Falling for Summer (10 page)

Summer's wearing her black bikini from yesterday, and for a moment, I let my eyes travel along her lean body, trying to memorize all of these little details of a day twenty years in the making. 

I feel strange.  I never would have come back here, even on the twentieth anniversary, if something hadn't compelled me to do it.  I felt that I
had
to come. 

Did I come back for Tiffany...or for Summer? 

Sometimes I think about what so many people told me after Tiffany's death.  That she wouldn't have wanted me to be sad forever, that she would want me to go on and live my life, to make the most out of my life.  But I was never capable of that.  The oppressive weight of my grief pressed me down.  I felt undeserving of a happy life since my sister was cheated out of hers.

But now here we are, the two of us—Summer and me.  Impossibly, we found each other, are connecting...

This feels so right.

Summer glances up at me, and her smile is brighter than the sun as she stands, as she brushes the sand off of her front.  She smiles at me, yeah, but her eyes are darkened.  “Ready to go?” she asks quietly.

“Um...” I tell her, not exactly certain how to say this.  I take a deep breath, try to relax my rising shoulders—and fail.  “I was actually wanting to...to swim where Tiffany did.  That night,” I manage to squeak out miserably.

But Summer doesn't miss a beat.  “Good.  That's where I was going to take you,” she tells me quietly, lifting her chin.  “Are you sure you're okay with this, Mandy?  Today's the day...”  She trails off, gesturing with her hand.  We're both highly aware of what day this is, and I nod, draw in another deep breath.

“Yeah.  I think I'll be okay,” I tell her. 

And then Summer nods, her warm, brown eyes softening.  “Let's go then, shall we?” She inclines her head, and the two of us step forward, striding across the rest of the beach and into the water.

And, my God, the water is cold.  I remember thinking, as a kid, that people from out of town always made such a big deal about how cold Lake George could be...  But, as a kid, I was used to the freezing lake.  Now, twenty years later, my teeth are instantly chattering, my skin is completely goose-pimpled, and I almost let out a little shriek as I keep going, as I don't allow time for my body to acclimate.

Summer dives right in instantly, from the height of mid-thigh.  She's moving through the water with her strong breaststroke, and I have no choice but to follow behind her.  So I do.  I inhale deeply, and I dive in, my head slipping under the water, the sensation as familiar as a memory.

But if I thought standing and walking through the water was cold, I couldn't imagine how cold the water would feel when it encompassed my entire body.  The cold is like a punch, and—almost instantly—all of the breath is knocked out of my chest.  I surface, spluttering, wiping the stray hairs out of my face, as I tread water, looking ahead for Summer.  And she
is
ahead—far ahead.  I slide into a breaststroke as my body shakes, and after a few strokes, I find my rhythm.

Don't get me wrong: the water's still cold as hell, but once it gets over the initial shock, my body begins to warm up to the icy water of the lake.  I pull forward with my arms, kicking the water in even strokes, and I move quickly toward Summer.

A million memories flood me as I glide through the lake.  Of my first swim with Tiffany, of all of the swims I took with Monica.  The moment that my mother taught me how to swim, holding up my little body in the bright blue water, the water that I'd known since my very first day on Earth.  I'd felt so held by that water as I stared up at the brilliant sky...and I'd felt so peaceful.  I never could have known that that water would take my sister away from me.  I'd only ever loved Lake George.

I slice through the gentle waves, and I glance ahead, surprised that Summer has stopped.  She's treading water quite a ways out, and as I slow down in my swim, I lift my chin, work the water out of my eyes and stop, too.

Summer turns to look back at me, and her face is stricken.

“What's wrong?” I ask her, carefully clamping down on the panic that begins to rise inside of me.  It's okay; she's probably not hurt.  Probably.  Summer is as much at ease in the water as a mermaid would be.  Surely she's okay...

But she isn't.

“Amanda, I have to tell you something,” she whispers then, her voice oddly hushed and quiet over the water.  I'm only about two feet from her, but she whispers the words so softly that I hardly hear her.  My blood begins to pound through me again, and I carefully tread water, waiting.

