The Summer I Found Home by Eva Seyler

Author:Eva Seyler [Seyler, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eva Seyler
Published: 2022-11-08T07:00:00+00:00

13

I HAD NEVER HAD SO many people in my private space before, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. Susan’s uncle looked around. He couldn’t stand straight up here. He was taller than Dad, who could (but only just) if he stood directly under the peak of the roof. “I could manage,” he repeated. “And I see you have a trundle bed, George. You could still be here in your own room, if you aren’t opposed to sharing it with me.”

I looked up at him in the dusky attic light. He was a commanding sort of person, but he was giving me the choice not to share my room with him, if I really didn’t want to.

“That’s all right, sir,” I said at last, meekly, although I knew that trundle bed with its broken springs was dreadful to sleep on. “I’ll share.”

“Very well then. Susan, will that couch in the office do for you?”

“I think so. I shan’t mind at all! Cozy!”

“I’ll have to ask you to bring up my things, if you don’t mind.”

Susan and Louise disappeared down the ladder, leaving me alone with this strange but fascinating man. He sat on the edge of my bed, stretched out his legs before him and clasped his hands over the handle of his walking stick, studying me contemplatively for some time. “You are incredibly like your father,” he said at last.

I stared, speechless, and he cocked his head like an assessing bird. “But from my observations thus far, you seem considerably less reckless than he was at your age.”

“You knew my father as a boy?” I stood up straighter. Something about this man demanded full attention. His voice was melodic, strong, with an accent both familiar and strange at once. I was sure even a whisper by him could be heard all through the house, and I envied him having that kind of voice.

He gave a soft almost-laugh, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Did I know your father? Laddie, he’s my twin brother. You did know your father had a twin brother, I hope?”

I blinked. “You’re the one in the photograph downstairs!” I managed, recognition dawning at last. This was Dad’s brother. The silver hair had thrown me, but now it was so obvious. “He has a photo of him—you—and him together during the war. But he never talks about you. Or the war. Or anything before Turner. I don’t even know your name. I only found one photo with names, and they were all last names.” I fetched the box of photographs from its hiding place, excitement pulsing through me. Perhaps now I would get answers.

As I sat beside him and lifted the lid, he said, “I have many names, but Jamie is the one my family uses.”

“Jamie, like James?”

“Aye, like James.”

“I guess maybe I’m named after you, then. I’m George Lucian James.”

“And I am Augustus Edmund James.” He looked pleased. “I will assume you know we are from Scotland. Northwest of Inverness.”

“Well, sort of. Scotland is all I knew for certain—and not because Dad told me.

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