The Eighth Summer

By Lisa Mercado-Fernandez

In The Eighth Summer, the Mitchell family has shared their lovely Cape Cod style fixer-upper in Nantucket with their best friends. Amy and Tommy and their baby Gracie have hosted 7 years of casual breakfasts, outdoor dinners, and long nights of reminiscing over cold beers, sing a longs and talks on the porch. On this, the eighth year, as the strongest of friends are days away from reuniting, one of their own is tragically killed in a motorcycle accident.
As Tommy and Amy gather their friends and prepare for Mark’s funeral, they each confess secrets, expose lies, and finally face the demons that have been dormant for so long.
Through their heartbreak and pain the secrets that surface as they unite in the place that held so many joyous memories may harm the ties that bind them forever. It is with the deepest of interventions, in-depth soul searching and stripping of each individual’s pride that this group can come together again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483561073

Book preview

Sunday

CHAPTER 1: MARK AND SARAH

Mark patted the small box in his pocket and revved the motorcycle hard, shifting gears to head uphill, the wind blowing back his dark curling hair. When he soared over the crest of the hill, he saw the ocean spread out below, the tide low and seagulls pecking at the foamy ebb. He hit a bump and yelled, laughing to feel airborne, then leaned forward and accelerated until the speedometer read ninety-five howling along Great Point Road, even as he cut off an old man in a Volkswagen bug, who shouted from his window and flung out his middle finger. Mark turned to return the gesture and faced forward again into the blaring horn of a truck.

Sarah stood frozen in her apartment kitchen still holding the iPhone to her ear. Her hand sank slowly until she dropped the phone and shattered the plastic case, and her wide, grey eyes went to the window, where summer rain streamed down the glass. She covered her mouth and gagged, a muffled cry exploding from her throat, as she burst into a run up the stairs. Sarah’s weekender bag sat on her bed fully packed, and she ran to the bed and began pulling clothes out of the bag and flinging them across the room. Lacy undergarments and summer dresses flew over the floor and chairs. When the bags were empty she threw them aside and ran to her dresser, where a photo of eight laughing faces in a gold frame sat next to her appointment book and make-up bag.

Sarah swept her hand across the dresser in one quick motion, smashing the frame into the wall and sending her things crashing. She threw herself against the wall and slowly dropped to the floor, her long, chestnut ponytail, sleek only moments ago, now a tangled mess over her shoulders.

Her sobbing had turned to the repetition of whispered words. I wish I could take it back, Mark. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

CHAPTER 2: TOMMY AND AMY

Two men stood overlooking the rail of a ferry steaming along the shore of Cape Cod. Tommy turned so that the late afternoon light caught his powerful neck and the feather that hung from a leather rope against his throat, and John leaned forward on the rail next to him, his forearms tanned and strands of dark blonde hair in his eyes. John pointed to a family of dolphins in the water that sprayed up the boats’ sides, and he and Tommy watched the graceful shadows speed alongside the steaming ferry, swooping in pairs, moving in unison to tease the men, who stretched their necks after them.

Tommy could hear his father’s voice in his mind telling the ancient tribal stories of dolphins, Awi’s soft, firm recitation of how humans learn from them true harmony and inner strength. Tommy moved quickly toward the front of the ferry when the dolphins picked up speed and disappeared beneath the glittering surface. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of a baby’s cry and saw Amy on a bench out of the wind. She lifted Gracie in her arms and kissed her, Amy’s short brown hair blowing around their close heads as she snuggled the baby against her chest.

They really get near, don’t they? John caught up with Tommy where he leaned over the rail again, waiting intently for the dolphins to resurface. Hey. John patted Tommy’s back.

I’m sorry, John. What did you say?

Are you all right?

Tommy lowered his black head and touched the feather at his throat. I miss Mark already, he said quietly.

I wish I knew what to say.

It hasn’t registered. I keep thinking I’m going to see his big, laughing face on the pier as we dock, yelling out, trying to make a scene just to make me crazy. I’m not even over losing my father yet. How am I going to get through losing my best friend?

