The Crossing of Bridges

By Summer Munger

Sometimes healing heartbreak means crossing over oceans of pain, ravines of memory and rivers of regret. Both Sarah Chapman and Larissa Olivera learned that lesson and crossed over their loss, as well as the Atlantic Ocean. Sarah is a young, thriving American advertising executive working on the busy streets of London. Larissa, a proud Brazilian recovering from the recent death of her mother, owns a quaint cafe in a small town outside of the city. Both are strong women who love the lives they’ve worked so hard to build. It’s only when a chance meeting puts them face to face with each other that they begin to wonder if those lives could be shared.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summer Munger
• Release date: Jun 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9780999098004

Summer Munger

Summer Munger is an American fiction author who writes stories about women who happen to love women. Presently she lives near Atlanta, works in marketing and spends a lot of time with her dog (surprise, surprise).

Book preview

Chapter 1

Sarah Chapman hated bridges.

Traveling over large bodies of water or ravines did not sit well with her sense of equilibrium. Her fingers always tightened on whatever she was gripping. She would hold her breath until she realized that she’d made the unconscious decision to not take in oxygen and tried to breathe, once again, like a normal person. Her forehead became clammy and caused messy blonde bangs to stick to it. It was a shit show.

And It wasn’t just structural bridges that bothered her; she wasn’t crazy about musical bridges either. They just seemed like grandstanding. Then there was the card game, which only served to remind her of how much she could hate her own race, because Bridge basically reeked of white privilege to her.

She was OK with atomic bridges and electrical bridges because she liked science. Plus, she had learned in school that certain bridges in electrical work were referred to as ‘shunts’. The word ‘shunt’ reminded her of the word ‘cunt’. Sarah enjoyed the word ‘cunt’ because, if used sparingly, no other word served to inflect the severity of one’s rage more than the addition of that single syllable curse.

What other kinds of bridges were there? Dental bridges. No, she didn’t like them either. She just didn’t understand how they could possibly work. How did people not get food stuck in them? If she had them, she’d have to sit there tonguing them, trying to get the leftovers out and making people wonder what was wrong with her mouth.

But of all the bridges she knew to exist, the ones that angered her most, scared her most, were the covered wooden kind. They were like people who still wrote checks for one item at the grocery store, yet were allowed to carry guns: antiquated and dangerous. How any of them still existed was beyond her.

The bridges, not the people.

Well, maybe the people too.

Sarah had been born and raised in the United States. (It occurred to her that moving to a country that had birthed a nursery rhyme about bridges falling down might not have been the greatest idea only after she’d made the decision to do so.)

So, when she found herself sitting in front of, and needing to cross, one of these useless deathtraps, she continued to refresh her GPS in the hope that somehow, a new route would magically appear. The feminine electronic voice seemed to mock her as it stated that there were ‘no new routes’ and only served to further darken her mood, not to mention the fact that there was a dog in her passenger seat that had been going crazy since they’d reached the monstrosity. He wasn’t even her dog, but he was the reason she’d found herself in that mess in the first place. She sat there and assessed the situation with calm and capable blue eyes. Then she did what she normally did when faced with situations that didn’t appeal to her: she said, ‘screw it’, and turned back to find another solution to the problem.

***

Her morning had been going well until she’d found the dog. She’d woken up on time, just taken the tag off a brand new top that looked amazing on her, remembered to take the trash down to the bin and she had a date after work with a hipster, cycling enthusiast girl that she’d met online. She felt so good about the world in general that she’d even done that whole ‘pay it forward’ thing and bought a cup of coffee for one of her fellow gas station regulars before leaving to get into her car.

She had heard the yelp before she even saw the dog. It came from the direction of an old pickup truck at one of the pumps. Some rural slob in a ball cap was punching a pit bull right in the face. She moved toward him, compelled by her will alone, spilling her coffee before dropping it altogether.

Hey! she barked, because the dog would not. Hey, what the hell are you doing?

It had absolutely astounded her, when she moved to a country as forward thinking as England, that they had the same kind of imbeciles as she was used to back in the States. But they obviously did. The weathered state of his truck, and the leftover hay that littered the bed of it, seemed to that he did some kind of farm work for a living.

