Free A Summer to Remember by Marilyn Pappano

she could invite Elliot, the woman inside her whispered, and heat filtered through her veins. She hadn’t enjoyed an evening so much since…too long. The food, the conversation, the serious interest in his eyes, and that whole calm-peace-satisfaction thing he had going. The entire evening she’d felt alive and tingly and aware of possibilities she thought she’d said good-bye to.
    This morning, reality and its limitations fizzled the heat and left her feeling weary and hopeless. Damn, she hated feeling hopeless!
    Slowly sitting up, she threw back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. Warrior girl didn’t lie in bed moping around, especially when her bladder was full, and blurred vision or not, it was way past time to start the day. Nausea tumbled in her stomach when she stood, but after a moment it passed, and she headed to the closet, grabbing a dress from its hanger, snatched up underwear from a drawer, then made her way to the bathroom.
    After washing down her morning medications and brushing her teeth, she climbed into the shower. While she was luxuriating in the sensation of hot water pounding her body, her left hand began to curl, the fingers bending, pulling into a fist of their own accord. She watched, the image still fuzzy, regret sour in her stomach, and wondered how bad it would get this time. Would her right hand follow suit? Would the muscles in her arms and shoulders tighten until her wrists were drawn inward against her chest, her arms basically useless until the spasm or whatever the hell it was passed? Would her feet start to turn in, too, forcing her to walk on the outside of her ankles, her calf muscles knot, her speech turn slurry like she’d been on a three-day drunk?
    Please, God, no. She wanted to go to the cookout. To see her friends. To see Elliot. To be normal just one more day.
    But even as she prayed, the cramps started in her right hand and her fingers began to bend as if pulled by invisible cords attached to the tips. Cautiously she slid one foot forward, then the other, until she was directly under the flow of water and let every bit of lather wash away before nudging the faucet to Off. She climbed out carefully, wrapped a bath sheet around her, then sank to the floor, pretending that she wanted to sit there, pretending that the moisture on her cheeks was dripping from her wet hair.
    Fia didn’t know how long she might have sat there—the whole day?—if the cell phone hadn’t rung. Her gaze went automatically to the counter before she remembered it was on the nightstand. All the crap she’d gone through the past year, and she still couldn’t remember to keep the damn phone with her. Getting up took time, pushing herself first to sit on the edge of the tub, then on the commode, finally making it to her feet. Nausea rushed through her again and, thankfully, passed just as quickly, and with her fisted hand, she scooped up a towel to blot her hair as she shuffled to the bedroom.
    “Warrior girl, my ass,” she snorted as she squinted at the cell screen, trying to decipher the jumbled letters showing on caller ID. “Only twenty-four, and you need one of those phones for old people with a super-big display and numbers.”
    Giving up on ID’ing the caller, she stabbed uncooperative fingers to call up the voice mail. It was worth every wince and mistake.
    “Hey, Fia. It’s Elliot.” A bark sounded in the background, and he chuckled, adding, “And Mouse. I wanted to thank you for a nice evening.” His voice turned teasing. “You’re making me feel at home here, you know that? Are you sure you want that?”
    Oh, hell, yes, I want it. Of course, it was just infatuation at this point, but the idea of Elliot settling in Tallgrass, of running into him from time to time, maybe going out with him from time to time…Just knowing he was there would soothe something in her soul. Not a romantic something, just a lifelong need to know there were good people around. Like Scott and the