Elsie and Lily are both asleep in the morning when Oscar helps me carry my things to the car. I'm glad they aren't awake though, because I hate crying, and I know saying goodbye to them would break me. So once all my things are in the car, Oscar, Amelia, and I start making our way to the station where I'll begin my journey to Surrey. They offered to drive me there themselves, but I politely declined. This is adventure I need to embark upon myself.

Once we arrive at the station, I give both Amelia and Oscar hugs, thanking them for hosting me for this program.

"It was our pleasure, love," Amelia replies as she wipes at her eyes.

"Now you be sure to message us when you make it to Surrey," Oscar says in a firm father voice that almost brings me to tears. "And don't be a stranger."

I nod my head. "I promise." Tears prick the corners of my eyes as a lump forms in my throat. "I'll miss you both so much."

"We'll miss you too," Amelia says with a sniff, and with one final hug, they let me go find my seat on the train. I've never traveled by train before, and I hope I can get some help navigating all of this. But I know that, if I do get lost, Oscar and Amelia are just a phone call away. So I settle in my seat and prepare for my next adventure.

But when the train starts moving, I begin to feel queasy. Anxious. Am I making a mistake, doing this? Visiting my grandparents? I mean, they did raise my real dad. What if I hate them? What if they hate me? I try to read the book I brought with me, but I'm too distracted to pay attention. Maybe I should just get off this train at the first stop and find another to take me back to Oscar and Amelia's house until I have to catch my flight home in a couple days.

Just as I'm thinking of changing my ticket at the next stop, a notification goes off on my phone. I pull it up, and my heart leaps when I see a message from Baker Scott. "How you holding up, Lumen?"

I pull the keyboard up and start typing a response. "Thinking maybe this was a horrible idea and I just should go back to the Carmichaels while I still can."

Seconds after I hit the send button, I see the three dots pop up indicating he's responding. I stare at my screen, waiting. And I'm rewarded a few moments later. "I think you'd regret it if you did."

My nose wrinkles at my phone as I type the words, "You think so?"

"I do," he writes back, and a sigh escapes my lips. "You got this, Summer. I believe in you."

Those words. They do something to me. They make the blood in my veins quicken. My heartbeat faster. Goosebumps appear on my arms. And a lump rise in my throat. "Thanks. Glad one of us does." I wait for another response, but the three dots don't appear. So I slide my phone back in my pocket and stare out the windows, watching the scenery as I move toward Surrey.

I've never travelled by train before. Plane, obviously. Bus, only on my way to school. Car, every day. Boat, once, a long time ago when I wrote a ferry from Seattle to Whidbey Island for a family trip. (Does that count as a boat?) But train is definitely the best way so far. We're going fast enough that the trip doesn't take very long, but slow enough for me to enjoy the sights as I look out the window. It's nice. Loud. About as loud, if not louder, than an airplane. And yet somehow more relaxing. I close my eyes, feeling the slight bumps wobble me around my seat. And I briefly doze off, dreaming that I'm in the ocean, and the waves are washing me gently to shore.

I know I'm not asleep for too long. Maybe thirty minutes. But it's long enough for the train ride to be over. Just like that, we pull into the station, and everyone is ordered to get off to get to their next destination. Sleepily, I grab my bags and shuffle my way off the train, already looking forward to the trip back. When I step off the train, struggling as I drag all my belongings with me, I breathe in the scent of Surrey.

Mildew. It smells like mildew. I wrinkle my nose a bit in disgust. I don't know what I was expecting when I finally got here, but it wasn't this. Shaking my head, I start walking out of the station, hoping I'll be able to spot my grandparents in the crowd, even though I've only ever seen them in pictures. I search the faces as I pass by them, feeling my nerves kicking up a notch with each step I take. Maybe they forgot I was coming today? Maybe they decided they don't want to see me after all? Maybe they—"

"Summer?" a voice says behind me, and I freeze. "Summer, is that you?" Slowly, I turn around to see an elderly couple standing just feet away from me. The woman, who couldn't possibly be over the age of sixty, is holding her hands to her lips like she's in silent prayer. The man standing beside her is a little hunched over, a walking stick in his hand. And it was his voice I heard, deep and gruff.

