No, really. She wasn’t kidding.
Ba-boom, ba-boom, her heart thudded. Why in the world would a shadow box glow?
Staring at the wood box with the hinged glass top, Summer had a hard time keeping her shit together. Something was definitely emanating from the inside.
Oh my god, oh my god. Oh. My. God.
As quickly as time allowed, she hurried through changing Ari and placed her in the playpen for a nap. Then she ran to the coffee table, knelt before it, and carefully lifted the shadow box lid.
The feather quivered as a wave of energy rose from the treasured memories. The wave enveloped her and made time stand still.
Even though it was implausible, there was no mistaking what she was feeling. The only person beside her who touched the cherished objects was Arnie. His life force was hard to miss, so unless the universe was messing with her, what she sensed had everything to do with him.
How was it possible after all this time for Arnie’s essence to be present and so strong? She glanced at Arianne and then at the box of memories. There was every possibility the child she and Arnie made was already growing inside her when they hiked up the mountain and left with a handful of natural objects.
What the hell was going on? One minute, she was stressed, anxious, and fearful about their safety, and the next, a warm psychic embrace from someone she hadn’t laid eyes on in a year made her feel secure.
Was she losing it? Was this how it went for girls with fanciful imaginations? Had she finally fantasized herself into a ditch?
Leaving the lid open, she rose and looked around. She might very well be losing it, but she wasn’t imagining the swirling energy from floor to ceiling.
Her phone chimed, alerting her to a text. She picked it up from the kitchen counter, saw a message from Reed, and opened it.
A giggle shot out of her mouth. She tried to stifle it with her hand so she didn’t wake the baby.
Status Update: gave in to a blind date fix-up.
Name? Virtue. No, it’s not a joke.
Date night at Red Lobster. Cute, right?
It was her first seafood encounter, and it did not end well.
It was time to intervene in her brother’s lackluster romantic life. Reed had an uncanny knack for dating the wrong girls. What he needed was a w-o-m-a-n. Someone with a life who wouldn’t fall for his military-alpha bullshit.
Virtue? Wow, bro.
How did you find this one?
It took a minute or two for an answer. She shook her head when the full picture came into view.
An Army buddy. The dating pool is a drop in an empty bucket out here in the middle of a desert. He’s had some luck and hooked me up. Found out too late he’s newly single, ready to fuck-mingle, and not at all caring of quality (if you catch my drift).
And this right here was the problem, she thought with a heavy sigh. He missed the whole point by taking dating cues from a military source. It wasn’t about a checklist. Someone needed to shake sense into her brother. No, it wasn’t easy to find a relationship, but if he didn’t put himself out there and let the extraordinary find him, he’d never be happy.
She considered how to reply.
It takes a certain type of girl—the kind you should be looking for. You know, they say a man with a baby is a chick magnet. Think about it. Maybe you should take your niece to the store or push her stroller around the park playground. How bad could it be??
Unless you need to talk, I’m signing off. #beat The baby and I are napping. xxoo
He texted right away with a series of happy and kissy face emojis.
Maybe her suggestion was a little off-center, but it didn’t mean her opinion held no merit. He was never going to meet the right girl unless he broke out of the mold.
Summer wanted nieces and nephews. She wanted family celebrations, turkey feasts, and Christmas lists. If those wants made her selfish, she was okay with it. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with aspiring to be normal, have a family, and live a happy, meaningful life.
Abruptly muttering, “Shit,” she remembered the bag of avocados Mrs. Pak gave her, looked across the room to make sure the baby was asleep, and then headed for the door. The bag was still in the car along with a takeout box of cannoli.
Scurrying into the vestibule, she spied a stack of mail her eyes hadn’t noticed earlier. Being dog-ass tired, she must have walked right past it.
Dashing to her car, she rounded the vehicle to the passenger side. Sounds of manly laughter drew her eyes to the house across the driveway. A work truck sat in the driveway, and every light in the place seemed to be on. Plantation shutters made it impossible to see inside without brazenly peeking through the large front window. She was curious and not just about the renovation.
