The Summer They Never Forgot. Kandy Shepherd
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caught her out. Was teasing her. Like he’d used to do. With no brothers, an all-girls school and zero dating experience, she hadn’t been used to boys. Never hurtful or mean, his happy-go-lucky ways had helped get her over that oversensitivity. It was just one of the ways he’d helped her grow up.
‘You’re right,’ she said, relaxing into a smile. ‘Old habits die hard. The raspberry brownie with chocolate fudge sauce does appeal.’ The birthday cake you had when you weren’t having a birthday cake. But she wouldn’t admit to that.
‘That brownie is so good you’ll want to order two servings,’ he said.
Like you used to.
The unspoken words hung between them. Their eyes met for a moment too long to be comfortable. She was the first to look away.
Ben signalled the waiter. As he waved, Sandy had to suppress a gasp at the ugly raised scars that distorted the palms of his hands. What had happened? A fishing accident?
Quickly she averted her eyes so he wouldn’t notice her shock. Or see the questions she didn’t dare ask.
Not now. Not yet.
She rushed to fill the silence that had fallen over their table. ‘It’s been a—’
He finished the sentence for her. ‘Long time?’
‘Yes,’ was all she was able to get out. ‘I was only thinking about you a minute ago and wondering...’
She felt the colour rise up her throat to stain her cheeks. As she’d walked away from the information kiosk and towards the hotel hadn’t she been remembering how Ben had kissed her all those years ago, as they’d lain entwined on the sand in the shadows at the back of the Morgan family’s boat shed? Remembering the promises they’d made to each other between those breathless kisses? Promises she’d really, truly believed.
She felt again as gauche and awkward as she had the night she’d first danced with him, at a bushfire brigade fundraiser dance at the surf club a lifetime ago. Unable to believe that Ben Morgan had actually singled her out from the summer people who’d invaded the locals’ dance.
After their second dance together he’d asked her if she had a boyfriend back home. When she’d shaken her head, he’d smiled.
‘Good,’ he’d said. ‘Then I don’t have to go up to Sydney and fight him for you.’
She’d been so thrilled she’d actually felt dizzy.
The waiter arrived at their table.
‘Can I get you another drink?’ Ben asked.
‘Um, diet cola, please.’
What was wrong with her? Why was she so jittery and on edge?
As a teenager she’d always felt relaxed with Ben, able to be herself. She’d gone home to Sydney a different person from the one who had arrived for that two-week holiday in Dolphin Bay.
She had to stop being so uptight. This was the same Ben. Older, but still Ben. He seemed the same laid-back guy he’d been as her teenage heartthrob. Except—she suppressed a shudder—for the horrendous scarring on his hands.
‘Would you believe this is the first time I’ve been back this way since that summer?’ she said, looking straight into his eyes. She’d used to tell him that eyes so blue were wasted on a man and beg him to swap them for her ordinary hazel-brownish ones.
‘It’s certainly the first time I’ve seen you here,’ he said easily.
Was he, too, remembering those laughing intimacies they’d once shared? Those long discussions of what they’d do with their lives, full of hopes and dreams and youthful optimism? Their resolve not to let the distance between Dolphin Bay and Sydney stop them from seeing each other again?
If he was, he certainly didn’t show it. ‘So what brings you back?’ he asked.
It seemed a polite, uninterested question—the kind a long-ago acquaintance might ask a scarcely remembered stranger who’d blown unexpectedly into town.
‘The sun, the surf and the dolphins?’ she said, determined to match his tone.
He smiled. ‘The surf’s as good as it always was, and the dolphins are still here. But there must be something else to bring a city girl like you to this particular backwater.’
‘B...backwater? I wouldn’t call it that,’ she stuttered. ‘I’m sorry if you think I—’ The gleam in his blue eyes told her he wasn’t serious. She recovered herself. ‘I’m on my way from Sydney through to Melbourne. I saw the turn to this wonderful non-backwater town and here I am. On impulse.’
‘It’s nice you decided to drop in.’ His words were casual, just the right thing to say. Almost too casual. ‘So, how do you find the place?’
She’d never had to lie with Ben. Still, she was in the habit of being tactful. And this was Ben’s hometown.
‘I can’t tell you how overjoyed I was to see those dolphin rubbish bins still there.’
Ben laughed, his strong, even teeth very white against his tan.
That laugh. It still had the power to warm her. Her heart did a curious flipping over thing as she remembered all the laughter they’d shared that long-ago summer. No wonder she’d recognised it instantly.
‘Those hellish things,’ he said. ‘There’s always someone on the progress association who wants to rip them out, but they’re always shouted down.’
‘Thank heaven for that,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be Dolphin Bay without them.’
‘People have even started a rumour that if the dolphins are removed it will be the end of Dolphin Bay.’
She giggled. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘The rubbish bins go and as punishment we’ll be struck by a tsunami. Or some other calamity.’
He rolled his eyes. Just like he’d used to do. That hidden part of her heart marked ‘first love’ reacted with a painful lurch. She averted her gaze from his mouth and that intriguing, sexy little scar.
She remembered the hours of surfing with him, playing tennis on that old court out at the back of the guesthouse. The fun. The laughter. Those passionate, heartfelt kisses. Oh, those kisses—his mouth hard and warm and exciting on hers, his tongue exploring, teasing. Her body straining to his...
The memories gave her the courage to ask the question. It was now or never. ‘Ben. It was a long time ago. But...but why didn’t you write like you said you would?’
For a long moment he didn’t answer and she tensed. Then he shrugged. ‘I never was much for letters. After you didn’t answer the first two I didn’t bother again.’
An edge to his voice hinted that his words weren’t as carefree as they seemed. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘You wrote me two letters?’
‘The day after you went home. Then the week after that. Like I promised to.’
Her mouth went suddenly dry. ‘I never got a letter. Never. Or a phone call. I always wondered why...’
No way would she admit how, day after day, she’d hung around the letterbox, hoping against hope that he’d write. Her strict upbringing had meant she was very short on dating experience and vulnerable to doubt.
‘Don’t chase after boys,’ her mother had told her, over and over again. ‘Men are hunters. If he’s interested he’ll come after you. If he doesn’t you’ll only make a fool of yourself by throwing yourself at him.’
But in spite of her mother’s advice she’d tried to phone Ben. Three times she’d braved a phone call to the guesthouse but had hung up without identifying herself when his father had answered. On the third time his father had told her not to ring