For a second I consider telling them that no. I'm not Summer and they must have the wrong person before making a fast getaway back to the train. But I quickly decide against it, nodding my head once. "Yeah. Are you... um... Peter and Virginia?"

"Oh, Pete," the woman says, and there are tears welling up in her brown eyes. "It is her." She walks toward me while I stand, frozen like a statue. And before I even have a chance to object, she's wrapping her arms around me in a soft embrace. "Oh, sweetheart. It is so lovely to finally see you in person."

What am I supposed to say? That it's great to see them too? I probably should. That would be the polite thing to do. But I feel like I'm being hugged by a stranger, and already I'm very uncomfortable. Pete... my grandfather... he seems to be able to sense this, because he takes a step toward my grandmother, places a hand on her shoulder, and says, "Ginny, honey, give the girl some space. She only just got here, after all."

Ginny gently pulls away from me, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she nods her head. "You're right. I'm sorry, Summer."

"It's okay," I reply, even though it's really not. They stare at me for a few seconds, like I'm a rare jewel they just happened upon in the middle of the train station. I shuffle my feet awkwardly as I say, "So. It's... great to meet you."

"Likewise," Pete says. His eyes fall on my bags. "Oh, here, let me help you with—"

"I got it," I say quickly, cutting him off just as he's stepping forward to help carry my bags. It's not that I don't want his help. More that I'm afraid he'll get hurt if he tries to help me. He is using a walking stick, after all.

"You're sure?" he asks me.

"Pete, help her," Ginny says.

I shake my head and pull my bags a little closer to me, as if they're a treasure that I need to protect. "Really. I've got it."

"She's got it, honey," Pete says.

"Oh, all right," Ginny replies. Then she smiles at me and says, "Have you had breakfast yet today? I have everything to make pancakes and eggs at the house."

My stomach growls as if in response to her question, and I'm suddenly thankful we're surrounded by hundreds of people so she can't hear it. "Um. Yeah. Sure. Thank you."

"No trouble," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Come on. Let's get out of this station. It smells terrible here, and I'm sure you're probably exhausted from your journey." I nod my head as she puts a wrinkled hand against the small of my back. "The car is over this way. Not too far. We parked close due to your papa's bad knee."

"How did you hurt your knee?" I ask him, glad to have something to talk about with this person who might as well be a stranger to me.

"I got old," my grandfather responds with a chuckle, and my face flushes. "Bone on bone according to my doctor."

"He needs a knee replacement," my grandmother says as she shakes her head in exasperation. "But the old codger refuses."

"I get around just fine," he replies waspishly. "It's just a side effect of getting old is what it really is."

My grandmother seems like she has more to say on the subject, but she falls silent anyway as the three of us make it to the car. I slide my bags in the truck... boot... and get into the backseat. It feels kind of like the first day with the Carmichaels, and yet it's different somehow. The Carmichaels treated me like a stranger they were getting to know. These people are acting like they've known me their whole lives. Like I'm an old friend they haven't seen in a while. It's unsettling to say the least.

"What's that smell?" I ask as I lock eyes with my grandfather in the rearview mirror. "I mean, the town. It kind of smells like—"

"Mildew," my grandmother interrupts, and I nod my head. "You know, love, I can't tell you. I don't actually know what it is, and no one I've spoken to seems to know either. It's a mystery for sure. But don't worry. You get used to it after a while. Believe me."

I give her a tight smile before turning my head to look out the window as the city transforms to the country. The silence in the car is deafening. Suffocating. It's awkward, and I wish I knew what to talk about. But really the only thing linking us is my father, and I never really knew him. And now I never will.

After several minutes of silence in the car, my grandfather asks, "So how has your trip been so far? Your mum says you were part of a student exchange program."

Finally, something to talk about. "Yes. It's been great. I stayed with a family called the Carmichaels. Shared a room with the oldest daughter. It was weird, because I never had to share a room before. You know, being an only child and all. But I kind of loved it. It felt like I had a sister. They were amazing, and I had a great term out here."

