Falling for Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

don't remember much about her, other than the fact that she and my sister were close.  It was a long time ago, all of this. 
    But some things are important enough to remember.
    “No,” I finally tell her, then down the rest of my beer.  That no covers everything, doesn't it?  When that single word comes between us, the tension seems to dissolve into the air as Summer nods once, twice, setting her now-empty beer can on the porch railing beside her. 
    “Well,” she says, pushing off from the railing and standing easily.  She stretches overhead, rolling her head on her shoulders and then placing her hands on her hips.  “It's late...  You probably need your rest,” she says, matter-of-factly.
    That's it?  It had seemed like she wanted to say so much more a moment ago, like we were starting to have an intimate, deep conversation, but now, just like that, our interaction is over.  I don't know why I wish she'd stay, but I do—so much.  Yes, I wish she'd stay.  The admission that she's attracted to women is something I could have never expected.  She's single, I'm single...
    I'm horrified as I stand, as I reach out between us and extend my hand.  I can't believe I'm thinking these thoughts.  Not now.  Not during this week, the twentieth anniversary of my sister's death.  I am highly aware that there's no room for anything but sadness.  I know that. 
    But as Summer reaches out, too, and clasps my hand, we don't shake.  Instead, we stand together, our hands pressed tight, her warm fingers tingling against my skin as we touch.  A shiver runs through me so sharply that my shoulders actually shake for a heartbeat.  Her warmth, the softness of her skin, the way that she's holding my gaze in the dark...  It's sensual, but there's something more...
    “Good night, Mandy,” says Summer then, her mouth turning up at the corners as she lets go of my hand, as she turns and trots down the steps leading away from my cabin porch.
    I watch her go, stunned.  I don't want her to go. 
    “You...you forgot the rest of your beer,” I call after her, my voice cracking as I glance down at the six-pack on the floor of the porch.
    “Keep them!” Summer tells me then, turning around.  Her bright white teeth seem to flash in the dark as she smiles at me.  “Consider it my welcome gift to you.  A welcome home,” she says, sliding her hands easily into her cutoff jeans pockets.  She walks backward for two steps, keeping me in her sights, and then she turns, walking away into the dark.
    The fireflies shine and shimmer around her, a net of lights that keep blinking in the dark.  I watch them for a long moment, turning the cold can of beer in my hands until I hear a rumble in the far distance.
    I lift my eyes to the surface of the lake.  Beyond the lake, beyond the mountains, there's a flicker of lightning that seems to dance over the surface of the earth.
    I take a deep breath.
    It's been obvious for a long time that a storm is coming.
     
    ---
     
    The storm explodes into being overhead as I try to start a fire in my cabin's wood stove.  There's a crack of thunder so unexpected and so loud that the entire cabin—its foundation, floor, walls and windows—shake and rattle, and I'm so surprised by the sound that I stand bolt upright, holding tightly to one of the slim logs of wood I was just trying to jam into the stove's mouth.
    The rumble of thunder goes on for such a long moment that I wonder if it's even thunder at all.  The sound of it reminds me of cement trucks or construction vehicles, but then I see a flash of splintering lightning flickering outside the front window, and I walk over to the pane, holding my breath as I count: one one-thousand, two one-thousand—
    The thunder this time shakes the cabin so hard that I drop the log onto the floor.
    And then, right on cue, the skies open up, letting loose a deluge.
    I grew up here; I know how bad the storms coming down from the mountains can be.  But this