"Man, nobody makes lemonade like Kira," Uncle Joe says, smacking his lips and placing his empty glass on the tabletop.

We're sitting in the Crofts' kitchen, sharing a pitcher of frosty homemade lemonade while we have a deep and impressive discussion about how redirection by subsurface interfaces is used in the seismic-refraction method to measure the time a seismic-energy pulse takes to travel from a source point to several receivers.

I have no idea why we care, but it is pretty fascinating and feels really important.

I understand about half of it; the rest of the things Uncle Joe says are way too technical. I love listening to him, though. When he becomes passionate about a topic, he always adds sound effects and animated gestures and uses the things around him to turn it into a cool experiment. His whole personality changes from tranquil and stoic to enthusiastic and fun. He used the lemonade in his glass to demonstrate some of his theories, but then he accidentally drank it all.

"That's for sure," I agree, grinning at him. There's nothing like Kicks' cold, tangy lemonade, filled with crushed ice on a hot day; though it's early evening now and the sun is almost under, it still goes down smoothly. It's doing a lot to wash away the nervous tension closing up my throat.

"What's up, Ethe," Uncle Joe asks, and I look at him in surprise. I thought I was doing a pretty good job hiding my feelings. I even said some things about seismic-energy pulses as if I knew what I was talking about. I didn't.

I swear the guy is at least partially psychic.

I've always been an open book to him. Sometimes, it's great because he can just tell me what I'm feeling or thinking when I'm not entirely sure. Other times, it's a bit disturbing. Like when he catches me thinking about his daughter and how I'm going to stop her from running away from me and from the feelings I think she might have for me, even if it means I have to kiss her all the time.

"Nothing, really," I shrug, knowing it is futile to try and keep things from him. "I'm a bit nervous. I usually go to the dance with the guys and we just hang out and play on the beach and stuff. I'm not sure I know how to make it special for Kira. I don't want to upset her or make her angry again. I also don't want her to be bored."

That is not the whole truth, but it's not a lie either.

"Just be yourself," he shrugs, pouring each of us another glass of lemonade from the pitcher, creating a small wet pool of condensation on the tabletop. Between us, we've drunk almost all its content. I'm going to need a bathroom soon.

"I'm usually told to behave and not be myself," I laugh, lifting the glass to my lips and savouring the tangy sweetness when I take a sip.

"Can't you do both?" he asks, and he really should know better by now.

"No," I say, pulling a face. "Of course not."

Uncle Joe laughs, shaking his head. He's lived through enough chapters of my life with me to know that I'm right.

"Well, buddy," he says, laying an encouraging hand on my shoulder. "If anybody can handle you and all your mischief, it's my daughter. You're going to have fun, don't worry. Just being together is enough already. The rest is just a bonus."

"You really think Kira enjoys being with me?" Sometimes, I'm sure that she does, but then things like this afternoon happen, and then I'm not convinced anymore.

Am I really enough for her?

"Why? Don't you?" he frowns, clearly not seeing my point, which is actually boosting my flailing confidence. I shrug, not sure how to answer that. I never doubt that Uncle Joe loves hanging out with me. Mainly because he tells me he does. Kira never says it.

"Just take it slow, Ethe," he advises me. "Kira will open up when she's ready. She's a lot like her mother."

"Did Aunt Trudy also struggle to admit that she loved you?" I'm surprised to hear that because she seemed so devoted to him for the short time I knew her.

"Oh, no," he chuckles, his eyes growing soft with fond memories. "Trudy told me she loved me about five minutes after I met her. She claimed we'd known each other a year by then. She pretty much ordered me to marry her, and I was a bit scared of her, so I did."

I laugh, lowering my glass. I'm glad I didn't take a sip, or I would be spraying lemonade all over the place. I can imagine Aunt Trudy struggling to catch Uncle Joe's attention for a whole year. The man gets completely absorbed in his work and won't notice if a herd of pigs takes over his house.

In fact, a herd of pigs does often take over his house until Kira tells us to clean up after ourselves, or she'll have Delia chase us out using her flip-flop. That usually works, even though Jet almost always ends up sacrificing himself to my sister and her flip-flop.

