Umbrellas in the Sun

Umbrellas in the Sun

© 2012 by K. E. Frederick.

All rights reserved.

Published by Smashwords

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written consent of the author.

This is work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on experiences. All names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The drag queens, however, are real.

Eleventh Hour Books

eleventhhourbooks@hotmail.com

Library of Congress # 1-759230661

Cover art by Craig Frederick

For Craig, years ago you made me believe in soul mates.

Thanks to my in-house art department / IT guy, Craig. I couldn’t have done it without your never ending help and support. Thanks for the amazing cover.

To my trusted first readers Brindol Mackley, Betty Brown, Tracy Walters and Sandra Abernathy (the comakazi) and April Frederick; thank you so much, your input was immensely valuable.

A special thanks to Molly Hanson and Joel Hathaway who suffered through early drafts.

UMBRELLAS IN THE SUN

Part One

Chapter One

Aubren stood in front of the large group photo of her mom and dad with her uncle Jack and their college friends. Some names came easily to her as she scanned the faces. Usually, her eyes were drawn directly to the red-haired beauty of her late mother. This time she was transfixed by a different striking redhead, one she had never paid much attention to in the past. Now those eyes were the only thing she could focus on.

"His eyes … amazing," she said aloud, as the amber eyes she had seen only once before, seemed to abandon their two dimensional position and penetrate into her soul, ripping through her heart on their way.

How could it be? she said, as she dropped into a chair clutching her father’s letter to her chest, Not Tre … anything but Tre.

Spiraling memories became vivid images in her mind. It drifted back to the first time she saw him at the balmy lakeside setting in green and mountainous upstate New York, where she worked as a counselor last summer at Camp Stanton Meadows.

He was leaning casually against the doorway leading into the great hall, the central meeting place for all camp residents. The structure, quite grandiose and majestic, always made her think of a log cabin castle. The towering beams that flanked the main entrance were carved ornately into quasi totem poles. She was pretty sure that anyone with any genuine knowledge of American Indian cultures would balk at them, but she always kind of liked them. Different sections of the poles were meant to represent parts of the camp motto, honesty, pride, trust and friendship. The great hall was also the dining area and everything else area for the entire camp.

Across the open pit campfire roaring in front of the building, she saw him. Who is that? she thought, as she worked her way around the rock lined fire. She was certain that she had not seen him around the camp before. I definitely would have noticed him. He was simply gorgeous. She had seen plenty of good looking men in her lifetime, some that also made beautiful women on occasion.

His tall, muscular profile was a surprising aberration amongst the sea of gangly teens that surrounded her. He must work out, she thought, a lot. Well that settles it. I’m officially in lust. The instant and unexpected attraction startled her; she was normally quite leery of boys her age. She hadn’t seen much of a change in their general behavior and thought patterns since her early teen years. In her experience they were for the most part, still not worthy.

Most guys she knew were either obsessed with video games or sports or both, to the exclusion of all else except, getting some. They were so preoccupied with having sex; they pretty much acted like idiotic morons most of the time. She blamed mass media in general. There were just so many sophomoric bodily fluid jokes and sex driven images out there. They saturated the brains and libidos of these hormone flooded guys and the result was predictably inevitable.

With a start, she realized she was behaving exactly that way now. She saw the physically amazing, incredibly handsome guy and without even having the benefit of speaking to him to see if he could carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation, she was … How did I put it? In lust. Well, this will not do. I will simply have to go over there and talk to him so I can get a more informed opinion of this Adonis.

She gave herself a quick mental once over. Hair brushed, fairly recently. Check. Chap Stick better put on a fresh coat. Retrieving her ever present tube from her pocket, she smoothed the nurturing balm onto her lips, Check. She hoped the mundane action of such a routine behavior would help still the trembling she could feel in her lips. It did not. I’m being silly. Just go talk to him, no big deal. It was the only way to see if she was totally delusional or quite possibly in lust.