“I know...  I know you blame yourself for Tiffany's death,” she murmurs to me, her warm, brown eyes clouded with pain.  She ducks her chin under the water, the lake lapping at her lips as she closes her eyes, searching for the right words.  When she lifts her chin again, her lips are as wet and as shining as her eyes; tears cascade over her cheek.  “But I understand,” she tells me softly, “because I blame myself, too.”

“Summer...” I begin, my heart constricting inside of me, “what do you mean?”

She shakes her head, the tears beginning to pour out now, one after the other, dripping from her chin and into the lake.  “At Tiffany's slumber party,” says Summer then, softly, slowly, like she's reciting a litany she's practiced many times, “I was bragging that I was the best swimmer.  I was pretty good.  But I was a
kid
,” she whispers, looking at me now, holding my gaze.  “You remember Tiffany,” she says, her voice catching.  “How she had to be the best at everything.”

I nod, kicking my legs, feeling the chill of the water begin to permeate my body.  And my heart.

“She told me she was better than me,” says Summer finally, her eyes filled with tears.  “And I dared her to prove it.  I dared her to prove she was better, and then she set off into the lake.  And...and she died, Amanda,” says Summer softly.  “She went out into the water that night because of me.”

I stare at Summer.  I can't remember how to breathe.  All of those nights of my life crying into my pillow, all those nights that I wanted to go back in time...

“If I could go back in time,” says Summer, holding my gaze, startling me, “I would do anything to fix it.  I have relived that night a million times in my life.  I wish it had never happened,” she whispers.

“I...”  I don't know what to say, what to do.  My heart is breaking all over again inside of me.  I remember, well, everything in that moment.  I'm flooded with memory, feeling and pain.  Mostly pain, just as fresh and new as when it first happened, twenty years ago. 

I reach out, and I brush my fingertips over Summer's arm.  “I...I'm sorry,” I whisper to her, shaking my head.  “Um.”  I swallow hard.  “I...I really need to think,” I manage to say, and then I'm turning, and I'm swimming back to shore.  I put one arm in front of the other, kicking with all my might as tears stream down my cheeks, mirroring the ones that I know Summer sheds behind me.

I have blamed myself every moment of every day for my sister's death.  Every day that I got up, I would look out the window at the rising sun or the overcast day, and this truth would follow me:
If it weren't for me, my sister would still be alive. 
It would haunt me at night, always the last thing I thought of before I fell asleep:
If it weren't for me, my sister would still be alive. 

But, logically, I knew I shouldn't be blaming myself for Tiffany's death. 

Kids are kids.  Kids say and do stupid things. 

I stagger out of the water at the edge of the shore, and I put my hands on my knees, inhaling deeply, trying to take deep breaths as the water from the lake runs down my body.  I'm shivering and shaking in the air that seems, suddenly, colder than the lake was.

Kids are kids. 

As I'm moving toward the cabin now, brushing the water off of my arms, running my hands over my hair, my eyes so blurred by tears, I try to imagine what it might have been like that night for Summer.  The horror as Tiffany took her up on a dare that she probably made thinking that Tiffany would never do it.  The horror as Tiffany began to move through the dark waters of that lake.  The horror as Tiffany swam farther and farther away from shore, finally too far to reach, to touch...to save.

I get into the cabin, and I fall to my knees by my suitcase, wiping the tears from my eyes as I pick up the plastic bag and carefully unzip it.

Tiffany's diary falls into my lap.

I must have read this a hundred times.  As the diary falls open, my eyes gaze down unseeing at the pages. 

Sobbing, I focus on an entry.

Summer is my best friend, and I love her very much. 

“Amanda?” comes Summer's voice from outside.  She sounds stricken.  “Amanda, are you here?” she calls again, her voice breaking.

“Yes!” I call out to her, and then she's in the doorway, staring down at me, her warm, brown eyes full of pain.