He's a little weird that way.

Actually, I think Kicks is a lot more like her father than her mother. She is just as kind and gentle and can be as focussed as he is when working on something she enjoys. I remember how passionate she was on Sunday when she was telling me about mudflats. There were hand gestures and some sound effects involved. Then again, I didn't get to know Aunt Trudy as well as I know Kira and her father.

Maybe I should order Kira to marry me.

"It was the best eight years of my life," Uncle Joe adds, his smile becoming a little sad. He hastily takes comfort in another long sip of his lemonade.

"How is Kira like her, then?" I frown. "She definitely hasn't told me she loves me or ordered me to marry her."

"When she loves someone, she loves them fiercely and forever, no matter what," Uncle Joe assures me. "Kira won't let you get away, Ethan. You might as well give up."

"Uhm... what?!"

Is he in the wrong book?

Does he not know that I'm the one struggling to hold onto Kira, not the other way around? I'm about to ask him to explain what he means when I hear the sweet sound of cascading giggles coming from the direction of the door leading into the hallway. We both turn to see the girls enter the kitchen, holding hands the way they used to do when they were little girls.

Seeing them takes my breath away.

They're wearing the pretty twin dresses my mom bought them last year for Kira's birthday party. Kira's is dark green, gold and burgundy covered in flowers, while Delia's is made of a blue version of the same material.

I always say that Kicks is beautiful doesn't matter what she wears; even if it is an old T-shirt and some mud. I'm right about that, and yet, standing before me with her golden-brown hair falling over her shoulders in soft curls, her face lightly made up, I've never seen her look more beautiful.

The lemonade I drank nearly gets spewed anyway, as nerves cause my stomach to convulse. She suddenly looks so grown-up and different. She looks like a woman... an extremely beautiful one. I steal a glance at Uncle Joe, and I swear the guy has turned a little green. He looks like he is going to be sick too.

He gets as upset about Kira growing up as my mom does. I've seen her give Kira the same kind of freaked-out looks Uncle Joe is giving the girls now. She stepped up big time to fill the void left by Aunt Trudy's death. Though she never tried to replace Kira's mother, she opened her heart to the girl and gently guided her through puberty the same way she helped Deli.

Seriously, the two of them, my dad and my aunt, often act as if we're going to disappear from their lives as soon as we're adults. It's like our expiration date is coming up or something.

Looking from Kira to my sister and back, I'm amazed at how well they enhance each other right now. Kira is all fiery and gorgeous, and Delia looks ethereal and gentle. The illusion is complete. I know that despite Delia looking as delicate as a china doll right now, she's still a feisty viper that can pack a punch if you make her mad... or pinch you black and blue.

Uncle Joe and I push our chairs back to stand up, neither of us able to say a word at first, as we stare at the vision in the doorway. I try to think of something nice to say, but I cannot find words, and a smile has to do for now while I send out a search party to find my run-away brain.

A sweet blush spreads from Kira's neck to her cheeks and she lowers her head, peeking up at me shyly. Seeing that spurs my heart into a wild gallop, and I'm sure everybody in town can hear it beat like thunder in my chest. I swallow nervously, unable to stop smiling and even less able to make a sound.

"You girls are both so beautiful!" Uncle Joe finally manages to break the silence, even if he shouts his praise a little too loudly in a weirdly high voice. Is he going to cry?! He hurries over to them and pulls both of them into a hug.

"Thank you, Uncle Joe," Delia smiles, and when he lets them go, she spontaneously does a little twirl, giving us a full view of her outfit. She looks awesome. Kira, on the other hand, holds onto her purse as if it were her teddy bear. I can see that she is nervous. She doesn't like dressing up, and she clearly doesn't feel like herself right now.

"Wow, Kicks, you look amazing," I say in a voice that sounds as if it broke again and is now just grating along, hoping for the best. Stepping closer, I take one of her soft hands in mine, surprised to find that she is trembling slightly. I give her an encouraging smile, but her blush only intensifies in colour. Her neck is now almost as red as the stones in the copper disk and red stone necklace she's wearing, matching her copper earrings.

