Page 115 of Summer After Summer

She hands her bag to Colin and kicks off her sandals. “Where are we going to?”

“The breakwater.”

“Do you think that’s—” But Fred’s objection is buried in Lucy’s command.

“Three, two, one—go!”

We take off down the beach, the sand flying up beneath our heels. The shore’s a bit rocky, and the spray from the sea is wetting the bottom of my pants, slowing me down. Sophie sprints ahead, but Lucy is on fire today, and she starts to catch up with her, inch by inch. I hear shouts in the wind, trash-talking. The breakwater approaches, thirty seconds away, and I dig in for one last push. These last weeks of tennis have made a difference in my fitness but also worn me down. My lungs are screaming at me to stop, but I’m competitive too.

I pull close to Sophie and Lucy, who are battling to an imaginary finish line. Sophie raises her hands in victory as Lucy sprints past her to the breakwater.

I stop.

“Where’s she going?” Sophie pants.

“Not sure.”

We watch her, our hands on our knees, breathing in and out. She gets to the first rock and scrambles up, then turns, her hands above her head.

“I feel like I’m having a heart attack,” Sophie says.

“Seriously.”

“That doesn’t look safe.”

“Agreed.”

Lucy starts to hop from rock to rock, a natural parkour course, which seemed like nothing as a child, but now is terrifying me like when I’m watching someone stand too close to the edge of a cliff.

“She should get down from there,” Fred says behind me.

“Not sure we can stop her.”

Fred steps ahead of us. “Lucy! Come on down!”

She turns, almost pirouettes, and waves to him. “Come catch me,” she yells over the crashing waves.

Fred takes a step toward her, then starts to trot, getting closer and closer till he’s waded into the water and is standing below her. He’s got his arms up to catch her, but as she bends to take off, she slips the wrong way, her body coming down sideways on the rock. I can hear the sick crunch of her head against it from here as Sophie’s scream pierces the day.

I run toward them as Fred scrambles up onto the rock and pulls her up into his lap. Her eyes open slowly, then close again. She’s bleeding from a head wound that looks nasty.

“Call 911!”

I reach into my pocket for my phone and pull it out. I don’t have a signal. It’s been patchy all day. “There’s a lifeguard just down the beach—I’ll go get him.”

Fred nods, his face pale. He’s holding her so tenderly it makes me want to weep, but I turn on my heel and sprint as fast as I can past our group, all looking stunned. Past the pain in my legs and lungs and heart, heading for the white structure that houses the lifeguards, hoping that I don’t get there too late.

Hours later, in the hospital, we breathe a sigh of relief when the doctor tells us that Lucy is going to be okay. She has a concussion and will need to take it easy for several weeks, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage except for a small scar near her hairline.

It’s just me, Fred, and James at the hospital. Sophie and Colin took the van home because they couldn’t leave the kids overnight, and Charlotte and Ann took the opportunity to escape. At the last minute, Wes decided to go with them. He has some important calls in the morning, and he needs his laptop. He felt bad about leaving, but I dismissed his concern. He barely knows Lucy, and he shouldn’t blow an important meeting because of her.

I think he was more worried about leaving me with Fred, but he didn’t have to be. Fred was too busy beating himself up over what had happened to Lucy, as if she were his child and it was his fault she’d acted impulsively. I told him to cut it out, and we had a short, bitter argument. Fred stalked off, saying he was going to get some coffee, as I sank back into my chair next to James.

“Things are clearly totally over between you two,” James says dryly.

“Oh, hush.”

“I’ve got a car waiting to take us all back to the vineyard.”

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