“Come here,” I tell her softly, holding my hand out to her.  And Summer does, tentatively at first, her wet feet padding across the floor, but when she finally reaches me, she sits down and leans against me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

“Do you see this?” I whisper, running a finger under the line in the diary. 
Summer is my best friend, and I love her very much. 
I glance up at Summer now, holding her gaze.  “She loved you,” I tell her softly, feeling the words hitch in my throat.  “And I don't think she would have wanted you to blame yourself.”

Summer holds my gaze for a long moment, hers utterly unwavering.  “You, either,” she finally says, her voice gruff, full of unshed tears.

We stare at one another for a long moment, and then I'm standing, holding onto the diary and Summer's hand, helping her stand, too.

“I know what I want to do,” I tell Summer, taking a deep breath.  “It's time,” I tell her, holding the diary out to her.  “Twenty years have come and gone.  Twenty years of a life that I didn't live,” I tell her, feeling the tears come harder now, coursing down my cheeks, warming my skin. 

Summer takes the diary from me, raises a questioning brow.

“It's time,” I whisper to her, reaching across the space between us and taking up her hands in mine.  “It's time to let Tiffany go,” I tell her with finality.

Summer's eyes flash pain, in that moment.  Pain and hurt and...something else.  Something else that I'm feeling, rising up within me.

Relief.

“We've both been blaming ourselves,” I tell Summer, taking a deep breath.  “And it has to stop.  It just...  It has to
stop
.”

Summer nods, after a long moment of staring down at the diary in her hands.  “It has to stop,” she repeats.

Together, hand in hand, the two of us move out of the cabin, into the sun-dappled warmth of a Lake George afternoon.  Together, hand in hand, the two of us move to the fire pit at the center of the campground.  Summer patiently, carefully, silently builds a fire out of the logs she drags out from the main office. 

And together we stand, waiting, gripping the diary between us.

The fire roars, already climbing high into the sky.  The water of the lake glitters under that beautiful sunshine, and the cicadas sing their hearts out...

It's a perfect, beautiful day. 

And, beside me, Summer watches my face, her eyes still pained, her expression still closed-off, still sad.

“No more,” I whisper to her, and I hold up the diary, Summer's fingers brushing the edge of it as she finally lets it go.  “We've done enough grieving,” I tell Summer, then.  “You taught me something last night...” I whisper to her.

“What?” she asks me, her voice breaking.

“You taught me to live,” I tell her.  I step forward, and I set the diary down gently into the fire.  I turn back, and I take Summer into my arms as tears stream down her face, as she gathers me into her embrace.  Together, the two of us hold one another as Tiffany's diary goes up in smoke, the edges of the paper curling and flickering, like a rose made of embers. 

“It's time to start living,” I tell Summer earnestly.  “I know Tiffany would have wanted us to be doing that this whole time.  But we can start now.”

“Right now,” whispers Summer, and she leans forward and kisses me fiercely.

Twenty years ago to the day, Tiffany lost her life.

And, twenty years later, I found mine again.

Summer and I kiss in the blazing heat of the fire, in the heat of this gorgeous summer day.  And I know, as we hold one another tightly, that falling for her has changed everything for good.

“C'mon,” says Summer then, taking a step back, her mouth turning up at the corners as she squeezes my hands tightly.  “Let's go make some memories.”

So we do.

If you enjoyed
Falling for Summer
,
you'll love Bridget Essex's novel
Don’t Say Goodbye
:
 
Maxine “Max” Hallwell has spent her entire life making the safe, responsible decisions.  When her best friend, Jo, introduces her to her new girlfriend Fiona, a stunning, charismatic cake decorator, Max realizes that making safe decisions might have cost her the woman of her dreams...A heartwarming, poignant romance.

The following is an excerpt from Bridget Essex's novel 
Don’t Say Goodby
e
,
available now on Amazon!

Max combed through her long, lanky brown hair with her fingers and put it up in a nicer ponytail, and she reapplied her mascara.  She didn’t normally wear makeup, but she’d put on mascara this morning, and she’d tossed the tube of it in her purse, so why the heck not put on more, she’d thought. 

