Summer by Summer (14 page)

“You know the best part?” I said to Bray. He’d gotten quiet over the last several minutes.

“What?”

“We can use the coconuts on our skin. It will cut down on the chances of cuts, infections, and sunburn if we keep our skin moist.”

“Would that work?”

“It already has. I’ve been scraping the last little bits of coconut out and using it on my face. For a while there, I felt like if I smiled my cheeks would crack.” I was surprised at how quickly Bray made his way to me. Suddenly, he was right there, right in front of me.

His hands came up to slide along my cheeks, over my forehead, down my throat. “You are soft.” His voice was a gravely whisper. The sound dove into my stomach and curled around my insides.

“Are you just looking for an excuse to touch me?” We stood by the stainless steel counter in the hot, dusty kitchen, so I clamped a hand around the edge, letting the solid surface equalize me. Bray could throw me off . . . or shore me up with just one touch of his hand.

“Do I need an excuse?” There was no pretense in his tone. No humor, no wit. Just honesty. And that scared me a little. My grip on the counter tightened as I thought of how it felt earlier to have Bray pressing his hand to the small of my back as I’d cried. He hadn’t tried to calm me down. Hadn’t told me to stop. He was simply there. There for me.

I didn’t know what to do with that. My whole life, I had always been the strong one. Well, until I shattered and broke into a thousand pieces last year. And that shattering was okay, because no one
knew. Not my mom or dad. Not Michael’s mom. Not my youth pastor. Not even Becky, my best friend. I’d walked the earth as a corpse, helping Michael’s mother with funeral arrangements, and only later, in the safety of my room after it was all over, did I allow myself to shatter. People say a heart can be broken. But they forget the rest of the organs. How your mind spins trying to undo what was done. How the lungs ache with each new breath. No, it’s not just a heart that breaks.

I died that day right along with Michael.

I blinked, suddenly aware of something going on around me but unable to access what. Bray leaned toward me, hands still cupping my soft cheeks. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. He was going to kiss me.

What would his mouth feel like against mine? It would be a tender kiss. He would brush his lips against mine and possibly taste the faint hint of coconut that lingered around my mouth. Then, he’d step closer, closing me in the one place I felt safe on the island, his arms.

Millimeters from my mouth, he stopped. His focus lifted from my lips to my eyes. He was waiting. For me.

“I’m sorry, Bray.” I pulled away. Sorrow and anger at myself whooshed into my system because I wouldn’t let Bray kiss me. Couldn’t let him. I swallowed, and the pain from disappointing him burned all the way down my throat.

He pressed his lips together in a tight line. The muscle in his jaw worked out the frustration he didn’t want me to see, but it pulsed from him in waves so powerful, they could knock me over if I wasn’t careful. For a few seconds, he just hung there, hands still raised to the spot where I’d moved away from him. Then his lips quirked, and I saw a tiny dimple in the left side appear then disappear. He dropped his hands with a clop. “I’m going outside for a while. You’ll be okay?”

I frowned. It wasn’t like him to leave me. “I . . . I’m okay.” Was
I? Guess I had to be. When he got to the door, I hollered for him. “Bray? Are you all right?”

He froze for a second, half through the doorway. His hand gripped the trim work. “Yeah. I just want to check on something.”

He wasn’t convincing. I pulled a deep breath and tried to concentrate on the provisions around me rather than the person I’d just rejected. I’d made an art of pushing people away in the last year. But when you’re stranded on an island, self-reliance can only take you so far. Bray needed me. And whether or not I wanted to admit it, I needed him.

CHAPTER 8

Summer

I packed some utensils, a can opener, food, and other essentials into a large stew pot. It was getting heavy, but Bray and I could carry it between us, each holding one of the handles. He’d been gone for quite a while. I began to wonder if he was coming back at all when I heard his voice. “Summer, come out for a sec.”

I tried to lift the pot myself. No way. “Okay,” I called.

I worked my way to the door, avoiding the newly piled sections of food. He was standing at the main door, and I was glad to see he had a smile on his face. “Come on out, you need to see this.”

I brushed the sweat-sticky hair from my face.

“You need me to come in and help you?”

“No. Well, maybe. I packed us a pot of food and stuff for the beach. I can’t lift it. Need an ape man.”

He rushed inside, sailing over the debris like an athlete. Before I could even get to the door on my own, he’d rushed past, grabbed the pot and carried it outside.

“Wow. Ape man good.”

He gave me one of those half grins that made my stomach hurt and snagged me by the hand. “Come on.”

“Uh . . . aren’t we taking the pot?” I had to readjust my feet to keep from tripping. It was as hot outside as it had been inside.

“No. We can come back for it.” He dragged me along an overgrown path leading to what I assumed was the east side of the island. We hadn’t explored this section yet, but something had tripped his excitement button. I tried to rally, the muscles in my calves and thighs screaming and shaking with each new step. Exhausted, I let him drag me. I felt the breeze and knew we were near the water.

He stopped. “Okay, close your eyes.”

My hands instantly went to my hips.

“I’m serious. I’ll navigate you through the last tree line. But you gotta get the full effect when you see this.”

I closed my eyes and let him lead me through the trees. The breeze was strong now and I could hear waves, but gentle ones, not like our beach.

“Open your eyes.” He’d said it against my ear, confirming how close he actually stood.

Soft blue sky, blue-green water, and a half-moon of white sand around the most beautiful lagoon I’d ever seen. Scattered palm trees anchored the crescent-shaped cove, giving shade and swaying in the soft current of air. The breeze was gentle here, as were the waves. It was paradise. The water beckoned. Low swells reaching toward us, climbing the white sand then retreating back into the sea. “It’s beautiful.”