I’m sorry, Tommy.

I know you are, John. You, of all people, understand. Tommy breathed in the salty ocean air and closed his eyes.

He’d been only twelve years old when his mother had passed away of breast cancer, his father singing quietly the old tribal songs under a small dream catcher hung over the boy’s bed. The night she’d died, Awi had taken down the dream catcher and placed it in Tommy’s hands, and Tommy had touched the feathers, the braided rope and beads. Awi had explained how he’d woven the intricate horsehair to sift through Tommy’s dreams and remove the bad ones, the feathers representing the great eagles that had been transformed from the ancient spirits of their Cherokee ancestors.

They will watch over you even after I’m gone, Awi had whispered.

Now all Tommy had left of Awi were his high cheekbones and black hair, with the feather on the leather rope around his neck representing that long line of Cherokee in a chain that could never be broken.

And his best friend—

Tommy clutched the feather as he looked out toward the Nantucket shoreline. He glanced over his shoulder at Amy, whose face lay against Gracie’s small cheek on her arm, Amy’s short hair blowing back from where it was pinned away from her forehead and the sky bright beyond them.

My dad used to tell me stories about his tribe, Tommy said. How they believed when someone died they left a part of themself behind and our job is for us to search for that lost part. Can you believe that?

I don’t exactly know. John followed Tommy’s gaze. It sounds good.

Tommy laughed.

John smiled. It must have been cool growing up on a reservation.

It had its moments. Tommy looked out over the water to where the sun glowed golden above the horizon. I remember when my grandmother died my father invited our family and friends over, and he made a big fire in a pit in the back. Everyone gathered around and watched as he burnt messages and sent them up in smoke to let her know that we loved her.

That’s beautiful.

I guess, if you believe in it.

John pushed his dark blonde hair behind his ears and leaned his elbows on the rail behind Tommy. Awi sounded like a great father, Tommy. Not everyone gets one of those.

Tommy’s eyes shone brightly in the afternoon sunlight, and when he blinked tears ran down his face. Far away at the edge of the water, green marshes and strips of sand lay along the surf, grey-shingled homes in the dunes beyond the beach. The sun was low on the horizon, nearly blinding him.

As John reached to pat Tommy’s arm, there was a noise almost under their feet, and first one dolphin and then another swooped up from the depths, flipping their tails and splashing the men’s legs. They laughed as they jumped back. Tommy put his hand to the feather, and when he glanced at Amy she waved to him over Gracie’s small head.

Tommy laid a hand on John’s shoulder. I’m glad you’re here.

I should have come down tomorrow with the rest of the guys. John followed the dolphins with his eyes as they arced away from the trundling ferry. Tonight you’ll need to be with your gang. You have a lot to talk about before your friend’s memorial.

Nonsense. I can use another friend. Tommy almost laughed. We all can.

I don’t want to be in the way.

Will you stop worrying? It’s my house, and I say you’re staying.

At the other end of the deck in the lee of the cabin, Amy held Gracie close in her arms. The incessant rocking of the ferry had soothed the baby into a deep trance and interrupted her feeding, so Amy carefully slid her off her breast and manipulated a hand to fasten the bra and blouse. She shielded Gracie’s face with the blanket, tucked her in gently, and sat quietly with the breeze blowing through her hair.

Looking down at her daughter filled Amy with a peace she couldn’t put into words. She wondered if it would always be like this. Gracie jerked and smiled in her sleep, her fingers sprawled over the small blanket, each perfectly formed, each so beautiful Amy could hardly stop herself from kissing every one.

Tommy’s familiar voice came to her on the breeze, and she turned to see him with John tanned and blonde by the rail, Tommy’s black hair lifting in the wind. Tommy caught her eye, and Amy flipped just the corner of the blanket back so he could see Gracie’s sleeping face.

As he turned away, Amy felt the familiar pang of love. At times it seemed like too much to take. Even after all these years, Tommy still made her heart melt.

