Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Bud answered. She told him she was in labor. He handed the phone to Lynda, and thirty seconds later, he came bustling through her door.

  “What can I do?” It was early evening but he was already in his pajamas with a robe flapping around him like a cape.

  She pointed at her overnight bag and purse. “I can barely hold my phone. Do you mind carrying the bags out to the driveway? An Uber is on the way.”

  “Did you alert the clinic?”

  It took her a solid minute to respond because something was happening. Her belly felt like it was pushed into a vise and squeezed.

  “Uh, no. I’ll call from the car,” she said with a sense of growing urgency.

  Bud took control of her bags and offered her an arm as he guided her through the door and out to the drive. She leaned on him and moved on numb feet. Everything felt surreal.

  There was still enough daylight for a hugely pregnant female leaning on someone at the end of a driveway to draw attention.

  Roy from across the street saw them, dropped his flamingo watering can, screeched like a fan-boy and dashed toward them.

  “Is it time?”

  Bud chuckled. “Easy, Roy. Give Summer some room.”

  “Time?” Roy waved his hand and dismissed Bud’s concern. “She’s had plenty of time.” He looked at her and grinned. “Le bébé?”

  Summer remembered her dad piling rods and tackle gear into the back of his truck when the mailman walked by and asked if he was going fishing. She had to be all of twelve or thirteen when this happened.

  The mailman’s question seemed stupid to her. Wasn’t asking the obvious a waste of time? Did you ask a woman in a wedding dress if she was getting married?

  “No, Roy. I’m going to get a pedicure,” she snapped. “Of course it’s the baby. Sheesh.”

  The Uber had no trouble locating her—not with the scene they were making. Bud put her bags on the seat and, with Roy’s enthused help, gently helped her into the back seat. In a fuzzy corner of her vision, she made out the new neighbors, on the sidewalk, the mom held her phone the way you did when taking pictures.

  Bud leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Be brave,” he murmured. It seemed like good advice.

  Roy waved and blathered something in a Bah-stan accent. She smiled but had no idea what he said.

  Alerting the clinic by phone was easy. She was on the birth center schedule for the first half of October, so they were expecting her.

  When she informed the nurse on call about her water breaking, she realized her maternity undies were soaked and added one more indignity to the list in her mind. Pregnancy stripped away modesty and made a joke of personal privacy. If she ever got the chance to unload, Arnie was in for a hell of a verbal tirade.

  When she got in the car, her panic was at level one. Creeping along sent the reading to level two. At roughly half past six in the evening, the traffic was horrendous. LA congestion was always a joke, but it seemed slower and more frustrating than usual.

  Holding her breath and tensing only made the pains worse, but what else was she supposed to do when a wave of cramps grabbed her? Riding the surge until it subsided, she gasped with relief.

  The panic meter moved up a notch to level three.

  Fearing she might give birth in the back of an Uber, Summer couldn’t tamp down her rising terror.

  “Please hurry,” she whimpered to the driver.

  By the time they made it to the clinic, she was crying and sure she couldn’t take any more.

  Eight hours of labor later, she realized how wrong she was.

  Drawn from bed a little after five, Arnie gave up trying to go back to sleep and headed into the kitchen.

  What this situation called for was coffee. Black with an ass load of sugar.

  After starting the coffee maker, he stuck his head into the closet holding a washer and dryer stack, fished a pair of sweats from the dryer, and slid them on.

  Leaning back against the kitchen counter, he checked the weather app on his phone. The sun wasn’t due to rise for an hour, and the forecast called for cloudy skies and a high near eighty.

  It was Monday. He checked his work email for the schedule Dottie distributed each week and wasn’t surprised to discover there was absolutely nothing of any importance.

  Business was in a state of lull thanks to the life changes sweeping through management. Pregnant newlyweds King and Dawn were adjusting to married life, a sprawling house, and new schools for the kids.

