Page 47 of Summer’s Echo

Summer

These had been the longest three days of my life.

Only two days had passed since I had called off my wedding, but it felt like I had been drifting through time, caught between what was and what could have been.

I still hadn’t gone back to my house, instead finding comfort in the familiarity of my old tiny bedroom.

The same four walls that had once held my teenage dreams and whispered secrets now held the woman I was trying to rediscover.

And with my siblings still here, it felt like old times.

I needed them more than they knew. Our mother, overjoyed to have all her babies under one roof, had taken it upon herself to feed us three times a day.

If I stayed any longer, I was sure to leave at least ten pounds heavier—but I wasn’t complaining.

There was something healing about home-cooked meals and the kind of love that didn’t require explanation.

I still hadn’t checked my emails or social media.

Didn’t have the energy to. I could only imagine the speculation, the whispers, the carefully worded posts that weren’t so carefully disguised.

Thank God I worked for myself. My clients were already squared away, and I had planned to be offline for three weeks after the wedding anyway.

The original plan was to spend that time basking in newlywed bliss.

Instead, I would spend it figuring out my next steps without the weight of an almost marriage pressing on me.

Hailee, Brooke, and Trinity had come over multiple times demanding that we find somewhere—anywhere—to wear their bridesmaids’ dresses.

I had laughed, like truly laughed for the first time in days.

They were a reminder that life moved on, even when I felt stuck.

And finally, a full day turned to a night without me crying.

I hadn’t expected Deshawn to respond when I finally gathered the courage to check on him, but he did.

A short, civil response. We still needed to settle some things—namely, the outstanding wedding expenses—but I was giving him space.

I was prepared to cover the remaining costs and reimburse my parents for everything they had lost because, no matter the cost, I had to clean up what I had messed up.

And then there was Echo. He was leaving tomorrow.

He wanted to change his flight—offered to, even.

But he had a client waiting, and I insisted that he go.

Not because I didn’t want to spend more time getting to know the man Echo had become, but because I needed time to get to know the woman I was becoming.

His disappointment was fleeting, but unmistakable, the silent question lingering between us.

Was I planning to run away from him, too?

I wasn’t. I couldn’t. Not anymore. But I needed time, and for the first time in my life, I was giving myself permission to take it.

I’d never been a morning person, but today, I was awake before the sun.

Instead of lying in bed drowning in thoughts I couldn’t organize, I got up and grabbed my sketchbook before heading to the kitchen.

A cup of coffee and a doughnut was just what I needed.

Sitting at the table allowed my feelings to run free in my art.

I was so focused on drawing that I hadn’t noticed the moment when the dark gave way to the light.

The house was still quiet, but outside, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden haze over the backyard.

I took a slow sip of my coffee, letting it warm my insides.

This moment—this stillness—belonged to me.

Soon, my siblings and their families would be up, filling the house with noise and laughter and chaos.

But for now, for just a little while longer, I allowed myself to sit in the quiet and exist.

The sound of footsteps interrupted my haze. I turned toward the kitchen entrance and saw my mother standing in the threshold, the silk of her floral-print robe just grazing the floor, her hair still wrapped tight in a scarf. Even this early in the morning, she was a beauty.

I smiled. “Good morning, Mama.”

“Good morning, baby girl,” she said around a yawn. “You hungry? I’m going to cook after I have my tea and say my prayers.”

I shook my head. “Not only am I unwed, but you’re going to make me fat, too,” I quipped, but Mama did not share my amusement.

Her lips pressed into a firm line as she prepared her morning cup of tea. “Summer Sierra, don’t say things like that,” she fussed.

I sighed, looking at my shero. After days of crying, my mind was finally clear enough to see it—the quiet hurt lingering beneath her expression. My smile faded. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

She turned, her brown eyes already brimming with emotion.

Closing our distance, she sat across from me, placing her cup on the table.

Swiping away a tear, Mama leaned back in the chair before folding her arms across her body protectively.

“You should have talked to me, Summer.” Her voice was soft, but firm.

“When have you ever not been able to talk to me?”

I shook my head, struggling to suppress the sudden thickness in my throat.

“I honestly thought I could go through with it—that everything in my head was just nerves, my mind playing tricks on me.” I looked away as the morning of my wedding replayed in sharp, agonizing detail.

“But that morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, like something bad had happened. And then I remembered my dream…” I waited, inhaling shakily.

“A vivid depiction of my wedding day… but Shawn wasn’t in it. He wasn’t there.”

Mama held her teacup in one hand while the other gently caressed the top of mine. “Let me guess,” she said knowingly. “It was Echo.”

I nodded.

“I figured.” A small smirk tugged at her lips before she took a sip of tea. “That boy’s name has always had a way of lingering in your heart.”

I sighed, a quiet delight warmed my cheeks. “He told me he loves me…still.”

Mama didn’t react—not in shock, not in judgment.

She simply watched me, letting me find my own words.

“And the crazy thing is, it was so easy for me to tell him I loved him, too. On the day I should have been destroyed.” I shook my head, still reeling.

“But I don’t know what to do with that now. Everything feels so complicated.”

Mama arched a brow. “Complicated how? Seems pretty straightforward to me.”

I rubbed my temples. “You sound like Echo.”

She shrugged, as if that wasn’t surprising. “So, what’s the real issue?”