Delia made the necklace for herself a while back, but it suits Kira's complexion and hair colour really well. Looking at my necklace wound around her wrist, I realise that it doesn't make sense for her to wear it all the time with all her outfits. Sometimes, it won't match. I need to give her something else. Something small and easy to wear with anything. I'll ask Deli to help me make her a ring or a pendant or something Kira will like.

"Ethan, do I need to be worried here?" Uncle Joe asks, probably also wondering what my voice is trying to do and why I cannot stop staring at his daughter. Am I drooling?! He narrows his eyes speculatively when I glance away from Kira to look at him, and I laugh like a dork, really nervous now.

"You absolutely need to be worried, Uncle Joe," Delia assures him helpfully. "Isn't it great?!" she laughs, and I'm not sure he thinks it's great at all.

Thank you, Delia! She's not wrong, though.

"Yes, you probably do," I grin, dodging when Uncle Joe gives me a playful swipe. I'm a little disappointed when Kira slips her hand from mine, but then she wraps her arms around her father's waist, and he returns her hug.

"Please ignore them, Daddy; they got too much sun today," she tells him, stepping away to look up at his face. I've always loved the tenderness with which Kira and her dad interact with each other. They understand each other so well. It warms my heart to see her smile up at him while he gently touches her hair, afraid of messing it up.

"Enjoy your evening, Daddy," she says, squeezing his hand to comfort him and his eyes, which were becoming wistful and sad, clear up again, his smile returning. "I'll see you later."

"You too, Pumpkin," he sighs, and then he's looking at me over Kira's head and the look on his face punches me in the solar plexus. Hell, we're not going away for a holiday on a deserted island; we're just going to the festival dance. What's my face showing him that has him looking like he's about to lock Kira in her room? "Ethan...?"

"Yes, Sir, I'll take good care of her," I chuckle. Closing the gap between us, I pull him into a bro hug, patting his back affectionately. I'll behave, I promise," I whisper before I let him go. If Kira heard that, she would be so embarrassed she would dig a hole and crawl into it... or run away again.

"You'd better!" her father laughs.

I take Kira's hand and walk to the kitchen door with her while Deli says goodbye to Uncle Joe. Kira no longer smells like muscle rub. She smells of lemons and roses, her subtle fragrance drifting to me on the evening breeze when I open the kitchen door and walk her to my dad's car parked in their driveway.

The oppressive emotions and thoughts I've been dealing with since we came home finally start to leave me when the three of us are in the car and I'm driving to Simon's home. Kira doesn't pull away when I take her hand and place it on my thigh, patting it to show her that's where it belongs. I grin when I glance at her and see her blush, biting her lower lip, but her hand stays put.

"Seriously, they didn't put the rain covers up!" I grumble when we arrive at the beach after picking up Simon. I've parked the car, and we're in the process of getting out. From here, I can see the town square covered in pretty fairy lights and hear the Geriatrics Band tuning their instruments.

The members of the band are all residents of Silver Oaks, the local retirement village. The stuff they play is generally outdated, but I still love hearing them and watching them enjoy playing their instruments. It reminds me that life is not over until it is over, and it sure as hell is not over when you're old.

The village's residents run most of the food stalls set up around the dance floor, and all the proceeds for tonight's dance go to Silver Oaks, the heart and soul of Summerfields. It's a good thing that the bandstand has a little roof protecting it from the rain that is definitely going to come pouring down any minute now because packing away all the instruments and sound systems takes a lot of time.

It's become an annoying tradition.

The rain comes down in buckets every year just when the Festival dance is about to start. Every person who is ready, willing and able jumps to get the cover structure up and the tarps in place to provide shelter for the dance floor. We've all actually become pretty skilled at getting the covers in place fast. People have learned to bring towels to dry themselves and the furniture provided for the dance. That is why we're gathering at the boot of my dad's car.

"There wasn't any rain predicted," Simon points out, and I forgive him for his ignorance. He'll learn. It was a hot day, and there wasn't any sign of rain, but this is Egret's Rest, and tonight it is the Founder's Day dance. It will rain.

