A/N- Yes, it's been absolutely forever since I've updated this. And yes, I have absolutely no good excuse. If there was anyone waiting for the fifth chapter of this story, then just know you have keirah to thank. She left a review of the story and when I got it, I remembered exactly how much I loved this story. So, I decided to take another stab at it. What's strange is that since I last wrote my writing style has changed so much and it's very evident. I just hope that people enjoy this story. Even if reviewers are scarce, I still love Fading Summer Warmth.


Chapter 5

I could feel it in the air the minute I woke up. I sat up quickly, looking around my room, lit by the dim light of the morning. Something was different, something was off. I slowly lifted the covers and climbed out of bed, heading over to my window. I pulled back the curtains and looked out to find that my suspicions had been correct.

My whole life I've always been able to feel a storm coming. I can't really explain how I know, but it's like I can feel it forming in the pit of my stomach- dread or some strange sensation that normally isn't there.

I stepped back from my window and turned around, the dark clouds I'd seen out on the horizon still in my mind as I opened my door and walked toward the living room. I stood silently and looked out the front window at the threatening sky. I felt a timid touch on the back of my arm and jumped, turning around. I was met by eyes the color of the dark grey sky.

"Michael," I breathed and laughed. "You scared me. Why aren't you in the fields?" I asked, knowing it had to be serious if my father had come inside.

"Your dad was worried about the sky, said there might be something heading our way- tornadoes and such." Michael said looking out the window behind me. "I admit; it sure doesn't look good."

His warm voice was soothing to me, but my stomach shifted at the sound of the word. Tornado. My whole life I'd been afraid of tornadoes, and we'd had no small feat of avoiding them. Every spring, we got ready for the tornadoes. They were inevitable, and every spring my fear would peak back out, reminding me of what was to come. We'd been lucky in Sweetwater, we hadn't had a serious tornado in years, but even I couldn't forget the last time we had. No one could, it was etched in the mind of all I knew who could remember it. Emily and Johnny were too little to remember, of course, but they'd heard the stories enough times to feel like they'd been there with us, huddled in the storm cellar, so deathly afraid.

The storm seemed to come on quickly. In what seemed like only a minute, the sky tore, and rain blanketed the earth, pounding heavily on the roof and drowning out the noises of the house. Johnny and Emily sat in the corner quietly playing a game, their eyes darting nervously to the window and the dangerous sky up above. As I sat and watched them, I heard the noise of the weatherman on the TV, and heard my father and Michael speaking in hushed voices about the storm. I knew it would come, and I was anxious.

I felt the prickling on my neck before I even heard the sirens. We ran to the cellar as the eerie noise rang out over the fields, thunder breaking through the siren noise and lightning tearing through the sky. We huddled in the dark cellar, my father holding the flashlight as he secured the door. We sat in silence, each with our own thoughts and fears as we listened, waited, and prayed that it wouldn't come. I felt Michael's hand slowly, secretly glide across my back and I smiled at him, knowing he could see the fear in my eyes.

"Just stay close," my father said, and we huddled close to each other, feeling the wind whip through the cracks in the door and listening to the storm surging overhead. My heart pounded in fear, but I felt Michael's reassuring presence next to me and even with my eyes shut tightly, I could sense him watching me. Slowly his hand slid and cupped my waist as we stood in the dark corner of the storm cellar. I leaned my head against his shoulder and shut my eyes tightly, trying to block out the sirens in the distance, my sister's soft cries, and the noise of the rain beating on the roof of the storm cellar.

Slowly, the storm passed. The pounding rain turned into a trickle, and we could see the sun slowly filtering through. My father sighed, and opened the door cautiously, before swinging it open, sunlight spilling in from the outside. The sudden light startled me, and I looked up quickly. For a brief moment I caught my father's eye before Michael quickly moved away from me and, without having to ask, I knew he'd seen us. He turned and we all walked out of the dark cellar into the brightness of the damp air.

A Few Days Later

Afraid that my father had seen us, Michael and I kept our distance for awhile. As the days went by, we realized that my father didn't suspect a thing. We assumed he'd passed it off a Michael comforting me in a moment of crisis. Although we were relieved, I could tell that my father had come a little too close for comfort to discovering the secret Michael and I had kept buried in the darkness.

It was amazing to me how I could grow closer to Michael with each day that went by. We hardly spoke, but the glances he stole at dinner, the winks as he passed through the family room where I sat reading, the whispers and stolen kisses behind the barn. With each day I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into Michael's eyes. I tried to ignore the browning edges of the corn as the summer days ran by- their sun burnt leaves attempting to remind me that summer would eventually end and then our future was a mystery.

That night after dinner, my family sat in the living room. My father and Michael were reading the paper, my mother sat perched on a chair reading a book, and my siblings sat in the corner playing a game. I excused myself and walked quietly from the room. After using the bathroom I washed and dried my hands. I leaned slowly against the sink and stared at my face in the mirror. My skin had browned from the hot Nebraska sun, and my eyes looked tired. I'd had too many sleepless nights thinking about Michael, only to fall asleep and dream about the depths of his eyes.

