The Summer's Child Read online

  “You mean you haven’t been following my career on TV?” She demanded. Lisabeth laughed.

  “I mean, I did watch you at the Oscars,” Lisabeth admitted. “I must admit, I’m quite jealous. I auditioned for that role too.”

  “Oh no,” Paul, the husband, murmured, sighing. “Lisabeth , no.”

  “Paul, I must tell them! Elles doivent savoir!” Samantha rolled her eyes.

  “I still understand French, Lisabeth,” she told her. Lisabeth snorted.

  “You never understood French, Sam,” she dismissed her.

  “Rude,” Samantha murmured, catching Roelle’s eye and grinning. Roelle smiled back, and swallowed.

  The waiter, as if hearing Roelle’s distress call, came over at this exact moment, taking their order. Samantha and Lisabeth debated for several minutes about what they should eat, but finally decided on a tapas style meal with a variety of different starters.

  The way she talked to Samantha irked Roelle; the way she called her ‘Sam,’ and waved Samantha’s protested about how she didn’t want snail made Roelle stiffen in annoyance. Lisabeth reached out and touched Samantha’s arm to get her attention, and Roelle clenched her jaw.

  Once they finished with that, Lisabeth caught Roelle’s eye and smiled. “You,” she said, grinning at Roelle, “are mentioned in many articles with Samantha.”

  “Well, we’re dating.” The words were out of Roelle’s mouth before she could stop them. She closed her eyes and leaned forward on her elbows with a small sigh, trying to not look at Samantha. “I mean, we’re here on a couples vacation,” she added quietly. Lisabeth stared at Roelle’ for one moment longer before she broke out in a grin.

  “Sam!” She punched Samantha in the arm. “Why didn’t you say so! There were rumors on the internet, but you know what the internet is like!”

  “Yes,” Samantha said with frown in Roelle’s direction. “I know.”

  The food arrived, and the conversation shifted.

  Throughout the conversations, Roelle could feel herself getting more stressed. They served the food, and although some of the selections looked amazing, like the baked brie, Roelle couldn’t concentrate.

  She couldn’t believe this.

  Less than twelve hours ago she had asked Samantha to respect her wishes and not lie, and then what had happened? She had panicked, and lied. She took another long gulp of water, and stared at the table cloth.

  “We’re going to go to the bathroom,” Samantha announced half way through the meal, slipping her hand into Roelle’s. Roelle looked down, confused, and then nodded.

  “Okay,” she agreed. Lisabeth gave her a sympathetic smile, and then Samantha whisked her off.

  “Roe, why did you do that?” she asked, the second they walked into the bathroom. Roelle laughed, though it sounded hysterical to her.

  “I don’t know!” she admitted, leaning against the sink and breathing out. “I panicked!”

  “Why?” Roelle covered her face.

  “I don’t know,” She muttered. Samantha stepped towards her and traced the skin on Roelle’s arms gently.

  “Are you okay?” She murmured. Roelle breathed out.

  “No,” she murmured.

  “Why not?” Samantha asked quietly.

  “I feel weird,” Roelle admitted. Samantha bit her lip.

  “Do you feel sick?” She asked, tilting her head.

  “No, just…” Roelle sighed. “Just anxious.”

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “I don’t want to ruin your dinner.”

  “You’re more important than dinner.” Roelle laughed humorlessly.

  “That’s a big compliment from you, Samantha.”

  “Roe, I’m not kidding. You’re super important. Do you want us to leave? We can leave. Do you want me to tell Lisabeth we’re engaged to be married and I love you to the end of the world, I’ll tell her that. What can I do to help?”

  “It’s just - social anxiety,” Roelle murmured, her hands dropping back to her sides. “It’s okay.” Samantha looked at her for a long second, and then pulled out her phone.

  “How many roaming minutes do I have?”

  “What?”

  “How many roaming minutes do I have?”

  “Like...twenty I think?”

  “Okay.” Samantha hit speed dial, and waited.