  The scene wasn’t any less fluid for Jon. On a natural groom-in-waiting high spent most of his time traipsing around the city with Lorelai indulging his bride with one insane shopping spree after another.

  NIGHTWIND idled as everyone waited for the next wedding scheduled for the end of October.

  To amuse himself, Arnie spent time in Flushing at Ali’s house. His colleague and her brothers took a house she bought down to the studs and rebuilt it. With the major renovation over, the focus moved inside—one room at a time.

  Ali invited him over, walked him through the renovation progress, and asked what he thought. When he suggested corner built-ins on either side of the dining room archway, she whipped out a Pinterest board, showed him a few designs. She’d just been asking his opinion, but he went the extra mile and offered to build the units.

  He supposed, in some way, he was like his dad and granddad. They found their Zen by digging in the dirt to grow things. Working with his hands was satisfying for a lot of reasons. When Stan expressed an interest in flipping houses, Arnie’s enthusiasm for his brother’s possible career choice had a lot to do with this newfound hobby.

  Pouring coffee into a mug large enough to qualify as a bucket, he briefly debated the sugar issue, threw a “fuck it,” and started spooning. He had a feeling the day was going to be long and difficult, so a little extra oomph couldn’t hurt.

  An assortment of Pop-Tarts caught his eye. He kept them in a handy basket next to the coffee maker. Shuffling through the packs until the frosted brown sugar stuck to his hand, he settled at the kitchen table to drink hot coffee, munch on meaningless calories, and wait for the sunrise.

  The breakfast pastry might have tasted a lot better if he bothered to pop it in the toaster as the name suggested, but he managed to choke it down dry thanks to the coffee.

  He glanced at the window. The inky darkness lightened as sunrise approached. Gently, and hushed, his inner voice spoke. You will remember this day until forever.

  Arnie didn’t question why or how, but he already knew. Something important waited. Whether he understood or not, today was going to change everything.

  Strange thoughts darted in and out of his mind. A psychic nudge reminded him about the hidden folder on his phone where he kept two precious images of Summer from their time together. Two images etched on his brain and in his heart.

  Driven by an impulse he had no hope of ignoring, Arnie stomped to the kitchen island and ripped his phone off the charger.

  Pussy, his internal antagonist chided.

  Oh, yeah? If pining for Summer made him a pussy then, meow, motherfucker.

  Moving to the kitchen table, he chug-a-lugged the coffee, slammed the mug on the table, and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Leaning on his forearms, he tapped and scrolled until the hidden file came up.

  Happiness, pure, joyful happiness slammed into him when the first picture filled the screen. It was his sunshine girl laughing along with a guy scooping ice cream in a shop. Her face and body language looked animated. Summer had a bubbly, high-spirited physical presence. She lived her life fully. Just looking at her filled his jaded soul with optimism. Summer gave him hope.

  The other picture was hard to see. He took it while she slept in his bed. She was on her back, with her hair everywhere. Taken from his side of the bed, it showed her glowing face in peaceful slumber.

  He’d put the glow there. Claiming her might have been selfish, but he wasn’t sorry. She belonged to him and always would regardless of what
the future held.

  In the shadowy recesses of his mind, he heard her voice. The sound of Summer’s girlish giggle gave him goose bumps. And then the laughter faded. First, it was replaced by silence and then by her horrifying cries.

  His gut clenched, and it felt like every muscle in his body tensed.

  Harsh sobs drowned out everything except the sound of his beating heart.

  He broke out in a sweat.

  Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  “In simple terms, Summer, we’re looking at slow effacement of the cervix. Your labor has slowed down.” The doctor squeezed her hand. “Looks like you’re in for a long haul.”

  “I don’t want a Caesarean,” she wailed.

  “Easy,” the nurse murmured. “We’re not there yet.”

  Summer was grateful when the doctor spoke in a calm and reassuring tone. She was jumpy enough without adding more problems.

