"Scooooterrrr! Get back here!" Emma gave chase down the hall. He was heading for the basement. "Brandon! Shut the basement door!" Damn it, why hadn't she thought of that beforehand! Emma cursed herself.
Unfortunately for Scooter, Brandon was just coming in through the back door when he heard Emma shout. He slammed the basement door shut, seconds before Scooter came tearing around the corner. "Hah! Caught you!" Brandon bent down and swept the cat up in his arms.
Emma rushed over and wrapped Scooter in the towel. "You little stinker," Emma scolded him playfully, as he struggled to free himself from her grasp. Wrapped snuggly in the towel, escape was a useless effort for the tabby.
"I can think of a few other names that would be more fitting than stinker." Brandon grumbled as he walked away. "C'mon, Em. Everything's ready."
Fifteen minutes later, they were on the highway, heading north.
Emma unleashed a barrage of worries about what they may have forgotten back at home.
"Mom and Dad will be home in like," Brandon glanced at the clock, "six hours. Relax. If we left a light on, or if the house is unlocked, which it isn't, everything will be fine. Okay? Relax."
"Did you get the keys to the cottage?" Emma asked, the panic rising in her voice.
Brandon reached down and jangled the key chain hanging from the ignition. "Got 'em." He reached over and squeezed his sister's hand, the one that wasn't busy stroking Scooter's head. "Take it easy. Look how beautiful it is today. It's summer, we're out of school, and we're heading to the cottage for eight weeks. I'm leaving at the end of summer, Em, so I plan to enjoy this last one. I hope you do the same." He glanced down at Scooter. "He looks like he's starting to enjoy himself."
Oh great, the fucking cottage. Why the fuck can't they just leave me home
? Scooter shook his grey head and hissed at Brandon for touching his Emma. Brandon jerked his hand away and settled it back on the steering wheel. Emma had always been Scooter's human, from the time she had found him in the field behind the house. He had been a skinny, halfway frozen stray kitten when she'd rescued him from the cold three-and-a-half years ago.
Brandon and Emma made it to the cottage in just under two hours. Their mutual excitement grew as they turned onto the little dirt lane. Passing some of the fourteen other cottages in the group, Brandon turned into their drive and guided the car up the steep incline. He threw the gearshift into park and sighed.
Damn, it's good to be back
. He looked at Emma and smiled. She was trying to juggle a sleeping Scooter and open the door at the same time. "Hang on, I'll get it." Brandon jumped out and went around to the passenger side to help Emma out.
Scooter woke up as soon as his Emma began to move. He took one look around and jumped out of her arms. He knew where he was, and he wasn't too pleased to be there. With a yawn and a stretch, he began to sniff around.
"Let's unlock the joint and take a look around," Brandon suggested.
Emma nodded and followed her brother to the front door on the north side of the cottage. Brandon opened the outer wooden screen door, unlocked the inner one, and entered. Emma was right behind him. They loved opening up the cottage for their parents. It was something that never grew old for them, the first look. And the first smell, that musty cottage smell was like nothing else. Those initial steps into the cottage were always like stepping back in time.
Emma immediately went around and threw open every window in the cottage, letting in the fresh lake breeze. Not only did the breeze help to air the place out, it also carried the sound of the waves crashing on the beach below. The two windows on either side of the fireplace were always first; they looked west, out over the lake.
Brandon went around and tested the lights. He flipped them all on, then flipped them back off. It was a bright, sunny June day and they really weren't needed. He began to peel off and fold the sheets that covered the comfortable old rag-tag couch and mismatched chairs. Slowly, the cottage came back to life, after lying silent and still during the long Michigan winter.
"C'mon Emma. Let's go down and see if the beach is still there," Brandon said eagerly. He knew there was still a lot to be done inside, but he was dying to see if their little spit of sand was still there.