I sighed, pressing my lips together before the words tumbled out.

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe because I just left a man at the altar?

Because I’ve spent a good part of my adult life pretending I was over Echo?

Or maybe because I’m afraid.” My voice faltered, my fears spilling out of me faster than I could stop them.

“Afraid to open that door again. We were fast and furious back then, but we’re not kids anymore. ”

Mama hummed, the calculated kind that always made me brace myself, then she leaned back, studying me. “Let me ask you something, baby girl.” Her voice was gentle but pointed, like she already knew the answer. “If there were no past, no expectations, no opinions but your own, what would you want?”

I stammered because I was completely caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. But when I closed my eyes, the answer came too easily, almost painfully so. Barely above a whisper, I exhaled the only truth I knew: “Him.”

Mama nodded, taking another sip of tea. “You know, I often think about that day we met with Echo’s parents,” she started, her voice present but distant, as if she was looking through time itself.

She never said it outright. Never could. My pregnancy. The clinic. The choice that changed everything. It was always wrapped up in the phrase that day .

“I didn’t think love between two kids could be so potent,” she said, “but I saw it in that living room. I saw it at the clinic. And I see it now.” She paused, brushing a gentle finger down the side of my face, her touch warm and supportive.

“You’ve been looking for everything Echo gave you in just one summer in other people, but it’s time for you to accept that nobody can fill those shoes but him.

” She lifted an affirming brow, as if daring me to deny it.

I swallowed hard. “What if it’s not as simple as you and Echo seem to think?” I asked.

“Tuh.” Mama made a small tsk , the sound laced with amusement and warning.

“Baby, love ain’t supposed to be perfect.

It ain’t always neat and convenient. But real love?

” She leaned in, her voice dipping. “Real love has a way of making you face yourself. Face your fears. And I think Echo has been doing that to you since the moment you laid eyes on him.”

A blush crept up my neck, warming my face.

She wasn’t wrong. Mama gave me a moment, letting her words settle, then reached across the table and tilted my chin up gently, forcing our eyes to meet.

“Love, when it’s real, has a way of finding you no matter how far or fast you run.

If you want him, then fight for him, Summer.

But if you walk away…” She exhaled, holding my gaze with quiet certainty.

“Don’t do it because you’re scared. Do it because you’re sure. ”

The words settled in my soul like an undeniable truth.

Deep down, I already knew. I had never been sure of anything the way I was sure of Echo.

For a moment, relief washed over me, light and intoxicating, the salvation of truth wrapping around me like the scent of fresh roses, but Mama didn’t let me float in it for long.

“Now, what you did, Summer Sierra, was wrong—dead wrong.” Her sharp tone jolted me, ripping me from my gleeful disposition like a record scratch.

“You had ample opportunity to talk to Deshawn and end whatever you two had before it came to this. If I weren’t so worried about your li’l ass, I would’ve popped you in your mouth myself.

” I winced. The mushiness? Completely gone.

“I didn’t raise my daughter to hurt people. ”

I let every shot land, blinking through the sting because I deserved this.

My fingers found my earlobe, grasping onto something—anything—to hold myself together.

Mama sighed, shaking her head. “Honestly, Deshawn wasn’t my first pick, but that doesn’t give you the right to hurt him.

” My head jerked up, caught off guard by her words.

She noticed right away, her expression thoughtful, measured.

“I just always felt like you were settling for what was safe instead of what was meant for you.”

Settling. Ouch . The word stung.

“Deshawn is a good man—everything a mother would want for her daughter,” she admitted, “but I knew you wouldn’t be happy long-term with him.”

“You never said anything.”

“It wasn’t my place,” Mama said, a light shrug lifting her shoulders.

“You were moving forward, building a life with him, and I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe you saw something I didn’t.

But I also knew I’d be there to help you pick up the pieces if necessary.

” She gave me a long, pointed look. “And I hope and pray that one day he can forgive you…but none of us will forget anytime soon, including you.”

The words landed like a boulder dropping right in the center of my chest.

She sighed, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “But I understand one thing, baby girl. The heart leads the way, even when our mind tells us to take another path.”

I sucked back the tears, my eyes stinging.

The truth was I had been following my mind for years.

And now, my heart was begging me to listen.

I smiled, feeling lighter, as if Mama’s words had stitched together something inside me that had been torn for years.

This was exactly what I needed—a come-to-Jesus conversation that only a mother could provide.

Standing, I squatted in front of her, grabbing her hands, holding on to her like she was my lifeline. “I love you, Mama. Thank you.”

I barely got the words out before I fell into her embrace, burying myself in the warmth that had always been my refuge.

Mama’s arms always felt like home—a place where I was safe, protected, no matter how lost or broken I felt.

It wasn’t just an embrace. It was certainty.

Comfort so pure and unconditional, it wasn’t something you could see or touch.

It was a feeling. She held me tight, stroking my back in soothing circles, just like she had done when I was a little girl.

Then, with perfect timing, she pulled away, tilted my chin up with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye, and smirked.

“Now, I have to find somewhere for your daddy to take me so I can wear my dress. I looked good yesterday, girl,” she teased.

We burst into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen, wrapping around us like the sweetest kind of relief.

For the first time in days, I let myself feel light, without hesitation.

Without guilt. Because if there was one thing Mama had just reminded me of, it was that love—real love— always finds a way.