The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(39)

Over dinner, he grills the pastor about his plans for the church and the services he offers the community. He grills Donna about how she spends her day and ponders whether she might be able to carve out more time to run a church women’s club if she spent less time on the garden.

I want to choke the guy with my bare hands long before he turns to me.

“And what about you, Juliet? The Allens gave you an amazing opportunity, removing you from

your home the way they did. Surely you don’t plan to squander it.”

My cheeks heat. I didn’t realize, until this moment, that Mr. Tomlinson knew about my past. I thought I was here as Danny’s girlfriend, not as some bad-girl-made-good. Donna winces, staring at her plate, but it’s Luke I notice most. His eyes are narrowed and he’s gripping his fork so tight it’s putting Donna’s flatware at risk

“I’m taking classes at the community college this fall,” I finally reply.

“Yes, dear,” he says, “but what is your plan? Surely you don’t intend to continue depending on the pastor’s charity for the rest of your life?”

Luke’s hand lands on the table so heavily we all jump. Everyone dismisses it, as if it was an accident, but I suspect—based on that locked jaw of his—it was not.

“We love having Juliet here,” Donna says, her voice ringing with sincerity. “If it were up to me, she would stay forever.”

“But what about the mission you talked about opening in Central America?” he asks. “You’ve talked about that plan for a decade.”

I look up from my plate. I knew Donna had vaguely discussed the possibility of one day opening a mission somewhere. I didn’t know it was a certainty.

Donna gives him a diplomatic smile, accompanied by a small shrug. “We’re still young. There’s time for all that later. Besides, we wouldn’t want to go until Danny was out of school. It’s going to take all of us to make this work.”

My mouth falls open as I look from her to Danny. She thinks he’d go with them? Is that what he thinks too?

It’s the oddest thing, but the idea of them leaving doesn’t fill me with fear—it fills me with light.

If the Allens are leaving, then I could leave… them. That plan, the one that’s been percolating in the back of my head for months, suddenly becomes a possibility. I’m not even sure I knew it was percolating there, until this moment.

I’ve been claiming to anyone who will listen that I’ve got no clue what I want to do with my life.

Maybe I had a clue after all…I just couldn’t see how to make room for it.

Mr. Tomlinson returns to me, unaware or perhaps just ambivalent about the chaos he has brought to the table. “That, my dear, is why you need some kind of long-range plan. You need to create a goal for yourself beyond community college.”

It’s impossible to miss the slight disdain in his voice, as if he already knows I won’t be making anything of myself, as if he already knows that I’m never going to get this degree—one he clearly considers worthless anyhow.

“I’ve been thinking about moving to LA,” I reply. It feels like a lie—it’s not as if I seriously thought about it. It was a dream, not so different from my dreams of attending Hogwarts when I was small. But maybe the only difference between a dream and a plan is how committed you are to making it happen. “Once I save enough money, I mean. What I’d really like to do is sing.”



Luke’s gaze meets mine. His eyes blaze with something…hopeful?

“But, Juliet, you don’t have to go all the way to LA to do that,” Donna says, a hint of desperation in her voice. “You can stay right here. Get a degree in music and teach at the high school.”

I picture it: me in a beige skirt and cheap flats, leading a bunch of apathetic teens through scales and tepid acapella versions of pop songs.

“That is an excellent idea,” says Mr. Tomlinson.

They think LA is a childish dream, one that will leave me homeless, playing guitar on a street corner and begging for change.

“She doesn't want to teach,” Luke says between his teeth. “She wants to sing.” He stares at his plate, but it feels like his anger is directed at Donna, the last person who deserves it.

“They’re right,” I say quietly, because I can’t stand to hear Donna criticized, even subtly. “LA is probably a pipe dream. I need a back-up plan.”

Donna smiles and reaches out to cover my hand with hers, rewarding me for saying the right thing.

It’s a little pat on the head, and like the child I am, I relish it.

Except…Luke was right. And if I were braver, if I were brave like him, I would have told them all the truth.

Later that night, after Tomlinson is gone and the kitchen is clean, Danny and I sit on the front porch, alone for the first time all day. “Did you realize your mom assumes you’ll move to Central America with them?” I ask.

He shrugs. I guess that’s a yes. “I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna play pro ball. It might be okay, you know? My mom wants to open a school there too. It’ll take a while, but eventually…I could teach business and you could teach music. We wouldn’t have a lot of money, but I don’t guess we’d need it, either. Everything’s cheap down there, and we could probably grow a lot of our own food.”