One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  “I’m very open to suggestions.”

  He let her go, still grinning, and she reached to put the pillows back in place so she could lie down while she waited.

  But then his grin froze and disappeared, replaced with an expression of shock. With lightning speed, he grabbed her and pulled her back in front of him, hiding his now rapidly deflating hard-on. In turn, she scrabbled for the sheet, trying to cover her bare bottom. Her instant thought was that Sam had let himself in and wandered up the stairs, and seen something wildly inappropriate for a nine-year-old. But then someone spoke—and it wasn’t Sam.

  “Liam?”

  She looked over her shoulder, her heart pounding, and instantly wanted to die.

  Liam’s mother was standing in the doorway.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered, her face blazing hot as she knelt in front of his nakedness, wishing she was invisible, waiting for the older woman to make a hasty exit.

  But instead of turning away, like any normal person would, his mother just stood there staring at them blankly, her mouth a silent, stupefied O.

  As she clutched the sheet to her butt, Jacinda waited for Liam to say something. To take some kind of action. But he seemed as paralyzed as his mother. She looked desperately around for his clothes, and saw his board shorts and t-shirt lying on the floor at his mother’s feet. And the tip of her shoe was on the edge of Jacinda’s bikini top. Oh, God. She looked away.

  Finally, his mother spoke.

  “Is this…Jacinda?”

  He abruptly let go of her, as though he’d suddenly realized she had leprosy, and found his voice. “Go downstairs, Mum. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She started to go, but turned back. “I can’t believe you would do this. I just can’t believe it.” Then she wheeled around and disappeared.

  Still kneeling in front of him, Jacinda let out a breath that turned into a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh, my God. I thought it was Sam.” She pulled the sheet fully around her, feeling the need to be covered up. “What a nightmare.”

  But there was no laughter from Liam, hysterical or otherwise. His face was grim as he went to the closet and pulled out fresh clothes. “You’d better get dressed,” he told her, pulling on underwear, then jeans.

  “Sure. Yes.” She got up and collected her bikini top from the floor, then looked around for her cover-up, and found it down the side of the nightstand.

  He said nothing, rapidly doing up his belt and putting on a t-shirt.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him.

  Obviously, this was pretty much everyone’s worst-case scenario—the only thing worse would have been his mother walking in on them forty-five minutes before, when he’d had his head between her legs, rendering her helpless with lust. Or half an hour ago, when she was reciprocating the pleasure. Or just fifteen minutes earlier, when her legs were wrapped around him, her hands pinned to the bed as he sank into her again and again, looking into her eyes as she rose to another toe-curling, body-shaking orgasm. Now, that seemed like forever ago. She was in a state of shock herself, and it must be even worse when it was your own parent catching you unawares.

  But still…it wouldn’t kill him to say something.

  She waited, holding her things in a bundle in front of her, but he just pointed to where her bikini bottoms lay on the floor. He didn’t pick them up for her. And then she remembered how he’d let her go, like she’d scalded him, when his mother realized it was her.

  “They won’t give you cooties, you know,” she snapped, reaching down and grabbing them up.

  He frowned. “I’d better go.”

  The words also said, You’d better go.

  “Fine,” she said.

  She turned her back on him, and started to get dressed. Behind her, she could hear him leave the room.

  “Fine,” she muttered to herself, fumbling with the bikini string, then dragging her cover-up over her head. “Go to mama.”

  And then a wave of guilt washed over her, because that mama only had one child left.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her fingers to her forehead. Great. The first time she saw Liam’s mother again—Ethan’s mother—and this was how it went down. What kind of damage control was Liam doing down there? The poor woman must be in even more shock than they were. She sure as hell wouldn’t want to see Jacinda again now, fresh from her remaining son’s bed.

  As quietly as she could, she crept down the stairs. The sound of muffled voices was coming from the living room.

  She couldn’t help it. She stopped and listened, holding her breath. Mrs. Ward’s voice was agonized.