Shit, he swore under his breath in a thick accent. Forgot I was near the fuckin’ city.

Hit that dog again and I’ll call the ‘fuckin’’ police, she mimicked.

You people care more about animals than humans in London. He said, moving toward her.

She knew she should back off, she really did. This man stood a head taller than her, had the build of a construction worker and may have possibly been an addict of some sort. But she couldn’t. She never could stand down from a fight when it came to protecting something innocent.

I care about animals more than someone who’d take a hand to them the way you were. She stood her ground.

He chuckled and moved right into her personal space – so much so that she could smell the coffee and cigarettes that were, no doubt, the habitual cause for the stain on his teeth.

You got stones, girl, he said, almost as if he respected her.

No, you’ve got stones, she fired back. About six inches away from my knee, and I have no problem introducing the two should you try anything with me right now.

His smile widened and she started to actually feel the fear coursing through her veins. Still, she stayed. People were starting to stare. Surely one of them would call the police and scare him off before he was able to completely bash her skull into the concrete? That would just be embarrassing. She wasn’t even at the good gas station with the nice new pumps.

However, instead of pummeling her to the ground, he moved back and pulled down the door to the bed of the truck, jerking the dog out. Sarah had to wrench forward and grab hold of its collar so that it wouldn’t run out onto the busy road.

You like the dog so much, keep it, he ordered. It ain’t mine and it ain’t worth the money.

What? she asked, bewildered, as he piled into the truck and screeched away. As she held tight to the collar, she squinted to make out his license plate and pulled her phone out to record it for later, the dog staring at her the entire time.

Miss, are you OK? asked one of the other patrons of the gas station. Do you need me to call the police for you?

She looked up at him and smiled, No, no, I’m fine. Thank you though.

When she finally looked down into the dog’s sweet brown eyes, which were begging for some kind of affection, she smiled at and raised a hand to stroke his face. After a few seconds of the instant love one could give things that were soft, sweet and furry, Sarah lowered her gaze to the tag on his collar.

OK... Brigadeiro? What the hell kind of name is that? she exclaimed as she took in the tag, before pitching her voice to a more soothing tone to keep the dog calm. Let’s see where you belong. Edenton? Jesus Christ, what are you doing up here?

It took no coaxing to get him to follow her to her car and hop right in. She turned over the engine before dialing the number on the tag to try and get in touch with the owner. After a few rings, it clicked over to a recorded message.

Hi, a perky female voice, with an indeterminable accent, answered. You’ve reached the answering machine of Larissa Oliveira. I’m not home right now but once I get back I’ll be sure to return your call. Have a nice day!

Answering machine? Sarah was almost so taken aback by the idea of an actual answering machine still existing that she nearly missed the beep that signaled she should use it.

Umm. Hi, Ms. Oliveira, she stuttered, before regaining her wits. My name is Sarah Chapman and I think that I’ve found your dog. If you could call me back as soon as possible, that would be great. My number is 07849 799810. Thanks. Goodbye.

As she hung up the phone she swore under her breath before dialing out to her friend and boss, Claire.

Hello, lovely! the vibrant voice answered. It seemed everyone was more awake than she was, given the unfortunate incident with her coffee.

Hi, Claire, she answered. Listen, I had kind of an... altercation with some idiot at the gas station, and now I’ve got this dog that I’m probably going to have to drive to Edenton.

What? The woman’s exuberant shock could nearly be felt on the other end of the phone.

Yeah, so I’m going to be late coming into the office, she explained further.

What do you mean by altercation? Did you get into a fight? Where did the dog come from? Were you fighting over the dog?

This was Claire’s MO. To be fair, Sarah did enjoy baiting her to cause the steady flow of questions that would inevitably spring forth. But it never failed. Claire just couldn’t help the need to request all the information at once.

No, Sarah chuckled. There was just this asshole in the parking lot beating a dog and I yelled at him about it, so now I’m stuck with the dog and he lives in Edenton... Apparently with a woman who actually still owns an honest-to-God answering machine that holds a sexy accent I can’t seem to place.