  “Charlie, I need you to do an exit call for me.” Pause. Samantha rolled her eyes. “Yes, I know I’m in France,” she said in exasperation, “so it will seem more dramatic.” Another pause. “Actually, I have roaming minutes, thanks to Roe.” Pause. “I know! I’m such an adult. No, but seriously. Call me in five minutes. And make up something good.”

  Charlie didn’t make anything good up, forcing Samantha to improvise at the table, and although Lisabeth gave them an odd look, they managed to escape dinner without offending anyone. Roelle felt her chest release when they left the bistro, and she giggled when Samantha started trying to flip their hotel umbrella while they walked.

  “Where are we going?” She asked.

  “We’re going to get ice cream,” Samantha said, grinning. Roelle tilted her head.

  “Why?” She asked. Samantha handed Roelle her phone. The two texts on it were from Alise Low, which said getting ice cream always helps calm her down, and Janine, which said ice cream ice cream ice cream. “You texted Lise and Jan?”

  “And Julie, but she seems to be busy right now,” Samantha admitted with a small smile. “I’m glad there is a consensus though. Two differing opinions and I would have freaked.” Roelle looked up, curious.

  “What did you say?” She asked.

  “You can read the texts, you know.”

  “What’s your lock code?”

  “The day we became friends.” Roelle rolled her eyes.

  “Oh man, you’re embarrassing.”

  “I’m embarrassing, but I’m getting us good ice cream, so shush.”

  “Good according to whom?”

  “Lisabeth. She said it’s the best in this village.”

  “Then let’s go get that.”

  Lisabeth was right; the ice cream was amazing. Roelle chose Coffee and Chocolate, and the two flavors complimented each other perfectly. After they got their ice creams, they slowly started walking back in the direction of the hotel. Roelle looked around them, and sighed.

  “Do you miss home?” She asked. Samantha glanced at her, and shrugged.

  “Do you?” She asked, instead of answering. Roelle smiled.

  “Sometimes,” she admitted with a small shrug. Samantha frowned in surprise.

  “Why?” She asked.

  “No one cared about me,” Roelle said with a small smile. Samantha’s frown deepened.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Oh no, that sounded too dramatic. I meant it more in like...well, no one cared what small-time actress Roelle was doing because I was just a newbie. Like, I was doing well, but there was none of this pressure.” Samantha tilted her head.

  “And in Chicago, there’s pressure?” She asked, frowning.

  “I mean, i know if I went back to Sweden, there would be pressure there too. Pressure and prestige go hand in hand, and i have to respect it. But, some days I just wish I could just be Roe, a nerd from California.”

  “Well, I love working with that nerd, and that’s all that matters right?” Samantha grinned at her, clearly teasing, but it took all of Roelle’s willpower not to say yes, you’re all I need.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Although Roelle’s alarm didn’t wake Samantha, Roelle getting out of bed to perform her yoga exercises did. Samantha yawned and stretched, and then burrowed further under the blanket, grabbing her (charged) phone from the night table.

  Best friend Charlie: I love this

  Best friend Charlie: you’re blowing up the internet again

  Samantha: what!?

  Best friend Charlie: check twitter

  “Retirement rumors,” Samantha said, surprised. Roelle opened
one eye. Samantha didn’t elaborate. Roelle opened the other. Samantha was just silently gaping at her phone, and despite her glare.

  “What?” she asked, annoyed that Samantha hadn’t elaborated. Samantha looked up, and grinned sheepishly.

  “The newest theory is we’re here because we’re giving up acting and moving to Lyon,” she said. Roelle snorted and closed her eyes again.

  “Lyon?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Samantha chuckled.

  “According to the media, yes.”

  “Fun.”

  “Always.” Roelle opened one eye again.

  “What are you smirking about?” She demanded.

  “None of these articles are speculating we’re together -- they all have established it as a given,” she explained, chuckling. “Four Four Two writes “Roelle and Samantha, who would naturally make this move together.” Like? Really?” Roelle huffed, feeling her chest tightened with panic. Samantha was probably laughing this off, but really angry with her. This is why Roelle hated the fucking media; they made such big things out of nothing. She and Samantha were totally separate, unique individuals whose plans didn’t depend on each other.

