“Toot toot. Our ride will be pulling up soon,” Lynda announced.
Her landlady and friend monitored their Uber status from the doorway to Summer’s apartment. Though the walker and cast from Lynda’s injury were gone, she was still receiving physical therapy and preferred not to drive.
“Walt is going to go crazy for Ari’s outfit. He’s got a thing for costumes,” Lynda exclaimed. “Did I tell you he did still photography for the latest Impossible Mission film?”
Summer gave a half-smile. Part of Lynda’s charm came from her lack of pop culture awareness. Tom Cruise, Tom Sawyer, Tom Hanks, Tom and Jerry—all the same to her.
“All the ladies at the clinic loved her outfit when we went for her three-week checkup. She looked so sweet with the pink bow headband.”
Lynda released a soft chuckle. “I wish there’d been easy internet ordering when Brigit was a wee one.”
“You should get in on the game,” she said while hauling the baby carrier and a big diaper bag to the door. “After checking out Etsy, I think you could open a shop and sell the knitted baby caps.”
“Oh, pfft,” Lynda groused. She took control of the diaper bag and pulled the apartment door shut after Summer passed. “I get off on the personal aspect. Knowing the recipient makes the task joyful. Don’t you think filling orders would get stressful? I do,” she self-answered with a shrug.
They pushed through the gate and took their time making it to the sidewalk at the end of the long driveway.
“The pumpkins look nice.”
Lynda chortled. “They’re fake; can you believe it? Bud said he’d kill me if I used real ones this year. We just never know anymore with the weather, and if it gets hot, they break down and decompose really fast, so when I saw these at the craft store, how could I say no?”
Summer saw her logic and agreed with a nod. “Tony and Roy’s haunted Halloween display is a bit much, right?”
They stopped walking to gaze across the street, where a homemade interpretation of imagery from Beetlejuice transformed their yard into a showstopper.
“They’re such grandstanders. People drive by at night—after it’s lit—and take pictures,” her annoyed landlady grumbled.
“I can’t wait to see what they do for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, crap,” Lynda muttered. Her tone was harsh and unfriendly, to say the least. “Here come the neighbors. Ugh.”
Summer noted their approach and stiffened.
Todd Dinkins and his mother occupied the house to the left of Lynda’s. Though the Gerry’s driveway mirrored the driveway of their neighbors to the right, when it came to the Dinkins’ home, their front and side yards touched Lynda’s, and based on her attitude, she wasn’t happy about it.
“Hola, neighbors,” Mrs. Dinkins called out in a too-contrived-to-be-believed manner. “Out for a walk?”
“Yeah, right,” Summer muttered. “I drag a baby carrier around by the handle. Either she’s stupid or … I don’t know what.”
Lynda smirked. In a whisper, she said, “Hola? Really? Jesus.”
What did she know about these people? Not a lot.
Mrs. Dinkins dressed in nurse’s scrubs and went to work every day while Todd “worked from home,” a euphemism she assumed meant he rode the couch with a computer nearby or a game controller in his hands. The thirty-something guy gave off unsettling signals. He was friendly but maybe too friendly. There was also an air of something not quite right.
Frankly? Todd’s entire demeanor and the way he looked at her felt freaky.
Her inner voice urged caution. She shifted the baby carrier to her other hand and used her body to shield Ari.
“Hello, Gloria,” Lynda offered in a minimally polite greeting. “Todd.”
Something told Summer to stay in the background and remain quiet. She held her breath and tried to wish the Uber to hurry up.
Don’t look, don’t look. Turning her head in the opposite direction, she feigned unawareness of Todd’s interest. His perusal was uncomfortable, and she wasn’t imagining the slight aroma of eau de menace wafting from his direction.
Lynda responded to Mrs. Dinkins in a flat, somewhat chilly voice. The questions the scrubs-wearing neighbor asked were intrusive and way too personal for Summer’s liking.