Gracie stretched her round legs slowly, and Amy leaned in to shield her from the light and wind. She held her breath and then sighed when the baby’s eyes remained closed. Overwhelmed, she held her daughter close to her chest and turned to the man she loved.

She leaned back slightly, and her smile faded to pain as she remembered.

Amy had been four months pregnant and just beginning to show the day Tommy had stayed home from work to take her to her doctor’s appointment. When Amy woke in the hammock late in the afternoon, she’d been starving.

Tommy, she’d called, laughing at herself. I’m so hungry for blueberry pancakes!

Tommy had laughed with her as he’d fumbled for his jacket and scribbled on the grocery list. Amy had blown Tommy a kiss, and he’d winked as he’d backed down the driveway in their old jeep.

She could still remember how her heart had jumped when she’d touched the mouse on Tommy’s computer. Maggie Steadman was the only name on his Facebook page. It must have been a coincidence—someone else named Maggie? But, no. Tommy had done a search. There it was, a small photo of a woman with oddly green eyes and an intent stare, the woman’s face excruciatingly familiar from Tommy’s high school photo album.

Now a cold breeze kicked up suddenly across the ferry deck, and Gracie jumped in Amy’s arms, startling her. Amy lifted the baby and stood to cradle her softly. She slung the diaper bag over her shoulder and glanced toward the ferry rail, where Tommy and John leaned shoulder-to-shoulder, facing away, their black and dark blonde hair intertwining in the wind.

Amy shivered with the overwhelming force of her love for Tommy while she lifted the baby gently to her shoulder. He had that power over her.

John gazed along the side of the ship as the ferry jumped a wave and sprayed his face when it touched down. How long did you say you guys have been getting together in Nantucket?

Eight years. Tommy leaned forward onto the rail next to him. We’ve known each other since grade and high school. All except Amy, of course.

John hesitated. And who was it you were so adamant that I meet?

Sarah.

The singer?

Yeah. Sarah’s different, not like other girls. She’s—special.

What’s wrong with her?

Tommy laughed. Nothing, honest.

So why didn’t you date her?

Can’t say I had it in me to try. Tommy locked a finger through his choker, the feather in his hand. It was weird. We were very close—we’re all very close—and, well, there’s such a thing as being too close to get a shot. Can you understand? I mean, you grow up with these people, and you learn everything there is to know about them. You know their weaknesses and strengths, insecurities and secrets, and you develop this intense relationship that almost feels like it’d be taboo to even consider crossing the line.

But you considered it?

She’s Sarah, man. Anyone would have considered it. But of course when I saw Amy, it was love at first sight. I knew she was the one the minute I heard her voice. Tommy smiled as he watched Amy pause on the middle of the deck, the baby at her shoulder, to adjust the neck of her blouse under the diaper bag strap. The wind caught her straight brown hair and flipped it around her face as she wrapped the baby again in her flannel blanket. She was giving out flyers on campus about some rally to save a neighborhood park. So serious. So utterly dedicated. I was instantly smitten.

John sighed. I had that once.

Love will find you again whether you want it or not, my friend. Believe me!

John looked up at Tommy and laughed out loud. So tell me about the other women. Is it Laura and—?

Laura and Elise. Laura is part of a law firm. She works a lot and hasn’t really had anyone serious in her life since—well, that I can ever remember, actually.

Is she pretty?

Laura? She’s great! A bit on the skinny side. We always called her our long-legged beauty queen. Intelligent, hardworking. It’s just that she works a lot and never really found the time, I guess, to look for the right one.

That’s sad. John glanced away, out over the water.

I never thought of it that way, but you’re right. The only guys she’s ever around much is us, the gang. Especially E.

E?

Ethan. She calls him that. The two of them have always been close.

John pointed at a sailboat as the ferry passed by, and the sailors laughed and waved. John and Tommy waved back.

Elise is married and has two kids. She’s a successful realtor, always on the run, but never so much that she doesn’t have time for any one of us, any day, any time.

Do Elise’s husband and kids come every year too?