Meeting Jo’s date was a big deal, after all.  Jo went on a
lot
of dates.  Jo was just…like that.  She was charming and funny and she had the confidence of a world leader, so of course the ladies were attracted to her, and she ended up going on quite a few dates with quite a few different women.  So for her to actually call up Max and ask her to meet
this
date, the woman that Jo had just met last week…Jo must be
serious
.  And a
serious
Jo?  That hadn’t happened since Alexandra, five years ago.  And Alex had broken Jo’s heart.

So Max got out of the car, locking it behind her, and tugged down on her jacket, running her hand through her ponytail as she stared up at the half-lit sign for the Malibu.  If the sign was to be believed, it was really called the “M li u.”  They hadn’t changed the sign’s bulbs since Jo and Max had started going to the diner about twenty years ago, when the word had been complete and readable.  After all, they didn’t need to change the bulbs—the regulars at the Malibu knew it for the good, greasy food and the great diner coffee, and the cute retro booths that Jo and Max always liked so much, and with or without the sign properly lit, the place was pretty much always packed.

Jo was in their usual booth at the back of the diner, and Max waved to her from the doorway when she walked in.  Jo slid out of the booth, stood and grinned at her, her hip jutting out a little to the side at a cocky angle.  Jo had obviously gone all out for dinner.  She was wearing her close-cropped black hair swept a little to the side, which made her look mischievous.  Her leather jacket was hung up on the little hook between booths, and her navy blue plaid button down shirt had actually been ironed.  Or, knowing Jo, it was made out of that kind of fabric that didn’t need ironing. 

Either way, she looked good, her wide, infectious grin widening even further as Max trotted over to her and enveloped her shorter best friend in a quick, tight hug.  Jo hugged back just as tightly, and then, with her arm snaked around the small of Max’s back, Jo flopped Max around so that the booth was in front of the two of them.

“Max, I want you to meet my new girlfriend,” said Jo triumphantly, the buttons on her plaid shirt now in danger of bursting, her chest was puffed up so much with pride.  “Fiona, this is Max—my best friend in all this world, and a great lady.  Max, this is Fiona.”

Max’s breath caught in her throat as she took the woman’s hand.  Time seemed to slow down, and the air crackled between them.

Time slowed down…and stood still.

When Max had woken up, the day had stretched before her as it always did.  Get up, eat breakfast, drive to work, get to work.  Work.  Go home.  Go to sleep.  There was nothing in it that had marked this span of twenty-four hours as anything other than utterly ordinary or normal or as dull as usual.  But as Max looked at this woman, as time stood still, Max’s heartbeat thundering in her chest, she knew that somehow, unexpectedly, things had changed.  The day was no longer normal.

She hadn’t been expecting
this
.

Fiona had bright red hair, what looked like
very
curly bright red hair, held by a lot of bobby pins and clips to her head.  Her bright green eyes sparkled as she smiled and took Max’s hand.  The corners of her mouth turned up impishly…she had the kind of smile that if you saw it across the room, you wouldn’t even realize that you were smiling, too, but then you would be.  She was wearing a plunging blue v-neck sweater that showed a great deal of gorgeous, curving chest, and tight black pants, and as Max took Fiona’s smooth, soft hand in her own, as Fiona’s fingers closed around Max’s palm, and Fiona shook her hand gently up and down, Max swallowed.

Fiona was beautiful.  That much was obvious.  But as her bright green eyes sparkled, as their hands curved up and down as Max and Fiona shook, there was something more to her, Max knew.  So much more.  Fiona seemed, in that first glance, the kind of woman who was perfect for Jo--bright, energetic, positive, with the kind of courage and tenacity that can move mountains.  The kind of woman who would make Jo really, really happy.

And the kind of woman that Max would have given her right arm to meet first.

Jo and Max had always joked that they were attracted to the same kinds of women.  It was sheer coincidence that the best of friends had both grown up and realized they were lesbians (for a very misguided week in their twenties, they’d even tried dating one another.  It was a miserable failure.).

They both knew the kind of women they liked, a list that had never altered across the many years.  Warm.  Funny.  Dynamic, charismatic, forward, vivacious…as Max woodenly sat down in the booth across from Jo and Fiona, Jo protectively putting her arm around Fiona’s shoulders, Max felt the blood drain from her face.  They’d both dated women that the other had said, without a doubt, was their type.