  “Quite right. There are things we can do to help things along. The baby is fine,” she assured her. “Big and fine.”

  “What’s next?”

  The nurse answered. “We’re going to get you up and moving. Maybe go for a walk in the hallway.”

  Everything she knew about long labor popped up in her mind. As long as the baby wasn’t in distress, it helped to move around and hydrate.

  They didn’t give her time to think. After her next contraction, the nurses urged her to her feet. They walked back and forth in her room. With each contraction, she’d bend over and clutch a large pillow on the bed. The nurses rubbed her back and offered encouragement.

  She stopped watching the wall clock and didn’t care what time it was.

  Walking when urged, drinking whatever they put in a cup, and quietly sobbing from the effort, Summer held on as long as she could. Crumbling inside and unable to take much more, they put her back in bed, gave her oxygen, and strapped on a fetal monitor.

  Somewhere around her sixteenth hour of labor, she transitioned to active, hard labor. The contractions lasted longer, came closer together, and were so painful she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

  The urge to push took her by surprise.

  “This is the home stretch. You’re fully dilated, and she’s ready to make her debut. Are you still with me, Summer?”

  She didn’t know. The world was sharp but hazy. Her senses felt disconnected. It was as if everything was operating separately. The nurses spoke quietly. Machines beeped. Her mouth tasted like dirt. The hair on her head hurt. She couldn’t feel her feet.

  Somehow she cooperated with each instruction and directive. A nurse sat by her head and narrated what was happening. They’d moved her into a partially upright position, and things started moving quickly.

  Pushing, resting, and crying, Summer gave it her all. The moment before her baby burst into the world, she sobbed for Arnie.

  Time stood still.

  One moment, she was alone in the world, and the next, at nine fourteen to be exact, she was a mother with a beautiful, healthy baby girl to look after, protect, and love with all her might.

  When they placed the baby on her chest for their first skin-to-skin bonding moment, she was stunned by how much the eight-pound, six-ounce child looked like her father. She had Arnie’s lips and nose. Only time would tell if she also shared his baby blue eyes.

  A vise of warmth squeezed her heart. Love like she never imagined filled her to the point of bursting.

  The baby Summer and her golden Adonis had made was beautiful and wondrous.

  “Oh, Arnie,” she murmured.

  A nurse standing nearby touched Summer’s hand where it rested on the baby’s back. “Is that her name? Ari?”

  She didn’t bother to correct the nurse. Not when a name for the beautiful child in her arms appeared in her mind. She knew it was perfect and smiled at the friendly face who asked the question.

  “Her name is Arianne. Ari for short,” she explained.

  “Arianne Leigh. That’s a lovely name for a beautiful baby girl, who, by the way, scored a perfect ten on the Apgar test.

  “Of course, she did.” Summer giggled. “My daughter is a perfect ten.”

  The nurse smiled. “Happy day of birth, Ari. May the seventh of October prove an auspicious day in the years ahead.”

  After hours of heart palpitations, uncomfortable visions, and the fear he was losing his mind, Arnie threw in the towel and did something he knew would have consequences.

  First rule of the psychic club—don’t use your skills for evil.

  Second rule—don’t get cocky.

  Third rule—never use what you’ve been taught for personal gain.

  He was trampling on rules two and three but didn’t give a fuck. He’d answer for the transgression later. Right now, he needed some sort of clarity.

  Making a silent vow to call Dr. Ortoma sooner than later, he threw off all restraints and committed.

  In his bedroom, he sprawled on the bed until the right spot left him feeling like a starfish lying on a cloud.

  He took the familiar steps, one by one, until another realm opened, and he stepped with fake confidence into the unknown.

  Unsure of what to expect, he was unprepared to find his way blocked. The entrance to his vision cave was right there in front of him but out of reach. Something prevented him from moving forward.

  A large stone appeared. He sat upon it and waited. Waited for what he sensed moving in the deep haze to be revealed.

