you?”

Julie couldn’t answer. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, only that she was so happy to see her mother and wouldn’t ever let go of her again.

She couldn’t let go of her. She had to hold on tight.

She looked up at her mother’s smiling face and felt another wave of joy that brought tears to her eyes.

Mom always had the prettiest smile, with her long blonde hair and her sparkling blue eyes.

Julie wished she looked like her mother.

Everyone always complimented Mom, saying she was beautiful.

That she could’ve done anything with her life.

But Mom said she didn’t care about any of that—all she wanted to do with her life was to have Julie.

To raise her, spend every day kissing and tickling her, and making biscuits with strawberry jelly for her to eat.

Julie loved it when she talked like that, although she realised in the moment she was probably a little too old to still be burying her head in her mother.

But she hadn’t had her growth spurt yet, and her head only reached as far as her mom’s shoulder. She wondered if she’d ever be as tall.

“I called you downstairs because there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Mom pulled a barstool out from the counter and patted the top of it.

Julie climbed onto the stool, crossed her ankles and waited.

Mom sighed. “A friend of mine is going through a hard time. She’s getting a divorce, and there’s a lot going on that I can’t really tell you. The upshot is that she’s asked if we’ll let her boy stay with us a while.”

Julie frowned. “Huh?”

“I don’t know if you remember James Fuller… Jamie is probably what you called him.”

“Jamie? No.”

Mom dipped her head. “Never mind. He’s a little older than you. Three years, I think. But I said he could stay here. He’s a nice boy. He attends the local high school and he’s on the baseball team, so you probably won’t see too much of him.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You don’t mind?” Mom’s brow furrowed, as though she was worried what Julie might say.

“I guess not.” Although Julie couldn’t imagine having a boy live with them.

She’d never lived with a boy, or a man. Her father had died before she was born.

And even though she’d stayed at the lake house with her grandparents on occasion, it was always a short-term thing. “How long will he be here?”

Mom’s lips pursed while she thought. “I don’t know. A few months. Maybe six?”

“Six months?” Julie exclaimed, her eyes wide. “I thought you meant he’d stay for the weekend or something.”

Mom laughed awkwardly. “No, a bit longer than that. His parents have to work some things out, and his mother is moving to Alabama. She didn’t want to pull him out partway through the school year.”

“When will he arrive?”

“Any minute now.”

Julie realised then it was a done deal. It didn’t much matter what she had to say about it.

She didn’t want a strange boy to come live in their home.

But it was clear Mom didn’t want to hear it.

So instead, she offered a wan smile and went to the formal dining room to sit by the bay windows and look out at the driveway.

If he was coming, she’d see him from there and could decide whether or not she liked him.

She watched a procession of ants on the windowsill when she got bored.

They traipsed in single file over the white timber, dodging around one of their pals who’d stopped still for some inexplicable reason.

On her knees, forehead pressed to the glass, she studied their little ant bodies, their antennae moving as though searching for something, and the hurried pace they never gave up.

Finally, a car pulled into the driveway.

It was more of a minivan, really. Julie was glad her mother didn’t drive a minivan.

They had a sedan. It was much less embarrassing at the middle school drop-off.

Although, if she could’ve had brothers and sisters to fill the seats of a minivan, she’d have been willing to put up with the embarrassment.

She’d always wanted siblings, but it was never going to happen.

Mom said she needed to get over that and be grateful for what she had.

To count her blessings, since no one knew how many days on this earth God granted us.

She was talking about Dad. Julie knew that.

Her mother still cried sometimes. At night when it was quiet, Julie could hear her.

Julie cried too, but for a different reason.

She cried because she’d never know her father.

And because she desperately longed to be part of a normal family with a father, mother, sisters or brothers.

But it was selfish of her to keep pining over something Mom could do nothing about. So, she kept it to herself.

A boy climbed out of the passenger side of the minivan. A woman stepped out of the driver’s side. Mom met the woman with a hug, and they spoke quietly together for a few minutes while the boy stood in silence, a roller bag by his feet, and a jacket hanging over one arm.

Then the woman gave him a hug and drove away. He watched the van disappear around the bend at the end of the street. His sandy blond hair was mussed and pointed in every direction. His eyes squinted after the van. His lightly freckled nose was wrinkled.

Mom said something to him, and he followed her to the front door.

Julie’s heart skipped a beat. They were coming inside.

She hurried over to the piano and began plonking out a tune on the keys, doing her best to pretend she’d been busy this whole time and hadn’t had her face plastered to the bay window to watch him arrive.

She waited until he’d settled his things in his room and wandered back downstairs before she said more than hi. She followed him into the kitchen then poured herself a glass of ice-cold lemonade.

“You want one?” she asked.

He nodded. “Thanks.”

She poured another glass and slid it across the counter to him, then sipped on hers. It was tangy and sweet, just the way she liked it. She and Mom had made it with lemons from their tree yesterday.

“It’s good,” he said.

“Do people call you James?”

“Jamie,” he replied without expression.

“Okay. Everyone just calls me Julie… so you can call me that. If you want.” Her stomach dropped. She wasn’t sure she’d ever said something so idiotic before. She willed herself to simply stop talking.

His eyes narrowed. “Okay. Super.”

“I can show you the lake…” she offered.

He glanced out the glass windows that looked over the water. “That one?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Sure. Why not?”

With a sigh of relief, she walked out through the side door onto the deck. “Lake Jackson… there’s good fishin’.”

She wasn’t sure what else to say. The lake was fairly self-evident. The water was dark. There were houses nestled amongst the trees all around its scalloped edges, and a few ducks flew low across the water.

“Okay… catfish?”

“Yep. And bass, too.”

“Cool.”

“Do you fish?”

“I’ve never done it,” he replied. “But I wouldn’t mind givin’ it a try sometime.”

His blond hair flopped over his eyes, and he blew it back with a puff of air.

“I’ll take you out on the boat.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen. You?”

“I’m twelve. I’ll be thirteen next month.”

He reached out a hand and grabbed her by the arm, shaking it. Then Julie’s eyes blinked open, and she found herself in bed with a dog licking her cheek.

“Ugh. Blue, stop it.” She pushed the dog away. He came at her again, tail wagging. Blue loved this game. His long tongue found her nose.

She sneezed and he backed up, tail still wagging. She flung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned over her knees with a yawn. It was still dark out. She padded down the hall with Blue close behind, his tongue lolling.

Outside, the night air was cool. She’d forgotten her glasses, so everything was a little out of focus.

She should’ve thrown on a sweater as well but hadn’t thought of it.

Instead, she hugged herself and stood looking up at the moon where it hung above the tree line.

She sat down on one of the Adirondack chairs on the deck and sighed. Her throat tightened.

The vision of her mother in the dream had made her entire body ache with the sorrow of losing her.

It was as if she’d had a chance to travel back in time and see her again, but the realisation that the woman she’d called Mom until the day she died wasn’t her biological mother hit her like a mallet to the gut.

When Matilda came to Georgia, she had disrupted all their lives.

But what no one else seemed to care about was the fact that Julie’s entire identity had been wrapped up in her mother. And now that was gone.

The only person who’d truly loved her was gone.

She’d never met her biological parents—hadn’t known a father at all.

Tears poured down her cheeks, and deep sobs erupted from her throat.

It was too much to bear. Who was she? Where did she belong?

And why had this part of herself been stolen away when she’d already lost so much?