Finding Summer

by Rice, Rachel E.

  “I was traveling from Afghanistan when my plane crashed. I think I was in an army hospital in Germany. I don’t remember anything before or after that.” He looked around the room. “Why am I in this God awful hospital still? Was my father and mother informed of my accident?”

  “We didn’t know who you were. You’ve been in an automobile accident.”

  “I just explained to you that I’m Jackson Van Hughes and I was in a plane accident.”

  “No. You were in a car accident. You hit the back of a big rig. You were lucky,” the doctor explained.

  “Was my chauffer injured? Was my limo damaged?”

  “Mr. Van Hughes, you were driving a 1988 Chevy with no driver’s license. The car was a total loss. You are lucky…” The physician repeated.

  “I’ll consider myself lucky when I’m home. Please call my chauffer and he’ll bring my limo around to pick me up.”

  “If he’s planning on driving to Texas, he won’t be here for a couple of days,” the doctor added.

  “Where the hell am I?” Jackson asked, sitting upright and closing his eyes for a moment.

  “You’re in Fort Stockton, Texas.”

  “What the hell am I doing in Texas?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to determine, Mr. Van Hughes, if that’s your name.” The head doctor turned and shot a glance at the nurse. “Do you remember anything besides your name, Mr. Van Hughes?”

  “Nothing. Now get my father on the line. His number is: 415-536-6626.”

  The doctor took out his phone and placed a call and then he walked out of the room. When he returned, he wore a different expression, one of concern and respect.

  “Your father is in a board meeting and he will contact you as soon as he can get away. This is an army hospital. We found some papers on you and we thought you were a veteran. The medics must have thought the same thing,” the doctor said, trading glances with an intern.

  “Why would I join the army? I’m one of the richest men in the world.” He looked up at the doctors with a rich man’s arrogance. “You love football?”

  The doctors were gazing at each other trying to figure out where Jackson was going with the conversation.

  “Well, I played in the Rose bowl. I was the quarterback from Stanford. I was the quarterback who ran fifty yards for a touchdown to win that game.

  I won the Heisman trophy in my freshman year at Stanford, and was ready to sign a multi-million dollar contract when…” Jackson suddenly remembered, and his brow furrowed. It was then he realized that his mother had died, and his relationship with his father was contentious. It was his father who wanted him to go to college and play football and then take over his grandfather’s company. It was his father who tried to arrange a marriage between him and his father’s business partner’s daughter, Victoria.

  Jackson had argued with him about that match. He wanted to find and marry Summer, the girl he had fallen in love with when he was eighteen.

  It was his father’s words that infuriated him. “You can find a piece of ass anywhere. You are a rich man, why would you waste your time with a girl you never even fucked?”

  Finding Summer consumed Jackson’s life, but not as much as football and college. It had been all he thought about and it was all he could think of for years. But it was his responsibilities to his teammates and his father that left little attention to finding Summer.

  Finally, Jackson had lost interest in the game of football and refused to sign a contract with a professional team because of his father’s meddling in his life. After obtaining a degree in engineering, Jackson took an active role in running the company his grandfather started.

  There was an enormous void, though, as if something occurred before he arrived at the hospital in Fort Stockton. All he wanted to do now was go home to San Francisco and rest. Then he could put the puzzle together.

  Shortly afterwards, the doctor’s phone rang and he handed it to Jackson.

  “Who is this? If you are pretending to be my son, I will prosecute you,” Jackson senior said with a weak, but determined voice.

  “It’s me, Jackson.”

  “Jackson, my boy, where…How, what are you doing in Texas? You were reported missing. I don’t know how long, but it seems like a lifetime.” A sigh of relief escaped from the older man. “I’ll send a jet for you and doctors. I want you home as soon as possible.”

  “They’re taking good care of me, father. I was in a car accident. I guess I’m just accident prone.”

  It was puzzling to Jackson. He remembered how he disliked his father but on hearing his voice, he realized that something had changed his father. Maybe it was his mother’s death that made his father appear to be a bit more humble than before. Jackson felt his father wanted to see him now. The last time they spoke had been after his mother’s funeral.

  His father hammered into Jackson’s mind his responsibilities as a Van Hughes. He explained that Jackson was a man, and he couldn’t continue acting as if he was a spoiled child. He needed Jackson to prepare himself to take over their company because he was old and didn’t have the strength to run it.

  Jackson’s mother had been the backbone of his father and when she died, he began to show his age. Everyone said that Jackson senior was suffering from a broken heart.

  Jackson understood what that meant. He, too, had a broken heart when Summer left. She took something from his heart and mind and it disappeared with her. It was the first time he had fallen in love, and he never understood how profound and crippling a first love could be until then. He never went back to his old ways as a womanizer after he lost her.

