The Summer Place - By Pamela Hearon Page 0,92

by a mellowness that settled over the group like a cozy wrap...for everyone except Summer.

A chunk of ice hung in her chest, occupying the area that had once held her heart.

Everyone sat in a semicircle on the beach, where the gentle waves lapping behind them should’ve been mesmerizing and calming in their regularity. But Summer’s insides were a matted, twisted conglomeration of emotions.

“I know all of you have seen a crow.” Rick’s mellow voice captured her attention. “But did you know that the crow wasn’t always black? Back in the earliest times, when the world was first created, the crow was the most beautiful bird of all. He had feathers the colors of the rainbow, and his song was the sweetest sound ever heard.”

Tara’s idea for each of the counselors to tell a story while dressed in costume had been a stroke of genius. The kids had remained entranced throughout Summer’s story of the ill-equipped fairy princess who tamed a dragon using only a bubble wand. Neil’s ninja tale, purposely chosen so he could be dressed in black for the next part he was to play in tonight’s drama, was a huge hit also.

Tara’s true story, told in full Irish brogue, of her great-grandmother’s coming to America during the potato famine had moved some of the girls to tears, giving Summer the perfect opportunity to wipe away the occasional tear of her own.

Now Rick, dressed in a Native American garb of buckskin, had the kids captivated by his tale. “Rainbow Crow couldn’t stand to see the animals freezing beneath the heavy snow and ice, so he told them, ‘I’ll go to the Creator and ask him to stop the cold.’ The journey was a long one. Rainbow Crow flew for three days and nights.”

So Rainbow Crow chose to be the hero. No wonder he chose that particular story. Summer forced her mouth into a smirk.

In contrast, her stomach churned of its own accord as she remembered the way she’d lashed out at him, saying what she had about Dunk. It needed to be said. He needed to hear it. But that kind of thing shouldn’t have been spewed in retaliation.

The look on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen. Anguish personified. She’d been angry...lashed out to hurt him...wanted him to feel some of the pain she carried.

Well, she’d been successful there.

But instead of vindication, her guts were twisted by shame.

She brushed away another tear.

“I was trying to be your hero.”

No one had ever tried to be her hero—except her dad.

“The Creator jabbed the end of the stick into the sun, allowing it to catch fire, then he handed it to Rainbow Crow. ‘Take this back to Earth,’ he said. ‘It is fire and it holds the warmth you seek to save your world.’”

Rick’s eyes met Summer’s for only a split second, but long enough for her to be reminded of the fire she’d seen in them when they made love. The chunk of ice in her chest melted a little. She could feel the trickle worming its way through her, leaving a warm trail where it meandered.

“Rainbow Crow flew and flew as fast as he could, afraid the fire would go out before he reached Earth.”

Summer filled her eyes with the striking image Rick posed. An exterior chiseled out of granite, yet a touch tender enough to calm a scared child...or melt a woman’s heart. Hers.

“Too close to the sun and his beautiful rainbow tail feathers were scorched black...”

Even now, she wanted to undo the leather laces holding his shirt closed and press against the taut ripples of his stomach. Wanted to pull a feather from his headdress and stroke it along his length, drawing grunts of pleasure.

“Too close to the moon, which scorched the lovely feathers on his wings and body to a dull black, also...”

She wanted to look him straight in the eye and tell him she was crazy for being so crazy about him...but looking at him turned her brain matter to goo.

“The smoke burned his throat until his beautiful voice was choked out...”

Pulling her eyes away from Rick, she picked up a stick and scratched in the dirt at her feet. Next week, when there wouldn’t be any kids, and she’d had time to get over the shock of losing the camp and her life’s dream, they’d be able to talk...without all the drama.

“Because of his unselfish acts, the Creator coated the crow’s charred, black feathers with a beautiful gloss that would still show the

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