Same Time, Next Year

by Debbie Macomber

  “From your reaction, I’d guess James has mentioned me.”

  “Yes.” Summer slumped down in a chair and closed her eyes. “You and James were engaged at one time.”

  “That’s right. I understand you and James recently got married.”

  “Three months ago,” Summer said, embarrassed by how weak her voice still was. “In Las Vegas,” she added a little more loudly.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me for being so forward. I talked it over with Cody—he’s my husband—and he said since I felt so strongly about it I should call you.”

  “So strongly about what?”

  “About you…and James. I’ll always regret the way I treated James. He deserved a lot better, but I was younger then. Immature in some ways. At one time I thought I was in love with him. I knew he loved me, and my family thought the world of him. Then I met Cody.” She hesitated. “I didn’t phone to tell you all this. I’m sure James filled in the details.”

  “Why did you call?” Summer was sure that under other circumstances she might have liked Christy Franklin.

  “I wanted to tell you how happy I am that James found someone to love. I know it’s presumptuous of me but I wanted to ask a favor of you.”

  “A favor?” The woman had a lot of nerve.

  “Love him with all your heart, Summer. James is a special, special man and he deserves a woman who’ll stand by his side and love him.”

  “I do,” she said softly.

  “For quite a while I despaired of James ever getting married. I can’t tell you how pleased I was when Mom phoned to tell me Rich and Jamie had met you. Cody and I want to extend our very best wishes to you both.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I do hope you’ll keep Cody and me in mind when you count your friends. There’s a place in my heart for James. He’s been a friend to our family for years. He was a tremendous help to Paul when Diane died, and again later when he married Leah. James helped Rich and Jamie, too, and he’s been a good friend to Jason and Charlotte, as well. We’re all indebted to him one way or another.”

  “I do love him so much.” She was fighting back tears and not even sure what she was crying about. The fact that Ralph Southworth had resigned as James’s campaign manager because of her? Or that James’s ex-fiancée still cared for him deeply?

  Summer had just replaced the receiver when James stepped into the kitchen. He stood with one hand on the door.

  “Who was that on the phone?” he asked.

  Summer met his look straight on, waiting to read any emotion. “Christy Franklin.”

  “Christy?” he repeated. “What did she want?” He looked more surprised than anything.

  “She called to give us her and Cody’s best wishes. She said it was high time you were married and she can hardly wait to meet me.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  Summer grinned. “I said she’s to keep her cotton-pickin’ hands off my husband.”

  James chuckled, obviously delighted by her possessive attitude. “You aren’t going to get much of an argument from me.”

  “Good thing,” she said, and slid her arm around his waist. Together they joined his father.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand it,” Summer muttered. She sucked in her stomach in order to close her skirt. “I can barely zip this up. It fit fine just last week.”

  “Honey, you’re pregnant,” James said matter-of-factly.

  “Three months. I’m not supposed to show yet.”

  “You’re not?” James’s eyes left the mirror, his face covered with shaving cream. He carefully examined her rounded belly.

  “Tell me the truth, James. If you were meeting me for the first time, would you guess I was pregnant?”

  He frowned. “This isn’t one of those trick questions, is it?”

  “No.”

  “All right,” he said, then cleared his throat. He seemed to know intuitively that she wasn’t going to like the answer. “You do look pregnant to me. But then you are pregnant, so I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

  “I’m fat already,” she wailed, and felt like breaking into tears.

  “Fat is not the word I’d use to describe you.”

  “If I’m showing at three months, can you just imagine what I’ll look like at nine?”

  His grin revealed pride and love. “I’d say you’ll look like the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “No wonder I love you so much,” she told her husband, turning back to the closet. She sorted through the hangers, dismissing first one outfit and then another.

  “Where are you going that you’re so worried about how you look?” James asked.

  Summer froze. “An appointment.” She prayed he wouldn’t question her further. She’d arranged a meeting with Ralph Southworth, but she didn’t want James to know about it.

  “Okay. Don’t forget tonight,” he reminded her. “We’re going to the Mannings’ for dinner.”

  “I won’t forget,” she promised. “Eric and Elizabeth, right?”

  “Right. Knowing Elizabeth, she’ll probably spend the whole day cooking. She’s called me at least five times in the past week. She’s anxious to meet you.”

  “I’m anxious to meet them, too.” But not nearly as anxious as she was about this meeting with Southworth. In setting up the appointment, Summer hoped to achieve several objectives. Mainly she wanted Ralph to agree to manage James’s campaign again. And she wanted to prove to James that he didn’t need to protect her from gossip and speculation.

  James left for court shortly after he’d finished shaving. Summer changed into the outfit she’d finally chosen, a soft gray business suit with a long jacket that—sort of—disguised her pregnancy. She spent the morning doing errands and arrived at Ralph’s office at the Seattle Bank ten minutes ahead of their one-o’clock appointment.