  “Liam, I can’t even…can you even imagine what this is like for me?”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he started to say calmly, but she interrupted him.

  “Sorry I had to see it? But not sorry you did it?”

  He murmured something Jacinda couldn’t make out. Which kind of sorry was he?

  But his mother continued, the pitch of her voice getting higher. “Don’t you remember what happened? Did you forget everything?”

  “No,” he replied emphatically. Then there was silence for a moment, before he spoke again. “Actually, yes. I did forget. And I’m sorry…”

  At that, her heart seized in her chest, and she knew where she stood. She’d heard enough. Apparently he wasn’t seeing things differently after all—except for when he thought he could get some action. No different from all the men who’d looked at her over the years and seen nothing but boobs and possibility. Nice.

  With the sound of their voices behind her, she grabbed up her beach bag from where she’d left it at the bottom of the stairs, went along to the laundry room, and silently let herself out the side door. Once again, it was time to make an exit from their lives.

  * * *

  Home…or the closest thing to it. Safety, at least. Jacinda closed the front door behind her and leaned against it, her eyes scrunched shut. From heaven to complete horror, without warning. She shuddered, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of being exposed—in more ways than one. And the way Liam had given in, the moment his mother turned up, without a word in their defense. Didn’t take much for him to change his mind about the whole thing.

  Danielle looked up as she came into the living room.

  “All that work took a long time,” she said, grinning. Then her face changed as she registered that something wasn’t right. “What happened?”

  Jacinda stood in the middle of the room, thrown completely off center. “Something just…”

  “What is it?” Danielle stood up. “Are you okay?”

  She looked around. “Is Sam here?” She was very glad it hadn’t been him at the bedroom door, but his wasn’t something he needed to be in on either.

  “No. He’s gone back to the beach with his new friends.”

  “That’s good.” She managed a smile.

  “What, then? You’re making me worry.”

  She went over and collapsed on the couch, tipping her head back. “Liam’s mom.”

  “She’s in Australia, right? Has something happened to her? Is she sick?”

  Jacinda snorted, then looked back at Danielle. “Yeah…I think she just had a heart attack.”

  Confusion passed across Danielle’s face. “A heart attack?”

  “Pretty much at the same time I had mine. Which was the moment I saw her standing in the doorway, looking at me and Liam in bed.”

  Danielle’s eyes widened suddenly, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “No.”

  “Yes. And it was just as much fun as it sounds.”

  “Oh, my God. Were you in the middle of…?”

  “No, she just missed it. But she saw enough.” She pressed her hands to her face. If she’d thought it would be hard to face his mom before, this took it to a whole new level of impossibility.

  Danielle’s eyes were still like saucers. “So what happened?”

  “I grabbed the sheet and covered myself up, but Liam
was standing up by the bed, and I was in front of him, so I couldn’t move. And his mom…I kept waiting for her to spin around and leave, but it was like she couldn’t tear her eyes away. It might not have been cardiac arrest, but she definitely found it arresting.”

  At that, Danielle laughed. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, I just…the picture in my mind…”

  Jacinda smiled too, but a sigh came with it. “I know. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucked up. We were this close to thinking we had something that could work…and then his mother walked in and saw him betraying her with the woman responsible for her other son’s death. And that was it.”

  Danielle started to protest, but Jacinda held up her hand.

  “I know what you’re going to say, but it is what it is. Fault, blame, whatever. We were carrying way too much baggage to make it work anyway.”

  “Are you sure? You guys seemed so into each other.”

  His words echoed in her head. I’m not running anywhere. He’d sounded like he meant it. But she already knew how people could say things they didn’t mean. Or just plain change their minds under pressure.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “Now I’m going to have something to eat, and then a shower, and then a nap. It was a long night, and now…” She blew out a breath and waved her hand, unable to sum up her current state of mind.

  “Good plan,” Danielle said. “I’ll run interference down here if anyone turns up looking for you.”

