Page 68 of The Summer that Changed Everything

Lucy couldn’t sleep. After seventeen years of feeling so much shame, humiliation and heartbreak, the idea that her father might not have harmed anyone was both shocking and overwhelming. Was it a viable possibility? Was there some other explanation than the one the commonwealth attorney had put forth during her father’s trial?

It’d seemed impossible at the time. Everyone had been so sure. But now it felt as if she and her father might’ve suffered a terrible injustice.

Her mind raced as she recalled what he’d said once the police focused on him as a suspect. He’d denied any involvement in the killings. And she’d believed him. It was only after the DNA evidence came out that his protestations had stopped. Since he didn’t have a firm recollection of where he’d been and what he’d done, and no one else seemed to be able to provide him with an alibi, Lucy got the impression that the prosecution had convinced even him. It’d certainly felt that way, which was why she’d quit holding out hope and tried to accept the truth as they’d presented it.

But maybe she shouldn’t have done that. Maybe she and her father should’ve stuck together and continued to fight...

Unable to get comfortable, she flopped over in bed. Thanks to the air conditioner, it was cool enough in the house. And she didn’t have to worry about Reggie or even Chief Claxton trying to break in and hurt her, not with Ford around. But still her mind would give her no respite. It kept screaming,“What if?”

With a sigh, she kicked off the covers, put on her swimsuit and slipped out of the house.

As she stood on the deck and looked out at the moon glinting off the ocean, she had to marvel at the beauty of it all. She’d always wondered what it would be like to live in such comfort—right on the beach, no less—and if she could focus on it, she knew she’d enjoy it. But there was too much going on in her head and heart. For one, she didn’t belong in this expensivehouse owned by some of the people who’d shunned her fifteen years ago.

She was also far too aware of Ford himself. The memory of how good it’d felt to have his arms around her, especially after so long, had plagued her ever since, making the dinner they’d shared afterward strained and awkward. They’d discussed what the investigator had found, with Ford mostly trying to convince her to reserve judgment and not set her expectations too high. Then they’d looked for neutral topics to talk about while being ultracareful not to so much as brush against each other as they cleaned the kitchen. It was still early when they said good night, but it’d relieved the tension to be able to escape Ford’s physical presence.

Besides, Lucy had been exhausted. She needed sleep, and yet she couldn’t get it, not with the memory of his embrace crowding into her mind whenever she wasn’t thinking about her father.

She had to be more careful, she told herself. She couldn’t continue to allow her resistance to crumble or what small amount of self-respect she’d clung to over the years would be washed away with the tide.

The steps creaked as she climbed down to the beach. The air was muggy and oppressive, made all the worse because there was no wind. The scene that greeted her was so still it looked like a photograph, one in which the moon wasn’t quite full but shed enough light that she could see the shoreline in both directions as far as the natural landscape would allow, with trees and grasses eventually blocking her view to the north and the land curving away from the row of expensive houses, including Ford’s, toward town and the public beach to the south.

It was almost midnight on a weekday; no one was out and about, not even the teenage sons and daughters of the tourists who came here to enjoy a warm, sandy holiday. There could be a few stragglers in the public section, of course, which shecouldn’t see—a local drunk or a honeymooning couple eager to spend the night with the sound of the sea in their ears and the stars glittering overhead. But this part of the beach was reserved for those who owned the homes that fronted it and was rarely crowded, even during the day.

It’d seemed busier fifteen years ago, but schools weren’t out yet so most of the houses near Ford’s remained empty. She remembered spending many evenings on this beach once she got with Ford. On one such occasion, she’d been sitting around a bonfire with him, Chet and two other guys—one with a girl who was on vacation, as he was, and another without a girl because he was in a serious relationship with someone back home—when Aurora and her new best friend, Josephina, who’d moved to North Hampton Beach the winter before, had walked down from the public beach. Chet had offered to add rum to the Coke he offered them, and they’d stayed there drinking for quite a while. Every time Lucy had glanced up, she’d found Aurora watching her through the fire’s leaping flames, clearly not pleased to see her sitting on Ford’s lap.

But Lucy had been so caught up in her relationship with Ford that she hadn’t let it bother her. She hadn’t been friends with Aurora since the first year after she arrived in North Hampton Beach and had long since stopped lamenting it. Aurora had changed so much that Lucy didn’t even care to be her friend.