So, you’re just going to drive this dog all across the British countryside, to a land with no mobiles, for some woman you don’t know?

Well, what else am I supposed to do? I don’t think the pooch is going to be able to offer much on a creative brainstorm. I can’t just leave him here, she said.

Yes, I know, I just don’t like the idea of you going out there alone, Claire admitted. What if that address leads you to some lot of inbred axe murderers?

I think that’s a Texas thing, Sarah said.

Right, Jack the Ripper is more our thing, Claire argued sarcastically, thickening her native accent. And, trust me, he wasn’t any more pleasant.

Sarah just shook her head. I’ll be fine. I’ll text you as soon as I get there and let you know what’s going on. Just cancel my calls for the morning, OK?

Fine, but if you die before I can make fun of you for turning 30 I’ll publish all of your high school journals, Claire threatened.

Agreed, Sarah conceded, rolling her eyes. Now, let me get on the road. I’ve got a long way to go and a hot date to over-think while I drive.

With that, she plugged the address on the tag into her GPS and headed south.

***

That was how she’d come to the damn bridge, and that was how she’d come to turn around with her tail between her legs and make her way back to a small and extremely quaint town she’d passed on her way to said bridge. She found a nearby coffee shop and decided to try her luck on the phone again while grabbing some much-needed caffeine. But, as soon as her hand reached for the door, a pathetic whine issued from her new companion.

I’m sorry, but it’s not like I can take you in, pal, she reasoned with him as he looked longingly at the café. People don’t generally like dogs around their food.

She sighed, following his gaze, and her eyes widened as she noticed a small sign in the window that read ‘Pet-Friendly’.

Wow! This must really be your lucky day, Sarah said. She nearly opened the door, before realizing she’d probably need a leash. Well, almost. I don’t exactly carry a leash around with me.

Looking around the car, she found nothing that would even remotely work… until her eyes met one of her most important tools of the trade.

Though it certainly felt strange walking into a coffee shop with a dog – that she did not own – tethered to a mobile phone car charger, Sarah entered with her natural swagger and refused to be demeaned by what she considered simpletons. Her eyes surveyed the area through intentionally jagged blonde bangs. This classically smooth demeanor was well maintained until one of the baristas appeared from the back with a basket of bread – a basket that promptly flew up in the air when the barista’s eyes landed on the dog and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her throat.

Sarah was startled and literally backed away as the rather excited woman bounded over and screamed Brigadeiro’s name, before kneeling on the ground so that he might lick all over her face with his massive tongue.

Right, Sarah said, letting go of the phone charger. Are you Larissa Oliveira?

Oh no, dearie! she answered, in a thick Scottish accent. She’s not been in yet. The lass has been looking around for this naughty mongrel all mornin’ long.

Oh! The blonde head nodded in understanding. So, you know her then?

Know her? I work for her! She stood with a welcoming smile and offered her hand. I’m Midge. I can’t thank you enough for bringing back this wonderful wee lad. His mother would have lost her mind if she wasn’t able to find him.

As Sarah reached her hand out for the shake, Midge, overcome with exuberance, gave her what only could be described as a ‘tackle-hug’.

Oof! Sarah coughed out some air, but gave her new friend a hearty pat on the back. Very nice to meet you, Midge. Now that Brigadeiro is safe and sound I’ll just be on my way.

Lord, no, child! She pulled back and took Sarah’s arm in her hand, leading her to a seat at the bar. I won’t have it! Not till you’ve sat right down and had a cup of coffee and one of our wonderful bear claws while I call Larissa. I caught the accent, dearie. I know how you Americans like your doughnuts.

Thanks, I don’t eat carbs, Sarah lied to Midge’s back as she dragged the dog to the back, where the food was kept, and heard nary a word.

And when Larissa finds out that you’ve found her pride and joy, she said, not missing a beat as she made her way back with the promised goodies, she’ll thank you with free coffee and doughnuts for life!

Well, I’m actually not in these parts very often, she tried to explain as Midge picked up the phone and started dialing. I work in London.