Stan McGee was an interesting guy. There was something intriguing about him, but she hadn’t given him enough thought to figure out what was up. She wondered who he was yukking it up with and remembered him saying he worked with his brother.
Another peal of laughter rang out, but this one gave her goose bumps. She frowned and focused on the unusual reaction. Nothing came except confusion and more goose bumps. The worry she was losing her marbles came back around and bit her on the ass.
With a frustrated yank, she opened the passenger door, slid her hand into the handle of an avocado-filled plastic bag, and picked up the container of Italian dessert.
Whatever. If a breakdown was headed her way, she planned to be stuffed with calorie-laden foods when it took her.
Back in the house, she slammed the door more forcefully than necessary and winced. Holding still and barely breathing, she waited to see if the baby reacted, and when she didn’t, Summer went straight into the kitchen, took care of the avocados, and grabbed a fork.
“No need for a plate,” she mumbled aloud and went to the sofa where she plopped down, put her feet on the coffee table, and dug into the sweet, creamy treat.
It took a great deal of mental bargaining and negotiating to keep from eating the second cannoli, but she managed to stop stuffing her face before things got dicey.
Her belly full, the baby snoozing, and a long night ahead, she stretched out on the sofa, turned on QVC for background ambience, and promptly fell asleep.
29
Stuffing an enormous bag of McDonald’s breakfast meals on the floor between his feet, Arnie withdrew two sausage burritos and unwrapped them. One he gave to Stan, and the other he shoved in his mouth practically whole.
Stan gobbled his in three neat bites, washed it down with a trough of Coke Zero, and wiped his mouth on a napkin. After inhaling, he put a hand on his gut and filled the interior of the truck with an ear-splitting belch.
“Ah, there we go. Now I’m ready for the day.”
Arnie shot him a dose of side-eye and shook his head. Hanging out with his brother was a lot like summer camp where burps, farts, and other bodily functions were celebrated with alarming frequency.
Case in point, Stan’s earlier long-winded monologue about morning wood intersecting with shower gel. They hadn’t even left the hotel parking lot before he went off on a detailed description of getting off.
“When we get to the house, I’ll Postmates a couple of dozen donuts and the gallon box of Joe from Dunkin’. The workers will appreciate it.”
Grunting to indicate he was paying attention, Arnie concentrated on the phone in his hands and opened his NIGHTWIND daily message thread. Dottie’s morning update was cc’d to all eyes. When it came to having each other’s backs, there were no secrets.
The news started with something important. His father was in the air and on his way. He copied the flight information into his calendar and continued.
Overnight, the local police patrolled Wishing Star Lane on an hourly basis. Nothing suspicious happened, and there were no reports of unusual activity.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he went to the final entry. This one was an update from Milo—an update everyone could see.
Speaking in barely u
nderstandable tech talk, Milo reported an easy win on Arnie’s request for isolating cell numbers. The smarter than smart guy used his geo-mapping ability to pinpoint each phone at the specific address and state with real certitude which number of the three was Summer’s.
In other words, thanks to Milo, at the very least they had something to track. If she left the house and went anywhere, he’d know where she was.
This new wrinkle also meant he had Summer’s phone number. Day late and a dollar short, his conscience grumbled.
“I like early mornings. How about you?” Stan asked.
He lifted a shoulder and was about to offer a reply when he just gave up. The tension tightening every muscle short-circuited his mind.
Summer liked mornings. And afternoons. And evenings. She liked everything and looked for the good in everybody and every situation. He needed those things in his life. Considering all the stuff he’d seen and what he knew about the way the world worked, it was a fucking miracle he wasn’t jaded and pessimistic. All the bad stuff fell away, though, when his sunshine girl turned her pretty smile his way.
Stan was babbling. It was how he filled the gaping holes in conversation caused by Arnie’s growing melancholy. Being a dick wasn’t the answer, so he sighed and reset his mood.
“Dad’ll be here in a couple of hours.” He side-eyed his brother and offered a grin. “I’m not sure LA is ready for the three of us together.”
