Summer by Summer (23 page)

She exhaled a long, frustrated sound, but allowed me to lift her slightly off the bed to get a drink. I held the shell while she took several long draws from it.

“Now, time to eat.”

But she turned over on the mattress, curling into a ball facing the window. “Not hungry.”

I fisted my hands in my hair, not sure what else to do.

“Leave it,” she muttered. “I’ll eat it later.”

But I knew she was just trying to get rid of me.

“I’ll be right outside the door. Holler if you need me.”

But Summer wouldn’t need me. Careful as I’d been, the wildcat had finally run off.

Summer stayed in bed for the next three days. She hadn’t eaten enough, and the lack of nourishment fed the exhaustion. Something had to happen. Something had to change. Quick. But this wasn’t just exhaustion. I’d taken a psychology class my first semester. This was textbook depression. Problem was I didn’t know how to fix it.

I had to do something drastic.

I’d spent a few mornings trying my hand at spear fishing and had landed a couple of prize guppies, neither one was more than an inch long. I almost gave up, but having no one to talk to made me even more determined than ever to spear a real fish. My first came on the fourth morning of Summer’s downward spiral. It was early, and I’d checked on her to find her sleeping. What she did about seventeen hours a day now. The rest of the time, she’d stare out the window or at the ceiling. Except of course, when I was pestering her to eat. After getting her to eat a bit of canned peaches, I took spear in hand and waded into the lagoon.

Something moved near my left foot, stirring up the sandy bottom. It was a flounder, fins flipping lightly as he reacquainted himself with the seafloor. I was in water to my knees so his outline was easy to make out. The two eyes on the upside of his head closed, and I held my breath, raised my spear, and then shoved it into the water and through his flesh. I lifted the end with a
scooping motion, so he wouldn’t slide off. I got so excited, I practically fell in the water, but steadied myself and carried him to the shore, yelling for Summer as I went. Once on land, he flopped, catching me off guard, and I dropped to my knees, so elated I could barely remember what to do next, so I stood up and ran toward the front door. “Summer!” I yelled it again, and looked to find her standing in the hut’s doorway.

She looked awful — her eyes dark and sunken. I shuddered to a stop.

She swayed one direction, then the other, as if caught by invisible waves. There was no smile and when she spoke, her voice sounded far away. “That’s great, Bray.” Then, she turned and disappeared back into her room.

A horrifying thought struck me, dropping me to my knees again. She was going to die. If I didn’t do something, Summer was going to die. Fear clawed its way over my flesh and into my system. She was half dead already.

I tossed the flounder by the fire and paced, chewing up the ground in front of the hut. I’d thought back over the last four days. When I’d asked her what was wrong, she’d repeatedly told me she just wanted to go home.

Confusing, for sure. It seemed the idea of going home brought on the depression — still something I didn’t understand — then after a couple of days, she was saying she
wanted
to go home.

I left the area and walked back to the beach where we’d spent our first nights on the island. No signs there of how to fix her. I knew I was just burning off nervous energy. My gaze fixed on the horizon. White-blue light sparkling, searing my eyeballs. Something flashed at the far edge of the water where it met the sky.

I sucked in a breath and squinted, then turned and ran back toward the hut, screaming Summer’s name.

Summer

Far away, I could hear Bray. As he neared, I knew there was a different pitch to his voice than I’d ever heard before. It roused me, if only a little, then I curled back on my side, letting sleep take me. But the voice continued, getting louder, closer, and I just wanted to clamp my hands over my ears. He was screaming my name. But something else too. I couldn’t make it out, and the effort just seemed too great.

“A ship!”

I sat straight up in bed, mind and head spinning. I had to have imagined it.

“Summer! I think I see a ship on the horizon.”

The whoosh of my blood surged through me as I stood from the bed. Feet stumbled as I zeroed in on the sound. Bray yelled it again, this time louder, close enough to the hut that every word was audible.

When I flew to the door, he caught me. Grabbed me off my feet, kissed my cheek, and said, “Come on!”

“But what if it’s the murderers?”