Midge was on the phone before Sarah could even finish her sentence. She took the opportunity to text Claire, informing her that she’d found Mayberry and was trying to explain the concept of fire to the locals. She then tweeted the witty quip for good measure. Her attention was pulled back into the quaint setting by the barista coming back over to tell her the news.

Alright love, it sounds like the little pup’s mummy is having a bit of a rough day, she said sadly. The tires on her car were slashed this morning and she had to have it towed away. If you’ll just take ol’ Brig here to right up the road to her home she’ll be happy to give you her thanks.

You mean across that covered bridge down the road? the executive asked anxiously. Yeah, see, I’m not sure that I have time. I really should be getting back to the city. Can’t she wait until her car is fixed and then just run by here and pick him up?

Oh, I think that would be a very bad idea, Midge said, her face falling a bit. We can’t just have a dog running around here all day long. It’s unsanitary.

Sarah’s eyes settled upon the canine in question and noticed him licking one of the plates of pastries on the counter.

You don’t say, she conceded, getting up with a sigh. Guess we’re going on one more car ride, buddy. Thanks for the coffee, Midge.

Though this little inconvenience wasn’t very pleasant, it was also not exactly the worst thing that could have happened that morning. So, with a small smile, Sarah grabbed her beverage and walked her new traveling companion back out to the car.

***

Have a wonderful day, Sarah, Midge called, before pulling out a flask and taking a small nip of gin. Sweet city girl, that one.

Chapter 2

Dark eyes impatiently watched the road for any signs of movement as Larissa Oliveira waited for someone to come up the drive with her big, clumsy baby boy. She’d let Brigadeiro out that morning to relieve himself but, by the time she had finished getting ready and was about to let him back in, he was gone. He’d never run away before and her heart felt like it was going to hammer right out of her chest. Her face was likely a wreck because she’d been crying all morning long, unable to even look for him with her car because all the tires had been slashed. Instead, she had searched every inch of her own property and some of her neighbors’, trying to find him.

But none of that mattered the moment she answered her mobile and heard the wonderful news from Midge. The young Brazilian had never been happier than when she heard that he was alive and well and licking at pastries he shouldn’t be eating. So, when the trendy little SUV pulled into her drive, she beamed and bounded off the porch to meet the owner; long, dark hair blowing in the breeze as she ran.

When the car door opened, it was Brigadeiro that jumped over his new friend and ran right into Larissa’s arms. She hugged him close and cooed a litany of loving words near his ear as his tail wagged so fast it was mostly a blur.

Brigadeiro, my boy, she cried. I thought you were gone forever. I’m so glad you’re safe. Mamae loves you so much!

A soft chuckle came from a woman with short, shaggy hair as she stepped out of the car. She was dressed differently compared to most of the people in town. More modern and edgy; definitely city stock. But her eyes seemed kind and her smile was genuine as she moved closer and waited for the grand homecoming to die down.

I think he missed you, the stranger offered, extending her hand. Hi, I’m Sarah Chapman.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Larissa detected the American accent and had to work very hard not to roll her eyes. It wasn’t that she hated people from the US – it was that she couldn’t stand them. Still, this (no doubt) obnoxious American had brought her adored Brigadeiro back to her and for that she was grateful, so she stood and extended her hand.

Larissa Oliveira, she said confidently as she instituted a firm grip and then let go. Thank you for bringing him home. I really do appreciate it. I’m sure Midge told you that, if you’re ever in the area again, you can have all the coffee and pastries you can eat.

Which you won’t because you’re not the country type and you’re probably just dying to get out of it right now, the proud Brazilian thought to herself as she started to turn her body to walk toward the house, indicating the conversation was over.

***

Is she literally just shooing me away? Sarah wondered, taking in the gorgeous, but abysmally rude, woman before her. She’s got some nerve.

Hey, you might want to consider building a fence or something instead of just letting him run loose, the blonde offered flippantly before putting her sunglasses back on and turning back toward the car. And make it an electric one so your neighbors don’t try to steal your dog again.

