SUMMER FEVER

4 | THEN

SUMMER VAN DOREN
15 years ago

Back then, Alexandria was more than just an island; it was a sanctuary where time seemed to stand still, sheltering its people from the chaos of the outside world. Nestled off the coast, its shores kissed by the gentle waves of the sea, Alexandria was a haven of serenity.

The island's history was as rich as its fertile soil, rooted in the legacy of the Lukacs family, who had called it home for generations. Named after Alexandra and Ian Lukacs, esteemed ancestors who had carved out a life on its shores, Alexandria was a testament to their enduring legacy.

For the children of Alexandria, life unfolded at a different pace. With no schools to speak of, we were homeschooled, our education guided by the learning of our parents and the education of private tutors. From the three R's to the finer points of etiquette, our days were filled with a diverse array of lessons, each made to suit our individual abilities. But it wasn't just academics that shaped our upbringing; it was the rhythms of island life, the ebb and flow of the seasons, and the timeless traditions that bound us together as a community. From tending to the family orchards to helping with the harvest, we learned the value of hard work and dedication from an early age - despite our privilege.

Back then, the Van Doren estate stood in a color of jade, its grandeur accentuated by the lush foliage that surrounded it. The Lukacs family estate, while still imposing, bore traces of ivy creeping along its stone walls, giving it a weathered yet dignified appearance.

The cemetery, shaded by ancient oak trees, seemed to hold its breath in reverence for the past. Moss clung to the weather-worn gravestones, their inscriptions softened by time's gentle touch.

The village streets retained a rustic charm, with buildings adorned in hues of ochre and terracotta, their facades weathered by the salty sea air. The market square hummed with activity, its cobblestones polished by the footsteps of generations past.

As twilight descended upon Alexandria, I found myself seated before the ornate vanity in my bedroom, the soft glow of candles casting a warm halo around me. My mother, her expression a mix of tenderness and sorrow, stood behind me, her nimble fingers working through my platinum blonde hair with gentle precision.

The scent of jasmine wafted through the room, a soothing balm against the ache in my heart. With each brushstroke, memories of happier times flooded my mind, the laughter and joy that once filled these halls now replaced by the solemnity of grief.

"Sweetheart, you look beautiful," Daria, my mother, said softly, her hands working through my platinum blonde hair with care. "It's crazy how yours is even closer to white than mine ever was. You've always had such unique hair, just like your grandmother. She'd be so proud of you today, as am I."

I chuckled, breaking the somber atmosphere with a hint of levity. "Are you proud of me for my hair, Mom?" I teased, a playful glint in my eyes as I met her gaze in the mirror.

"It is pretty fabulous, I have to admit." She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my scalp, her gesture filled with motherly love and pride. "I meant more how good you're handling today."

"Well, I didn't know the man," I shrugged nonchalantly, trying to lighten the mood.

Mom gasped dramatically, her hand freezing mid-stroke in my hair. "Summer!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in mock horror.

I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "What?"

With a theatrical sigh, Mom shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "We really shouldn't have homeschooled you," she quipped, her lips twitching with amusement as she shook her head. "Come on, what will you say once I die?"