Seasons In The Sun

Family dynamics change in this tender short story by H. Johnson-Mack.

I thought I knew what love was, but I had much to learn . . .

IT was one of those halcyon summers where days are endless and life drifts by in a glorious trance. had just turned fourteen and was living on a diet of historical novels and trips to the cinema, ripe for romantic adventure and the kind of hero those exciting movies portrayed.

This was my third year at Longways, the rambling country home of my godfather, Anthony Felse, who was also my guardian since my parents’ death in a plane crash. I now finally felt that I belonged.

This was largely due to Anthony’s daughter, who’d taken no notice of my hostility when I’d landed on their doorstep and had wrapped her love around me like a comfy blanket, gradually rubbing away all my prickles and mistrust.

Her name was Lilian, but everyone called her Lamb.

With her beguiling soft brown eyes and gentle manner, it suited her perfectly.

She was the total antithesis of her younger brother, Harry, who had been first wary, then fun.

Harry seemed to think that he could tease me and avoid me in equal measure, ordering me to “grow up faster” and refusing to bite whenever I challenged him.

When I first saw Edward I was mid-wheel in a marathon cartwheel quest around the orchard, but suddenly found myself on my backside, with Lamb and him leaning over me. He was gorgeous! “Edward, this is my sister, Viola,” Lamb introduced us.

“Of the heart, not blood,” I explained solemnly. He raised his eyebrows. “Precise as well as pretty,” he observed. He turned to Lamb. “Are you sure you’re not related?”

When Lamb blushed and lowered her eyes, I realised with a start that I’d never seen her do such a thing before.

“Who is he?” I demanded once he’d gone down to the stream to greet Harry and his university friends.

Lamb ruffled my hair. “The son of Father’s business partner,” she said dreamily. “He’ll be staying here for a few days.”

****

Edward’s visit enlivened the household, lending a party atmosphere to Longways.

I bloomed under it like the others – apart from Harry, who’d been sullen since his arrival.

Still, he joined in with the entertainment Edward organised and the days passed by in a happy haze.

That haze was broken when I became aware of a change in Lamb and in Edward’s manner towards her.

Something in the private looks they exchanged, the way he would contrive to take her apart and murmur something only she could catch, stirred something in me. Jealousy.

“Plotting how to get rid of the competition?” Harry’s voice interrupted my musings one day.

“There’s a lot more to love than what your slushy novels say.

“It’s like a gateau; all the layers have to blend together for it to taste good. You and Edward would just be icing – far too sweet and insubstantial.”

I turned from watching the couple to glare at Harry.

“What do you know about love?”

He scowled.

“Quite a bit, as it happens. But you’re too young to hear it.”

“Just go away, Harry!”

Yet it was me who left, running in search of the one who could always soothe my worries away.

Lamb tucked me in the crook of her shoulder, as was our habit whenever we sat together, and smiled when I asked if she was in love.

“What do you think love is, Viola?”

I reflected.

“Like doing cartwheels,” I said finally. “It sends you slightly off-balance, breathless and all tingly.” Her laugh was soft.

“Then, yes, I fear I’m in love.”

I frowned.

“You fear it?”

“I do. I’m afraid that if I step too close, the words he whispers to me won’t be real, but just a dream that disappears with the dawn.

“What do I have that would make Edward choose me above all others?”

“Oh, Lamb.” I snuggled close, no longer envious. “You’re special. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

That night in bed, I thought a lot about Lamb’s sincerity and Harry’s talk of layers, and laid my latest novel aside, never to be opened again.

A few days later, over dinner, Anthony announced Lamb and Edward’s engagement.

I joined in the celebrations, ignoring Harry’s brooding looks in my direction. I

We built it in the morning

Before we had our lunch, Collected shells and pretty stones And seaweed by the bunch.

The afternoon brought cricket, Ice-cream and a swim,

And all the while, inch by inch, The tide was creeping in.

The call went out to man the walls, With trusty spades in hand, We fought as bravely as we could To hold our bit of sand.

At last we must admit defeat Beneath the setting sun,

Our citadel is lost, for sure,

But the fight was so much fun.

Laura Tapper. wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right!

When Lamb showed me what Edward had given her as an engagement gift, I was silenced and, on her behalf, rather anxious.

It was a wooden spoon: no sparkle, no shine.

Frowning, I said as much and she laughed.

“It’s actually romantic. It’s a lovespoon, traditionally made by Welsh craftsmen to represent their feelings for their sweethearts.

“See these symbols carved on the handle? The horseshoe is for luck, and the knot is the entwining of two lives for ever more.”

I took the spoon and ran my thumb along it. It felt warm to the touch and the longer I looked, the more its appearance began to change as the meaning behind it sank in.

Lamb, I decided, had found her happy-ever-after, and here was the proof.

It was some years later that I found myself back at Longways, this time as a guest.

Life had led us in different directions. My path had taken me to France, finishing school then working in a winery.

Lamb, in her letters, had made me feel that I was still in that rambling house with her, Edward, Anthony and their little son.

It was wonderful to be back. I knew that my destiny was here.

I propped myself on my palms against the terrace and gazed across the garden.

There was comfort in the familiarity of places and faces. One face in particular had travelled with me, in my mind and in my heart.

“Planning your next adventure, squirt?”

Turning, I saw Harry walk up to stand beside me.

It had taken me a while to adjust to this taller, more mature version of him, and the feelings that came with it, so it was with relief that I recognised the mischief in his smile.

“Hardly.” I shifted to make room as he perched on the parapet.

“I was remembering the summer I met Edward, when life was coloured by that timeless, fairy-tale freedom of youth.”

“And you’d like to recapture that. There is a way, you know.”

I glanced across to see a smile playing about his lips. “Really? Show me.”

I took the hand he held out; it was warm and strong.

For the rest of the day we travelled back to the light-hearted summers of our childhood, hunting for wildlife, building a den in the woods and attempting cartwheels in the orchard.

Our laughter came with us into dinner, where we all shared reminiscences and Anthony invited me to stay until I decided my next step.

Little Teddy’s parents disappeared for bedtime stories and Anthony went off for an evening stroll.

I wandered into the library and wasn’t surprised when Harry joined me.

“So,” he began. “You’re back for good?”

I nodded.

“Was that what you came in here to ask?”

I felt him lean against the desk behind me.

“No. To give you something I’ve held on to for a long time.”

There was an edge to his voice.

“Do you remember that summer you accused me of knowing nothing about love? You were wrong.

“I knew exactly how it felt to be hopelessly in love. I couldn’t declare it because you weren’t ready; you had other paths to tread first.” “And now?” I swallowed. His smile was lazy.

“Now, it’s different.” He held out a tissue-wrapped object, and I knew what it was before unfolding my very own lovespoon.

I ran my thumb along its smooth wooden symbols.

“Knots to entwine two hearts for ever,” I murmured.

He gathered me into his arms, the spoon pressed between our palms.

I felt its solid warmth and my happy-ever-after slip into place.

“I love you, Viola. I have done since you walked through our front door.”

I smiled and lifted my face to his.

“Show me, then.”

The End.