As soon as the words reached her ears Larissa turned back and walked toward Sarah.

Excuse me? she asked. What do you mean a neighbor stole him?

Larissa had experienced some trouble with Tom before regarding her property line, and Brigadeiro’s occasional disregard of where it ended when he wished to relieve himself, but she had never thought Tom would actually do anything to hurt the dog.

Exactly what I said, Sarah replied, turning back and resting her arm on the open car door. That dog was about forty miles north of here in the bed of some asshole’s truck, taking a fist to the face. I know this is the country and things work differently but we’ve got leash laws in the city for a reason.

The mere idea of anyone hurting Brigadeiro seemed to make Larissa’s blood boil and the resulting anger, however misplaced, was now being aimed right at Sarah.

Yes, well, we’re not in the city, she said staunchly as she crossed her arms. We’re forty miles south. And here when we see someone hurting a poor defenseless animal, we stop them!

Sarah huffed out a frustrated laugh before answering back.

Yeah, well, I guess that’s the one area of overlap both of our kind have because I did stop the bastard. However, a glaring difference would appear to be the way we show our thanks. In my neck of the woods, we’re not so insulting to someone who sticks up for the ones we love.

And with that she sat in the car and slammed the door closed, turning the key in the ignition.

Shit, Larissa swore under her breath. She ran up to the car. Wait!

Sarah figured she’d only just realized how far she had gone to get Brigadeiro to safety and now she felt awful about allowing her preconceived notions to get the better of her.

Wait, please. She knocked on the window and breathed out a sigh of relief as it lowered. I’m sorry. I’ve just… I’ve had a really rough morning and I was taking it out on you, which was completely unfair. Please, don’t go just yet, let me pay for your petrol. Forty miles both ways is a really long way to go and I feel terrible that you’ve gone through all that fuel and had to deal with my rudeness on top of it.

Sarah cleared her throat but kept her sunglasses on as she answered.

You really don’t have to worry about that; it’s fine, she conceded. Just make sure to watch out. The guy I saw was big, balding and shy a few teeth. I got a picture of his plate when he was driving away; I can send it to you if you like. I’d imagine he’s probably also the one who slashed your tires.

Big and toothless… Larissa thought about it for a moment and her eyes widened. Oh my God, that’s David Thatcher! He’s a farmer that lives on the other side of town. Brigadeiro was in the café one day and he jumped on him and made him spill his coffee. The guy was livid! He went on about it so much that I had to threaten to call the police. You stood up to him to save a dog you didn’t even know?

The brown eyes were softer now and a little sad, which caused Sarah to loosen up a bit more. Taking off her sunglasses, she gave a wry smile.

Look, it wasn’t a big deal, she relented. Any decent person would have done the same. If I were you I’d invest in an alarm system, or maybe a security camera or two. This guy obviously has it out for you and your dog. Don’t give him any advantage. I can report him to the local authorities myself if you like.

No, no. That’s OK, Larissa replied. But please just let me go inside and get some money to give you for petrol. I honestly feel awful about all of this and I don’t want to feel that way the rest of the day, so just wait here. Please? While I run inside?

Sarah took a deep breath and offered a small smile.

OK, I’ll wait. But it’s really not necessary.

It is, Larissa countered and returned the smile before running inside, Brigadeiro chasing after her.

The blonde head shook but the smile stayed as Sarah checked her emails and awaited the woman’s return. She was startled from her skimming by a quick thud, followed by the sound of a whining dog.

Jesus Christ, she swore as she bolted out of the car and ran toward the house, slowing as she finally entered. Ms. Oliveira, are you alright?

There was no answer except for the clatter of claws on hardwood. Brigadeiro was bouncing around, trying to lead her somewhere. Sure enough, when she followed, she found the café owner’s limp body lying on the floor. It looked like she’d tripped on a dog bone while running through the kitchen. The fall must have knocked her unconscious.

Shit! Can today get any worse for this girl? Sarah said as she knelt down and checked for both breathing and a pulse, which were, thankfully, present. Ms. Oliveira, can you hear me?

