Page 14 of What You Never Knew

“Did you say June Bennett?” I turn at the question and see a man bent over in the act of tying up his boat while at the same time staring right at me.

He stands up, and I can’t help but notice how handsome he is—tall, slim, tanned, with dark hair and sharp blue eyes. I’m guessing he’s somewhere around my age. I feel like I should know him, but I can’t put my finger on why.

“Yes. I am June Bennett. Do I know you?” I ask, sounding aloof, but mostly because I’m totally intimidated by his good looks.

“June!” he says in response. “It’s me, Ezra. Ezra Keen.” He points at his chest, but the name doesn’t fit this person in front of me.

Back in the day we had a caretaker for the island, West Keen. He often brought his son, Ezra, along to help. That boy is locked in my brain somewhere around adolescence. I’ve thought of him many times over the years, but always as the boy I knew— stripped T-shirt, dirty knees, a laugh that carried, and the softest lips I’ve ever known.

This man in his white T-shirt with his man muscles and arm hair, khaki shorts, and clean knees—how could this be my Ezra?

He takes a step forward. “June?” he says again.

I look down at his feet—they’re bare. It’s this detail that makes me believe his identity. Ezra never wore shoes anywhere, not even into town.

I look back at his face, study the laugh lines, the stubble on his face that has hints of gray in it. I look right into his eyes, and that’s where I find the boy I knew. The blue is just as deep, the look just as expectant and open, as if he’s waiting for me to catch up, just like he always did.

“My god.” The words breathe right out of me. “Ezra.”

As though my recognition finally brings permission, he leans in to give me a hug. I return it awkwardly, one hand still clutching the thick scrapbook. “I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first.” I try to explain my rudeness away.

He shrugs. “It’s fine. I mean.” He shoves a hand through his thick, messy hair. “It’s been almost thirty years.”

“Well I’ll be,” Jim says, reminding me of his presence. “A real live reunion. You both knew each other back in the day, did you?”

Ezra nods, his eyes still trained on my face. “When I was a kid, I used to go with my dad when he was working over at Avril Island, and that’s how June and I became friends.” He gives his head a shake. “What are you doing back after all these years?”

I go to give him a stock answer, but something stops me. I want to tell Ezra the truth, but not here in the middle of the marina dock with Jim listening in. I owe Ezra more than that. He meant something to me a long time ago, and I feel it once again give a tug on my heart.

“It’s a long story,” I say instead. “You should come out to the island for a drink, and we’ll catch up.”

A wide smile spreads across his handsome face. “I’d really like that.” I give Ezra my cell number, and he sends me a text right there to make sure we’re connected.

“All right then,” I say. “I’ll be sure to contact you.”

“Please do, June,” he says, with a sincerity that can’t be faked. “I’d really love to have a visit. It’s been so long. Too long.”

“I definitely will.” I give a quick nod. “So until then.” Turning in the direction of my boat, I call over my shoulder one last thank-you to Jim for the scrapbook. Then I untie my boat and slowly back out of the boat slip while trying to ignore the nervous fluttering running all through me, brought on by the sight of Ezra Keen.

Ezra and I have history. He was my first kiss, but before that he was my best summer friend. West brought him every time he came to the island to do work, which felt to me like every day. Ezra would help his dad unload his tools or whatever equipment he needed for the day, and then the two of us would go off to explore the island. We built forts together, caught frogs, started tiny bonfires and then drowned them with lake water, had underwater breath-holding contests, played endless games of Scrabble and Uno, put on silly plays on the verandah—essentially, we did all the things kids at cottages do.

May was fond of Ezra too, but she floated in and out of our time together as it suited her, spending most of her time taking photographs or looking for things to take photographs of or studying the photographs she’d already taken.

There was a special kind of intensity to my friendship with Ezra. When we were nine, we went into the woods and held a secret ceremony. Using Ezra’s jackknife, we cut into the soft flesh of our palms and then grasped each other’s hands to become blood siblings. We vowed to stay friends forever, never keep secrets from each other, and always tell the truth.

When I turned ten and started going to sailing and tennis lessons, things changed. It was a place where Ezra was not allowed to follow; I knew that even without asking. I made new friends, kids from other cottages. Ezra still came around, but he was fit in between my lessons and other friends.

The summer I was eleven, it became pretty obvious to both of us that our friendship would not survive class distinctions and getting older. Ironically, it was the summer of our first and last kiss. It was raining that day. West was there to fix a cupboard door that kept falling off its hinges. Ezra and I sat out on the verandah on the glider. We rocked back and forth, not saying anything, just staring out into the trees, listening to the hypnotic squeak of the glider’s metal mechanism.

“Koda died,” he finally said, out of the blue.

I braced my feet against the floor to stop the swinging and sat up so I could see him better. “What? Why didn’t you tell me right away?” Koda was his dog, and Ezra had brought him to the island more than a few times.

Ezra shrugged, and I knew he was holding back tears. I leaned in and gave him a big hug. He gripped me right back. We stayed like that for a few seconds, and then he pulled free but kept one arm around me.

“It’s the summer of losing things,” he said, with the seriousness of a wise old man. I didn’t know how to answer, so I leaned in and put my lips on his. It wasn’t a proper kiss, just lips on lips, but I inhaled his breath and tasted whatever he’d had for lunch that day. I pushed into the fullness of his mouth, wanting more of it, thinking I’d never felt anything so soft in my life. Then I heard a click. I pulled out of the kiss and spotted May hiding among the trees, taking our picture.

I sprang up from my spot on the glider and chased after her, throwing pinecones at her back as she fled into the woods. Ezra sat laughing at us both, and as was always the way with him, I couldn’t help but laugh too.