  Jacinda picked up her beach bag. Suddenly, she was exhausted. “Thanks, but I doubt there’ll be any need. None of the Ward family will be in a hurry to see me ever again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The bar was sticky under his elbows, and the music sucked, but Liam wasn’t going anywhere. He lifted his hand, and the bartender came over straight away. It wasn’t like there were any other customers to serve. While he waited for his next whiskey, he looked around. Mid afternoon on a summer Monday, and it was quiet in the Kelp and King—the dark wooden booths deserted, every other bar stool empty, the sound system playing generic classic rock to no one but himself and the bartender. Thank God. He wasn’t in the mood for company.

  He wasn’t in the mood to be here, either—a place so tied up with Ethan, he’d refused to step foot inside until now. But he desperately needed a drink, and there was nothing left at home. And he wasn’t about to buy something and take it back there, with his mother in the throes of Shakespearean tragedy about what had happened that morning.

  He’d tried to reason with her, tried to explain, but she was beyond listening.

  Like he didn’t feel shitty enough about it. The expression on her face as she realized that not only was she seeing him in bed with a woman, but that woman was Jacinda...

  It was burned into his brain, along with the memory of her pain when he brought Ethan home.

  Fuck.

  He emptied the glass, and from her spot in the corner, the bartender raised her eyebrows. He resisted saying something smart, and pointed to the Jim Beam sitting behind the bar.

  “Can you just give me the bottle?” He’d already made a decent dent in it—might as well save her the trouble of going backward and forward.

  She brought it over. “Bad day, huh?”

  “It must be if I’m in here,” he replied.

  She considered him. “You’re Liam, right?”

  “For my sins.” Which seemed to be accumulating. At least she didn’t say ‘Ethan’s brother’. He poured himself another shot.

  “You’re Ethan’s brother,” she said, on cue.

  The look on his face must have been as black as his mood, because she held her hands up in front of her. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t ask her name.

  Then the bell rang over the door, and she left him alone, presumably to serve whoever was coming in. He didn’t turn around. There was literally no one he wanted to talk to right now. He downed the shot. He wasn’t quite numb yet, but he was getting there.

  He stood up and reached over the bar, grabbing more ice from the tub on the other side. Then he refilled his glass, leaving the lid off the Jim Beam. No point pretending he wasn’t going to have more.

  A minute later, someone spoke.

  “Oh, hey,” she said. “Imagine seeing you here.”

  Recognizing the voice—and the accent—he turned. Just along the bar, the American woman from the night markets was sitting on a stool, some kind of fizzy drink in front of her. She smiled encouragingly at him, obviously waiting for a response.

  Right. Because he really needed someone to pester him with inane questions right now. He raised his hand briefly. “Hey.”

  She picked up her drink and came closer, slipping onto the stool next to him. “How’s it going?”

  How did she think it was going? He waited a moment before answering. “It’s Monday lunchtime and I’m sitting in a bar by myself, halfway through a bottle of Jim Beam. You be the judge.”

  She checked the bottle. “Looks more like a third of the way to me.”

  He picked it up, and poured until his glass was brimming. Then he put the bottle back on the bar with a thud. “Half.”

  She laughed. “You’re closer.” Then she raised her own glass. “Cheers.”

  He looked at his drink. One move and it would spill everywhere. Shit. He considered leaning down like a four-year-old and slurping from where it sat, but even in this I-don’t-give-a-fuck mood, he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself in front of whoever this woman was.

  He picked up the glass carefully, leaned forward, and took enough of a sip to lower the level half an inch. Then he grabbed a napkin from the nearby holder and wiped the spillage from his fingers.

  “So what’s up?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Long story.”

  “I’m only killing time until I go to the airport,” she said. “Heading back to the States tonight. But I always have time for a story. I live for them, actually.” When he didn’t reply, she tipped her head. “It’s a woman, right?”