“It’s not. It’s a huge fishing vessel.”

I don’t know how I was able to keep up with him, but as we ran to the beach, my legs grew stronger and stronger, something quick and powerful spiking through my veins. Soon I realized it must be adrenaline, because I’d barely been able to get to the front door earlier. Now and then, when I slowed, Bray turned to me as we ran and said, “A ship, Summer. There’s a ship on the horizon.”

We reached the beach and both of us ran straight into the water, stopping about knee high. I lifted my hand to shade my eyes and searched. First right in front of me, then to the east, and the west.

Tears from the sun’s intensity smeared my vision, so I brushed them away over and over. It was several minutes before I realized Bray had stopped searching.

My gaze fanned over to him. He stared down at the water below us.

“Bray, where is it?”

He wouldn’t look at me. “It’s gone, Summer.” Instead, he turned and walked out of the water and onto the beach.

“Gone?” I echoed.

He remained silent.

Something inside me shifted. “What aren’t you telling me?” I knew him well enough to know when he was lying.

“Nothing. There was a ship and now it’s gone.” His eyes blinked several times, and I realized what a lousy liar he really was.

I stomped out of the water to him. “What aren’t you telling me?” I repeated. My eyes scanned the water again, and then went back to him. Anger began to slowly boil in my gut when he couldn’t meet my gaze. “There . . . there wasn’t any boat, was there?” A sudden flash of heat rose to my head, making it spin.

He lifted his hands, dropped them. “No. Are you happy? There wasn’t a boat. I mean, I saw something. It flashed at the edge, but I don’t know what it was for sure.”

“You made me think it was right here.” I tried to pull a breath, but no oxygen met me. “How could you . . .” My hand fisted over my heart where a lightning bolt of pain struck. “How?”

“I had to.”

My knees became Jell-O. Before I could drop, he grabbed me. I refused to look at him; instead, I found my strength, shook my head, and backed away.

“I had no choice, Summer. You were dying on that bed. I had to get you up.”

My hands rose to my face where the sudden rush of heat and anger throbbed like flames licking up the world around me. “And this helps how?” My voice rose to a squeak, and even to me, it sounded alarming.

“At least you’re up. At least you’re moving.”

I dropped to my knees. “That’s cruel.” My eyes widened as I said it because I wanted him to look inside me and see exactly what he’d done.

“So hate me. But Summer,
live
. You can’t die. I need you. I can’t do this alone, be here alone.” He knelt in front of me so we were face-to-face.

Sobs overtook first my stomach then my chest, then my throat. It was no use hiding it. Bray had both rocked and changed my world. Everything had escaped from that deep place where I’d locked it all away.

“I don’t want to go back to my world, Bray. I . . . I did something so stupid here. I fell in love with you and I can’t lose another . . .” Words were coming between short gasps for air because I was drowning. “I can’t . . . lose you. I can’t lose another . . .”

“Is that what you thought?” He tried to pull me, drag me into him, but I fought. “That we’d go back to the real world and everything that happened to us —
between us
— would be gone?”

He scooted closer to me on the sand. “Summer. I can’t live without you. Here or there. I don’t even want to try. When I said we’d go home, I meant both of us. Together.”

My addled brain tried to work out what he was saying. But it was all wrong. He was supposed to be telling me I’d be okay once we were back to civilization. That we’d keep in touch, maybe visit each other on occasion.

“What?”

For the first time in days I saw his smile appear. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

My eyes closed and opened multiple times, trying to sort out what was happening.

Strong arms came around me gently. “I’m in love with you, Summer. I haven’t felt anything like this before. So I may not do everything right, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

I melted. Right then. Right there. Because I had been in love before and knew exactly what it was. Knew exactly what losing that person could cost. But it didn’t matter because every day was a treasure whether you had only a few or a whole lifetime together. Love was worth it.

Bray was worth it. And he deserved someone who would stand strong beside him.

