A Lane's Return to Lawndale - Part 1

 A Lane’s Return to Lawndale

Summer Lane looked at Lawndale from the roadside. She usually hated returning to the place. This time was no different. She sighed. At least Adrian and Courtney were consistent. She didn’t know what to do if they had run off to a different place each time. She looked again; the essence of suburbia that was her hometown hadn’t changed much in the past eight months. Some of the further subdivisions seemed to stretch further towards the horizon and a few new buildings were going up downtown, but otherwise there was no difference.

She took a few photos of the town and then got back in the car. It was time to check in with Trent, Jane and whoever else was at her childhood home.

 

 

Five minutes later, Summer arrived at that house. It looked more dilapidated than it did the last time she had been there. She knew why Trent wasn’t looking after it. But she wasn’t sure why Jane hadn’t taken to using the outside walls as a canvas. She knocked on the door. Someone came to it. “Oh!”

 

“You’re here to see Trent?” the young redheaded woman asked.

 

“Kinda,” Summer answered. “I’m his eldest sister.”

 

“Oh, come in,” she said.

 

 

Summer saw that the kitchen, at least, was cleaner than she was used to seeing it. “You know, Trent,” the young woman said. “He’s still asleep, and Jane is still at work.”

 

“I’m Summer.”

 

“Quinn.”

 

“So, why are you here?” Summer asked.

 

“Jane’s tutoring me in art,” Quinn answered.

 

Summer raised an eyebrow “Careful, Jane’s rather idiosyncratic.”

 

“Oh, do I know that!” Quinn said.

 

‘There’s a story there,’ Summer thought. “But there is a reason I’m here. My children…”

 

Quinn interrupted. “Courtney and Adrian?”

 

“Yes. They’re here, aren’t they?”

 

“They are upstairs watching TV in one of the spare bedrooms. They are quite a handful!”

 

“That they are,” Summer said. “Why are you here if Jane’s at work?”

 

“I usually get here early. I prefer places to be clean.”

 

“I see.”

 

Quinn Morgendorffer followed Summer up the stairs. She wasn’t sure what to make of her. Nor did she of Courtney and Adrian for that matter. But then she had lived a sheltered life, even in Highland. She didn’t have any personal experience of single mothers and children running away from home (given that her cousin Erin never did so). ‘But why do they keep running away from home?’

 

 

Summer found Courtney and Adrian in her room. “Courtney!”

 

“Mom! Why are you here?” Courtney asked.

 

“You know perfectly well why I’m here, Courtney Delaney Lane! You and Adrian have run away to here yet again!”

 

Courtney just smirked. “Lawndale is familiar,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, Uncle Trent and Auntie Jane are nice.”

 

Meaning that she wasn’t. “That’s no excuse.”

 

“We’re staying for a while. Auntie Jane said that we could,” Adrian said.

 

“But she’s not your mother!”

 

 

Quinn backed away as Summer and her children argued. She heard Jane arrive home downstairs.

 

 

Jane entered the kitchen. “Quinn?”

 

“Summer’s here,” Quinn said following Jane in. “Confronting Courtney and Adrian.”

 

Jane sighed. “Of course, she is.”

 

“Do they always fight like that?”

 

“Not always. But often.”

 

 

After seeing that her two eldest were obstinate, Summer entered the kitchen where Jane and Quinn were talking about how Quinn’s sister was doing at College.

 

“They don’t want to go home?” Jane asked rhetorically. “No surprise there.”

 

“No!” Summer said. “I’m guess I’m staying here until they change their minds.”

 

“What about the other two?” Quinn asked.

 

“Their sitter is used to me foisting them off on her for long periods. It will be fine,” Summer answered.

 

“Um, sure,” Quinn said quietly.

 

“Well, let’s do it then,” Jane said to Quinn.

 

“Aren’t you going to talk to Summer?” Quinn asked.

 

“We can catch up later,” Jane answered.

 

Quinn nodded.

 

 

Quinn opened her art book.

 

“How was the practice?” Jane asked.

 

“I have been using the technique we were practicing last week,” Quinn answered. She turned to the relevant page.

 

Jane looked at it. “You’ve done very well,” she praised.

 

“Thanks, but I’m sure I can do better.”

 

“It is said that learning art is a lifelong process,” Jane said.

 

“Was that Ms. Defoe?” Quinn asked. “It sounds like something she’d say.”’

 

“Good observation. But as I was saying, building up skills takes time, as does refining one’s own style.”

 

Quinn nodded. “I do need to be more patient.”

 

“That’s part of it,” Jane agreed.

 

“And take it slower.”

 

Jane nodded. “Haste has been the downfall of many an artist. But the point is you are getting better.” She opened her curtain. “Now for a challenge. Sketch what you see out there.”

 

Quinn looked out over the Lane’s unkempt yard, taking in the gazebo as well as the plants and the neighboring houses. She was sure she could do it in the time before the sun set.

 

 

Elsewhere in the house, Summer brought some snacks to Courtney and Adrian. “What have you been watching?” she asked.

 

“Cartoons,” Courtney answered.

 

“What cartoons?”

 

“Cartoon Network,” Courtney answered.

 

Summer sighed. Courtney was being obtuse as always. “Specifically?”

 

“Scooby Doo, mostly,” Adrian said.

 

“Mostly?” Summer prompted.

 

“Other cartoons too,” Courtney added.

 

 

Summer left the room. Her children were impossible! Maybe she could go somewhere while Jane was tutoring Quinn and come back later.

 

 

“Jane?” Summer asked.

 

Jane turned from where Quinn was busy drawing. “Yes.”

 

“I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”

 

 

“Sure,” Jane said, before turning back to Quinn’s work.

 

 

Leaving the house, Summer wasn’t sure where to go. Lawndale was sure to have changed some over the years. She decided to just head down town. ‘Dega Street?’ She decided that would be a good idea.

 

 

Ten minutes later, she entered a café. She looked around and saw hardly anyone else there. There was an older man she thought was familiar. She went up to the counter.

 

“What would it be?” the bald barista asked.

 

“A simple coffee would suffice,” Summer responded.

 

“Sure.”

 

She then heard something she didn’t expect. “Summer Lane?”

 

She turned and saw. “Mr O’Neill?” She didn’t expect to run into one of her old teachers.

 

“I thought you left Lawndale years ago.”

 

“I’m just visiting.”

 

“Oh, of course!” O’Neill said.