One Distant Summer

by Serena Clarke

  “I’m so sorry about Todd,” she told her. “That shithead.”

  A tiny laugh erupted from her friend. “Yeah. And I’m sorry about Liam.”

  They took a step back, and smiled at each other. God, it was good to see Hannah again—but the guarded pain in her eyes was obvious. Jacinda shook her head. “Men.”

  “Right?” Hannah threw up her hands. “And the moral of this story is, we’re better off without them.”

  “They don’t deserve us.”

  “Ex-actly,” Hannah agreed.

  “Yeah. We don’t need them.”

  Then the driver came and picked up Hannah’s bags, easily lifting all three at once and carrying them down to the car. They watched him go.

  “Apart from the ones who carry our bags, maybe,” Jacinda clarified, as he effortlessly hoisted them into the trunk.

  Hannah laughed. “I missed you.”

  “Ditto.” She tipped her head toward the front door. “Is he home?”

  “No. He’s been spending most of his time at the office.”

  Jacinda took her hand. “And you won’t be here when he gets back. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  Jacinda pushed the last morsel of apple pie around her plate as Hannah concentrated on the screen, thoughtfully sipping from her wine glass as she read. Finally, she put the glass down and looked at Jacinda across the table.

  “This isn’t what you signed up to write,” she said, gesturing to the laptop.

  Jacinda bit her lip. “I know.” God, she hadn’t realized how nerve-wracking it would be having someone else read your writing.

  But then Hannah smiled. “This is way better than what you signed up to write.”

  “Really? Thanks.” She grinned. “I couldn’t find a way into it originally, but once I started thinking about that, it seemed like the only way to go. I wrote it all on the flight back.”

  She’d kind of stuck to the brief—two chapters offering advice to female singers and musicians wanting to get started and move ahead in the industry. It just wasn’t the kind of uplifting, jazz-hands tone the publisher had in mind. Nothing was sugar-coated—but it was empowering. With clear-eyed honesty, she’d set out the pitfalls alongside the pluses, encouraging young women to stand up for themselves, and others.

  Which reminded her of something.

  “By the way, I’m going to talk to Mitchell about Greg,” she said.

  Hannah made an O with her lips. “Really?”

  Mitchell Dunn was the head of Altitude Records. Jacinda hadn’t spent a lot of time with him, but she knew he wasn’t a man to be toyed with. She didn’t know how he’d react to being told straight up about Greg’s misdemeanors…but she’d find out soon enough.

  “Yeah.” She frowned. “I don’t know how many other women he might have treated that way. I have to say something.”

  “I’ll back you all the way,” Hannah said. “You know that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Whatever happens,” Hannah added, an indirect acknowledgement that things might not go smoothly.

  Jacinda blew her friend a kiss from the other side of the table. She didn’t mention the other question—whether Todd would also back her all the way, even though he knew what had been going on. If he wasn’t her manager anymore—which she and Hannah had yet to decide on—he’d be more likely to take Greg’s side than hers, for the sake of his other acts. Time would tell.

  She stood up. “Come on, let’s go sit in the comfy seats.”

  “Oh, I’m ready for that,” Hannah said, patting her stomach.

  It had been a night of ups and downs. Hannah had told her about the phone call, and how Todd had come home to find her waiting with the bitter truth—and not denied it. Recounting that night, she was stoic, and Jacinda could tell she was determined to be strong and professional. The three of them were tied together in business just as much as by friendship, or marriage. Untangling the three threads of their triangle might not be easy, especially if Todd decided to play hard ball. Jacinda had seen him do that often enough on her behalf—and she wouldn’t put it past him to do it now.

  After that, they’d gone online to see how far the story about Jacinda’s South Pacific summers—then and now—had spread. The answer was, pretty much everywhere. And sure enough, people were filling in the blanks, the comment sections full of speculation, fake facts, and the kind of gleeful meanness that spread like a rash online. Here and there, people commented in her defense, but they were definitely outnumbered.

  Jacinda had sat back, chewing her thumbnail as she tried not to react. She was used to being in the public eye, and criticism was nothing new. But this made her feel so…exposed. She hadn’t even got to grips with it all herself—with the new, fragile relationship between her and Liam, and the past that both divided and connected them—before it was splashed all over the internet. She wondered if her father was reading it, nodding as it confirmed his long-held opinion of her. And, she realized, she’d better call her mom. This was the last thing she needed.

  Thanks a lot, Liam. And Lainey.

  She sighed as she scrolled through the comments section of yet another click-baity website, below the picture of Liam at the night markets, and herself under siege at the airport. “I guess we knew this would happen.”

  “We did, unfortunately,” Hannah said. “But people will move on to the next scandal before long.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so,” she said firmly, shifting the laptop away. “Don’t read any more. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

  So they’d quit Google and talked some more about everything that had happened while they were apart, shed tears over things gone badly, and laughed through those tears as they settled back into the warmth of their friendship.

