June, Reimagined (31)

“They died in some sort of car accident is all I know,” Eva said. “Amelia won’t talk about it.”

The inn, the café, and Lennox’s house were bare of pictures or any remnant of their parents. The most June had seen of them was in the Up Helly Aa book, and Hamish had put it away and quickly ended the conversation. It was as if the three of them were erasing the past. But why?

Maybe five days at his house would answer that question. June shot back the rest of her drink in one gulp and handed the glass to Eva. Eva opened her desk drawer, pulled out a handful of condoms, and shoved them in June’s pocket. “In case you’re wrong about Lennox.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t need those,” David offered. “I’m sure Lennox has plenty of his own. Like Hamlet said, ‘It would cost you a groaning to take off mine edge.’”

Ten minutes later, June stood at Lennox Gordon’s door, feeling just as she had the night she appeared at the Nestled Inn, her roller bag at her side, backpack on, rain drizzling on her uncovered head. This was going to be her home for five days. She knocked.

Moments later, Lennox leaned against the doorjamb, examining June critically, making her even more nervous. The wind picked up, blowing a freezing gust through June’s hair.

“You best get inside, Peanut,” Lennox said. “There’s a storm coming.”





THIRTEEN


Knockmoral had seen its fair share of snow. The surrounding hills were almost always white in winter, the rain at that altitude often starting as snow and then warming as it fell. Occasionally, June would wake up to a thin blanket of slushy white that would melt over her shoes as she walked to work. But by afternoon, the snow was forgotten, her tennis shoes drenched in melted rainwater.

When June woke up on Lennox’s couch Saturday morning, a thick layer of snow covered the yard. She stood at the window, a blanket over her shoulders, watching large snowflakes spill from the sky, adding to the accumulation.

The previous afternoon, June had barely made it into the house before the first snowflake fell. At first, it had been awkward. Lennox’s house was by no means large, but as June stood in the living room, it felt teeny-tiny. And when he’d insisted that June take his bed, she had politely refused and placed her bags on the living room floor, prepared to take the couch for the duration of her stay.

“I’m not making a woman sleep on the couch.” Lennox groaned, already exasperated. “I’m not a barbarian.”

“When you grunt like that, you kind of sound like one.”

He ran a hand over his unruly dark hair. “Take the damn bed, Peanut.”

“You don’t even fit on the couch.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Fine.” June started setting up on the floor of the living room.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I guess we’re both not sleeping in the bed.”

“Why are you so obstinate?”

“You know what obstinate means? You’re smart for a barbarian.”

Lennox paced the room as June organized blankets on the floor. “You’re not going to give in, are you?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” She picked up a pillow and threw it at him.

He caught it easily. “Fine. I’m going to bed. In my room. Alone. Max, let’s go.” As if in protest, the dog lay down on the blankets and looked at Lennox with a sorry expression. Lennox grabbed an acoustic guitar. “Traitor.”

June was satisfied with her win, determined not to be pathetic in front of Lennox. She turned her attention to making up her bed on the couch, but as soon as she heard music from upstairs, she began to soften. She sat on the couch, blanket around her shoulders, and soon she was downright aching for Lennox, desperate to watch him play again. The music was a cruel form of torture, a gigantic thorn in the side after her win. She covered her ears with the pillow and willed herself to sleep.

In the morning, Max came up beside her. He had stayed at the foot of the couch all night. June scratched behind his ears. “No run for us today. Sorry, buddy.”

“No work either.” Lennox stood in the doorway, guitar in hand. “Hamish just called. Café’s closed because of the storm. I doubt anything in town will be open today.”

June felt bashful in her velour pajama pants and T-shirt. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Does it snow like this very often?”

“I haven’t seen a storm this big in years.” Lennox put the guitar back on the stand.

June had always loved snowstorms at home. The entire city came to a halt. Schools closed. Roads emptied of cars and busses. Everything fell silent. It felt like the whole world paused to watch the snow fall and drink hot chocolate.

She stretched, arching her back. It popped loudly.

“Jesus Christ,” Lennox said. “I knew you should have taken the bed. You’re sleeping there tonight.”

“I’m fine on the couch.”

“I swear, Peanut. You’re driving me mad. Why won’t you just do what’s good for you and take the damn bed?”

“What about you? You don’t even fit on this couch.”

“I’m twenty-four goddamn years old. I don’t need looking after. I can handle myself.”