The moment she saw a four-door sedan turn onto the street, she signaled to the driver and hurriedly walked to the curb. Nervous tension gripped her. When the car stopped, she didn’t wait and opened the back door. Removing Arianne from the uneasy situation was all she could think of.
“Hold on, Summer. Let me help you.”
The last thing she needed was help from Todd.
Blocking the baby carrier with her body to stop him from reaching for the handle, she held up her hand and took a protective step back.
“I’ve got this,” she snapped.
Todd threw his hands up in mock surrender. Though the gesture was commonplace when he did it, all she felt was hostility—aimed at her.
“Sor-ry,” he complained in a sniveling voice. “Just trying to be helpful.”
At that moment, she didn’t give a pixie’s ass about being friendly. The guy was bad news. Pretending otherwise was stupid.
“You’re assuming I need help,” Summer snarled. “I do not,” she stated coldly.
Lynda intervened before things got heated, and by things, she referred to herself.
“Excuse us. We have an appointment.”
Summer pushed the baby carrier to the center of the back seat and climbed in next to it. She yanked the door shut, catching the scowling frowns of Mrs. Dinkins and her creepy son.
It only took two seconds for Lynda to speak with the driver, and then she too hurled her body into the back seat and slammed the car door.
As the sedan pulled away from the curb, Summer gave an exaggerated shudder.
“I have a bad feeling about Todd.”
“I’m glad it’s not just me. Bud thinks I’m nuts.”
“Has he ever spoken to them?”
“Once or twice but my husband isn’t what you’d call observant. I’m not complaining,” she quickly added with a grin. “I’m not the type to put up with a man who’s checking out random ass.”
A funk descended upon Summer. Her earlier enthusiasm for going out in public suddenly dried up. If Ari weren’t the reason for this outing, she would have pulled the plug and returned home.
For once, the traffic cooperated, and they made it the ten miles from Sherman Oaks to Burbank in decent time.
“Here we are!” Lynda exclaimed. Her bright smile was a reminder that not everything was about Summer.
With the garage door open, it was hard to miss the temporary photo studio. As they made their way down the driveway, Lynda’s excitement grew.
“You’ll just love Walt. He has a smart eye and takes the most wonderful pictures. I mean, come on!” She chuckled. “Look at the backdrop!”
The colorful autumn backdrop depicted seasonal perfection. Summer loved it.
They bypassed the front door and headed straight to the makeshift studio. Walt thought of everything, including an umbrella table and lots of chairs. Summer lugged the baby seat to the table and checked on Ari. Her adorable infant sunflower was sleeping.
Lynda deposited the diaper bag on the table and suddenly pulled Summer in for a hug.
“Lighten up, sweetie. Your face reads like doom and gloom. Whatever it is, stop.”
She winced. “You mean as in, don’t worry, be happy?”
“Worry is standard-issue in a mother’s kit. And it never goes away. Not even when your kids are grown.” Lynda hugged her one more time. “But happiness is a choice. Maybe not all the damn time, but close.” She waved her hand and took a deep breath. “It’s a beautiful fall day. I smell plumeria and jasmine. Sunshine and cool temperatures. Ahh.”
The lady was right. This moment deserved a chance to be all it could. There was enough natural negativity to go around without her helping things along.
&
nbsp; She heard the sound of a door opening and turned with Lynda as her photographer friend came from the house into the garage.
“Walt! I brought you someone special. Drag your butt over here and meet this beautifully photogenic mother-daughter duo.”
Lynda wrapped her arm through Summer’s. “Summer Leigh, this is Walt Denron. I knew him back in the day.” She chuckled. “Believe it or not, we went to the same high school and were in camera club together.”
Summer smiled at the delightful sliver of background information and laughed out loud when her friend went on to explain that Walt took her wedding photos.
“Bunch of drunk assholes,” Walt snickered after hugging his old friend and turned to her. “It’s a pleasure, Summer. And who is this lovely sunflower?”
She smiled. Big. “This is Arianne. She’s almost a month old and sleeps quite a lot. I hope she wakes up for the pictures.”