  Thank God for women friends, Jacinda thought now as they cleared the dessert from the table, leaving the dishes for later. She’d been lucky enough to make some in Sweet Breeze Bay too. What would they all be doing right now? She looked at the clock on the microwave. It was getting late here, so it would be early evening there now, but the next day. It was weird to think of them all there, getting on with things in the future.

  For a moment, she let herself wonder if Liam was getting on with things. If he was reading everything online, trying to hold it together, like she was. And if he was feeling guilty about being the one who handed Lainey her scoop.

  Part of her hoped so.

  The other part of her missed him so much it hurt.

  Hannah went past, carrying the bottle of wine. “I call dibs on the corner.”

  They both sprang into action, aiming for the corner of the couch that was undoubtedly the best seat in the house. There was a table alongside for drinks and snacks, it was closest to the kitchen (and thus the fridge), and it had a premium view out to the lights of LA.

  They were almost there, with Hannah slightly ahead, when Jacinda heard her phone ring, and looked over her shoulder. Her hesitation cost her the seat.

  “That doesn’t count,” she said, as she went to see who was calling. “I call a do-over.”

  She’d switched back to her American phone. After checking with Danielle, she’d left her little New Zealand one with Sam, and the memory of his face when she gave it to him still made her laugh. She smiled as she picked up the phone and saw it was a New Zealand number calling. Maybe Sam had his new SIM card and was calling to let her know.

  “Hello?” she said.

  There was a brief silence, then Liam said, “Hi.”

  Shock knocked the words out of her, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. Taken aback, she looked at Hannah, sitting in the coveted corner spot.

  “Who is it?” Hannah whispered.

  She pointed at the phone, and silently mouthed, “It’s him.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened in surprise, and Jacinda nodded.

  “Are you there?” Liam said, his voice uncertain.

  She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m here.”
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  And she waited to hear what he had to say.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The distance in her voice reflected every one of the miles between them, and then some. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Liam hesitated. Now that he’d called, everything he wanted to say caught in his chest, like that first time he saw her again over the gate. It seemed like the more important the moment, the less eloquent he became.

  “How did you get my number?” she asked, when he didn’t reply immediately.

  “Riley gave it to me,” he said.

  She made a sound that could have been resignation or irritation. “Of course. Always looking on the bright side.”

  He wasn’t sure if the bright side meant something good in this case. Right now, it was bloody hard to see any bright side at all. “So, uh…have you been online since you got back?”

  “To see all the stories about myself? With all the details you gave Lainey Kingsley? If I hadn’t, the paparazzi pack waiting for me at the airport would have given me a clue.”

  He’d seen the pictures—Jacinda shielding her face, sheltering in the lee of some huge minder, as reporters swarmed around. “I’m really sorry—”

  “Listen, you didn’t have to throw me under the bus,” she said, cutting him off. “I would’ve gone anyway.”

  “What? I didn’t want you to go.”

  “Sure. That’s why you let me walk away after your mom turned up, without defending me. That’s why you apologized to her for forgetting everything.”

  “You heard that?”

  “I did. And that’s fine. For one thing, it made it really easy to come home when Hannah needed me.”

  He wanted to reach down the line and shake her. For once, the words came freely. “If you’d listened a bit longer, you would have heard the rest of what I said. That I was sorry because I knew she’d find it hard to hear, but being with you is the only way I’ve ever been able to forget. The only reprieve from the fucking albatross of guilt around my neck.” He paused. “Which is now two albatrosses.”

  “Well, good,” she said. “Because for everything I might have done wrong all those years ago, I didn’t deserve this. After everything we—”

  He couldn’t stand it. “I never intended to hurt you. I had no idea she was a reporter. I’d been drinking, and it just…overflowed.”

  She snorted. “You know ‘I was drunk’ doesn’t actually cut it as an excuse.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But my own mother had just seen me with a full-scale hard-on, and a naked woman. And given that the woman was you, and the fallout was spectacular, I needed a goddamn drink. If you hadn’t left the country without saying anything, I could have explained.”

  It was hot in his room, but he could feel the chill on the line. Shit. This apology wasn’t coming out as…apologetic as he’d planned.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she said, her words stiff and careful. “I’ve got fallout to deal with here too, thanks to you. It’s better if we just make a clean break. Like you planned when you snuck out that night.”

  The reminder stabbed in his already aching chest. “If I could take back either of those shitty mistakes, I would. You know that.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I’m not going to come between you and your family yet again.”

  “The remnants of my family have nothing to do with you and me.”

  She was quiet for what felt like a long while. Then she said, “We both know that’s not true.”

  He let out a frustrated breath, and dragged a hand through his hair. She might be right, but he wasn’t going to give her the point. Right now, it seemed like his family was even more fractured than before. His father had called from Australia, enraged that Liam had dragged them “through the mud”. Liam had aimed a reciprocal anger down the line. If his father hadn’t been so determined to suppress the truth—unnecessarily, in Liam’s opinion—they could have stayed in the bay, surrounded by friends, and maybe found some kind of healing over time. Instead, they’d walked away from everything they knew, and their broken hearts had never begun to mend. Then he remembered what Jacinda didn’t know.

