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Nimbus Publishing Limited
3660 Strawberry Hill St, Halifax, NS, B3K 5A9
(902) 455-4286 nimbus.ca

Printed and bound in Canada
Editor: Penelope Jackson
Editor for the press: Emily MacKinnon
Cover design: Heather Bryan
Hand-lettering on cover and titles: Emily Dawson
Interior design: Jenn Embree

NB1473

This story is a work of fiction. Names characters, incidents, and places, including organizations and institutions, either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Title: A beginner’s guide to goodbye / Melanie Mosher.
Names: Mosher, Melanie, author.

Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200159046 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200159054 | ISBN 9781771088466 (softcover) | ISBN 9781771088473 (HTML)

Classification: LCC PS8626.O8426 B44 2020 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23

Nimbus Publishing acknowledges the financial support for its publishing activities from the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts, and from the Province of Nova Scotia. We are pleased to work in partnership with the Province of Nova Scotia to develop and promote our creative industries for the benefit of all Nova Scotians.

Dear Diary Jenny,

Today was grading day. Mrs. Anderson gave me this diary. She said it might be nice to write down my thoughts over the summer. I tried to write Dear Diary, but I’d rather write to you. I miss you.

I got ribbons for doing well in math and reading the most books. I like numbers and stories. But I’m glad school’s done for the summer. This year was tough.

We head to the cottage tomorrow. Dad and John loaded everything into the car. Dad isn’t coming. He was going to, but now he says he has to work. He says he’ll come soon and we can play on the beach.

Remember the big sandcastle we built last year? It had twelve towers surrounded by a huge wall. We took John’s old toy dinosaurs and used them as monsters in the moat to protect the castle. Remember the drawbridge we made from Popsicle sticks? We ate all the Popsicles in the freezer. In one day. Remember?

Love, Laney

P.S. I’m afraid the cottage won’t be the same without you.

P.P.S. I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.

Laney slid into her seat in the family minivan. She glanced at the boxes behind her and bit her lip. Her dad had removed the last row of seating to allow room for the things they needed to take to the cottage. He had removed Jenny’s seat.

Laney’s dad waved as her mom backed the minivan out of the driveway in Truro. Laney and her older sister, Kate, waved back. Her mom nodded slightly.

John, Laney’s older brother, turned away. “How come Dad’s not coming?” He banged his fist on his leg.

Her mom sighed. “We’ve already discussed this, John.” She sounded tired even though it was morning. “He has to work.”

“Yeah.” John shook his head. “What else is new? He’s always working now.” He stared out the window. “He promised to help me build a fort this year.”

“He’s working on an important project.” Her mom’s shoulders sagged.

John grumbled under his breath, “The fort’s important.”

Laney was disappointed too, but she didn’t say anything. She pushed the button to lower her window. She tipped her head upward to let the rush of cool air soothe her. Her family had been spending summers at Tidnish Beach for as long as Laney could remember. She had been getting carsick just as long.

“Put your window up,” Kate barked. Kate never opened her window, because she didn’t want to mess up her dark brown hair. It was long and straight and every strand was perfectly placed.

“No way.” Laney shook her head.

“Put it up, Laney.” Kate reached over and poked her sister’s arm.

“I can put it up, but then you run the risk of me throwing up on you.” Laney raised the window, gave Kate a forced smile, puffed up her freckled cheeks, and faked a gag. “You know I get carsick. So, if that’s what you want….”

“Fine. Never mind then.” Kate huffed and folded her arms across her chest. She glared at Laney. “I can’t wait to get to the cottage and out of this car, away from you.”

Laney closed her eyes and smiled as the window lowered again. Bugging Kate was a bonus of having the window down.

The trip to the cottage took a little over an hour. They travelled along cross-country roads full of curves and turns that usually made Laney’s stomach swirl and churn. But not this time. This year Laney had made a plan with John. She kept her eyes closed and listened for her cue.

“Cows!” John hollered.

Laney opened her eyes to see cows grazing in a field as they passed. She checked to see if they were rusty brown, shiny black, or white with brown spots that looked liked maps. She hoped her new interest in counting cows would be the distraction she needed to keep her breakfast down. Counting things comforted Laney; numbers made sense when nothing else did.

The crunching of gravel under the tires announced their arrival. The van came to a stop in front of their cottage. It was among fourteen along an S-shaped dirt lane that led from the main road to the shore, forming one of many summer communities along the coast of the Northumberland Strait in Nova Scotia. On the left-hand side of the highway were farms and houses of people who lived there all year long. On the right-hand side, closest to the water, were groups of homes for summer living only.

Laney loved going to the cottage. At least she used to. This year was different. It was the first time without her little sister, Jenny. All Laney wanted was to make it through the next two months without having to talk about Jenny. So she intended to avoid everyone.

As Laney squashed the thoughts in her mind, her motion sickness faded and was replaced with another type of stomach pain—a boulder-like heaviness Laney had been carrying for the last ten months. She opened the door of the vehicle to get out. Her sweaty legs stuck on the vinyl seat as she tried to slide and it made a funny sound.

“Gross,” said Kate, squishing up her nose.

“Did you let one rip?” John laughed.

“No.” Laney stuck her tongue out at John even though she knew he was teasing her. “The seats are sticky.”

John walked over to Laney. Laney was the youngest now. John was three years older and a whole lot taller. His hair was curly like Laney’s but lighter in colour—like chocolate-chip cookie dough. John reached his long, freckled arm out and ruffled Laney’s hair. He took extra care of Laney now. He walked her over to Cindy’s house if Laney wanted to play, and helped her with her homework when she needed. Which she didn’t. John was the one who could have used the help.

