Author's Note: Happy New Year, one and all! I hope you had a safe and wonderful holiday season.

Please convey my deepest apologies, I've been wanting to update, but there was a lot going in my life and I shifted focus on one of my stories. Thankfully, I wrote most of this chapter and fell off the bandwagon. But, I gained the strength to finish it.

Thanks for your patience and all your support for Summer of Love. It pleases me that more people are reading the story. Special thanks to the people who reviewed: musiclover246 and Kaane153; it pleases me the story is continuing to receive positive feedback.

So, here's the latest chapter and enjoy!

Tuck Everlasting doesn't belong to me, all rights go to Disney & Natalie Babbitt. I just own my OC.

Chapter 8

At daybreak, the quartet headed back to the cabin. Winnie and Jesse walked ahead, holding hands. Miles and Rosalie walked behind them, leading the horse. Once they were face to face with Mae and Angus, both now knew that Winnie and Rosalie found out the truth.

"Winnie Foster, Rosalie Foster, you two are the only other people in the world who knows about us." Angus addresses the girls.

"We'll have to have a talk," He takes Winnie's hand from Jesse's and then Rosalie's hand.

"Pa," Jesse started to say, but Angus ignores him.

"Come on," The Tuck patriarch lead the girls away. Mae, Miles and Jesse watched them go. The two brothers exchanged looks.

Angus, Rosalie, and Winnie got into the canoe. He rows them out on the lake and when he found a good spot; he stops.

"Look around you," said Angus. "It's teeming with life. It's flowers and trees and frogs. It's…it's all part of the wheel. It's always changing; it's always growing like you both. Your lives are never the same. You were once children. Now, Winnie, you are about to become a woman. One day, you'll grow up and you'll do something important. You'll have children, maybe. And Rosalie, you are on the cusp of being a woman. You'll be on your way to make a name for yourself and learn what it's like to be a young adult. You and Winnie have been closer, like you were sisters. You will eventually evolve from the young girl you were once; into a strong young woman. And then one day, you'll both go out…just like the flame of a candle. You'll make way for new life. That's a certainty. That's the natural way of things."

Rosalie admired Angus' speech. It warmed her heart that he told her she's on the cusp of being a woman and one day will mature.

"And then, there's us," Angus resumed. "What we Tucks have, you can't call it living. We just…are. We're like rocks, stuck at the side of a stream. Listen to me. Ladies, you know a dangerous secret. If people find out about the spring, they'll trample over each other to get to that water. There's one thing I've learned about people. Many will do anything to keep from living their life. Do either of you want to stay stuck as you are right now, forever?"

Winnie doesn't respond, but Rosalie speaks up.

"I'm not sure to be honest. I haven't even decided,"

"Then, I've just got to make you understand." Angus said.

"I don't want to die," said Winnie. "Is that wrong?"

"No," Angus replied. "No human does. But it's part of the wheel. The same as being born. You can't have living without dying. Don't be afraid of death, ladies. Be afraid of the unlived life."

The Foster cousins looked at Angus and then at each other, before Rosalie exhaled. She was uncertain about drinking or not drinking from the spring. It's one thing being immortal, but to be immortal forever, was a whole another ballgame.

And so, the trio stayed for a while out on the lake. Unbeknownst to them, a certain yellow suit clad man was watching.

One morning, Rosalie woke up early. She walked up to a window and looked out. Outside, the ring of trees surrounded the pond as birds celebrated, giving the new day a brass band's worth of greeting. Mist laid on the surface of the water, and the light was still pale.

Rubbing her eyes, Rosalie is about to head to the kitchen, when she heard a step on the stairs. She turns to see Miles, who is entering the parlor. Seeing Rosalie up, he smiles and whispered, "Hey, good morning. Now, that you're awake, you can help me catch some fish for breakfast."

The next thing Rosalie knew, she found herself outside, climbing into a rowboat. Quietly, she takes a seat in the stern as Miles handed her two old cane poles.

"Watch out for the hooks," He warned her.

Miles also hands her a jar of bait; which contained pork fat cut into little pieces. A large brown night moth fluttered out from under the oar blades propped beside Rosalie on the seat, and wobbled off toward nowhere through the fragrant air. And somewhere from the bank, a frog plopped into the water. The water was so clear Rosalie could see tiny brown fish near the bottom, flicking this way and that.

Miles pushed the rowboat off and got in, and soon they glided up toward the near end of the pond, where the water came in from the stream. Rosalie had to admit, Miles was rather skillful, despite the locks grating and the oars dipping and swinging. He rowed on without a single splash. The dripping from the blades, as they lifted, sent rows of overlapping circles spreading quietly behind them. Rosalie exhaled, it felt very peaceful. She, along with Winnie, had grown to love the Tucks (even though they maybe peculiar) over the past weeks. They were her friends, after all. Hers and Winnie's. A smile appears on Rosalie's face.

"How'd you sleep?" Miles asked her.

"Fine thanks," Rosalie replied.

"That's good. I'm glad. Ever been fishing before?"

"No,"

"You'll like it. It's fun," And he smiles at her.

The mist had lifted and the sunlight had caused the water to sparkle. Miles guided the rowboat near a spot where lily pads lied on the surface.