Sometimes. He has a hardware store that keeps him busy, so Elise usually brings the children on her own, but this time she’s coming alone. She needs the space to grieve, and he’s been completely tied up with the store ever since the recession hit.

I can understand that. John nodded and tucked his dark blonde hair behind his ear. It’s scary times for everyone.

The sky was beginning to change, golden and amber hues in streaks descending to the horizon where the sun dipped into the sea, casting its reflection along the water. The Nantucket ferry dock was slowly approaching.

What about your summer house? John crossed his tanned arms and leaned his back against the rail as the wind lifted strands of hair across his face. Does someone take care of it for you when you’re not there?

No. Tommy looked down, his black hair whipping around his head. It’s a little tough to come as often as we like, now with the baby, but— He paused. We’re hoping to find someone to help us with it.

Renting it out?

Something like that. Our plans aren’t concrete.

John watched as Tommy folded his arms, his hands clenched. After a minute John spoke quietly. This is a worse time for you than you’re letting on, isn’t it?

You know what the hardest thing is? Tommy said, lifting his black eyes to John. I’ve always been the designated key-holder. You know, the guy who holds everyone’s keys so no one drinks and drives. The responsible one. But I never asked for that job. It’s just that Mark had a crazy temper, our racecar driver Dillon is too passionate, and Ethan treats everything as a joke. So it’s always been left to me.

Take it as a compliment, my friend. You have that calm and patient way about you. It’s what you put out into the universe.

Now you’re sounding like my father. Tommy smiled and gazed out over the ocean to where a small dark shape moved high against the distant clouds, wings outstretched. It’s going to be different this time. I don’t have any answers. I’m not going to get stuck holding the keys this time. I can’t. Tommy shook his head and bent his head. When he looked up again, one hand on the feather at his neck, the large bird in the sky had soared closer.

Tommy smiled involuntarily as he caught sight of Amy coming toward him along the rail and holding Gracie up to see the water, the gold light of sunset caught in their mingled hair. Then Amy was at his side holding out the baby bundled in flannel, and Tommy took little Gracie in his big hands. Amy set down the diaper bag at their feet, re-pinned her hair, and pulled the ends of her blouse tidily over her hips, while Tommy held Gracie up to his face and touched his lips softly to her chin so that she kicked and reached for his nose.

Amy looked at Tommy and stroked his black hair softly. How you doing, honey? Her eyes searched his.

Tommy grimaced. Hasn’t really hit yet.

She touched his face with her fingers and leaned into him, Gracie in his arms, while the breeze blew their hair together and he held them both to his chest. She turned to rest her head under his powerful neck near the feather of his choker, looking up into the sky, and she suddenly squeezed his arm. Tommy—

The great bird had arrived and was flying over them in a circle, the intricate pattern of feathers on its wings clear in the sunset, its talons silhouetted against the sky.

It’s your father. It’s Awi. Amy stretched to whisper in his ear.

Tommy glanced up.

The ferry slowed and began churning water, and Tommy’s black eyes followed the eagle as it rose higher and higher against the sky in spirals over their heads, while the ferry’s horn sounded and the ship began to dock.

CHAPTER 3: ELISE

Elise’s foot slipped on the stair and she clutched the rail, almost losing her balance. It wasn’t real to her yet. It would never be real. All night she’d drifted in and out of light sleep, muffling her tears in her pillow, trying not to wake Joe or the children. At first Joe had tried to console her, but she’d pushed him away. She must have fallen asleep in the early morning hours, for when her eyes opened later it took a few seconds and she found herself crying again.

Mark had always been there, almost as far back as she could remember. He’d taken her to the high school prom when her date decided as a senior prank not to show up. He had been Godfather to her daughter Margaret. He’d been the one who taught Elise to throw a football. Now the thought of never seeing him again made her physically ill.

Elise bent her dark bobbed head and searched her oversized purse, her hand moving between the divisions and endless pockets. She checked for her keys, phone, make-up, wallet, tickets.