A small groan finally made its way past Larissa’s lips and Sarah let out a loud sigh of relief.

Oh, good, OK. Can you talk? she asked. We need to get you to the hospital but I don’t know if I should move you.

I’m fine, the brunette answered, shaking her head and grimacing. I just hurt my head.

Raising her head, she put a hand near the area causing her the most pain. Her fingers came back red with blood.

Crap, she swore, before acquiescing. Maybe you’re right.

I’m normally right, Sarah replied.

She reached a hand under Larissa’s knees and placed the other beneath her back. Pulling Larissa’s body closer, she stood with only a slight effort and carried her towards the door. She’d once gotten some drunken instructions from a group of firemen at a bar after buying them a round of beers. She had figured knowing how to carry someone out of burning buildings would be beneficial one day. Not to mention she’d hoped it would help her pick up women. Literally and figuratively.

What the hell do you think you are doing? Larissa asked frantically.

Saving the day and getting yelled at for it... again.

Both women argued on the way to the car but, once inside, Larissa was in too much pain to continue. Sarah went back to lock up the house and bring her new passenger her purse and then tore out of the driveway and toward the road while her phone navigated her to the hospital. The email icon continued to light up but she had to ignore it for now. It would seem that she might not be making it back to work quite as early as she had thought.

Chapter 3

By the time they made it to the hospital, Larissa was not only ready to walk on her own, she was also determined to do so. In all her twenty-nine years on the planet, Sarah had never seen someone capable of walking into an ER be led back to a room straight away. She followed like an open-mouthed imbecile experiencing a technological breakthrough for the first time.

In the time it took the nurse to take down some notes and refer to the blonde as Larissa’s partner, twice, her phone had chimed with what she knew to be her text messages, not her email. She took a quick glance and noticed one of the messages was from Claire while the other was from Amber: the hot hipster she was supposed to be having hot hipster sex with that night. Suppressing the instinct to grumble, she pocketed the phone and placed her hands on her hips as the nurse finished up and left the room to retrieve the doctor.

You don’t have to stay, you know, Larissa said dully, obviously still in pain. I assume you probably have a lot of important stuff to take care of.

Realizing she’d been caught, Sarah shook her head and tried to not seem like an ass who was too tied to her job and her social life to care about a living, breathing human being who was in pain before her.

No, no. I’m just not really comfortable in hospitals… or with not checking my phone every five seconds. I realize it’s a nasty habit but I’m trying to get a handle on it. She searched her mind for a way to change the subject and moved to sit in the chair near the bed her patient was resting on. So, that nurse totally thought we were married or something. Your appearance doesn’t exactly scream ‘lesbian’. Am I really that obvious in these parts?

I doubt it’s just in these parts, the brunette fired back easily before adjusting the ice-pack against her head.

Sure, Sarah’s hair was short, and she hadn’t worn a dress since she was a teenager still living under her mother’s roof, but her features were feminine enough that she might be able to pass as straight if she tried. The thing she prided herself on was that she didn’t. She had an energy about her that reacted differently to women than it did to men. And she’d decided a long time ago that she would never stifle it for the comfort of others.

Oh, the executive scoffed. Your head can’t be hurt too badly, you’re still able to crack jokes at my expense.

The remark caused a smile to tug at soft, pink lips and Larissa seemed to relax more. I tried to tell you that while you were carrying me to your car like some nerd with a hero complex.

Yeah, well, is there a Mr. Oliveira that’s going to want to come kick my ass for being your extremely dashing and brave white knight? Sarah asked with a smirk. She tried to tell herself that she was asking the question to protect herself from any jealous husband that might show up for a fight but, really, she wanted to know because Larissa was attractive. Infuriating, sure, but still attractive.

Are you so gay that you don’t realize that marriage is normally accompanied by a ring on one’s finger? Larissa deadpanned.

Are you so insecure about being unmarried that you’re deflecting with sarcasm?

Before the banter could continue, the doctor walked into the room and introduced himself. He both worked and talked slower than any other doctors Sarah had witnessed in emergency rooms. In the time he took to check Larissa’s wound, she learned the café owner was from Brazil