The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones (Wattpad Books Edition)

June 2015

As seems to be the custom, bad news comes with the afternoon mail: the news that his granddaughter was rejected from her top-choice college, then a call to jury duty. Today, though, it is much worse. The death of someone he knew many years ago, accompanied by an invitation to the funeral in Ellison, Alabama. When he reads the name, typed in curled script, he knows that he will be attending.

It has been sixty years.

Frozen on the front stoop with the door wide open, Ethan leaves the rest of the mail discarded on the doormat. His fingers, gnarled and spotted with age, shake as they cling to the ornamented piece of paper. Slowly, he stumbles back into the house. He stops when he knocks into the kitchen table but doesn't feel the pain.

A mug tips over and spirals to the floor. The blue porcelain shatters with a sickening series of cracks, sending sharp fragments skidding about Ethan's feet. His wife comes down the stairs.

"Honey?" she calls, appearing in the doorway in her slippers. She sees the mess and tsks quietly, shaking her head as she tiptoes over the pieces and retrieves a brush and dustpan from the cupboard.

"What happened?" She groans with the effort of crouching down. Her hair is pulled into a wrap, but a few stray curls slip out and fall around her face. Ethan watches as she sweeps up the mess, leaving the checkered tiles clean, but he doesn't know where to start. As she tips the dustpan into the trash and returns to his side, he holds out the letter to her without a word.

She takes it from him gently as one thin hand pushes her glasses up her nose. He watches her lips move as they always do when she's reading something to herself; he watches her face change, her lips droop, and her eyes widen as she continues down the page.

"Oh," she murmurs, finishing the letter and letting it drift from her hand and onto the kitchen table. "I see." That is Eleanor—always matter of fact. It's how she has always been. It's how she was, all those years ago, when he first told her about what had happened to him in Ellison, Alabama. But she is compassionate too, and just like that, she is holding him, shielding him from that town thousands of miles away.

When she pulls away, he is surprised to find that her eyes are damp. Ethan touches his own cheek and feels no tears. He is numb.

"I have to go," he says hoarsely. They both stare down at the piece of paper as if it might catch fire at any moment.

"You don't." Eleanor's voice is sharp. "You don't owe that place anything."

Ethan shakes his head. "It's not for them. It's for me." She places her hands on his arms, squeezing tightly.

When she looks at him, he knows she understands. "Closure," she says, and he nods.

"After all these years."

Eleanor sighs. "Fine. But you don't need to do this alone." "I know." He squeezes her hand. "And I'm so grateful to you for that. But I think it's better if I do."

Eleanor strokes his cheek. She looks just as beautiful now—gray hair, wrinkles, and all—as she had in college, when he was just a wide-eyed freshman and she was only a sophomore. She had been president of the Black Student Union, and he had fallen in love with her at that very first meeting. Nearly fifty years of marriage and she still challenged him every day—but right now, she takes a step back. She looks at him with a sad, understanding half smile and nods—because she knows what he can handle. And so does he. After everything, this is nothing.

"Okay," she says. "But if you change your mind . . ."

He nods. "I know." He smiles at her and picks up the letter, tucking it into his pocket. He remembers, then, the pile of mail that fell from his fingers, and goes out to pick it up. As he opens the front door and looks out into the summer afternoon, he can't help but think of Ellison.

He never thought he would find himself going back there again, after what happened. Sometimes, when he closes his eyes at night, he still sees them in his mind, taunting, teasing, screaming. From conversations with his cousin, Henry, he knows that things have gotten better, but there's still work to be done. Ethan knows that when he steps back into Ellison, he won't be witnessing a complete transformation. He will be grateful for what has changed, but nevertheless, it will be a painful return.

But it wasn't the town that hurt, not really. That summer almost sixty years ago was just a blink; one of many summers spent in many towns. It will be painful because of her. The girl who breezed into his life with confidence and wonder, who took one look at him and knew he was the friend she needed. The girl who changed everything. He closes his eyes and, even now, so far removed, he sees her smile.

She had forest-fire hair and hurricane eyes, and when he met her it was as if his world had been set aflame. She hit him in the best way, like a rainstorm after five years of drought, healing the parched earth with a gentle touch; and in the worst way, like an unexpected earthquake, leaving dust and debris in her wake. She was, in equal parts, a gift and a natural disaster.

Her name was Juniper Jones.