Where are my tickets? She looked up. Had she packed them in her suitcase? Left them upstairs? She retraced her steps in her mind as she rummaged desperately, and above her the wooden bedroom floor creaked. She was already ten minutes behind schedule.

When her eyes crossed the mirror by the door, she took a sharp breath. The woman in the white sundress in the mirror was drawn and tired, and she longed with a sudden, intense pain for the girl who’d once been so exciting and impulsive—the girl Mark had first known.

Elise twisted, small under the chandelier, and called with a note of hysteria up the stairs.

Joe came around the corner and ran lightly down the stairs holding out an envelope. Calm down, Elise. I found them. I was yelling from the closet. They were on top of the dresser under your books, where you left them.

She turned back at her purse and began to organize it. I’m sorry, I’m just a mess.

You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?

No, thanks. The car should be here any minute. Where are the kids? Margaret! Ben!

A shy, gangly girl and a young boy ran down the hall, and Elise smiled, reaching for the boy with his sandy hair.

Now, Ben, you listen to your father, okay? I don’t want to get a call saying you won’t go to bed because there’s some Disney marathon on.

I will, Mom. Ben laughed up at her.

Elise took the envelope Joe held out and tucked it into her purse, then unfolded a yellow paper and handed it to him. Quickly she loosened her shoulders and shook her dark bobbed hair into place. The doctor’s number is by the phone in the kitchen. Here are Amy’s cell and Sarah’s. Oh—and the pharmacy number is on the fridge.

You act as if they aren’t my kids. Elise, I live here. I know where the doctor’s number is.

All I meant was that I’m the one who usually deals with the doctor stuff. And the dishwasher service light is on again. You might want to check into that.

I think I can handle it, Elise.

When Elise knelt in front of the children, she blinked and began unexpectedly to cry. Joe touched her shoulder, but she pulled away, hugging the children, almost unable to let them go.

Mom, are you okay? Ben’s lip quivered.

She’s just sad, Ben. She misses Uncle Mark.

I wish we could go, Mom. Margaret wrapped her arms around Elise’s waist as she stood up and wiped her eyes with a tissue.

You know you can’t, honey. Not now, not for this. If it were different circumstances I— Elise hesitated. Besides, you have two more weeks of camp, and your brother has piano.

I don’t have to go to piano. Ben bounced on his toes.

Yes, you do. You know we do this every year.

But this time we aren’t going with you—

What’s cremated? Ben stood on one foot.

Your father will explain. Now, if I don’t get on this plane I’m going to miss the four o’clock ferry. Okay, I love you guys. Be good, listen to your father, and, Margaret, no texting after eight p. m.

Elise picked up her bags and turned just as Joe bent to kiss her but stopped halfway. Elise opened the door to see a black town car waiting by the curb. She looked at Joe and sighed.

Her tears were still running down her cheeks as the car pulled away and the house faded from sight. They turned the corner out of her neighborhood past a small park where, beyond mothers with their children playing on the bars and swings, she caught sight of a man on a bench with his hands between his knees. She opened her window and almost called out, but hesitated. After a moment, she shut the window and leaned back, her cheeks wet under her closed eyes.

CHAPTER 4: LAURA AND ETHAN

Late afternoon sun shone on the tarmac, and Laura’s silky, blonde hair swung down her thin back as she crossed the lobby near the information desk at the Hyannis airport. Her strappy high sandals accentuated the long legs under her black dress. She pulled her sunglasses off and stared at the arrival board, glanced down at her phone, and looked up once more.

On time. Laura found a seat, and after a few touches with her finger put the phone on her ear.

She heard Mark’s recorded voice as clearly as if he were standing next to her. She touched the photo app on the phone and slid her finger across it until she came to a photo of a beach, her own skinny body lifted from behind and dangling in Mark’s arms, her mouth open and her legs kicking in the air. They’d been playing volleyball, and she had just served the winning point. The minute Ethan had snapped the picture Mark had dropped her, still laughing, and running through the surf yelling and splashing.

Laura sighed.

Such a huge presence.

Laura shook her head and lowered the phone, wiping carefully under