Page 13 of From Ice to Home
I need stability in this chaotic situation. And I couldn’t think of any place more stable than Georgetown. In a bid to cover my tracks, I accepted my father’s long standing invitation to be a camp counsellor. It was the only excuse I could think ofwhen I dialed my mother’s number to announce that I’m suddenly coming home.
Plus, I can’t think of a place I’d rather be than Camp Grace in a situation like this.
That’s where I’ve always felt like I had everything together, and it’s the feeling I need right now.
My phone vibrates again, for what feels like the hundredth time today. Lucas has been calling non-stop, leaving messages and voicemails. I’ve even gotten a few emails and dm’s.
I just can’t face him right now. With more tears pricking the backs of my eyes, I send his call to voicemail again, trying not to think how he must be feeling right now.
As I wind down the familiar road that ends in the cul-de-sac I grew up on, I take a few deep breaths to settle myself before having to face my family. The sight of my mom’s hydrangeas brings a flicker of calm, along with our red front door and my old bedroom window on the second floor.
Pulling into the driveway, I take another deep breath. My gaze flicks to my left hand, needing to make sure there isn’t a burn mark on my finger, because I swear I can still feel it. Rubbing over my finger just in case, I look up and spot my mom standing on the front porch, a giant smile on her face.
Although it’s not hiding the worry clearly etched between her eyes.
She knows something is going on.
Please God, help me through this.
The smellof freshly baked cinnamon rolls and brownies drifting up the staircase hits me before my little sister’s voice. “Come on, Hannah-Banana, you’re not at Duke anymore!”
Rolling my eyes, I shove the box of photos I’ve been staring at for the past two hours beneath my bed. Since the first day Imet Lucas, I kept little keepsakes in a box. From ticket stubs and plastic candy rings, to dried flowers he picked on our walks. I haven’t looked at the contents in forever—and early this morning I woke up to it calling to me.
The sun’s barely up, yet I’m already dressed in my clothes for camp. I couldn’t sleep much these past two days. Not because I’m home, in my own room and my old bed, but because I’ve had to lie to my mom’s face so many times. Not to mention the worried look on my dad’s face when I couldn’t explain my sudden change of heart. He’s been asking me to come home for so long, and it didn’t escape them that I came home basically unannounced, telling them I plan on staying for the next four weeks.
They know something is up—they just don’t know what it is yet.
But instead of talking to my parents about everything that’s weighing on me—or praying, reading my Bible, or even sleeping—I’ve been going through my box of old keepsakes. The photos of Lucas and me from high school, when we were carefree and in love. I’m trying to reconcile what happened with what was supposed to happen…trying and failing.
Essie pops her head through the door, her dark eyes wide with impatience.
“Geez, Han. You’re never going to make it at camp if you’re this slow. Those fourth graders will eat you alive.”
“Oh calm down, little one. It’s only the first day,” I answer, getting up and grabbing my phone. She rolls her eyes before heading back out, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve been home. She’s grown so much in the past year, a real spitfire at the age of fourteen.
With one last look in the mirror, I tuck my Camp Grace counsellor shirt into my shorts, feeling geared for the day, the challenge, and the distraction. Despite the lack of sleep, being home has already helped me regroup a little. The familiarity ofthe stairs creaking beneath my feet and the family photos along the walls is like a comfortable blanket wrapped around me. Not to mention the family breakfasts and catch-ups with my siblings. I’ve been so busy with anything and everything back in Durham, I didn’t even realize how much I’ve missed being home.
As I step into the kitchen, the warm, comforting scent of freshly baked sourdough fills the air, bringing an instant smile to my face. Mom stands at the kitchen island, her blonde hair swept into a loose bun, held back by her favorite Camp Grace bandana. She’s wrapping up the stacks of snacks she’s prepared to welcome the campers, her hands moving with the practiced ease and grace of someone who’s done this a thousand times.
“I’m going to need you to take these with you in your car,” my mom says, gently swatting Essie’s hand away from the brownies with a playful grin. “Since this little eager beaver has already snuck a few, I’m sure they won’t make it if they have to ride with her.”
Essie pouts a little while staring longingly at the brownies before quickly dragging her finger through the leftover chocolate mixture in the mixing bowl instead. “I’m just doing quality control.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the quality,” I say, joining her by grabbing the mixing spoon and giving it a lick. The sweet taste of dark chocolate fills my senses, bringing a smile to my face. “Mom’s always made the best snacks for camp. I’m sure that’s the reason why half of the kids come back every year.”
Mom laughs, handing me a travel mug filled with freshly brewed coffee before taking the spoon and bowl from us with a knowing smile.
“Well obviously I need to work on a few new recipes,” she says with a hint of teasing in her voice. “These snacks weren’t enough to entice you into coming back for the past five years.”
“Mom…” I know she’s trying to make light of things, but the fact that she mentioned it, tells me how hard it’s been for her not having me home.
“I know, I’m only joking.” She shrugs, a wistful smile tugging at her mouth. “Kind of.”
I take the coffee from her. It’s in my favourite travel mug, a hint of caramel with the sharp taste of coffee…just the way I like it. No matter what, my mom has always made a special place for each of us here at home and it’s something I’ve missed so much. But it wasn’t enough to get me home, not when I knew Lucas might be here too.
Essie leans on the counter, fixing me with a gaze that’s curious as it is pointed. “So just tell us already. Why did you decide to help out this year, Han? I’m sure you know we all know there’s something to know, you know?”
Her tone is laced with her teenage-lingo and yet her question is as direct as it can be. There’s never been beating around the bush when it comes to Essie. She might look a lot like Micah, our middle brother, but where he is more quiet and reserved, she’s the exact opposite.