“That’s not the best part.” I could hear Joshie in Bray’s voice. Little boy, excited, energized with a secret, thrilled to be the bearer, eager to spill the knowledge. “Turn around.”

I did and what I saw almost made my knees give out. There, nestled just before the tree line, was a hut.

Bray motioned beyond it. “There are several. Or were — most of them were wiped out by the hurricane. But this one is livable. I already checked it out.”

I couldn’t breathe. We had food. We now had shelter. We weren’t going to die. When I swayed toward him, he caught me. I fell into his waiting arms. “Thank you, Bray.”

“No more sleeping on the beach. Not that you’ve been sleeping much.”

“I didn’t want to tell you, but one night I woke up with a crab crawling over me. I haven’t slept very well since then.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He’d been hugging me, but when he said this, I tilted to look up at him. “What do you mean, you’re sorry?”

“I fell asleep. That’s why it was crawling on you.”

I pushed a little farther away because I needed to see his face. We’d spent three nights on the island. “Are you saying you’ve stayed awake to keep the crabs off of me?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Maybe.”

That moment I lost a little piece of my heart to Bray Garrison. I could feel my eyes welling, but swallowed the emotion until I had it under control. “Thank you, Bray.” It was all I could manage. And seemed to be all he needed to hear.

One of his hands came up to touch the side of my head. “You’re welcome, Summer. Go on in and check out your new condo. I’ll go back and get the food. We can get some dinner started soon.”

Rather than stare at my new home away from home, I watched Bray as he disappeared beyond the trees. He’d stayed awake to keep crabs off of me. Who does that? I owed him my life . . . and maybe even more. This Bray made me want to believe again.
This
Bray was a far different person than the one I met in Belize.

But the Bray in Belize was the real one, and I needed to remember that. I needed to remember what we’d been like at the house —
that
was real life, before we came to the island.

Wait. Before we were
stranded
on the island. We didn’t come here. This wasn’t a vacation. Wasn’t a choice. This was life or death.
Even with food and shelter, it was still life or death. I also needed to remember that. A giant wad of despair worked to swallow my new joy.

Which oddly made me feel just a bit more stable, a bit more on solid ground. I took in the hut. It was probably the size of a one-car garage, with a bamboo-trimmed porch running the width of the front. Three stairs led up to the porch, and I was thrilled I’d no longer be on the ground. The bottom step was partially covered in white sand that danced across it in the breeze like an invitation. I was glad the hut sat on sand rather than in the woods, otherwise the aggressive foliage would have claimed the whole thing by now. Instead, there were several feet behind the hut before the tree line bulged toward it. Hand on the rail, I stepped onto the second step and bounced a little. Solid as a rock.

The porch was shrouded by an overhanging roofline covered with palm fronds, but the underside was wood or maybe painted metal. I couldn’t tell which and didn’t really care as long as it kept the bugs out and the sun off. Two large hooks hung from the porch ceiling, which seemed odd, but I was sure we’d figure out some way to use them.

The door hung open, and it too was wood. But not like the lumber I’d seen in log homes. This was different, rich in color and barely scarred by the weather. Probably some exotic kind of wood. It practically glowed.

Inside, more of the same warm-honey timber. Walls, ceiling, all lined with the stuff. There was a front room and a door on the left that led into what I assumed was a bedroom. Windows were on every wall I could see from my vantage point. They opened outward from the center like miniature French doors. One window was broken, but the rest were intact. The stuffy hut smelled like wet wood, though the inside seemed dry enough. After propping the door open fully, I went to the window in the front room. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. I headed across the empty space to the bedroom
and pushed that door open a little farther, introducing myself to the room. Something fluttered in the corner, causing my heart to stop. I waited, released a breath, just as a bird emerged from the corner and flew directly at my head. Hands flailing, I ducked just in time to get out of its way. He disappeared through the open door. A hand fell against my heart, which I could feel pounding through my T-shirt.

Though most of the cabin was bare, a bamboo-anchored cot rested against one wall, holding a thick, plastic-covered, marine-blue mattress. I nearly sank on it right then, but couldn’t be sure what was living in, on, or under it, so I decided to wait for Bray. Maybe we could drag it out to the beach and remove any unwanted squatters.

He returned just as I’d started gathering wood for a fire outside. “So, what all is in this pot? Feels like everything but the kitchen sink.”

“Actually, I thought we’d use the pot
as
the kitchen sink. Sorry it was so heavy. I just kept piling food and utensils in there.”

“In a few minutes, I’ll need to run back to the beach and bring some of the coals over to start the fire here.”

I nodded. And continued listing the pot contents. “I grabbed a can opener too. Also, a couple knives. I didn’t bring them all, just a couple. Oh, and a little gadget in a carrying case.”

“What gadget?” He dropped the pot on the sand a few yards from the hut.

I dug around inside, excited all over again that we had food. Actual food. “This.” I held it up to him.

His mouth dropped open, and he slid it from my grasp.

“Honestly, I didn’t figure it would be much help, but I was just sort of intrigued by it.”

“Summer, do you know what this is?” His eyes were so wide, I wanted to step away.

“No.”

“It’s a magnesium fire starter. Just one of these will light hundreds of fires.”

Suddenly, my discovery went from intriguing to downright awe inspiring. My hand fell against my chest. “I almost tossed it into the rubble.”

Bray set it gently in my hands, then grabbed both sides of my head and kissed my forehead. “Good job.”

“I almost threw it
away
.”

“But you didn’t.” He nodded toward the hut. “How do you like it?”

“Amazing.” My bottom lip slid into my mouth and I bit down.

“Summer.”

I fingered the fire starter, focusing on the tight stitching that held the case together.

“
Summer
,” Bray said, a little louder, though he wasn’t more than six inches away.