“And I’m not sure I’m ready for him to be flaunting a girlfriend. Jesus, Arnie! She’s a real adult.”
He chuckled. “Hey, now. Come on. I have factory-certified adult mileage, and so do you.”
“True, but the Wanamakers aren’t known for amassing advanced degrees. Most of our clan barely went to college. A PhD is pretty impressive. Good for Dad.”
“I think this needs to be said.” Arnie sniggered. “The lady might be a doctor and have a real job, but what does it say that she’s in a relationship with Dad? The man has two sections in his closet. One for casual Hawaiian shirts and the other for dress-up Hawaiian shirts.”
Stan pounded the steering wheel and laughed. “What if she’s an island hippie or one of those tree huggers? Oh, my god. How perfect, huh?”
“Granddad would love it. And as a botanist, I’m sure she’d find his growing operation and research facility damn impressive.”
“I’m feeling a visit to the Big Island in the future. Check this lady out.”
Winter sunrise gave the sky a soft glow. They pulled into the driveway on Wishing Star Lane. At seven in the morning, the neighborhood was just waking up. A sleepy-eyed man wearing dad pajamas stood in his front yard with a small dog on the end of a tether. Two women power walked along the sidewalk, and near the end of the street, a gaggle of backpack-wearing older kids huddled together, waiting for a school bus.
Within five minutes, the work crews started showing up. Before long, the house was hopping, and a workday was in session.
“We’ll only be gone overnight. Bud has an appointment late afternoon tomorrow, so we’ll likely be home around lunchtime.”
Summer nodded and gave Lynda a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. Mariah and I understand each other. She’s the feline diva, and I’m merely the visiting waitress whose only function is to open cans and dump them on a plate.”
Lynda naming her snotty cat Mariah was absolutely a dig at the superstar chanteuse. Divas gotta stick together.
“I’m sorry we didn’t have time to plan, but when Brigit called to share her good news, we had to make a snap decision or miss her big day.”
“An on-camera interview with a network news reporter is a huge deal. Of course you should be there.”
“I knew you’d understand. Mariah is a handful, sorry not sorry.” She chuckled. “She’s better than a Rottweiler, though. Good luck to any poor schmuck trying to break in. She’ll shred them with a mighty howl and walk away with a disdainful swish of her tail.”
“Swishing with disdain. Oh god, I love it. May I steal those words, please?” Summer laughed.
Lynda looked at her watch. “Crap. Quarter past seven. Bud will be impatiently tapping his foot. I better go.”
They hugged, and Summer shooed her from the vestibule. “Be gone! And have fun. Give Brigit a hug for me and tell her I said congratulations.”
At the fence where she held open the gate, she watched her friend go, waved to Bud, and blew them both a kiss. After they pulled away, she went back inside and checked the doorknob to the main house to make sure Lynda had locked it. Then she slipped into her apartment, locked the door, and quietly made breakfast while Ari continued enjoying swing time.
With nothing pressing on her schedule, there was no reason to hurry. Someday, she’d look back and be glad for this time to do nothing but be a mommy.
One warmed-up brown sugar Pop-Tarts slathered with peanut butter later, she sat at the table sipping tea and laughing at videos of kids and their pets on YouTube.
“I promise you, sweetie. One day, we’ll get a dog.”
She thought about her abandoned life in Santa Barbara and Mrs. Hayashi’s fluff dog, Chiclet. The happy memory segued to another—Arnie proudly declaring he had a dog guy. She’d laughed but also assumed they’d be getting a dog.
Things were simple then. Now? Not so much.
“Cardio time!” she exclaimed and smacked her hands together. Enthusiasm burned energy whether it was real or fake.
Before anything, though, she had to do a quick diaper check. Finding a dry diaper, she stretched in front of Ari and recited the benefits of a proper warm-up. Her daughter responded with smiles, gurgles, hand waves, and buckets of love.
When her muscles were awake, she channeled her enthusiasm and gave a cheer. “Who’s pumped?”
