June in August by Samantha Sommersby Page A

were packed and on their way. Daddy left me with some money and instructions to bring the truck to the garage for an oil change. He waited until they were driving away to spring the news on me. While we were away at the shore, Wylie had come home.
    So, there I was, waiting outside the garage for Wylie Patton. I hadn’t seen him in three long years and my stomach was all a flutter. I kept on having to remind myself to breathe. After all, the last time I’d seen him I’d been fifteen. It was the night of his big send off. Wylie had enlisted. It was one week after his eighteenth birthday.
    “Junebug! Is that you? What are you doing out here all by yourself in the dark?”
    “I could ask you the same question, Wylie Patton. It’s your party after all. Shouldn’t you be inside?”
    Wylie lifted his hand to his head and raked it over his short-cropped hair, then sat down next to me on the top step. He smiled. “Well, I guess if I were to be honest I’d say I was hiding. What would you say?”
    I laughed. “The same, I guess.”
    “What are you hiding from?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “Everyone’s acting so happy. Like this is a good thing.” I swallowed, hard. “But it’s serious. You might not come back and…” I couldn’t quite finish. I looked away and all that I could think about was the sick feeling in my stomach and the huge gaping hole in my heart.
    Wiley cupped my chin in his hand and turned my face back towards his. He looked steadily into my eyes. “I’m gonna come back, Junebug, you can count on that.”
    “But—”
    Wiley placed a finger over my lips, silencing me.
    “You don’t want to jinx things now, do you?”
    I shook my head, closed my eyes, and tried not to cry.
    “I’m gonna come back,” he repeated with conviction.
    “Not all the boys come back, Wylie,” I whispered as the tears escaped and began to roll down my cheeks. “Ray Johnson, his family hasn’t heard from him—”
    “I’m gonna come back,” he said again, wiping away my tears. “Daddy, Grand-daddy, they were both Marines. They fought for freedom. Now it’s my turn. It’s my turn to give something back. If you don’t stop crying I might just get the impression that you’re going to miss me.”
    I reached up, stilled his hands, and looked into his eyes.
    “I am going to miss you Wylie. I’m going to miss you something awful. I know that you see me as that pesky little girl next door. But I’m growing up. I have thoughts and feelings and…”
    “You have thoughts, Junebug?”
    I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh.
    Wylie leaned back, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He appeared to be studying me carefully, with a seriousness that I didn’t remember seeing in him before.
    “I’d like to know your thoughts, June,” he said quietly. “Will you write to me?”
    “I will.”
    “Promise?”
    “Every day.”
    And I had. Every day for the three years that he was away. But I never got one letter back. Not one.
    The sound of an approaching motorcycle startled me from my thoughts. I walked back towards the gas pumps, shielded my eyes from the sun, and gazed down the road. It was a motorcycle all right. The rider was wearing big black boots, a black leather jacket, faded jeans, and dark glasses. His sandy hair was long, down to his shoulders, and it flew out behind him. I wasn’t surprised when he pulled into the station. I quickly moved back towards the building and sat down in one of the chairs outside the garage door. I was careful not to look at the stranger and instead busied myself with pulling my compact out of my purse and adding a light dusting of powder to my face.
    “Junebug? Is that you?”
    I dropped the compact, shattering the mirror. We both reached for it at the exact same time. His hand covered mine. He looked up at me and suddenly I was flooded with embarrassment and panic. Embarrassed about every word that I had ever written to him. Every thought I had shared. Every secret I