"I spoke to Aunt Holly Malone earlier today and she assured me that her knee told her that it's going to rain," I inform Simon.

"What?" I don't blame Sy for being confused. I could've explained that a bit better, but what would be the fun in that? Besides, that's what he has Deli for.

"Aunt Holly has a bad knee," she kindly clarifies for him. "It aches when there is rain on the way."

"Oh, I see," Simon snorts. "And you trust some old woman's knee but not the weather station?"

"Yes," Kira, Delia and I chorus.

"Besides, it's not some old woman's knee; it's Aunt Holly Malone's knee," I remind him with a grin while I open the boot and pile towels onto his arms.

"Oh, well, in that case... " he huffs, giving me a look, and then he frowns at the growing mountain of towels in his arms. "What's this for?

"To dry off after we get the tarps up to cover the dance floor."

"Ethan," he chuckles, dutifully sharing the burden of carrying towels while the four of us leave the parking lot and walk to the dance area. "It's not... raining."

I swear, I didn't plan it!

His words 'not' and 'raining' got separated from each other by the first fat raindrops splattering down, first on his hands and then on his face when he looked up at the sky in surprise.

When we reach the area prepared for the dance, I tell him to give his towels to Deli and come with me. He obediently stacks the towels on my sister's arms while I do the same with Kira. Deli and Kira run to the nearest covered sidewalk to save their pretty hair and dresses from getting drenched. Simon and I join a group of guys already assembling the cover structure.

Lurch and Barn find us, and the four of us manage to erect a large portion of the frame. Working with many others, we pull the tarps in place when the structure is complete. It doesn't take long, but we are soaked when the covers are finally in place. We had barely started assembling the structures when the heavens opened and upended tubs of water on us. The rest of the townsfolk leave the covered sidewalks to gather on the huge paved block under the tarps. 

I don't mind getting rained on, on a hot, sultry evening, but I honestly don't get why the organizers can't just have the damned tarps up from the start. It was never supposed to become a tradition to start the dance completely wet... and not because we first took a plunge in the ocean.

Some of the people who showed up for the dance started assembling the cover structure the minute they left their cars, which made it even faster to get it all done.

The Geriatrics are already back in place as if the rain never interrupted them. They had to cover their instruments to protect them from rain blown under their roof, but the low platform is now safely out of reach of the rain drumming deafeningly loud on the tarps.

"Okay!" Simon laughs, wringing water from the edge of his shirt. "I think I'll consult Aunt Holly's knee before basketball games and nature outings from now on."

"Yup, it's pretty accurate," I grin.

The downpour eases up to a light drizzle, and we join the crowd, drying off the tables and chairs scattered around the puddle-filled dance floor.

"Aren't you cold?" Kira asks when our paths cross. She holds a fresh towel up, and I bend over so she can reach my head and blot the worst of the water from my hair.

"No, it's actually pretty good," I tell her honestly, grinning happily, enjoying her care. She is dazzling under the glow of the thousands of fairy lights, bravely trying to fight the increasing dark now that the sun is no longer present. Kira's eyes twinkle mysteriously, her lips parting over a gentle sigh while she looks up at me.

"Thank you for those beautiful photographs," she suddenly says, sounding breathless. "They were a wonderful surprise."

She already thanked me earlier, but being thanked again is no surprise; she often thanks me multiple times. I'm worried about how nervous she seems to be, though. Is the storm getting to her? Kira is terrified of storms, especially when thunder and lightning are involved. I've seen a few flashes followed by low rumbles. It's not as bad as it could get, but I know it will still scare her.

"You're welcome," I smile, running the tips of my fingers over her cheek, enjoying how soft her skin is under my touch. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love them," she whispers, taking the towel from my head. The tip of her tongue enticingly finds the edge of her upper lip for a second, and she breathes in deeply.