I shook my head and made my way toward the bathroom door. I walked out and the hall was dark; I didn't see him standing in the shadows. He came up behind me and I smiled as he wrapped his arms around my waist. I turned around and his lips caught mine as I leaned against the wall, the heat of his body pressed up against mine warming my heart. I could hear the peaceful noises of my family in the family room down the hall as I gazed at Michael's face in the darkened hall.

He leaned toward me and placed his mouth near my ear. "Tomorrow I'm going to town," he whispered. "Get your father to let you go with me." He pulled away, kissed my cheek, and smiled at me. Slowly he unwrapped his arms from me. He smiled sweetly, turning and walking back toward the family room.

The Next Day

I remember how the sun shined that day. We rolled the windows down so that our hair would fly in the warm breeze, and Michael turned the radio to a local country station. I looked over at Michael as Willie Nelson crooned from the radio and smiled as the light reflected off his hair as he tilted his head back in laughter. I remember feeling the warmth of that happiness as he drove down the dusty country road. I leaned my head back on the seat and closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face as I smiled.

We drove into the small, rundown town and Michael parked the truck in front of the hardware store. My father had asked him to pick up some tools and supplies that they'd been needing. They were taking a day off from the fields and he'd given Michael some money so that we could get lunch and spend some time downtown.

We walked down the isles talking and laughing as Michael picked up things from the shelf. I felt his hand slide into mine and I cast my glance backward, smiling secretly as we made our way through the small store.

We bought lunch at the local diner. The mid-summer heat deserted the town, so we were the only people eating that day. We ate slowly, savoring the time away from the house and the company of each other. After we'd eaten and paid, we walked from the diner to the truck and Michael stopped, smiling at me.

"So Maria, what do you want to do now?" He asked, leaning in toward me.

"Well," I looked around at the small run-down stores. "There isn't a whole lot in town, but we could hang out here. We could go for a drive too, if you'd like?" I said.

He smiled down at me, "yeah, let's go for a drive."

We drove through the town and back out on the country road. The houses grew further and further apart and the corn stretched across the rolling hills. We were ten miles from town when Michael turned off the main road and onto a small gravel road that I'd never noticed before.

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking toward him.

He smiled, glancing sideways toward me. "We're just driving, Ria. Be patient and you'll see." We drove for another five to ten miles, the road getting bumpier as we rode along.

Finally we came to a spot where the tall trees dipped into the ground and the gravel road ended and grass took over, and the houses surrounding us disappeared. It was evident that a house had once been where our truck rested, but had disappeared sometime in the passing of time. Michael turned off the engine, leaving the radio running, and jumped out of the truck, running around to open my door. As I hopped out, he leaned over the seat and turned up the radio and closed the door behind me.

"Michael," I said, smiling slyly at him. "What are we doing here?" I looked around at the bank of trees that surrounded us. The trees were tall, almost completely engulfing us. Light filtered through the leaves and scattered light on Michael's shoulders as he leaned toward me.

"Shh, Maria," he whispered, his breath warm on my cheek. He led me over to the grass and he sat. He patted the spot next to him and I sat down, feeling the soft grass under my legs as the silence wrapped around us.

"I thought we should get away for a day," he explained and smiled. "We don't ever really get a chance to talk at the house."

I knew he was referring to my father and I nodded, looking into his eyes. "Well, what do you want to talk about?"

He didn't answer, but merely reached for my hand and took it into his. We sat in silence for a few minutes, our fingers lacing in and out of each other as he stared down at our hands. I looked at his eyes cast downwards and smiled, feeling again the happiness of the day.

He took a breath and his eyes flicked upward toward mine. "I love you, Maria." He said the words almost as a sigh, as if the words rushing from his body were releasing something deep inside of him.

His words caught me off-guard and I paused, staring into his eyes. Slowly I removed my hand from his and reached both of my hands upward, cupping his face in my hands. Our eyes searched each other for a moment and I felt my heart swell. "I love you too," I said, although I knew the words were unnecessary. He knew I loved him; he could see it in my eyes every day.

Slowly and tentatively we kissed, and he leaned me backward, the grass forming around my back as I rested. I heard the radio announcer in the background as Michael's fingers slowly wandered up my abdomen. Our bodies stretched out and he paused, pulling away from me and staring down my eyes for a moment. I nodded and I saw the smile form on his face. For a moment I thought about how it was the same smile he'd had on the first day as he greeted my father- that half smile that made his whole face light up in happiness. His smile faded as he again leaned down and ran his lips over mine.

Our hearts slowly entwined, circling around us as we both let go. I felt the happiness that we'd been building all summer wrap around us as we lay in the grass on that hot, sunny day. As we slowly let go, I remember hearing the soft voice of Deanna Carter playing out from the radio as the sun shined down in recognition of the love we shared, and the summer that we hoped could never end.

Like strawberry wine, and seventeen

The hot July moon saw everything

My first taste of love

Oh, bittersweet and green on the vine

Like strawberry wine


Just so you know, the song is "Strawberry Wine" by Deanna Carter. This song is actually what gave me the idea for this story waaay back when I started writing it in the summer of 2002. I love that song, and I thought that it was fitting that it be placed in the story since it was its inspiration. :)