Free A Summer to Remember by Marilyn Pappano Page A

margarita girls, Elliot was good people. She would be better for knowing him than not knowing him.
    “Anyway, Mouse and I found a pretty spot at Tall Grass Lake. Water’s still cold for skinny-dipping, but the sun’s shining, the wildflowers are blooming, and there’s lots of peace and quiet. I thought maybe we could share it with you if it’s not too late to ask. Just give me a call.” A moment of fumbling came through the phone, then he spoke again, his voice huskier, more Texan. “By the way, if you were thinking of kissing me good night last night, you should have gone ahead and done it, because I was sure thinking about doing it to you. And I know you were. You get this look…You had it in the truck Friday and on your porch last night. Come have fun with us today, and I’ll show you the look I get after I’ve been kissed.” He followed with another Call me , then the automated voice asked her to save or delete the message.
    She saved it.
    Fia’s mouth curled in a crooked victorious smile. They’d stood on the porch just before Elliot had left last night, the air heavy and damp and close, the night sounds muffled, the heat simmering off both of them. Only two feet had separated them. Two feet was no obstruction, not even when her feet were pointing every which way but right. Hell, she could trip and fall that far.
    But she hadn’t. She’d wanted to almost as much as she’d wanted her next breath, but ugly words kept echoing in her head: Bad days. Sick. Getting worse. Not a stroke, not MS, not MG. Needy. Exhausted. Burden. Burden. Burden.
    All her life, until Scott, she’d been a burden—to her parents, grandparents, schools, the system. Scott was the first person who’d ever looked at her and seen a woman worth having. He’d made her want to be a better person, to want to deserve him. Thank God, he’d never had to know what happened to her after his death. It would have broken his heart.
    I’d still be here. For better or worse, remember?
    She smiled. She wasn’t the only margarita girl who talked to her husband. They found comfort or reassurance, sought hope and the enduring love they’d shared, vented their frustration, or did it out of habit.
    “But you took vows,” she said as she rubbed the second towel over her hair. “You knew what you were getting into the first time you asked me to dance. You knew I was crazy and wild.”
    Crazy’s just an opinion, and wild can be tamed—but no more than a little bit. I loved a healthy dose of wild.
    Feeling a little steadier, she returned to the bathroom to dry off, then dress. “I’m not the girl you met, Scott. I was young and energetic and full of hope and defiance. And kinda cute, too. You would have those memories to hold on to. But Elliot’s never known the real me. He’d be getting some pasty version of what I used to be, and all it would be for him is work. Disappointment. Medical bills.” She paused before bitterly adding, “A burden.”
    After shimmying her dress over her hips, she sank down on the commode. “No guy in his right mind is looking for a burden. No guy would listen to my story, watch me on a bad day, then ever show his face again.”
    Her voice came out on a self-pitying exhale.
    “I really want to see his face again.”
    *  *  *
    Elliot had been totally honest when he told Fia’s voice mail that he’d found a pretty spot at the lake, though he may have left the impression that it was a more recent discovery. When he’d left her house last night, he’d been too wired to sleep so he’d taken an aimless tour of the town, saw a sign for the lake, and followed it, and he’d been rewarded with exactly the kind of place he liked to spend the night.
    The lake was a few miles out of town, and the spot he’d chosen was a ways off the road. The first spring mowing hadn’t taken place yet, so the weeds were high, but the wildflowers blooming among them were a dozen shades of yellow and purple and white. He’d parked at