  “No.” His voice echoed in the empty bar, unexpectedly loud, and he slugged back another gulp of bourbon. “No,” he repeated, more quietly.

  She tutted. “Love. What a fuck-up it is.”

  He barked out a laugh. “You got one thing right.” Then he looked at her more closely. “What are you, an agony aunt or something?”

  She grinned, then gestured to the bottle of Jim Beam, her eyebrows raised in a question. He nodded, and she filled her empty glass. “Or something.” Then she added, “I’ve been there myself, so…”

  In one smooth movement, she swallowed the contents of her glass. As it went down, she scrunched up her nose, and he noticed the tiny diamond again. Then she poured herself a refill, and held it up, rebellion in her green eyes. “To love. It can get fucked.”

  “Okay, that I can drink to,” he said. And they tipped their glasses back.

  Then she splashed a little more into her glass, and refilled his to the top. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t looking for company, but at least she was marginally less irritating than he’d expected.

  By the time the bottle was heading for empty, he was vaguely aware that he’d actually been talking more than her. Maybe inane questions were just the distraction he needed.

  “So you’re Australian?” she asked now.

  “Shit, no.” He frowned, and squinted disapprovingly at her. Or maybe just to get her in focus. “That’s like asking a Canadian if they’re American.”

  “Sorry. I thought you said—”

  He waved a hand. “That’s okay. I’m from here. I’ve just been away a really long time.”

  “Really? Why would anyone leave this place? It’s like heaven.”

  He rolled his eyes. “There’s no such thing.”

  But he was wrong. He remembered the one place that was heaven—holding Jacinda close, bare skin against bare skin, each of them remembering and forgetting in the other’s arms.

  When his mother as
ked if he’d forgotten everything, his first reaction was to deny it. How could he forget the worst thing that had ever happened to him, to his family? Then he’d thought about it again…and apologized in advance for the truth he was about to tell her, hoping she’d understand. Forgetting some of the pain was the only way he’d ever move forward. But it didn’t mean forgetting his brother. And despite her involvement in the events of that summer—or maybe because of it—Jacinda was the only respite he’d found from the memories and feelings that hung over him, crushing him a little more every day. Coming back to the bay had been an attempt to look them in the eye and face them down. Deal with them, and let them go. Jacinda understood.

  But now he’d have to find another way to forget. And he’d be doing himself a favor if he forgot about her too. Forgot her soft, inviting curves, and her fighting spirit, and the sweet relief of her forgiveness. The way she’d looked up at him the first time they made love, cautious and reckless at the same time. Her willingness to take another chance on him, even though he didn’t deserve it.

  Now he knew he couldn’t stay here, even once she was gone. He’d just have to go back to Australia, and move on. And she’d move on too. The bright lights of her showbiz life would leave him in the shadows again, just another guy who’d wanted her. He could only imagine how many of them she came across, nothing but greedy lust and lurking hard-ons.

  He pressed his fist to his chest.

  “I know,” the woman next to him said. “It goes a long way back, right?”

  He looked at her. One of them was swaying slightly, and he suspected it was him. She smiled gently, her eyes fixed on him. And suddenly he found himself telling her things he’d never told anyone. Like some anonymous comment on a website, he spilled the truth to this stranger. Maybe if she took it with her, away across the ocean, it would leave him cleansed and empty. Like throwing up after a hard night on the town. Better out than in.

  In the still-empty bar, he told her about his brother—the incomparable Ethan, destined for everything, but gone before he had a chance at any of it. And, without uttering Jacinda’s name, he told her about the girl Ethan had fallen for—who’d come from far away, and left disaster in her wake. The baby, the ocean, the broken vodka bottle, and the guilt of knowing it could have been different. And then the girl’s return. Not as a girl, but a woman, with a whole other life. A woman he wanted, and shouldn’t want…a woman he blamed, and couldn’t blame. A woman who was everything he dreamed of, and more than he deserved. And, just to make it worse, she was right next door.