  “There’s something you should know,” he said. “I found out that Ethan had ecstasy in his system when he died.”

  He heard her intake of breath. “Really? I never…”

  “Yeah. None of us would have picked it either. The thing is, I don’t think he ever felt as invincible as he wanted us to believe. Maybe he just needed to feel it that day.”

  There was a heavy silence at her end. “I’m sorry I made him feel that way,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t be. He had a lot going on. He’d been a local hero for…I don’t know, forever. I think the thought of going to Sydney and starting from nothing was more daunting than he’d admit. Then your news, and finding out you’d left…”

  She made a small, pained sound.

  “I’m not aiming that at you,” he said. “I think all he meant to do was escape for a few hours with a bottle of vodka and an uncomplicated high. Get away from things…just hang out somewhere secret and look at the moon. But…it went wrong. And when he found out about the coroner’s report, my dad pulled strings to get it suppressed because he was afraid it would mess with his chances of promotion. Even when he started out as a cop on the street, he always wanted the next step up, and the next. By then, he had a shot at making it to the top job in the country.”

  “But you left anyway,” she said.

  “From what Mum told me, he ended up more worried that people would find out he’d played the system. And she found it too hard living by this ocean…” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “Oh, God.” She hesitated, then asked, “Is she okay?”

  He sighed. “She’s angry with me. Luckily Lainey didn’t find out those extra details, but having the story all over the internet…and you and me…it’s brought everything to the surface again. But then, she’s been angry with everything for a long time. All these years.”

  “I get that. Which is why me leaving was the best thing.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I didn’t want you to leave. I wanted you to stay. And I never expected to want that. All these years, for me, thinking about you made me feel worse—the guilt of letting myself fall for you then, when you were with Ethan, and then the way those feelings wouldn’t go away, even after everything that happened.”

  As he spoke, he expected her to interrupt and shut him down, but she didn’t. So he kept talking. He had nothing to lose now. Maybe, somehow, he’d find the right words to make her understand. And maybe they had no chance of a future together—but he wanted her to admit her feelings too. He wanted it to be real, to know that what they’d shared wasn’t just a desperate need to smother their memories with sex and denial.

  “But being with you…” he said. “It was like I could breathe again. That summer turned into a nightmare. But this summer, it felt like we had a chance at something new.” When she didn’t reply, he added. “I think you felt it too. We weren’t just drowning out the past with lust and body heat. We had something. We have something.”

  “Maybe…” she said slowly, and that one word held all his hopes. Two syllables of possibility, where his future could veer in a new direction.

  “But we always knew this was trouble,” she continued. “We knew we should stay away from each other. The past never really goes away, especially a past like ours—it would always get in the way. And I’m not going to come between you and your mom—you’re all she has. She needs you. And you need your family.”

  He could feel her slipping away from him. “What about you, though?” he asked urgently. “What do you need?”

  “I need to move on, and that’s what I’m doing. And so should you.”

  The finality in her voice was matched with a gentleness that made his heart sink.

  “So I’m going to hang up now,” she said softly.

  And then she did.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  As he sa
t on the bed, his head in his hands, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Then his mother looked around the door frame.

  “Who was on the phone?” she asked.

  Not for a moment did he consider lying, or using the all-purpose ‘No one’.

  Anyway, judging by her demeanor, she’d already guessed.

  “Jacinda,” he said. “In LA.”

  Distaste flashed across her face. “Why is she calling you?”

  “She didn’t call me. I called her.”

  She pursed her lips. “Don’t be childish.”

  “There’s nothing childish about it.” He stood up. “Who called who matters. I called her because I knew she would never have called me. Because I owed her an apology, for a whole lot of things. Because she’s worth fighting for.”

  “And what did she have to say?”

  “She told me to move on,” he said. “And that’s exactly what we all need to do.”

  His mom stepped back as he went through the doorway and headed along the hallway. Move on, Jacinda had said. And she was right. Something had to give—and for better or worse, he was going to push it to the edge, and over. He could hear his mother following behind him but he didn’t stop, just powered down the stairs and into the living room. He grabbed up Ethan’s guitar, and the amp, and started for the front door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, the indignation on her face suddenly replaced with trepidation.

  “Something we should have done long ago,” he said. “But it’s not too late.”

  “What’s going on?” she cried. “Did she tell you to do this?”

  At that, he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. “No, she didn’t. In fact, she told me we shouldn’t see each other again, because she didn’t want to come between you and me.”

  His mother blinked in surprise, pulling her chin back.

  “That’s right. She was thinking about you.”

  He turned and went out the front door, banging it on its hinges, leaving her standing there with a disbelieving expression. As he went out the gate and turned left, the skateboard boys were rolling down the sidewalk.