At the cottage, Brandon and Emma could be kids again. For this, their final summer together, they could forget school, jobs, and life in general. The cottage was far removed from their lives back at home, and reality could be suspended, at least for a little while.
Emma laughed at her brother's enthusiasm. Sometimes he was just like a big kid, and she loved that about him. "Help me open up the sleeping porch, first, Brandon." The sleeping porch was located on the south side of the cottage. It was where Brandon always slept. A half-wall, shutters, and a louvered door closed it off from the rest of the cottage.
They cranked open every window and pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed. Brandon unlocked the porch's screen door and stepped outside; Emma followed right behind. The view was absolutely stunning. Side by side they stood, gazing out at the vast expanse of water. They had never grown tired of watching the lake. Twenty feet in front of them was a crooked split-rail fence, and five feet beyond that was the bluff that dropped nearly straight down to the piled concrete seawall. Their dad, grandfather, and a neighbor had put the seawall down there years ago in an effort to prevent further erosion. Beyond the edge of the bluff was Lake Michigan. Blue-green near the shore, it blended into a dazzling sapphire further out.
The day was fairly calm. A light breeze blew from the southwest. Brandon judged the waves as being one to two feet, at most. "Let's go, Em." As he turned and headed for the stairs, Emma playfully ran ahead of him and took off down the steps. Brandon started to panic. "No, Em! Wait! I need to check the steps for rot! Fucking hell!" He took off at a dead run.
Brandon pulled up short when he got to the steps, expecting to see his little sister sprawled down there on the jagged concrete seawall. But there she was, down on the little sandy beach, laughing up at him. She waved.
A third of the way down Brandon found a rotten board. His anger grew as he yanked the board out, nails and all. How she managed to miss it, he didn't know. When his foot went completely through another board halfway down, he exploded. "Emma!" he roared. He flew down the remaining steps, paying no heed to his own safety.
Emma pranced over to Brandon. "What? What's the matter?" Without waiting for an answer, she danced away. "Look, Bran, the beach is still here." She turned in circles, her arms spread wide.
A little of the anger left Brandon, but only a little. He tossed the rotten boards near Emma's bare feet. "That's what's the matter, Emma. You could have fallen down the steps if you'd landed on one of those just right. You're damn lucky you missed them," he snapped. His pounding heart was just beginning to return to normal.
Emma heard the anger in Brandon's voice. She hated it when he was mad at her, though she knew why. "But, I was careful, Brandon." She knew it was a lie, and knew her brother did, too. She hadn't been careful at all.
"No, you weren't, Emma," he responded harshly. "You're fortunate you're not lying on the seawall with a fucking broken neck."
Emma saw his jaw muscle working and knew just how angry her brother was. She'd been so anxious to get down to the beach she'd forgotten to let Brandon go first and check for loose and rotted boards. Some years the steps were fine, other years he'd find one or two that needed replacing. She whispered, "I'm sorry, Bran," then looked down at the sand separating their feet. Her long, dark hair fell forward, shielding her from his scorching gaze.
Brandon looked out over Lake Michigan, trying to will himself to be calm. He looked back at Emma. She didn't know, couldn't have known, why he was so upset with her. "Be more careful, Emma, please," he implored.
Emma nodded. "I will, I promise. I should have waited, but I forgot. Honestly, I did forget." She was relieved when Brandon began to smile; he was scary when he was angry. She gave his waist a big squeeze.
"Okay, okay, no need to get mushy," Brandon grumbled, his anger rapidly dissipating.
Emma laughed at him and pulled away. "Now, look at our beach, would you?" she demanded and laughed again.
The beach was not where Brandon wanted to look, but he pulled his eyes off the small, eager girl standing in front of him and pretended to inspect the beach for her. He still wasn't over his fright, but he covered it up as best he could. "I think it's a bit wider than last year. Looks like the water's gone down further. That'll play hell with the freighters," Brandon predicted. "There's a few large pieces of driftwood that we need to take care of, but otherwise, it looks good."
