The Fourth Summer. Kathleen Gilles Seidel

nestled into his hair, gripping his head, relying on him for support and balance. But she was experienced too, and in a moment she let go of his head, pulled back, and started to search for his zipper again. She wouldn’t have done that back then.

      “No, no,” he said. “Let’s do it like before.”

      So she relaxed into the glories of being pleased. Last time she had been able to move against his body. Now because of his height she had to kneel, but only the lightest flick of his fingers against her still scarlet-covered crotch left her gasping and her muscles convulsing.

      Afterward she leaned against him, settling back on his thighs.

      “What was that all about?” she asked.

      “I don’t know for sure.” It had been almost eerie, the feeling of two things happening at once, but she couldn’t have been talking about that. “It just suddenly seemed like a good idea to do what we had done before.”

      “It’s hard to believe that it was exactly like that.” There was a smile in her voice. “Surely you weren’t that good as a kid.”

      “No, but I was shorter and that made it easier.”

      “Okay.” She didn’t get it. Obviously she hadn’t been thinking about the logistical difficulties. “But I’ve learned some things too,” she said.

      And she had; of course she had. He had a fleeting thought about other men, other penises, but it was pretty easy to let that go because what she was doing to him was...well, it was pretty hard to think anything.

      They lay quietly for a bit. Then she rolled to her side, facing him. “You know, I don’t think I have had sex outdoors with anyone but you.”

      He thought for a moment. “I haven’t either...but I spend a lot of time in the snow, so outdoor sex might not be a great choice.”

      “Are you in a relationship?”

      “No.” What did she think of him, that he would have done this, if he were seeing someone? “What about you?”

      “I live in San Francisco. All the men I meet are not only married, but they are married to each other. I’m usually the one straight chick in a room full of gay guys.”

      She admitted that she was getting cold. They organized their clothes and went inside, eating on the screen porch, talking some, not about much or anything in particular. Afterward she carried the trash bag out to the car while he circled around the house to hide the key. When he came back, she was looking at her phone, leaning back against the car, one foot cocked behind her. Her leather purse was on the ground. Her retro sneakers were black canvas with white laces.

      Seth thought of himself as a here-and-now kind of guy, live in the moment and all that. He was practical, down to earth. He gave little enough thought to basic Christian theology, much less anything woo-woo about a spirit world. But out there on the blanket it had truly seemed as if two moments were happening at the same time. It must be that the memories were so strong; that could be the only explanation.

      Caitlin picked up her purse to put her phone away. She made a face. “I have to go back to court tomorrow.”

      Seth cursed and pulled out his phone. He had the hotline number and his ID code on an old email, and yes, he had to report back tomorrow. “This is so wack. They’re not going to pick us.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      Caitlin did not have sex with men she had only known for an evening. It wasn’t any big moral issue. When you had sex with strangers, you didn’t know what you were getting into. The guy might turn out to be a Silicon Valley asshole or a clingy type who wasn’t going to let you catch your breath, wanting to see you on Tuesday...oh, you are busy on Tuesday, what about Wednesday? Thursday?

      It had been great to be young and living in San Francisco. The city was beautiful, and there were always people on the streets, other young people ready for adventure. Caitlin liked prowling through the thrift shops, not caring about fashions or trends, but then having other girls stop her on the street asking her where she had gotten something. She could step into a crowded restaurant at brunch, and people she didn’t remember meeting would remember her and call her over, making room for her at their table.

      Of course, you could go out for a long, boozy brunch every Sunday when you had a Silicon Valley paycheck. Not when you were freelancing. San Francisco was a lot better when you had money. Her apartment was tiny, tiny, tiny, but for the rent she was paying, you would think that it came with a herd of dairy cattle. She was able to get her health insurance under her father’s Navy’s Young Adult program, but that would end in another eighteen months. She had no idea what she would do then.

      She stayed out of credit card debt. Too many women her age seemed to think of the money they spent on their clothes, their hair, and their bar bills as an investment, what you had to do to make sure that someday your prince would come. Caitlin viewed that as an extremely poor investment. Most princes these days had student loans to pay off.

      If she had ever thought about having a prince for herself, it would have been when she was fifteen and in love with Seth. So technically this evening didn’t count as having sex with a stranger. But did she know what she was getting into? Absolutely not. Not a clue.

      She had acted all cool and hip as if seeing him hadn’t mattered. But this was Seth. Seth. How could he not matter? She just didn’t know if it was going to matter good or matter bad. Really, really bad.

      Her parents asked about him, but they were only mildly interested. During those years when all she wanted was to spend the summer in North Carolina, she had always tried to conceal the fact that she wanted to come because of him. Then when her dad was transferred to San Diego and she was so devastated about Seth not calling, they didn’t really know how desperate she felt because Trina was still home, sucking all the oxygen out of the room.

      Her parents were more interested in her day in court. When she said that the next case was a criminal trial that seemed to be having trouble getting off the ground, her mom said, “That must be—”

      Her father interrupted. “That Caitlin doesn’t follow Carolina politics is in her favor. Let’s keep it that way.”

      “I don’t like the sound of this.” She looked at him. Unfortunately he had his judge face on. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. “Is this going to be some big murder case where I am going to be sequestered for a year?”

      “No. Not at all. And North Carolina doesn’t sequester juries. Of course judges could, but they don’t. It’s expensive, and the current thinking is that sequestered juries render bad verdicts.”

      * * * *

      Her grandmother had more of a clue of how intensely Caitlin had cared about Seth back when they had been kids. So when she was driving Caitlin to the courthouse the next morning, she had questions.

      “Did you have a nice evening with him?”

      “Yes, I did.”

      “He has turned into a very good-looking young man, hasn’t he?”

      “Yes, he has.”

      “I like a tall man.”

      “Actually his height has been a problem for snowboarding. He is taller than most.”

      “And he must be very fit.”

      This conversation was getting weird. “Of course. It’s his job.”

      “Your grandfather was athletic, very fit. I enjoyed that.”

      Dear Lord in heaven. Was MeeMaw saying what Caitlin thought MeeMaw was saying? It didn’t matter how progressive a thinker you were, how strong your claim to being a hipster was, you didn’t want to hear your grandmother talking about your grandfather in bed. That took a bit of doing to get out of her head.

      The jury coordinator was surprised to see her. “But you didn’t need to come for the informational session. You’ve already