by Kit Rocha
Lucy's careful eyes though, well they missed absolutely nothing. The older woman was married to and co-owned the bakery with Clifton and Isaac and had become a friend and confidante in the year Summer'd been in Paradise Village.
Summer tied on an apron and then put a scarf over her hair to keep it back. When she was washing up at the sink, Lucy gave her a look.
Summer waved a hand around the space. "What can I do?"
Lucy pointed to the other long table. "Needs kneading. By the looks of you, punching some dough might improve your mood. First, get yourself some coffee and top my cup up too. I must have been psychic when I decided to make a pot this morning."
Summer did as she was told, breathing in the delicious scent before taking a sip. Sometimes they did barter business instead of for cash. The coffee beans were payment for a week's worth of bread and tea from one of the workers who'd come through for the last tea harvest.
"Once you've got a few sips in you, get to work and tell me what's going on."
Summer let the work soothe her rough edges. The mindless rhythm of the kneading and then the flouring of the board, the dividing of the dough and the preparation of the unleavened biscuits and scones while the rest rose, helped her get herself together.
"You remember that cutie who came in yesterday? The one I invited to come to the social last night?"
Lucy pulled some trays from the large woodfire ovens, placing them on cooling racks. "Do I need to send the constable after him? Did he do something?"
In the time before the Parkington-Bay, the virus that killed nearly ninety percent of the world's population, violence against women was commonplace. In the two lost generations after Park-B, when those who survived struggled against the successive waves of contagion from all the dead, violence was an epidemic that smoothed out toward the end.
Later generations dealt with rebuilding society with less people in a landscape increasingly changed from climate change. Dealt with the dust storms and temperature hikes that rendered most of what used to be the breadbasket of the United States totally inhospitable.
But they also had to accept the drop in fertility in the people who were left, as well as what had developed over the years--a hugely skewed ratio of male to female babies.
Less people and far, far fewer women had changed their culture deeply.
In the generations since, as humans found their footing and worked to find a new way of life, they had ended up with a near reverence for women that had become enshrined in their society. Violence against women did happen, but it was a rare thing, especially in a village as old and established as Paradise.
And when it did, the response was quick and...severe.
"No. Nothing like that." She began to peel apples for the cakes. "He's lovely in fact. I...it's been a very long time since I've felt like that toward anyone. But his partner." Summer sighed.
"Not interested? That's a tough one."
"The opposite. He was my first love. The last time I felt this sort of pull toward someone? It was Hatch. Charlie's partner."
Lucy's brows rose. "What's the problem then? Did he do you wrong?"
"If I'm being totally fair, he did what he needed to do. He left Portland and went on the road. Four years ago."
"Ah."
The thing was she didn't blame him. Not totally. They'd grown up in a sort of bubble on the farm. It was just them and the extended family of New Earthers who shared the land. Moving to the city had been a shock to Summer's system, but for Hatch, it had been like a switch was thrown. He needed to see more.
"He asked me to go with him but I couldn't. One of my fathers was sick with Park-B-related cancer. He died soon after Hatch left. I needed to stay there for my mother and father." And then Dulce's tragedy had been another, far more terrible blow.
Lucy didn't push. She knew Summer would tell the story in her own time as they moved through the kitchen and out front, putting things in the cases and on the shelves. Summer got water started for tea as well.
"Last night he walked right up to me and kissed me and it was like no time had passed. Which was good and bad because I was that young woman again, who was so in love it felt like she died anew each morning when she woke up and remembered he had gone."
Lucy pulled her into a hug. "No wonder you're here hours early with dark circles under your eyes. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I really don't."
"What do they say?"
"I left when Hatch showed up at the social. He kissed me and I kissed him back and then I walked off. They followed me to my place and I told them to go away."
"If they sniff around today you'll know what to do next. Maybe." Lucy snorted. "We have more choices than our foremothers did, but oh boy, I bet men are still as big a pain in the behind as they were three hundred years ago. Just remember that you have those choices, no matter how his kisses make you tingle. You don't have to be with anyone who won't make you happy. You have a job. You have a place to live. You have a community, friends and your sister is here. Make the best choice for Summer." Lucy kissed her cheek. "Now get back to work."
Work she did. The first day of a new session was always hectic with newcomers trying to figure out where everything was and what their new schedules were. There was a line when she pulled open the gates at the front.
"Morning, everyone! Come on in. Order at the right, pay at the left."
She sliced and bagged, poured tea into mugs people handed her, laughed and gave directions and let herself get lost in her job for a while.
Until.
"I'd like two of those tomato and egg sandwiches on the brown bread and two slices of the apple cake."
She looked up into Hatch's face and it was like everything in her belly tightened. Hatch Mowbry wasn't handsome. Not precisely. He was compelling. It was easy to get lost in his features. He was a big man, braw, wide shouldered. His body was that belonging to someone who'd worked hard from an early age. He had rough edges, which she'd always found alluring. But now, after four years on the road they were rougher, and that worked too. He had fine lines next to his eyes and mouth.