Making her way along the well worn path that surrounded the massive campfire, she glanced past the flickering blaze to steal another look at him. As she started to daydream about what their children would look like, he slowly raised his head and to her surprise, turned to look directly at her. Even from the distance still between them, she was taken aback. His eyes were amazing; soft and sexy. When they found hers, his gaze penetrated to her gut and took her breath. Her mouth went as dry as sand and at this point she wasn’t sure if her feet were propelling her along, or if she was actually floating toward the great hall steps.

The closer she got to him the more intense his stare felt. Then suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, a short but shapely, definitely female, definitely blonde form came from inside the doorway and proceeded to wrap her body around him, leaning there, looking across the fire, at her. The intruder surrounded him with a possessive air that was a signal to all watching that she was staking her claim, or already had.

Aubren couldn’t quite see the face of the silhouetted seductress. There was something about the tilt of her head, the flow of her movements. Then as the light from the campfire caught just right, she could practically visualize the ton of bricks about to tumble onto her head. At the same moment the thought was forming in her mind, a shallow, overdone, seductive laugh drifted toward her on the sultry summer air. It was Jaz.

Aubren’s heart leapt into her dry throat with a choking slam. She had spent so much energy successfully avoiding the wicked bitch of the West; she had almost forgotten that she was here at camp. Jasmin, or Jaz, as she liked to be called, had begged her parents to send her as soon as she heard about Aubren’s plans. Typically, working at a summer camp would be the last thing Jaz would even remotely consider a good time but she jumped on the opportunity to ruin Aubren’s summer; one of her favorite pass-times.

She should have known that Jaz would have made a point of zeroing in on the hottest guy around. Heaven forbid, I should see someone amazing and have an instant, intense attraction, and even begin to have a chance, with her sluttiness in the mix.

Aubren thought of a recent morning at the cake shop, Jaz was helping, under duress. Her dad was making her do grunt work as punishment for some offence. She really was more trouble than help and kept going on and on about Ned or Ed or Ted, whoever her latest conquest was. Jaz prided herself on her motto, I always get my man. Aubren had made a sarcastic suggestion that Jaz should get a tattoo of a Canadian Mountie to immortalize her claim to fame. She was so proud of herself for coming up with such a hilarious slam, and wouldn’t you know it, Jaz actually thought it was a great idea.

Aubren had thought to herself that an even better representation in ink of her persona would be the shark she always thought her to be. Jaz was a predator tried and true; constantly on the move, her appetite insatiable. She preyed on the weak, and when it came to the guys that were under her spell, they were all weak.

Snapping back to the disaster at hand, she took a deep, hopefully calming breath. Well that certainly decides things doesn’t it? There is no way in this lifetime that I would ever consider competing with her when it comes to a guy. Guys were her specialty and she utilized her attributes well. Never again would she go through that inevitable heartache and utter humiliation.

She found herself at the bottom of the staircase that, before now, hadn’t seemed the least bit daunting. I don’t remember these stairs being this steep before. If she could just get her feet to move again, she was sure she could manage to get up those steps and through the doorway, past the pair that had her head and heart pounding like synchronized jackhammers. As her foot hit the first step, she looked up to get her bearings. She meant to only look for her most direct route around them, not actually look at them, but—No way! She had been so preoccupied with Jaz drama, that she hadn’t even noticed that the guy was still looking directly at her. Oh my God. Her heart took a sudden nose dive from where it had lodged itself in her throat and plummeted past its usual location, plunging into her roiling stomach. Please do not throw up, she begged herself.

She looked away, took two more steps up, and then let her eyes wander back his way. Yep, he’s watching every clumsy move I make. Could it be? Could he possibly notice her with Jaz hanging all over him like that? I’m clearly imaging things. Stop being so stupid; just go one more step then another, right foot, left foot, she commanded herself, willing her legs onward and upward, praying that she wouldn’t stumble and fall flat on her face. Come on, you’ve been doing this since you were one. Determined to surpass the gauntlet before her, she mentally prepared to calmly and confidently go through that door, and casually get her dinner.

