His mood deflates slightly and I feel guilty for not being a bit more enthusiastic. A bit more impulsive. A bit more like Bailey.
But I don’t want to get my hopes up unless I know that Sheryl is one hundred percent on board with the idea, and there’s every chance she won’t be. I once stayed for a month when I was younger and the tension in the house felt unbearable after only two weeks, so after that I shortened the length of my visits.
“You do the honors.” I point at the plug socket.
“No way. You,” Dad replies.
I walk over to the wall and pause for a moment, my hand on the switch.
“Can you imagine if they didn’t turn on?” I ask with a smile.
“Don’t keep us in suspense.”
I flick the switch and the barn is illuminated with the warm glow of two hundred bulbs zigzagging above our heads. The effect is beautiful.
I glance at Dad to see him staring up in wonder, the lights reflected in his eyes, and I’m overcome with a sudden urge to go and give him a hug.
Would he really like me to stay with him for the summer?
“Sheryl is going to love this,” he says. “Let me go get her.”
I stay where I am as he hurries out of the barn.
10
Opening Day takes us all by surprise. Way more townsfolk come than expected and the event has a gorgeous summer-party feel about it, with music playing in the barn and children tearing around.
Bailey and Casey join us, as well as Casey’s parents and his brother, who are all as genial as Casey. Peggy and Patrik also drop in, but there’s no sign of Jonas. I overhear Peggy telling someone that Anders is at a race in Toronto today, but she doesn’t enlighten them as to her elder son’s whereabouts. When we speak, she asks if I’ve been on any more walks around their property. I tell her I haven’t dared in case I get told off by one of her boys. She laughs and assures me that I can wander wherever I please. I promise to take her up on the offer.
Later that evening,I do exactly that, after the heat from the sun has died down to a more bearable temperature. I walk down the track, keeping my eyes averted as I pass the Fredrickson farmhouse in case anyone is by a window. I don’t want to invade their privacy, but I worry less about taking in my surroundings once I reach the Fredricksons’ barn.
Behind it are two giant steel sheds and the door of the firstone is open, revealing a large green tractor near the entrance. To the right are two big silver grain silos with conical-shaped hats that remind me of the head of the Tin Man fromThe Wizard of Oz, minus his facial features.
There’s some kind of junkyard farther along, but my attention is diverted by a line of trees at the bottom of the hill and a silvery snake of water. As the dirt track is swallowed up by grass, I continue walking, keen to take a closer look.
I soon find that what I thought might be a large stream is in fact a small river that runs parallel to the main road at the top of the track. The water is running freely.
It’s rocky by the bank and I climb up on a boulder, trying to get a closer look at the water. Is it deep enough to go swimming? I smile at the discovery of a rope, old and frayed at the edges, dangling from a thick branch. I bet Anders and Jonas used to swing from that when they were younger.
The thought of taking a dip here on a hot day is appealing. I quite fancy taking my shoes off now and having a paddle and am seriously contemplating doing this when a twig cracks behind me. Startled, I look over my shoulder and find a great big hulk of a man standing in the shadows.
My heart leaps into my throat at the same moment he says, “Don’t slip.”
But I’m so terrified, I do exactly that, my scream ringing out through the treetops as I slide off the rock and into the river.
Jonas is laughingat me.
“Aargh, it’s cold!” I gasp, flailing toward the bank. The water is only waist-deep, but my top half was drenched by the splash from my fall.
“Are you okay?” Jonas asks, his eyes wide as he clambers over the rocks to the water’s edge.
“You frightened me!” I yell at him.
I must look like a drowned rat—my brown hair is hanging limply past my jaw in wet strands.
“I’m sorry.” He holds out his hand and seems contrite, but I can tell he’s struggling to keep a straight face. “I thought it would be worse if I didn’t say anything and then you saw me and freaked out.”
“I don’t actually think there was a clever way to handle that,” I mutter, taking his hand.