Bray

We ate the flounder as a celebration of Summer’s return to life. She had a voracious appetite, and within four days was back to her normal weight and looking better. Great, in fact. Being in love agreed with her. It agreed with me too. Neither of us spoke of the incident again — there just didn’t seem any reason — but we both had settled into a nice routine that included moonlit walks around the lagoon, the occasional night swim when the dolphins appeared, and as much kissing as I could get from her.

I was careful, though. A gentleman. I had to be. Wanted to be. After all, if I couldn’t accomplish this one small thing for Summer, I really didn’t deserve her. So, it wasn’t always easy, but if I thought we were getting too close, I cut it off. Or she did. We were strong for each other, neither of us hitting a moment where we were both too weak. But the longer we were on the island, the harder it became. Sometimes I hated myself for being a guy. It didn’t seem as difficult for Summer. But being with her 24/7 never really gave me a break from the hormone push. In college, I’d been taught that sex was a basic need of humanity. Food, water, shelter, sex. What idiot came up with that? He’d never been deserted on an island, having to survive with lake water, a hut, and canned food. And he’d probably never been in love either.

Sex wasn’t a necessity. I was controlling the beast because I needed to. For Summer’s sake, but also for mine. It was making me a better man — more frustrated perhaps — but better. We’d wait until our wedding night. I was strong. I could do this. As long as we got off this stupid island soon.

And the need to get off the island quickly had to do with more than just my sex drive. I’d been using debris wood from the resort to keep the fire up, and now there were actually places where you could see all the way to the floor. I’d discovered a reservations desk and searched inside to see if anything was left. A stack of brochures and envelopes inside a plastic bag remained my biggest discovery. They were a little worse for wear, but not too bad. I cut a piece of the plastic and wrapped a brochure inside to show Summer.

She’d been cleaning the hut. Sand crept through the floorboards, so it was an endless battle, but that was good. With a permanent shelter, food, and a solid supply of water, days were long, and when you didn’t have to hunt or forage for dinner, they were even longer. In fact, we entertained each other by telling stories from our childhoods, talking about our favorite movies, and the things we loved and hated. When I stepped through the worn path of vegetation and rounded the corner to the hut, Summer was humming. I stopped, listened.

“Bray?” she yelled from inside.

“I’m here.”

“I thought I heard someone walking, but then it stopped.” Her face appeared at the clean window. She smiled down at me.

“Guilty. I heard you humming. Hey, you’re getting pretty good at the hearing thing.”

She giggled. But it was true. When we first arrived at the island, every sound freaked us out. Now we knew the distinction between the island’s normal noises and those that were uncommon. We were adapting to our world. But there was another waiting for us. One that seemed to be slipping farther and farther away.

“I’ve got dinner ready.” Summer told me as she greeted me at the front door.

I pulled her into a hug. “Great. I’m starved.”

She busied herself at the fire, filling two coconut bowls with food. We sat down on the swing.

“I’ve got something for you when we’re done eating.”

She eyed me suspiciously.

“Nothing big. Just thought you might like to see a picture of this place before the hurricane hit it.”

“Oooooh.”

After we finished, I carefully opened the plastic. I’d stuck the brochure in one of the envelopes. She unwrapped it like a treasure.

“Wow. No wonder your dad wanted to bring you here. Gorgeous.” She carefully unfolded the pamphlet. “Look! It’s our hut!”

“Well, it’s a hut. I don’t know if it’s specifically ours.” I guided her hand holding the brochure closer to my face to inspect the picture.

“There are only a few. I think it’s ours.” A strand of hair kept flying in front of her face, so she handed me the paper and gathered her hair at her nape. I pulled the pencil from my pocket — I now always kept one there for this very reason — and had her turn. I wound the pencil in the hair, and Summer sighed. Yes. We were adapting.

“Is this the only brochure?”

“Nah. There’s a whole stack wrapped in plastic.”

She fingered the envelope. “Why’d you bring the envelope?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we could take a few of our glass bottles, put a brochure inside with a note, and send them out to sea.”

“A message in a bottle?”

“Yes. We just have to weigh the pros and cons. Is it worth giving up a provision like a bottle with a tight-fitting lid? We need to think about it. We don’t have a lot of those, and odds are it may never be found.”