My grandmother smiles at me. "Sounds like a lovely adventure. And I'm glad the Carmichaels treated you right."

"They were wonderful," I say, and I find that I'm already missing them. "Their daughter Elsie... the one I stayed with... she wants to come visit America next year when she graduates. She's planning on staying with us. I haven't talked to my mom about it yet, but I'm sure she'll be fine with it."

"Oh, I'm sure she will," my grandmother says as she nods her head. "Your mum is a very reasonable woman. And she loves you dearly. I'm sure she'd be delighted to host your new friend."

Her words, while meant to be polite, only make me feel uncomfortable. "Do you talk to my mom often?" I ask, because the way they're talking about her makes it sound like they do.

She shakes her head. "Not too often, no. But enough. She's kept us informed about you over the years. Sends us Christmas cards, bless her. We've kept every one, you know. They're framed on our mantle in the sitting room. Pictures of you since you were a baby."

I blink in surprise, unable to believe what I'm hearing. These two almost strangers, who have never spoken to me in my entire life, have pictures of me on their mantle. Not just one or two, but a lifetime worth of photos. And I'm surprised by how hurt I feel by this. It should make me feel happy to know my grandparents have always loved me. But instead, it just makes me wonder why they never bothered reaching out to me themselves.

And then I think about Elsie, who is already making plans to come and visit me next summer. I've known her a few months, and already she wants to spend more time with me. On my turf. But these people... why haven't they ever tried to visit me? Why have I only existed to them in pictures and phone calls to my mother? My chest is aching with the hurt of it all, and I try to hide the pain from them. But my grandmother, at least, notices, because her lips turn down in a frown as she says, "Are you all right, love?"

I nod my head, giving her a polite smile as a response. But I don't think I am all right. We don't speak again for the rest of the trip home, which just leaves me more time to think. To try to justify their actions. But no matter how hard I try, I can't quite understand why they never came to see me. Why I, a teenager still in high school, had to travel halfway across the world to see them.

If they have so many pictures of me, then why didn't they make the effort? If they love me so much, then why didn't they want to know me? Really know me? It all goes back to him. The man who gave me half of himself and then left. And the question I've never dared to speak aloud rings through my head like a siren. Why wasn't I good enough?

We pull into the driveway a little while later, and I immediately run to the back to grab my bags. My grandfather tries to help me again, but I decline his offer, lifting them out and dragging them up the walkway to their little blue house on a hill. Outside is a beautiful garden of all different colors and types of flowers, and I wonder which of them is the gardener. My grandmother runs ahead and unlocks the door, and I drag my things inside. Immediately, I catch sight of the photos they were talking about on the mantle, and my chest aches again.

"You know," I say, feeling a lump rise in my throat. "Do you mind if I skip breakfast for now? I'm so tired. I think I would just like to take a nap for a while, if that's all right with you?"

My grandmother nods her head. "Of course, love," she replies, a small smile curling her lips. "Here, let me lead you to your—"

"It's okay," I interrupt, the tears pricking the corner of my eyes. "If you just point me in the direction, I can find it."

Her smile falters for a moment. "Oh, of course. It's right down the hall. Just there. Second door on your left." I nod my head and begin to drag my things to my room. "Take your time, dearie. When you wake up, I'll make you whatever you want for lunch."

"Thanks," I mumble as I make my way to my bedroom. Before they can say another word, I close the door, and it's just in time too. A tear has escaped, sliding down my cheek like a prisoner escaping Alcatraz. I cover my hand over my mouth and cry, unable to stop myself from thinking about what a huge mistake this turned out to be.

Author's Note:
Agh, my heart! Poor Summer! She's got so many emotions about this whole visit with her grandparents. Next chapter is coming as soon as I can write it. Good news though! It's mostly finished already! A few more chapters in the UK before we're back in America. Are you excited? I know I am! Be back soon, dearies! Be safe and healthy until then!
XOXO,
~Aly