Song of Summer by Laura Lee Anderson

Author:Laura Lee Anderson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Children's Books
Published: 2015-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Carter

I think I’ve overused the expression “the middle of nowhere,” because until seeing Robin’s house, I had not yet experienced its true meaning. Her house is situated between a cornfield and a vineyard with no other houses in sight. The driveway is long and tree lined. I park in the middle of it, next to Robin’s Subaru.

I wish I hadn’t worn my jacket. It’s hot and sunny and the last thing I need is to sweat all through dinner. But I didn’t want to get my shirt dirty as I rode over here. If there’s one thing my dad taught me, it’s that first impressions are important. I start to take off the jacket and realize that I’m still wearing my motorcycle gloves. Crap. I take them off and am faced with a decision: Do I take the walk to the front door or the side door? Most people in this area use the side door exclusively, and the front door is just for show, so I decide to begin the trek to the side door. This cobblestone walkway seems ten miles long.

The jam! I brought jam and it’s back in my saddlebags with the Nikon. I turn and jog lightly back to the bike, hoping nobody’s watching and the jam isn’t broken. It’s my mom’s favorite, from some Amish lady in a nearby town. I got a sampler of apricot, raspberry, and strawberry. It’s all supposed to be grown locally, but I can tell you I’ve never seen an apricot tree here before.

I pull the little sampler out and, other than being a little warm, the jam seems fine. I toss my jacket over the pommel of my bike and smooth out my shirt, starting the long walk back to the side of the house.

Just as I’m halfway to the side door, a woman flings open the front door. This must be Robin’s mom. She has the same blue eyes, same perfect eyebrows, and same heart-shaped face.

“Hi!” she signs crisply, stepping out onto the porch. She holds the front door open and gestures for me to join her. I backtrack and take the steps up onto the porch as she holds the door open, waving me into the foyer. “I’m Robin’s mom,” she signs. I instantly like this Robin-at-age-fortysomething.

“Nice to meet you,” I sign. “I’m Carter.”

She reaches out to shake my hand and I give her the jam.

“Ooh!” her mouth says. “Thank you!” she signs.

“You’re welcome,” I sign back. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my trusty pad of paper. “My mom loves it.”

She holds out her hands for the pad and pen, and after I give it to her she writes, “I’m sure I’ll love it, too.”

She calls something over her shoulder and Robin comes in from a different room.

“Hi,” she signs, smiling. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair in a loose ponytail. Her feet are bare. She looks like heaven.

“Hi,” I sign.

My feelings are written all over my face, as they always are.

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