That lush mouth dominated his face. A nose that had been broken twice by the time he'd turned eighteen now sported a piercing. Dark brown eyes that always held some sort of amusement in them. Right then, as she made the sandwiches by rote, they took her in and didn't miss the way she shook just a little.
"You're looking pretty this morning."
"Thanks." She tried for light and carefree with her tone, but failed. She wrapped the sandwiches in wax paper and dropped them in the bag before turning to grab the cake.
"Would you have dinner with me and Charlie tonight?" he asked when she handed the bag over. "We have a lot to talk about. I have a lot to explain."
What could she say? If she argued it would be in full view of everyone else in line. It was busy and hectic. Or so she told herself when she agreed.
"I'll meet you here at six. The initial rush is at five."
"How about we make you dinner instead? Our kitchen is small, but Charlie's a great cook. Then we don't have to wait in line."
"You can use my kitchen. Be at my door no later than six." She pointed down the line. "Pay down there."
He grinned at her and she used all her control to keep from blushing, turning her attention to the next person in line.
"See you tonight," he called as he moved to join Charlie, who waited nearby. Charlie waved at her and she waved back before turning her attention to work again.
"Make him work for it," Lucy said as she reached past Summer to grab a scone.
"If they don't meet your expectations, you know where I am." This from Jolin, who was her next customer and someone she'd dallied with briefly a few months before. It hadn't been enough to get her back to his bed a second time, but he was nice enough so she laughed and waved it away.
She grabbed some extra hours in the afternoon as well, a little extra cash in savings was a good thing and it also kep
t her busy. She wasn't surprised to find Dulce at the showers; her sister loved a long soak in the hotsprings after she closed the shop for the day.
Summer washed her hair, pinned it up and went to join Dulce, sighing when she got into the water, silky with minerals.
And then she told her sister all about it.
Dulce sighed at the end as they got out and rinsed off.
"What should I do?" They walked back to Summer's caravan, which was just two down from Dulce's, and settled on the front deck, letting the warmth of the sun dry their hair.
"What do you want to do?"
"I wish I knew."
"Or do you just want someone to tell you whatever you need to hear to convince yourself to listen to them? Because you don't need permission for that."
"He left me. Why should I allow him back in my life?"
"I guess that's the question then, right? Because the way I see you and the way I know you, it's going to boil down to some basics. Do you really believe he left you? As in goodbye, Summer, it's been great. Or did he, like a normal man his age who'd grown up the way we all did, need to see the wider world?"
"He left me either way."
"True. Makes a difference why, maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's the leaving." Dulce shrugged.
Like Summer had known her sister would, the questions she'd posed had helped her focus on what was really important and maybe see things clearer.
"So what else? You said it boiled down to basics."
"Probably should figure out whether it matters why or not. But then maybe what you want from them? From what I remember of you and Hatch, you two had something deeper than a fun, fast fuck. Cocks can be had as easy as breathing. You're young and beautiful. Smart. You have a job and a place to live. Not like you're poor for opportunities to get it with a person of the male persuasion. But what you and Hatch had, that's..." Dulce's voice caught and she went quiet.
Summer took her sister's hand and squeezed it. What she and Hatch had was what her sister had with her partners. With the men she'd built a life with. A life her sister had lost in the blink of an eye.
She got the point her sister was making in any case. She'd had this connection with Charlie. Summer wasn't the instant connection type. But they'd had a zing. She'd gone to that dance thinking that, depending on who Charlie's partner was, it would have been really good sex and companionship for the harvest at least.
Sometimes you met someone and it would be all systems go and you met the partner and things went all to hell. But this was not that situation.
After a bit, Dulce got up, kissed her sister's cheek. "Pride means a lot, but you need to ask yourself if it means more than anything else. And pride isn't the same as self-respect. One you can swallow sometimes, the other you should never let go of. I'm going home. I'll see you soon and I expect a full report so don't forget it."
Summer stood and went inside to change. She didn't know what would happen. She tended to agree with her sister that pride wasn't worth everything. But she knew it was certainly worth more than feeling like nothing.
Charlie led as they went up her walk and to her front door. That sense of rightness he never ignored had clicked into place more and more steadily as the day had passed and when she opened up at his knock everything went sideways a moment and then came into such sharp focus he sucked in a breath.
She was so pretty. Standing there, her hair a pale red tousle, blue eyes widening just a bit as she took him and Hatch in. She wore a deep blue dress that kissed high up on her thighs, her arms bare.
"Come in." She stepped aside and as Charlie passed, he paused, taking her into his arms for a hug and kiss he'd intended to be brief and was anything but. He sank into that kiss like a long, slow Sunday nap.
Her taste was smoky and heady as she opened to him, her tongue brushing against his. The weight of her there against his body was perfect. She fit as if she was made to be there.
He broke away and smiled. "You know how to welcome a guest."
She laughed.
Hatch stepped closer and she gave him a look that told Charlie Hatch wasn't going to get the same welcome he got. Then again, she was letting them both into her home so it wasn't all bad.