  She announced her name to the receptionist and was escorted into Southworth’s office a few minutes later.

  Ralph stood when she entered the room. He didn’t seem pleased to see her.

  “Hello again,” she said brightly, taking the chair across from his desk. She wanted it understood that she wouldn’t be easily dissuaded.

  “Hello,” he responded curtly.

  “I hope you don’t object to my making an appointment to see you. I’m afraid I may have, uh, misled your secretary into thinking it had to do with a loan.”

  “I see. Are you in the habit of misleading people?”

  “Not at all,” she assured him with a cordial smile, “but sometimes a little inventive thinking is worth a dozen frustrating phone calls.”

  Southworth didn’t agree or disagree.

  “I’ll get to the point of my visit,” she said, not wanting to waste time, his or hers.

  “Please do.”

  “I’d like to know why you’ve resigned as my husband’s campaign manager.”

  Southworth rolled a pencil between his palms, avoiding eye contact. “I believe that’s between James and me. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “That isn’t the way I understand it,” she said, grateful he’d opened the conversation for her. “I overheard James and his father talking recently, and James said something different.”

  “So you eavesdrop, as well?”

  He was certainly eager to tally her less than sterling characteristics.

  “Yes, but in this case, I’m glad I did because I learned that you’d resigned because of me.”

  Southworth hesitated. “Not exactly. I questioned James’s judgment.”

  “About our marriage?” she pressed.

  Once again he seemed inclined to dodge the subject. “I don’t really think…”

  “I do, Mr. Southworth. This election is extremely important to James. You’re extremely important to him. When he first mentioned your name to me, he said you were the best man for the job.”

&nbs
p; “I am the best man for the job.” The banker certainly didn’t lack confidence in his abilities. “I also know a losing battle when I see it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Mrs. Wilkens, please.”

  “Please what, Mr. Southworth? Tell me why you question James’s judgment. Until he married me, you were ready to lend him your full support. I can assure you I’ll stay right here until I have the answers to these questions.” She raised her chin a stubborn half inch and refused to budge.

  “If you insist…”

  “I do.”

  “First, you’re years younger than James.”

  “Nine years is hardly that much of a difference. This is a weak excuse and unworthy of you. I do happen to look young for my age, but I can assure you I’m twenty-eight, and James is only thirty-seven.”

  “There’s also the fact that you’re a showgirl.”

  “I’m an actress and singer,” she countered. “Since I worked at Disneyland, I hardly think you can fault my morals.”

  “Morals is another issue entirely.”

  “Obviously,” she said, finding she disliked this man more every time he opened his mouth. It seemed to her that Ralph Southworth was inventing excuses, none of which amounted to anything solid.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So…it’s clear to me, at least, that you and James conveniently decided to marry when you recognized your condition.”

  Summer laughed. “That’s not true, and even if it were, all I need to do is produce our marriage certificate, which I just happen to have with me.” Somehow or other she knew it would come down to this. She opened her purse and removed the envelope, then handed it to the man whom her husband had once considered his friend.

  Southworth read it over and returned it to her. “I don’t understand why the two of you did this. No one meets in Vegas, falls in love and gets married within a few days. Not unless they’ve got something to hide.”

  “We’re in love.” She started to explain that she and James had known each other for a year, but Ralph cut her off.

  “Please, Mrs. Wilkens! I’ve known James for at least a decade. There had to be a reason other than the one you’re giving me.”

  “He loves me. Isn’t that good enough for you?”

  Southworth seemed bored with the conversation. “Then there’s the fact that he kept the marriage a secret.”

  Summer had no answer to that. “I don’t really know why James didn’t tell anyone about the wedding,” she admitted. “My guess is that it’s because he’s a private man and considers his personal life his own.”

  “How far along is the pregnancy?” he asked, ignoring her answer.

  “Three months,” she told him.

  “Three months? I don’t claim to know much about women and babies, but I’ve had quite a few women work for me at the bank over the years. A number of them have had babies. You look easily five or six months.”

  “That’s ridiculous! I know when I got pregnant.”

  “Do you, now?”

  Summer drew in her breath and held it for a moment in an effort to contain her outrage. She loved James and believed in him, but she refused to be insulted.

  “I can see we aren’t going to accomplish anything here,” she said sadly. “You’ve already formed your opinion about James and me.”

  “About you, Mrs. Wilkens. It’s unfortunate. James would’ve made an excellent superior court judge. But there’s been far too much speculation about him lately. It started with the black eye. People don’t want a man on the bench who can’t hold on to his own temper. A judge should be above any hint of moral weakness.”

  “James is one of the most morally upright men I know,” she said heatedly. “I take your comments as a personal insult to my husband.”

  “I find your loyalty to James touching, but it’s too little, too late.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Summer demanded.

  “You want your husband to win the election, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Of course.” The question was ludicrous.

  “If I were to tell you that you could make a difference, perhaps even sway the election, would you listen?”