  “We’re independent people!” she complained. “Someone needs to tell this author that we clearly have our own lives.” Samantha raised an eyebrow at Roelle. Roelle felt her stomach tense up with dread - was Samantha about to tell her they did too much together. They should stop hanging out.

  “Do we though?” She asked, teasing. Roelle could hear the teasing note in her voice, and yet she felt her entire chest tense. She gave up any pretence of meditation and rolled her eyes at Samantha.

  “What does that mean?” she asked. Samantha shrugged and got out of bed, stretching.

  “I mean – other than visiting my family, I don’t think I did anything without you last year?” She offered, yawning. Roelle frowned, pushing down the rising panic in her throat. Is this how Samantha was going to tell her they should stop being so close?

  “Of course you did,” she said briskly..

  “I mean, I spent the first half of the year preparing for the role, and the second half recovering from it, and it was all with you,” Samantha pointed out. Roelle snorted.

  “Please,” she dismissed quickly. “It was with the entire cast.”

  “Rarely,” Samantha pointed out. “Don’t frown at me like that! It’s true.”

  “We do things apart,” Roelle said briskly, getting up and poking through her wardrobe, purposefully looking away from Samantha so she couldn’t see the blush creeping up her cheek.

  “It’s true,” Samantha mused. “You do way more stuff than me. Like thanksgiving!”

  “It’s true. Okay, so now we’ve found one holiday we spent without each other,” Roelle said quickly, looking down at her clothes. “We’re friends. This is what friends do.” Samantha opened her mouth, remembering the way her heart skipped every time she was around Roelle, but instead, closed it again. There was no point. She walked into the bathroom so Roelle wouldn’t see her face fall. She splashed her face with cold water, and, putting on a jovial tone, called over to Roelle.

  “What’s on the schedule today, Roely Poly?” Roelle finally straightened up and glanced over at her.

  “Surfing lessons!” She said, matching Samantha’s joviality. Samantha’s head shot up.

  “Surfing lessons?” She asked, genuinely interested now. Roelle smiled.

  “Yeah!”

  “Why the heck would you get surfing lessons from some French person when you could get them from me!” Samantha demanded, toweling off her face and coming to lean in the bathroom doorway.

  “Oh. Well, I forgot -” Roelle started, but Samantha crossed her arms and interrupted her.

  “I am so offended right now,” she said in mock offense.

  “Anyway, Janine tried to teach me once -”

  “You think I’m gonna use the same methods as Janine?” Samantha interrupted again, raising an eyebrow. Roelle laughed.

  “Good point,” she conceded, shooting Samantha a genuine grin. “Let me rephrase today’s plan then. Samantha, will you teach me how to surf?” Samantha returned with a giant grin.

  “And here I thought you’d never ask.” Roelle felt some of her anxiety untwist itself. Samantha looked so genuinely pleased as she strode across the room and picked up some clothes. Roelle glanced at the time and frowned.

  “What are you doing?” She asked.

  “Getting dressed?” Samantha offered, confused.

  “We still have more than hour and a half before breakfast.” Samantha grinned.

  “You forget that surfing is an early riser’s thing. No breakfast until afterwards. Come on, we have things to do.” Roelle blinked, taken aback.

  “Seriously?” She asked, amazed.

  “Yes!”

  “Can I shower?”

  “No,” Samantha said without looking up from where she was riffling through her clothes, “you’re going to be in the ocean in thirty minutes.” Roelle laughed.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen you this bouncy without coffee,” she admitted.

  “Acting and surfing are the only two things that do that to me.”

  “Acting?” Roelle raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Samantha laughed. “You have to be ready in twelve minutes,” she said, instead of answering. “Hurry!”

  “Why?” Roelle asked, amazed, even though she did rush to the wardrobe and pulled out her bikini.