Ari’s giggle rang out. The fair-haired, blue-eyed baby might resemble her daddy, but lately, she’d shown signs of having inherited her mommy’s penchant for silliness.
“Let’s do Daddy’s song,” she told Ari. “No ear pods this time so you can get your baby groove on!”
Fitz and the Tantrums came through the Bluetooth speaker. The baby wiggled in her seat and cooed.
Energetically dancing around the living room triggered a critical energy burn. It was just what she needed. Clapping her hands, she sang, “Count it out,” to Ari’s delight. For shits and giggles, she even broke out a couple of old-school robot moves. It felt glorious, mainly because something about this particular song spoke to her.
The aerobic workout got her heart thumping. Twirling to a stop, she pranced around the room with self-congratulatory cheers.
“Best way I know to work out the kinks.”
Before she could stop the playlist, another song began. “Teenage Dream.”
She froze for the briefest second, but then Arianne stuck her tongue out, blew bubbles, giggled, and waved her hands.
Well, okay then. Summer let the song play. She needed to be in the proper frame of mind to listen to it, but if her daughter made a song request, she had to give it a shot.
Picking a hairbrush off the coffee table, she used it as a microphone and put on a show for her giggling baby.
When the music ended, she quickly switched off the speaker and closed her phone. Two Arnie songs were enough.
“Bath time, young lady, and then I think we’ll bundle up and take a walk. Sound like fun? I’ll bring the camera, and we can do a photo shoot.”
The guesthouse lacked a bathtub, but thankfully, there was a handy apron-front farm sink in the kitchen. It wasn’t too deep and fit Ari’s bath flower, an ingenious sink product designed to cradle baby in big, soft petals with ease. The sprayer on the faucet could be adjusted to make a soft shower. It was Ari’s favorite.
The joy of bath time with baby was one of her favorite parenting discoveries. It didn’t matter if it was cold out, and she ended up drenched by the end of the bath. The fun was the mundane activity. Warm water, loads of fragrant suds, and a smiling and contented baby—happy Zen.
Once the baby was scrub-a-dub-dubbed and dressed for outdoors, it took no time to wriggle into yoga pants and a sunflower T-shirt topped with an oversized hoodie.
She no longer bothered to style her hair—infants don’t care what you look like—so her daily routine consisted of clean skin, moisturizer with sunscreen, and toothpaste. At this point, everything else was a luxury.
The three-in-one travel system she invested several hundred dollars in was a modern-day marvel capable of converting to a carriage or a stroller. It came with some really impressive shocks to cushion baby’s ride. Right now, with Ari being so little, she preferred the carriage option—when the baby was a little older, they’d give the upright stroller a test run.
“I think we’re all set,” she told Ari and wheeled the carriage outside. While working out some last-minute adjustments, a car pulled to the end of the driveway, and someone got out. Shielding her eyes, she squinted but gave up. Reaching for her sunglasses in the front pouch of her hoodie, she slid them on and boldly studied the man dragging a rolling suitcase in his wake. He tickled her people-watching habit. It was the way he held himself and walked. She sensed confidence—it was evident in his swagger. It reminded her of Arnie.
“Okay,” she murmured to her co-pilot. “This guy is interesting. He’s not a worker bee, and judging by his scuffed suitcase, he isn’t a stranger to travel. What do you think, sweetie? Hmm?”
Ari gurgled happily, blew bubbles, and smiled. She was a champion bubble producer and was so good at it the symbol of a bubble should be a part of her personal insignia.
She slowly pushed the carriage along the drive as the intriguing stranger walked toward them on the other driveway. As he got closer, she got a better overall impression.
He was older, maybe sixty or so, and he had a distinct boomer vibe evidenced by a well-worn denim jacket and silver hair pulled into a ponytail. All he needed was a Grateful Dead insignia on his jacket, and the look would be culturally complete.
Summer smiled to herself. When the older man was close enough to be friendly, he returned her smile and nodded.
Finding Summer (Nightwind Book 3) Page 54
