Chapter 1: A Warm Welcome and a Stark Warning
The train squealed and hissed its way out of the station, taking the last whisper of her ordinary life with it. Susi stood on the platform, the country air already feeling different in her lungs—cleaner, but with a hint of something wild. She hoisted her duffel bag higher on her shoulder. This summer was not going to be about watching Netflix and arguing with her mom about the dishes. This was going to be an adventure.
“Hey, city mouse!”
Susi turned to see her cousin leaning against a beat-up pickup truck, a wide grin splitting her face. Sara had grown. The last time Susi had seen her, they were both kids, all scraped knees and missing teeth. Now, Sara was all long limbs and sun-streaked hair, her confidence as tangible as the dust on the truck’s fender.
“You drove?” Susi asked, dropping her bag at her feet.
“Obviously. It’s that or walk. And it’s three miles.” Sara pushed off the truck and enveloped Susi in a quick, hard hug that smelled of hay and sunscreen. “Come on. Auntie Jill’s making a meatloaf, which is basically her way of saying ‘behave or else’.”
They piled into the truck, the interior baking in the late afternoon sun. Sara drove with one wrist draped over the steering wheel, the other arm hanging out the open window. Fields of green and gold blurred past.
“So,” Sara said, cutting a glance at Susi. “You ready for a proper summer?”
“God, yes. Anything’s better than my house. It’s so boring.”
Sara laughed, a low, knowing sound. “Boring isn’t a problem here. Just gotta be smart about it. Jill runs a tight ship.”
“She can’t be that bad. I remember her being fun.”
“Oh, she’s fun. Until you cross a line. Then she’s… not.” Sara shifted gears, the truck rumbling in protest. “Remember that family reunion? When we were like, eight? We kept sneaking cookies before dinner.”
A vague, warm memory surfaced of a bustling kitchen and a jar of oatmeal cookies. “Vaguely.”
“We got caught. My mom just yelled. Your mom gave you a lecture. Auntie Jill? She took me right over her knee, right there in the pantry. Five smacks. I couldn’t sit right for an hour.”
Susi stared at her cousin’s profile. Sara said it so casually, like she was commenting on the weather. “You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
“But… we were kids.”
Sara shrugged one shoulder. “And? The rules are the rules. She’s old school. Still does it, sometimes.”
The confession hung in the air between them, as startling as a slap. Susi didn’t know what to say. The idea was so foreign, so starkly disciplinary compared to the negotiated consequences of her own home.
The farmhouse appeared at the end of a long, gravel drive, a white two-story with a deep, wraparound porch. It was bathed in the thick, golden light of the setting sun. The porch swing moved gently in the breeze, its chain creaking a lazy rhythm. The scent of cut grass and climbing jasmine was overwhelming.
As they got out of the truck, the screen door squeaked open and slammed shut. Auntie Jill stood on the steps, wiping her hands on a checkered apron. She was exactly as Susi remembered, yet more so. Her hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and her eyes, the same shade as Susi’s mother’s, missed nothing.
“There’s my girl,” Jill said, her voice warm but firm. She opened her arms and Susi walked into the hug. It was strong, solid. Safe. Then Jill held her at arm’s length, her gaze traveling from Susi’s face down to her worn sneakers and back up. Her smile didn’t fade, but it gained a new dimension.
“It’s so good to have you, Susi. We’re going to have a wonderful summer.” Her hand moved from Susi’s arm to her shoulder, resting there. Her grip was firm, almost possessive. “But let’s be clear from the start. My house, my rules. You forget them, and I’ll be reminding you. Understood?”
The pressure of her aunt’s hand was like a brand. It was a promise, plain and simple. The memory of Sara’s story in the truck flashed in Susi’s mind, giving the warning a sudden, terrifying weight.
Jill gave her shoulder a final, slight squeeze before releasing her. “Good. Now, Sara, get her bag. Dinner’s in ten.”
She turned and went inside, the screen door banging behind her. The warm evening air suddenly felt charged. Susi stood frozen on the porch for a second, the ghost of that grip still on her skin.
Sara hoisted the duffel bag with a grunt, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across her face as she looked at her cousin’s stunned expression.
“Told you,” she whispered, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”