"Ethy," she says, and when I tilt my head, showing her she has my undivided attention, she takes another deep breath. I wait in suspense-filled anticipation to hear what she has on her heart. If she tells me again how sorry she is about Mystery Girl breaking my heart, I'm dunking her in the rain, even if it messes up her pretty curls. I'll dry her off afterwards.

A particularly bright flash of lightning suddenly splashes her face in harsh light, sparking in her beautiful eyes. I see the naked panic it ignites in her just before I hear the electrical crackle, followed by the loud boom of thunder. I instinctively reach out and wrap my arms around Kira, pulling her against me in a protective hug.

"Just breathe, Kicks," I whisper into her hair, feeling her body shaking as she clutches my shirt and buries her face in my chest. Rain is one thing, but electrical storms are another. I wouldn't have brought Kira this soon if I'd known there would be lightning and thunder.

It's moving away, though. The flashes are growing less and less frequent and the thunder sounds further and further away. We might have more rain on and off, but I think the worst of the storm is over now.

"It's just the storm letting us know that it is passing on now," I tell her, hoping I'm right. "It's over. You're safe. We're safe," I stroke my hands over her hair and her back, and I can feel her gradually relaxing in my arms.

"Hey," I say, pushing her away far enough to look into her face and see if she's alright. "It's all good." 

She smiles bravely, but I can see she is not quite over it.

"Thanks," she whispers, looking embarrassed. She starts to move away from me, clearly overwhelmed by too many emotions to cope with right now.

I've made up my mind. I'm not letting her run away tonight.

I close my arms around her, stopping her from leaving my embrace and reflexively do the only thing I can think of to comfort her. The one thing that will help her forget everything except us, the glittering lights and the jolly music. I pull her to her toes and lower my head to kiss her.

I keep it light and gentle, coaxing her back from the edge of panic, my lips telling her I'm with her and never leaving her. I'm surprised when she deepens the kiss, leaning closer, answering my gentle message with a more urgent one of her own.

Our kiss tastes of rainwater, fresh air, and love. Like a plant, I could survive on only this for the rest of my life. Kira's skin is silky soft when my hand travels from her hair to the hollow of her neck, and when her hand, trapped between us, creeps up my chest so her fingers can find my cheek, I'm overwhelmed by a wave of love strong enough to make me dizzy.

"Kira," I whisper, lifting my head, ready to tell her in no uncertain terms how much I love her. She will believe me now. I know she will. This is the perfect moment! She won't think I'm just messing around because my eyes and expression already tell her everything in my heart. I can see on her astounded, love-drugged face that she sees it clearly. The only thing left is to say the actual words. "I-."

"Eeeeeeeeethan!" A screeching banchee is forcing her way between us, and one moment, I feel the soft skin of Kira's shoulders under my hands, and the next, I have Wendy in my arms. She smells like she fell into a vat of cheap wine. 

Wendy doesn't drink. 

"Come dance with meeeeeee!" she whines, and I can tell that she is extremely drunk. The most alcohol she will usually have is half a beer when it's very hot, and there's no other fizzy drink around that she likes. I don't think I've ever seen her drunk before.

At first, I'm angry about the interruption. This was the perfect moment; everything was just right. I'm feeling dazed, disoriented and deeply disappointed, searching for Kira beyond the blond girl holding onto me. Then, the full implications of the situation suddenly hit home, and I push Wendy away to get a good look at her.

Her hair and clothes are a dirt-covered mess, and her lip is bleeding. There are scrapes all over the parts of her arms visible at the edge of the rolled-up sleeves of the white shirt she's wearing loosely over a black T-shirt.

Burlap was looking for her earlier. He texted me to ask me if I'd heard from her yet. I've been so caught up in brooding over Kira and the way she was withdrawing from me that I didn't really spend much time thinking about Wendy. When I didn't hear from Burlap again, I just assumed he'd found her.

What happened to her?!

Looking into the unfocussed eyes of my friend, seeing the blood beading on her lower lip, my heart clenches painfully in my chest. I find myself torn between anxiety over the cause of Wendy's current state and panic over the look on Kira's face, where she's standing just out of my reach, staring in horror as Wendy embraces me.

Oh, bugger!

♂♀