At the top; more deep breaths, then she gathered her wits and planned to barrel right past them. How difficult could that be? Flaming heat built in her cheeks and she knew they were beaming a crimson glow. One of the worst things about the fair with red hair thing, blushing held an all new level of embarrassment when it could be noticed from across the street. The pounding in her head and heart had not slowed a beat, and she still wasn’t at all sure that vomiting wasn’t going to become an issue, really causing a scene.

Willing herself to be invisible, she got most of the way past them, when a firm hand brushed along the side on her arm—chills. She gasped, froze in her tracks, then glanced over her shoulder and straight into the most incredible soft brown eyes, that made her melt.

What seemed like minutes passed. Through her tunnel vision, everything appeared to go slow-motion. He lifted his chin just a little and said in a low sultry voice, Hey.

Her well traveled heart shot back into her already tight throat and she was barely able to squeak out a, Hey, in response. So much for intelligent conversation.

The connection she felt was so tangible she couldn’t fathom it. Chemistry, amazing and unexpected, not to mention unwanted. Apparently, actually meeting and talking wasn’t as much of a prerequisite as she had previously thought.

Reality jabbed her out of her surreal state when she felt the piercing gaze that Jaz had locked onto her. She cringed under the weight of her icy blue stare. If looks could kill.

A sudden swell of hungry campers began to make their way into the hall. She knew she couldn’t very well keep standing there like an idiot with her mouth gaping, so pulling her eyes away from Jaz’s death glare, she took a quick glance back at the object of Jaz’s desire. The smile on his face struck her; He looks like he’s enjoying this just a little too much. Is he laughing at me?

All she knew was that further contact of any kind with this particular camper would bring on the considerable wrath of Jaz. The plan was to avoid that well known punishment at all cost. She took yet another deep breath, forcing herself to continue on into the dining area.

As she approached the line for food, she dared herself to peek, one time, toward the entrance she had just cleared. Why do I put myself through this? I’m sure if I were to look back over there now I would get an eye full of Jaz the slut, at work on her flavor of the week; probably having a good laugh at her expense. The pull was like driving by the scene of an accident, she really didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t stop herself.

When she entered the cafeteria style line, she reached for a tray then pretended that the person behind her said something to her. Turning her head back slightly, just enough, she let her eyes stray to the doorway. Jaz was doing her best seductress routine to recapture the attention of her target because—What do you know? He was staring directly at Aubren again. Still?

As soon as he noticed her look back at him and their eyes met again, a small smile tilted one corner of his mouth. Every rational thought told her to look away, but she couldn’t. The same feeling as before, in her gut, told her something. She wasn’t at all sure she was up for Jaz’s games, but she had a strong feeling that if she were the victor of this particular war, the prize would be worth the price. Bring it on Jaz!

Chapter Two

This morning when she came to the apartment alone, she had no idea how much she would need Tre now and wish he was here. When he offered to come with her she declined, thinking that he would be more useful to Cole, as he ran last minute errands before the funeral.

When she approached her father’s closet, she knew that a simple turn of that doorknob would change her life forever. For better or worse, still to be determined.

Secrets, he had said at the hospital, in the blue shoebox, on the top shelf.

Do I even want to know these things? she asked herself. Daddy said there was information I needed … secrets; but why now?

Death bed confessions? More like a last request. How could she deny her beloved father’s last wish?

Her entire world was turning upside down and inside out. The past few days had been a tear filled blur, everything she knew to be real, suddenly in question. Why did I come alone? I should have let Tre come with me when he offered. What if I can't handle what's in that box? But ... what if there are things … that need to stay in there? If only she had a clue as to what she would find.

Well, first things first, she told herself, find the box and go from there.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the knob. She couldn’t understand her hesitation. She had gone into this closet hundreds of times before. When she was younger, she and Amery, her BFF, came in here to play all the time. Their imaginations transformed the vast space into castles, caves, forts, spaceships and in later years, shopping malls. It was a pretty big closet. She and her dad moved into this place when she was nine years old. When planning a remodel before they moved in, her dad sacrificed space in his bedroom to be able to make the closet larger.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she thought, That was so typical of him.