"We'll let her drift some here," He said. "There'll be trout down in those weeds and stems. Here-give me the poles and I'll bait the hooks for us."

Rosalie complies and then she sat there, watching him. She admired his jawline, faint outline of a beard, his straight hair neatly clipped below his ears, broad shoulders, the way Miles's bangs hung over on the side of his forehead, his hands and that body underneath the threadbare shirt he wore.

Miles seemed to sense that she was watching him. As he looked up from the bait jar, Rosalie snapped out of it and blushed, lowering her head. However, Miles leaned in and lifted her chin. His eyes, returning Rosalie's gaze were soft.

"I took my daughter, Anna, fishing too." He said. His face then clouded. "Lord, how sweet she was, that child!"

"Miles, if talking about your past daughter is a touchy subject, then don't force yourself." Rosalie said.

"Rosalie, it's okay." Miles said. "If you can talk about what happened to your parents, I can open up about what happened to my family."

Rosalie looked at his young, handsome face for a moment; before asking him a question, "Why didn't you take them to the spring and give them some of the special water?"

"Well, of course, we didn't realize about the spring while we were still on the farm," Miles responded. "Afterwards, I thought about going to find them. I wanted to, heaven knows. But, Rosalie, how would it been if I had? My wife was nearly forty by then. And the children-well, what was the use? They'd have been near grower themselves. They'd have a pa close to the same age they were. No, it'd all have been so mixed up and peculiar, it just wouldn't have worked. Then Pa, he was dead set against it, anyway. The fewer people know about the spring, he says, the fewer there are to tell about it. Here-here's your pole. Just ease the hook down in the water. You'll know when you get a bite."

Rosalie gripped her pole, sitting sideways in the stern, and watched the baited hook sink slowly down. A blue dragonfly, darted up and paused over the lily pads, then swung up and away. From the nearest bank, a bullfrog spoke.

"I bet it'd be nice, if nothing ever had to die." Rosalie said.

"Well, now, I don't know;" Miles replied. "If you think on it, you come to see there'd be so many creatures, including people, we'd all be squeezed in right up next to each other before long."

Rosalie squints at her fishing line and kept quiet, mulling over Miles's words.

Suddenly, the cane pole jerked in her hands and bent into an arch, its tip dragged down nearly to the water's surface. Rosalie held the headline tight, her eyes wide.

"Hey!" Miles exclaimed. "Look there! You got a bite. Fresh trout for breakfast, Rose."

However, just as suddenly the pole whipped straight again and the line went slack.

"Aw, shucks," said Miles. "It got away,"

"Yeah, well…you win some, you lose some." Rosalie said, letting go of her pole and dropping it in the boat. "Your turn, Miles. I'll try again after you."

And so, the pair drifted for a little longer. The sky was now blue, the last of the mist had dissolved, and the sun felt hot on Rosalie's back. One thing's for sure, the first week of August was reasserting itself after a good night's sleep. It would be another searing day.

A mosquito appeared and landed on Rosalie's knee. She swatted it away, without killing it. Turning to Miles, she asked him "So, what will you do, if you've got so much time?"

"Someday," Miles answered, "I'll find a way to do something important."

Rosalie nodded.

"The way I see it," Miles continued, "It's no good hiding yourself away; like Pa and lots of other people. And it's no good just thinking of your own pleasure, either. People got to do something useful if they're going to take up space in the world."

"But what will you do?" Rosalie inquired. "Mae told me you do carpentry and you're good with your hands."

"That's true," said Miles. "But I don't know yet, I ain't had no schooling or nothing, and that makes it harder."

Then he sets his jaw and added, "I'll find a way, though. I'll locate something."

Rosalie nodded in understanding. She reached out and ran her finger across a lily pad that lay on the water beside boat. The touch was warm and dry, like a blotter, but near its center was a single drop of water, round and perfect. She touched the drop and brought her fingertip back wet, but the drop of water, though it rolled a little, remained as round and perfect as before.

And then Miles caught a fish. It flopped around in the bottom of the boat, its jaw working and gills fanning rapidly. Rosalie examined the fish. It had gleaming, rainbow-colored scales and a marble-like eye beginning to dim, and the hook was caught in its upper lip.

And so, for the next hour, Miles let Rosalie catch the next fish, as many as she could. The Foster girl enjoyed the activity, and didn't mind getting her hands dirty. Finally, enough fish was caught.

Miles took Rosalie and the boat to shore. He helps her climb out.

"Thanks for taking me fishing, Miles. I quite enjoyed it." She said. "I should go fishing more often."

"My pleasure," Miles replied. "Hopefully, I can take you again."

They stood for a few minutes, in silence. Suddenly, Rosalie plants a kiss on Miles's cheek, surprising him.

Rosalie smiles shyly, as Miles smiles back. They start to unload the fish and head for the house.

A/N: Well, I hoped you enjoyed the latest chapter. My goal for 2022 is to finish the story, but I'll take it one day at a time, one step at a time.

Up next, Rosalie has a nightmare about her parents' death which upsets her and Miles comforts her, in front of the family and Winnie. And after that chapter, the man in the yellow suit reappears.

Until then, see you next time!