"You kissed me yesterday." Hatch stepped even closer. Summer moved back but the wall impeded her retreat and the smile on Hatch's face said he knew it.
"I was caught off guard."
"You should let me catch you off guard again, then."
She sniffed and even that sounded pretty. Charlie laughed. Hatch had made his bed in this situation but Charlie knew him well enough to understand he'd find a way to work it through.
"If you get any closer, Hatch Mowbry, you're liable to get something bit."
He touched his forehead to Summer's. "Promise?"
She leaned in and nipped Hatch's bottom lip. Hard enough that Hatch yelped. But Hatch wrapped his arms around her and went in for a kiss. One she allowed. Briefly before she poked Hatch's side and stepped around him neatly.
"Kitchen's through here."
Charlie looked at Hatch, who grinned like a fool.
"Might want to ice that lip."
Hatch laughed and swatted Charlie's ass on the way past. "No way, that's a medal as far as I'm concerned. Woman like Summer doesn't bite you if she doesn't care about you."
"I heard that, Hatch," Summer called from the kitchen.
"I know you did, darlin. That's why I said it so loud."
Charlie liked her place. It wasn't exceptionally large, but it was big enough the three of them could move around one another without collision. Close enough that he got away with brushing against her to breathe her in.
"Do you like fish? At our lunch break, I caught a few, thought they'd be good for dinner."
Summer looked at the nice fat fish Charlie had brought with him, already cleaned and hummed happily. "And already cleaned. Least one of you has good manners."
"Charlie is the finest of the two of us. I can't lie. But damn it, Summer, I had to go."
She leaned against the counter near where Charlie had begun heating a pan to cook the fish. "The pot there just about to boil is for some pasta we had left over at the café from earlier. Spring onions came in fresh if you'd like to use them." She pointed to a colander of freshly washed produce.
"Do you have a garden?"
"I have a plot at the community pea patch and the containers around the house here. But the onions were payment for some piece work." She ignored Hatch's comment and Charlie let her. Hatch had to fix it.
"Piece work?" He grabbed the onions and sliced them quickly. He'd toss them with the tomatoes he'd brought.
"There's a pretty active barter network here in Paradise. This caravan came with permanent residency here. I get my meals and groceries to bring home at the end of the day as well as a small stipend from my job at the café. Anything else I trade for. I do sewing piecework, alterations, that sort of thing for barter if I take a liking to something." She shrugged. "I've got all I need and most of what I want."
"Back on the farm," Hatch spoke as he moved closer, "we had all we needed and we didn't know what we wanted."
"I knew what I wanted. Speak for yourself."
Hatch braced his hands on either side of her body, holding the edge of the counter.
"I am speaking for myself. We didn't know what else there was in the world. How could we have known what we wanted?"
"Then don't say we. Did you find what you wanted then? By going?"
"It's more complicated than that. I came to Portland to follow you. But it took nearly seven months to get there as I worked my way across the country. I saw the world. Realized how much there was that I hadn't even imagined. But when I got to Portland, you were there and you were what I needed. But I'd seen what was out there. The tip of it. It ignited something in me. Some sense of wanderlust, of a need to explore." He touched his forehead to hers and Charlie realized it was something the two of them had together. Realized too that Summer had allowed it
all the times Hatch'd done it, which was a good thing. He hoped. Charlie moved around the kitchen, giving them some space, but staying near. This was the beginning of them as a unit. If they could get over what had torn Hatch and Summer apart, they could build and this was the start. Fragile, yes, but important.
Hatch ached to clear the pain from her gaze. Ached because he'd put it there. He'd been the one to walk away and leave her behind. He dug deep to find the words to explain himself. There were no excuses. He knew he'd done damage. He wanted her to know the why and, through that, forgive.
He had her back. So near and yet a million miles apart with his actions between them like a great wall. He had to breach it. Had to have this woman's love once more.
Had to deserve it first.
"I'm sorry. Sorry I hurt you. I know I owe you an explanation and I'm sorry it's taken me four years to give it to you. I had to go, Summer. At first I thought being in a city would be enough after the farm. But it wasn't. It wasn't the amount of people or the diversity of options in the area. Living in a city felt like a prison sentence. I got there and I tried because I wanted to be with you. But it was slowly killing me to be there. I needed to leave. Craved the freedom the road could offer. When I asked you to come and you said no, I tried to stay a while. To wait, but I couldn't. In the end, I hurt you and I owe it to you to apologize and to explain. I can't erase how I made you feel, but I hope maybe we can understand each other and you can forgive how I did it."
"One of my fathers was dying. I couldn't leave my mother and other father right when they needed me most. When I needed them for that matter. And then Dulce."
A cold chill passed through him. "What about her?"
"They were on a train going to Canada for a vacation. There was a head-on collision with another train."
Hatch remembered this accident. It had been all over the news. So many people had died.
"Their car...there was a fuel leak after the crash. A spark started a fire and the fire was too hot and too fast for rescue workers to get in. Macon, Broad and the kids didn't make it."