  “That’s when the surf shop opens and we can rent boards.”

  “Wait, we’re renting individual ones?”

  “We can surf on one board together Roelle.” Roelle made a face.

  “Are you sure about that?” She asked.

  “Put on your bathing suit. We have shit to do.” Roelle grinned and saluted Samantha.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  It turned out that although Samantha could say nothing in French at the hotel, or even at the bistro with Lisabeth, she could talk to the man behind the counter about surfing equipment, the weather conditions and what things Roelle needed. They spoke in a weird combination of English and French, but seem to understand each other well with enough hand gestures.

  Roelle focused on Samantha and her surf man again; she frowned when they dismissed wet suits, but she didn’t understand much of anything else until the man started estimating her height for a board. He handed her the biggest board she’d ever seen, and she gaped.

  “This is for me?” She asked, gaping.

  “Yes.”

  “Why? It’s so big! Shouldn’t I get a smaller one? For beginners?”

  “The bigger ones are the beginner ones. It means you have more balance on the water,” Samantha explained. Roelle frowned.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Roelle sighed. “Okay,” she mumbled, looking at the board skeptically again.

  “And here’s your leash,” Samantha hummed, handing her a piece of rope that felt kind of like a bungee cord.

  “What? What is this?” Roelle asked, totally bewildered.

  “It’s attached to the surfboard, so you don’t lose it.”

  “Why would I lose it? I’m standing on it, aren’t I?” Roelle asked, frowning. Samantha smirked.

  “You’re going to fall,” she explained to her. Roelle glared at Samantha.

  “What?” She demanded, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not going to fall.” Samantha’s grin widened.

  “You’re right,” she teased: “You’re going to fall a lot.”

  “Really?” Roelle raised an eyebrow. “I would love to remind you that I am very good at balancing.” Samantha smirked and patted her back.

  “Trust me. Even I have a leash,” she said, holding up her own piece of rope.

  “What’s that meant to mean.”

  “It means I’m a lot better than you. How did Janine teach you to surf?”

  “On her board. Without any leash. And in the shallows.”

  “Wow, she�
�s a terrible teacher.”

  “I thought she was excellent!”

  “And yet you can’t surf.”

  “Well -”

  “It’s okay, I promise I’ll make you psyched about this.”

  “I don’t really buy into water sports, you know.”

  “I think you’re probably the worst Californian out there.”

  “How rude.”

  “I’m sorry, it’s true. Now, here.” Samantha handed Roelle her board and leash and picked up her own. “We’re done here for the moment. We need to go down to the water now.”

  “What? Your surfboard is tiny!” Roelle complained, frowning.

  “I know.”

  “What do you mean, you know? I can barely carry this!”

  “Use those nice biceps, Roelle.” Samantha threw her a rueful grin.

  “God, you’re the worst. Wait, why aren’t we going over there?” Roelle asked, pointing to the beach where several other surfers were getting ready to enter the water.

  “You need to go somewhere with small, gentle waves that preferably break in deeper water for your first ever surfing experience, not where the crowds are. The shop owner recommended a small cover about ten minutes from here.”

  “I have to carry this for ten minutes?” Roelle asked, agape. Samantha raised an eyebrow.

  “Do you want to trade?” She offered. Roelle pouted.

  “No,” she grumbled. Samantha smirked.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Once they reached the cove Samantha had mentioned, Roelle could see why the man had told them to come here. There seemed to be an unexpected drop in the beach about two meters into the water, so she could see why it wasn’t a popular spot with the locals, as it suddenly became very deep, and the water changed colors from turquoise to a dark indigo.

  Samantha stuck her board in the sand vertically, and then started stretching. Roelle frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “The pre-surf warm-up and stretching is an important part of your surfing routine,” she informed her as she reached down to touch her toes. “I know surfing doesn’t look like much of a sport, but it actually requires really tight core strength, and I don’t want to pull something first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s - smart,” Roelle admitted, surprised, and then started copying Samantha’s stretches.