But Aurora’s feelings hadn’t been quite as indifferent. Her jealousy had been palpable, especially that night. So Lucy supposed she could understand why Chet and others might jump to the conclusion that she’d wanted to eliminate any threat Aurora posed. Thanks to the wealth and influence of her family, Aurora would’ve been considered better suited to Ford. And if he’d started showing significant interest in her, maybe Lucy would’ve experienced more jealousy than she did.

But what she and Ford had felt for each other was so intense and all-consuming that she’d never dreamed she was in dangerof losing him. That was the night they’d first made love. After everyone else had drifted away, they’d both gone in to appease their parents, only to slip out again and meet up in the heavy darkness of a stormy night.

Sexual awareness skittered through Lucy as the memory of Ford moving inside her combined with the more recent memory of her cheek pressed to his chest only hours ago. What was it about him that drew her? That made it impossible for her to get over him, no matter how much time had passed?

It didn’t seem fair.

Planning to exhaust herself to the point that she couldn’t continue to stress, she took a final glance around before plunging into the surf.

Ford heard Lucy as she went out. Because he’d seen her go into the sea late at night once before, he knew what she was most likely doing. But he didn’t like the idea of her being out alone, especially after that break-in at the Smoot cottage. Since Chief Claxton was anything but a friend, Ford wasn’t even convinced they could count on the police for help if they needed it. There were also other dangers to swimming alone, especially in the ocean, so he got up and pulled on a pair of shorts. Then he went outside to watch over her.

He’d planned to stay on the deck while making sure she didn’t drown and no one bothered her. That way, he could slip back inside when he saw her getting out, and she wouldn’t have to know he’d ever been there. But he quickly realized he’d be too far away to help if shedidget into trouble, so he walked down to the beach and stood off to one side.

He didn’t do anything to draw her attention, didn’t make any noise, and yet she came out of the waves as soon as he arrived—almost as if she’d expected him—and stood in the shallows, where the surf foamed up around her ankles and calves.

She was wearing a white bikini, and her dark hair was slicked back off her face, the tendrils dripping onto her skin. He wanted to slip his hands in the silky thickness of that mass of wet curls, tugging it ever so gently to get her to tilt her face up so he could kiss her. He could still remember what she tasted like—her mouth as well as other parts of her.

When she didn’t speak or come out of the water, he moved closer. He wasn’t sure what to say. He still felt bad about how he’d behaved fifteen years ago, but a lot had changed since then. He’d grown up. He’d apologized. And he still cared about her—far more than he wanted to.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Can’t sleep?” Her wet body glistened in the moonlight, reminding him of the first time they’d ever made love. The images his brain suddenly threw at him caused a visceral reaction in the rest of his body, making his pulse pick up and his breathing grow shallow. He wanted to touch her more than he’d ever wanted to touch a woman—but he didn’t. “Lucy, I know what Friedman told you has your mind going in a million different directions. I’d be freaked out, too. It’s been a long fifteen years, and you’ve been through a lot. But we’ll figure it out. I promise. I won’t let you down this time.”

Her lips parted and her chest lifted as if she was trying to catch her breath, too. But he didn’t think she’d been swimming long enough to be winded. “Ford, I...” She didn’t finish. Closing her eyes, she wiped the water out of her face. “Never mind. I can’t let this... thisthingbetween us get started again. I have to go inside before...”

“Before what?” he asked, intercepting her as she tried to move around him.

Shaking her head, she tried to sidestep him again, but he caught her hand. He’d merely meant to stop her, to get her to face him so they could talk. But the contact seemed to charge through them like an electric current, and the next thing heknew she was sliding her arms around his neck and pressing her body against his as she kissed him deeply.

Ford groaned as she parted her lips, allowing his tongue access to hers. He felt as if he’d been waiting for this ever since he’d left North Hampton Beach fifteen years ago—that, on some level, he’d come back for what he’d found and then lost here. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment you showed up at the Smoot cottage,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re all I’ve been able to think about, Lucy.”

He regretted saying anything when she pulled away. He felt as though he’d gone too far again, like he had in the house when he’d kissed her head. But she didn’t go inside and leave him standing on the beach like he thought she was going to. She untied her bikini top and let it drop.

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