When Walt shook her hand, she knew right away he was good people. He also reminded her a little bit of Arnie—or how Arnie might look in twenty years. It was his coloring. Walt had the presence of an aging cover model. His hair was light brown shot with gray. He had twinkling gray-blue eyes and an easy smile. He was tall too but much thinner than the golden Adonis who stole her heart.
An hour flew by. And then another. Ari not only woke up but she had a full-on diva moment and performed like a pro. Walt had the time of his life—shooting pictures from every angle, including from a stepladder. He even persuaded her to allow him to pose them for mommy and me shots.
Did she have a handy change of clothing for the baby? Of course. The sunflower suit was cute, but so was a pink and white romper outfit with headband and matching swaddle.
Ari was a swaddle baby. Summer found the baby’s blissful response when wrapped to be absolutely enchanting. The same was true for the adorable way Ari stretched and grunted when the swaddle was removed.
“You’re a natural,” Walt told her.
Natural? Good grief. The chorus of naysaying voices in her head could not disagree more. What pregnancy did to her overall body was nothing compared to the slap in the face realities every new mother tackled.
Without any free time to devote to skincare and hairstyling, Summer’s look was definitely natural. Too natural. Her skin was shit. Same for her hair. She hadn’t had a mani-pedi in months, and for Pete’s sake, don’t get her started on how none of her pre-pregnancy clothes fit. She was still wearing stretchy maternity stuff and hadn’t worn anything but Skechers or house slippers in months.
In short, she felt like a mess, whether anyone else saw it or not.
But she sucked it up and let Walt do his photographer thing. Someday, every picture would have meaning to Arianne, and that was enough for her.
While Walt and Lynda pored over the pictures on his laptop, she excused herself and sat with her back to them so she could nurse the baby. Some days, she loved every suckle, and others, when her boobs hurt and her nipples were sore, she silently cursed the man who should have been by her side through all this.
Today was a little of both. Nursing her baby came with an industrial-strength sense of female empowerment. Men might control the world, but they couldn’t carry new life or nourish the baby from their body. Empowerment is nice and all, but Ari’s fierce sucking had similarities to her daddy’s—similarities her boobs enjoyed and suffered from. She had half a dozen balms handy, all promising relief from sore nursing nipples. They helped, sorta.
What would help beyond measure was a partner to share with. Loneliness dogged her morning, noon, and night and chipped away at her mental health. Waitressing wasn’t just a way to make money. She was a people person and genuinely enjoyed most of her customer interactions. An interest in people was the reason behind the career she wanted. People management and human resources might sound like torture to some, but to her, taking care of people’s needs, mentoring new talent, and helping out when times are tough were where she could do good work. Being cut off from the life she had worked so hard to create was taking a toll.
With the baby nursed, changed, and content, she joined Walt and Lynda for a tall ice-filled glass of tangy lemonade made with lemons from Walt’s backyard tree.
A ripple of tension caught her attention. She looked back and forth between Walt and Lynda. “What’s wrong?”
Lynda pinned her with a meaningful look and in a voice intended to convey more than words said, “Walt was just saying how you could be sweeping money into trash bags if you got a modeling agent for Arianne and put her pictures out there.”
Summer carefully molded her expression to let Lynda know she understood. Then with a smile, she gently explained to Walt why it was never going to happen. The only thing was, there wasn’t an ounce of truth to what she said.
“A lovely thought, but alas,” she announced half teasingly, “impossible. I’m, I mean, we’re, uh, only in LA for a short time.”
“You’re moving?” Walt asked.
“Um, yes,” she boldly lied. “Heading to the other coast. The, uh, East Coast.”
She noted Lynda nodding with approval. Telling people she was moving was a great way to stress the temporary nature of things. If only it were true. If only she had a goddamn clue what to do next.
Sometimes, she thought about tossing all her portable stuff into a car and driving across the country. If falling between the cracks and being invisible was the way to keep the baby safe, why not take Ari to New York City? If it didn’t matter what big city she lived in, why not?