Laney remembered the day John brought his last report card home. Her dad had shaken his head. “What happened, son?” He studied John, searching for an answer. “You always do well in school and this year you barely passed.”

John’s words had rushed out in one breath. “Schoolwork doesn’t make sense. When will I ever need to multiply fractions, or know the first prime minister? Some old geezer a million years ago.”

“You know education’s important.” That was all her dad had said. He didn’t even put up a fuss. He put a hand on John’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll get ’em next year.”

John hadn’t answered. He took the report card and walked to his room.

John interrupted Laney’s thoughts now. “How many cows?” he asked.

Laney glanced at her notebook and quickly tallied the numbers. “Twenty-five Herefords, forty-three Black Angus, and nineteen Holsteins. There were more, but we drove by too fast.”

John nodded. “Good counting.”

“Well, let’s get started,” John said.

“Yes. The sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done,” agreed their mom.

They were referring to the chores needing to be done when they first got to the cottage. There was plenty to do to get ready for their two-month stay, and the kids knew if they wanted to explore the beach they had to do the work first. Their mom unlocked the cottage door and the musty smell of a long winter escaped, hitting them in the face like old gym socks. John flipped the power switch and headed to the little shed to prime the pump to give them water.

Laney opened the back of the minivan and looked at the boxes. Eight. They sure packed lots of stuff to go to the cottage for the summer. T-shirts for warm days, sweaters for cold days, jackets for rainy days, bathing suits for sunny days, sheets and blankets for nighttime, toys and games for daytime, groceries to eat, and toilet paper to—you know. Laney reached for a box.

“We have to clean first.” Kate had her hand on her hip and was giving Laney her “I know better than you” look. Kate was two years older than John and although she was not as tall, she was just as lean. Her face was freckle-free and smooth. Pretty, even, but Laney wouldn’t admit that to her sister.

Laney sighed and pulled her hands back from the boxes. She moved past Kate into the cottage.

Laney opened windows and brushed away cobwebs. She swept the floors, gathering dust bunnies and dead flies (sixteen). Kate took the curtains down and hung them outside on the clothesline. They danced in appreciation of the fresh air after being shut up for months.

Their mom stocked the fridge and put away the groceries. Even the food was different in the summer. They ate hot dogs, corn on the cob, watermelon, and fresh strawberries—all of their summertime favourites. She took all the dishes out of the cupboards and washed them and put them back again. No one had used them, but according to their mom, they were dirty.

Finally, it was time to unpack the boxes. Laney went back through the living room, sniffing the air. The mustiness had been replaced with fresh air and a hint of lemon from the cleaner their mom had been using. Laney’s mom stood by one of the large windows, looking out.
Her shoulders drooped and her arms were folded across her chest. She never used to go anywhere without ironing her shirt, thought Laney as she looked at her mom’s wrinkled blouse. Laney wished she could take away the sadness, ease the pain she saw in her mother’s eyes. If only things were different.

Laney returned to the car and picked up a box. She read the label—“Girls’ room”—and the box got heavier. She walked across the living room and stood on the threshold of the bedroom she shared with Kate. She peeked in but couldn’t enter. On the wall hung framed pictures she and Jenny had coloured last summer. Even though Jenny was younger, her colouring was neater. She always stayed in the lines; Laney often hurried and missed a bit. Laney scanned the room and stared at the bunk beds. Three beds; three girls. Kate slept on the top bunk and Jenny on the bottom. These beds were like regular bunks. Between the two was the third bunk, Laney’s. It was waist high and came out across the other wall, like someone had taken the middle arm of the letter E and swung it out. The three beds were nestled into the corner of the room. Under Laney’s bunk were drawers to put their things. Four drawers: one for each girl and one for the comic books, toys, and games. Laney swallowed hard and sagged under the weight she was holding. Even something as simple as putting away her clothes was hard now.

Bang! Laney lurched forward as something hit her from behind. Kate carried an armload of sheets and blankets piled so high she didn’t see her sister standing in the doorway.

“Geez, Laney. Don’t just stand there.” Kate barrelled past Laney. “Move out of my way.”

“Not really standing there anymore, am I?” Laney picked herself up and opened the box she had been carrying.

“Whatever.” Kate groaned and plunked her load on the middle bunk. “Make your own bed.” She turned and stomped out of the room.

Laney emptied her box, filling her drawer, Kate’s, and the one with toys. She opened the fourth drawer and there was Ellie, a stuffed elephant that belonged to Jenny. Laney reached for it and brought it to her face, feeling the softness of the fabric on her cheek as she closed her eyes.

Laney had been running as fast as she could down the aisle of the toy store, trying to get to the stuffies first. She’d tripped over a tiny toy truck, and boom, she landed on her behind, knocking over a large display of safari animals. There she sat surrounded by giraffes, lions, zebras, rhinos, hippos, and elephants. Jenny hadn’t even noticed the mess Laney created. She had skipped passed her sister and grabbed Ellie, squealing, “Mommy, Mommy, I want this one!”

Now Laney held Ellie to her nose and inhaled deeply, hoping it would smell of Jenny. It didn’t. Ellie smelled like a toy abandoned in an empty cottage for an entire winter. Ellie smelled like loneliness.

Laney put Kate’s bedding up on her bunk and quickly made her own bed, barely tucking in the sheets and not worrying about the placement of blankets. She slipped Ellie under the pillow, out of sight. She didn’t want anyone to know she had found the toy elephant. She wanted it to be her secret—a reminder of Jenny she could hold when she wanted. Then Laney made the bottom bunk. She took extra care and smoothed each sheet. She fluffed the pillow and set it down perfectly.

With one last sigh, Laney turned and left the room. The chores were done.