  Nothing happened. He was stuck.

  Time crept by. Eventually, he had the sensation of a hand upon his shoulder. He reached up but felt nothing. Disappointment stabbed him in the chest.

  “Oh, Arnie.” The voice speaking was familiar now. The sound echoed in his vision cave and made him shudder.

  The gentleness and love in his mother’s voice took away his breath.

  “You won’t find what you seek this way. Look closer.”

  The voice trailed off to a whisper of nothing. He contemplated what “look closer” meant.

  In no hurry to be on his way, he waited a little bit longer because after all, one never knew what might occur. Maybe Merlin would reveal his big, bad self so Arnie could write a book about it and become famous.

  The legendary wizard didn’t make an appearance, but a glowing golden angel did. She floated by and stopped. He was sure the golden angel giggled.

  Arnie blinked, or he imagined he blinked. The angel smiled. She twinkled her fingers, and said, “Hi.”

  He tried to answer, but she raised her hand and blew something in his direction. Colors swirled. He was inside a pulse of energy.

  “See you soon.”

  “No. Wait,” he cried out. “Who are you?”

  The angel giggled again. “Gotta go. It’s my time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nine fourteen,” she whispered before everything went dark.

  Feeling as though he fell from a great height, Arnie reconnected with the real world when his body jerked to life.

  He sat straight up, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Every square inch of his body felt like it had been pressed between the rollers of a wringer.

  Rolling off the bed to stand, his eyes caught the clock on his bedside table. The digital display read twelve fourteen. His mind did the calculation automatically.

  It was nine fourteen in California.

  An enormous arrangement of pink flowers filled her vision when Summer’s eyes opened. She’d dozed off after she and the baby were moved from delivery to a private room. The last thing she expected was Reed at her bedside.

  “Hey, twerp. Sorry I missed the big entrance, but after Bud called, it took me a while to get here.”

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “She’s beautiful, Summer. How are you doing?”

  She grimaced. “I’ll let you know when I come back into my body.”

  “Now that the little one is here safe and sound, I just gotta tell you I’m going to kill that motherfucke
r when I find him.”

  “You can’t,” she scolded. “No matter what else, he’s her daddy.”

  Reed straightened and looked into the bassinet. Summer understood his anger, but Ari sort of changed everything.

  “Bring her to me.”

  She watched her stoic big brother melt like butter when he held the precious pink bundle and exclaimed with wonder in his voice. “She’s so little.”

  “Ergh.” She snorted. “Tell that to my hoo-ha. Not so little considering the mechanics at work.”

  She might as well have been speaking Latin because he didn’t hear her. He was too busy falling in love at first sight—uncle style. Letting him have all the time in the world, she watched with a heart full of love as they bonded.

  “Hey, there, Arianne. I’m Uncle Reed. Welcome to the world. There’s a whole bunch of really cool people who love you and your mom, and I just want you to know straight off that if the going ever gets tough, I’m here for you. Okay?”

  He kissed Ari’s little face. Summer etched the sight in her memory.

  Time held no meaning as her beautiful child and complicated brother began the journey of a lifetime. Reed reacted with astonished delight when Ari opened her eyes as he wove an engaging tale about the Warren ancestors. He went on and on about their dad and how he lost his father when he was just seven.

  For the first time, she also heard the full history of their granddad, Harmon Warren. As was common for young men of his generation, Harmon was ROTC in college and took his civilian degree straight to officer training for the Army. It was the mid-sixties when the conflict in Southeast Asia was raging. Their dad, Howard Warren, was born a year before First Lieutenant Warren shipped off to Vietnam. Eventually making the rank of captain, he was killed in action, saving two of his men during an ambush not long before the war officially ended.

  What she didn’t realize was how deeply Reed was affected by their granddad’s service. His sacrifice for the country made an impression. Her eyes were opened, hearing the respect and admiration in Reed’s voice. Now she understood why he clung to a military career.