Setting aside her reservations, Aubren slowly turned the knob and opened the closet door. As she entered, each breath captured scents of him. His favorite cologne was the first that she deciphered. The familiarity was comforting. He always said that smells could trigger memories. So true, she thought, as a slew of them began to flood her mind. Damming the flow, she reminded herself that she was on a mission. She needed to focus and get it done.

She walked to the back corner of the closet and reached up to the top shelf. There it was; the unremarkable blue shoebox that contained information that could wreak havoc in her life.

Barely able to keep her grip on the box, she pulled it down, placing it on her lap as she sat on the chaise lounge in the center of the closet floor. She stared at it, unable to go on.

Just open it, she prodded herself, just get it over with. Placing a hand on each side of the lid, she slowly lifted it. When she looked down at its mysterious contents she saw a thick bundle of letters written on purple paper, bound together with purple ribbons. Letters from Daddy?

He loved to write letters, a lost art, he often said.

Shinning like a beacon, stark white atop a sea of beautiful lavender pages, sat a small plain envelope with Aubren written on the front in a shaky version of her father’s handwriting. It seemed strange to see her full name. He almost always called her Honey or Babycakes or some other equally cute endearment. When Amery came along she started to call her Bren. Since then, most of her friends did too.

She reached for the plain envelope that looked so ordinary and out of place. So many times in her life she had held envelopes just like it in her hands, filled with routine letters, notes to and from teachers, even junk mail. She had a feeling that this one would be anything but ordinary.

Slowly, she turned the envelope in her hands and fresh tears formed at the corners of her eyes. She was gazing at her dad’s initials, his monogram actually. The conjoined letters embossed into a glob of dark purple sealing wax, securing all within.

This was his signature mark on all correspondence.

Moisture glistened across her face. Her tears teetered on the edge of her eye lids. A tight knot formed in her stomach. A bead of sweat trickled slowly down her spine as she carefully began to tear the paper away from the hard wax, leaving it anchored to the envelope. Placing shaky fingers at the edge of the partially torn flap, she continued to separate the two surfaces, thinking of the many envelopes she had opened in her lifetime. It had always seemed a mundane act—until now.

Suddenly she flinched, yelling out, OUCH, OWW, not a paper cut ... not now. As her finger flew reflexively to her mouth, she let out a crazy little laugh that echoed around the closet, heard only by her. Blood sweat and tears; how appropriate.

Once she had regained a bit of composure, she removed the single page from the envelope. It looked ordinary. The hand writing was familiar however it wasn’t her father’s, the letter was written by her step dad Cole. Daddy must have had Cole write this in the hospital, then seal it and put it into the box.

This was it. This would be the last thing he ever gave to her. Answers ... right? Again she thought, I’m not sure I want answers to questions I haven’t asked.

He didn’t even have a chance to use some of his beautiful stationery, she mused, as she began to read her father’s last words.

My dearest love, Aubren, Sweetie, Cupcake, if you are reading this, the worst case scenario the doctors mentioned has come to be; I am gone from this world. But really I will never truly be gone from you. Keep my memory in your heart, and it will guide you always.

The day your mother told me she was expecting you, was the day I began to believe in miracles. The second I laid eyes on you, you were in my heart. I knew I would spend the rest of my life loving you, protecting you and giving you a wonderful life and home. I know you feel that I have achieved this … ’cause you tell me all the time. You were always such a good girl, despite the fiery reputation of you redheads.

I can leave this world knowing that you felt as loved by your family as was possible for anyone.

Ours was an untraditional family, to say the least. To me, our lives always felt so natural, so normal. Did you ever feel so different from the other kids? My early fears about that never truly vanished over the years.

I know you missed having a mother, losing her at such a young age was hard on both of us. You were too young to have many real memories of her. The scent of Gardenia she always wore, and the amazing colors that radiated from of her gorgeous, dark, red, mane of hair when the sun hit it. At least you get to look at her beautiful hair in the mirror every day. You lucky, lucky girl.

I hope I was able to keep her spirit alive for you with stories and photos. Remember when you were little, you loved the game we played, where you would name everyone with your mom and I, in the big group photo of our old college gang?

Your mother, Bronwen, was my very best friend in the world. We used