But it had never been…quite like this.

Max had never been a “love at first sight” kind of person.  She didn’t even really believe in it.  Obviously, there would be attraction, but
love
?  That was the kind of stuff you saw in the movies.  It didn’t really exist in real life.  But for the first time, Max crossed her legs, took the napkin off the table and nervously began to fiddle with it in her lap.  There was a very disconcerting feeling going on in her heart.  It was not altogether unpleasant…just very unnerving and unexpected.

Her life had never, ever felt like it was a scene from a movie.  Until this moment.

Don’t Say Goodby
e
is
available now on Amazon!

More from Bridget Essex:

-
The Guardian Angel
: 
When Erin's life is saved by a gorgeous woman who
swears
she's Erin's guardian angel...things begin to get complicated.

- 
The Vampire Next Door
: 
(Co-written with author Natalie Vivien) Courtney's book store is failing, and she thinks her girlfriend might be cheating on her...Courtney doesn't even think she believes in love...that is, until she meets the vampire next door.

- 
Don’t Say Goodbye
:
 
Maxine “Max” Hallwell has spent her entire life making the safe, responsible decisions.  When her best friend, Jo, introduces her to her new girlfriend Fiona, a stunning, charismatic cake decorator, Max realizes that making safe decisions might have cost her the woman of her dreams...A heartwarming, poignant romance.

- 
A Wolf for Valentine's Day
– Trish Dalton has put her wild, adventurous days behind her. But when she's gifted a weekend stay at a remote lodge in the Rockies, she finds she may have one more adventure left in her.  A light-hearted, steamy romance, perfect to read any time of year.

- 
A Wolf for the Holidays
: 
Mandy’s not having a great December.  Her lackluster girlfriend has given her a massive dog--who looks a lot more like a wolf than a dog--as a gift.  But all problems seem minor when she wakes up to a gorgeous, naked woman stealing jeans out of her dresser...a woman who swears she’s a werewolf.  A warm, holiday romance!

- 
Wolf Town
: 
Amy moves to the strange little New England village, Wolf Town--but she finds more than a fresh start when she begins to fall in love with the daughter of the Wolf Town patriarch...who also just happens to be a werewolf.

- 
The Sullivan Vampires
: 
A beautiful, romantic series that follows the clan of Sullivan vampires and the women who love them. Advance praise has hailed this hallmark series as “Twilight for women who love women” and “a lesbian romance that takes vampires seriously! Two thumbs up!”

- 
Big, Bad Wolf
: 
During a terrible snowstorm, Megan thinks she sees a wolf.  But when beautiful, hungry-eyed Kara comes into Megan’s life, she brings more danger than a pack of wolves.

- 
The Protector
: 
Elizabeth Grayson doesn’t want a bodyguard, but when her life is put in danger, her father hires mysterious Layne O’Connell to keep her safe.  And Elizabeth is beginning to fall for the woman who was charged with keeping her alive.

- 
Dark Angel
: 
Cassandra Griman was in the wrong place at the wrong time when her life is saved by an angel.  But first impressions aren’t everything, and the captivating woman who saved her life is no angel.  Can love save the soul of a vampire?

These and more are available now.

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About Author Bridget Essex

My name is Bridget Essex, and I write about werewolves, vampires and lady knights; about two strong, courageous women who fall deeply in love with one another, living love stories that transcend time.  I’m married to the love of my life, author Natalie Vivien.

I’m best known for my Knight Legends series, stories about women knights, real world hi-jinks and love stories that are out of this world. My Sullivan Vampire novellas are a popular series lauded as “TWILIGHT for women who love women,” and I have several other series and stand-alone novellas, and I’m always putting out something new. Sign up for our newsletter to be the first to know when I release something!

You can find out more about my work at
http://BridgetEssex.wordpress.com
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https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008329511329&ref=tn_tnmn

Learn more about Rose and Star Press, publishers of lesbian romance and fiction of distinction, at
http:///www.LesbianRomance.org