Walt launched into a travel agent spiel about the wonders of East Coast seasons and how much he loved visiting the Big Apple. She listened politely, but inside her head, Summer fantasized about running into Arnie on a New York City sidewalk. Every scenario she envisioned ended with a joyful reunion. Until presented with concrete, firsthand, irrefutable evidence to the contrary, she staunchly clung to the belief that all they had to do was be together again, and everything would magically fall into place.
If she hadn’t believed they had something special, she wouldn’t have slept with him. Period.
Sometimes, you had to fight for the life you wanted. Should she get the chance, Summer was up for battle. She knew what was real and what wasn’t. If called to defend her family, she would.
She left the photographer’s house with a couple of business cards for people he knew on the East Coast who he was sure would be happy to help if she decided to make a cash cow out of her beautiful child.
Lynda rattled on the whole way home, but she barely paid attention. Exhausted from the long outing, all she wanted to do was shut the door and pine for the man dominating her thoughts.
After everybody returned to the house, Arnie stayed behind to make sure the firepit was properly managed. He stirred up the embers. A chunk of blazing log atop a thick layer of flaming coals put out warmth and lit up the inky night. He could have smothered the flames or poured water over the fire, but he didn’t. Glowing embers against a night sky were something he couldn’t ignore.
Glancing back at the house where the friendly and gregarious Midnight family entertained his fellow NIGHTWINDers, he felt Jon and Lorelai’s happiness. People liked them as a couple, and you couldn’t ask for more than that.
He took a deep breath. The smell and taste of a wood fire permeated his senses. A cozy bubble of warmth from the flames kept the chilly Ohio night at bay.
Moving an Adirondack chair, he angled it just so and then sat with his back to the house party. At night, the thin line between body and spirit was easier to step over. With luck, moving into the shadows would reveal hidden things. Things kept from him.
The flames lengthened and danced as the wind picked up. He stared into the red-gold blaze. Instead of fully formed thoughts, disconnected words rushed by, and murky scenes, difficult to decipher, filled his mind.
Catching one of the flying words proved much harder than he expected. Surprised because he mastered this kind of exercise years ago, Arnie inhaled deeply. The
chair at his back gave him an anchor. An anchor he’d need if the fire drew him any deeper.
Relaxing his shoulders, he lightly gripped the chair’s arms and pounded his booted feet against the ground. His gaze lifted to the night sky. Tonight, the waning crescent moon was nearly invisible. Tomorrow would bring a new moon.
Arnie plugged in to the lunar energy. He thought about Lorelai’s wedding plans. She insisted the ceremony take place during the moon’s waxing phase. The happy couple was even going to plant a tree to signify their love continuing to grow in the coming years.
Planting a tree was cool. Arnie was sure that Summer would be all over it like gravy on biscuits. She’d love the symbolism.
Summer. Every thought always led back to her.
He was jealous of King and Jon. It should be him and his golden girl celebrating their union.
No, he didn’t begrudge his friends their happiness. He wasn’t trying to be a dick, but being bummed out all the damn time was draining his psyche.
The area around his heart throbbed with awareness and sucked him into the dancing fire. After falling for a long time, he felt something solid beneath under his boots and fought to find his footing. When he did, his balance was tenuous at best—a signal he was either trespassing or testing uncertain waters.
Energy and spirit moved together—forcing him into a corner. He surrendered to the swirling forces but held his ground. He wanted to see what was being kept from his sight.
To his left, a flickering light darted in and out of the shadows. It didn’t move closer, and he had to wonder if he was being watched. Spirit guides often appeared to lurk beyond reach.
A whoosh of energy made him gasp. A white gold cloud appeared. He squinted at it and focused with all his might. Summer materialized. She was sitting at a small table under a window. His heart pulsed with joy. Just as beautiful as he remembered, there was also the air of something different about her.
Fighting through the fog, he moved closer and looked harder.
He sensed exhaustion.
And bliss.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 41