  “I’d listen,” she said, although anything beyond listening was another matter.

  Southworth stood and walked over to the window, which offered a panoramic view of the Seattle skyline. His back was to her and for several minutes he said nothing. He seemed to be weighing his words.

  “You’ve already admitted I’m the best man to run James’s campaign.”

  “Yes,” she said reluctantly, not as willing to acknowledge it as she had been when she’d first arrived.

  “I can help win him this September’s primary and the November election. Don’t discount the political sway I have in this community, Mrs. Wilkens.”

  Summer said nothing.

  “When James first told me he’d married you, I suggested he keep you out of the picture until after the election.”

  “I see.”

  “I did this for a number of reasons, all of which James disregarded.”

  “He…he really didn’t have much choice,” she felt obliged to tell him. “I turned up on his doorstep, suitcase in hand.”

  Ralph nodded as if he’d suspected this had been the case. “I can turn James’s campaign around if you’ll agree to one thing.”

  Her stomach tightened, knowing before the words were out what he was going to say. “Yes?”

  “Simply disappear for several months. Stay away from Seattle, and once the November election is over, you can move back into his house. It won’t matter then.”

  She closed her eyes and lowered her head. “I see.”

  “Will you do it?”

  * * *

  “Summer, I’m sorry I’m late.” James kissed her soundly and rushed up the stairs to change clothes.

  He was late? She hadn’t noticed. Since her meeting with Ralph Southworth, Summer had spent what remained of the afternoon in a stupor. She felt numb and sad. Tears lay just beneath the surface, ready to break free.

  This decision should’ve been far less difficult. She could give her husband the dream he’d always wanted or ruin his life.

  Five minutes later James was back. He’d changed out of his suit and tie and wore slacks and a shirt and sweater. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “For what?”

  “Dinner tonight with the Mannings. Remember?”

  “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile. How could she have forgotten that? James was like a schoolboy eager to show off his science project. Only in this case, she was the project. She still wore her gray suit, so after quickly brushing her hair and refreshing her makeup, she considered herself ready—in appearance if not in attitude.

  He escorted her out the front door and into his car, which he’d parked in front of the house. “You haven’t had much campaigning to do lately,” she commented.

  “I know.”

  “What does Ralph have to say?” she asked, wanting to see how much James was willing to tell her.

  “Not much. Let’s not talk about the election tonight, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to have to think about it. These people are my friends. They’re like a second set of parents to me.”

  “Do they know I’m pregnant?”

  “No, but I won’t need to tell them, will I?” He gently patted her abdomen.

  “James,” she whispered. “When we get home this evening, I want to make love.”

  His gaze briefly left the road and he nodded.

  The emptiness inside her could only be filled with his love.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  She made herself smile and laid her head against his shoulder. “Of course.”

  “There’s something different about you.”

  “Is there?” Just that her heart felt as if it had been chopped in half. Just that she’d never felt so
cold or alone in her life. Southworth had asked her to turn her back on the man she loved. He’d asked that she leave and do it in such a way that he wouldn’t follow. He’d asked that she bear her child alone.

  When they got to the Manning home, James parked his car on the street and turned to Summer. He studied her for an intense moment. “I love you.”

  “I love you,” she whispered in return. She felt close to tears.

  James helped her out of the car. They walked to the front porch, and he rang the doorbell. When she wasn’t looking, he stole a kiss.

  A distinguished older gentleman opened the door for them. “James! It’s good to see you again.”

  “Eric, this is my wife, Summer.”

  “Hello, Summer.” Instead of shaking her hand, Eric Manning hugged her.

  They stepped inside, and all at once, from behind every conceivable hiding space, people leapt out.

  They were greeted with an unanimous chorus of “Surprise!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Summer didn’t understand what was happening. A large number of strange people surrounded her. People with happy faces, people who seemed delighted to be meeting her.

  “Elizabeth,” James protested. “What have you done?”

  The middle-aged woman hugged first James and then Summer. “You know how much I love a party,” she told him, grinning broadly. “What better excuse than to meet your wife? I’m the mother of this brood,” she told Summer proudly, gesturing around the room. There were men, women and children milling about. “You must be Summer.”

  “I am. You must be Elizabeth.”

  “Indeed I am.”

  Before she could protest, Summer was lured away from James’s side. The men appeared eager to talk to James by himself. Summer looked longingly at her husband. He met her eyes, then shrugged and followed his friends into the family room.

  Soon Summer found herself in the kitchen, which bustled with activity. “I’m Jamie. We met the other day in the restaurant,” Rich’s wife reminded her.

  “I remember,” Summer told her, stepping aside as a youngster raced past her at breakneck speed.

  “These two women with the curious looks on their faces are my sisters-in-law. The first one here,” Jamie said, looping her arm around the woman who was obviously pregnant, “is Charlotte. She’s married to Jason. He’s the slob of the family.”