  He continued to seek out the feelings that he had shared with Summer, but no other girl could fill the emptiness she left inside his body, mind, and soul. He had found the one woman that he would love a lifetime, but she left and he had to find her.

  Chapter Six

  When Summer didn’t hear from Jackson all that day, she began calling local precincts and filing a missing person’s report. She was told to wait forty-eight hours and that she needed more than a first name before they could begin their search, and if he was a veteran, then she would have to notify the Veterans’ Affairs in Houston. All she could do was pace around the house and worry. She walked into his room, looking around. Maybe there was something there that would give her some indication of what had happened to him.

  Her mind was filled with thoughts and fears. Maybe his memory came back like his eyesight and he drove home to be with his family. She couldn’t fault him for that. But what she could fault him for was not calling her and taking her car. It was her only transportation. She needed it to get back and forth to work.

  All things large and small ran through her mind. Perhaps he left her because he couldn’t make a living. Maybe his memory returned and he wanted to start a new life. She chided herself for thinking those things because she was a good judge of character and he was a good man. She felt he would have called and apologized if he discovered he had a wife and children. He wouldn’t just desert her, leaving her to wonder about him.

  “He wasn’t a cruel man. He was a good man,” she murmured.

  Summer came to the conclusion that something beyond his control had occurred. She became frantic but she tried to calm herself. She decided she would try to get someone to take her to the nearest car rental. There were neighbors down the road who she could talk to. She would get up early the next day and walk over to the nearest trailer. Earlier, she saw the older couple who lived there sitting outside and looking over and waving. She and Jackson had waved back. They even discussed visiting them.

  ***

  Sleep didn’t come easy. As soon as the sun rose, Summer jumped up, tired from her sleepless night and got dressed in slacks and a sweatshirt, then headed out the door. She didn’t even stop to make coffee. It was a glorious morning with the sun slashing through the trees, highlighting the dew on the grass. She looked around and felt alone. Adam disappeared like the dew in the morning, she
thought.

  Why had he gone off so quickly once he gained his sight? He could be here with her, enjoying the beauty of this morning. The smell of the fresh air and the walk gave her time to think.

  She thought of her eighteenth birthday, when she woke in Jackson’s bed. He sat up, smiling, and leaning over her. She remembered his words.

  “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Wake up my angel,” he had said.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in my room…” He gave her a smirk and winked.

  “And I’m in your bed?” she questioned.

  “Yes, and what could be more wonderful than this? Look out at the terrace and the hills and trees; don’t you just love San Francisco?”

  “I’m seventeen, Jackson, and I shouldn’t be here. Besides, all I see is the fog.”

  “Today you’re eighteen, and you should be exactly where you are, except I should be with you and we should be naked and should just have had the most mind blowing sex of our young lives, but instead, nothing happened.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I promise you.”

  “Then why did I fall asleep?”

  “We talked all night and then I looked over and you had passed out in my arms. It would have been a shame to wake you. You were so beautiful lying in my arms that I wanted it to last forever.” He gave her a bright warm smile. “You know, I’ve never been with a girl where I’ve only engaged in a conversation. And I have never had a girl sleep in my bed before.”

  “I guess I can consider myself lucky,” Summer said, looking into his gorgeous face.

  “No, I’m the lucky one. I have discovered something about myself.”

  Summer’s feet hit the floor, and she noticed that Jackson lay in bed with only his pajama bottoms on. She tried not to look at his incredible, hot body. Turning in a circle, afraid to leave his room, she asked, “Where is Tiffany?” She walked toward the door, then hesitated, looking out the window.

  “She is somewhere in the house. I can’t vouch for her.” He raised his hands, laughing.

  Summer smiled, remembering that day. She missed Jackson. But most of all, she missed being with Adam.

  ***

  Summer trotted up the stairs and knocked on the door of the trailer. “Come in sweetie, it’s not locked.” It’s wonderful to be so trusting, she thought. It’s a great community. She thought of making a home there with Adam. She felt that he needed the quiet of the area to regain his memory and since he had his eyesight, he could apply for a job. They had discussed it. She wanted it to be in this little town. A town where she could be with the man of her dreams, wake up, and spend her life with him, and have children.

  He was such a soft-spoken man and so easy on the eyes, too. How could he not know how handsome he is? She thought. She wanted to keep him a secret because if word got out that such a gorgeous man was here and unattached, she might lose him, but not to another woman. She might lose him to some unseen family.

  “Come in, sugar. Sit and have a cup of coffee.” A woman, about sixty or seventy with a full head of white hair fixed in a bun, greeted Summer as she walked through the door. I’m Jane and this is my husband Dave.” She pointed to the stocky man of medium height who was sitting in the recliner watching television. He had a shock of coarse white hair, and an equally white smile. His teeth were false but his character was real.

  “It’s not often we have visitors. Most of the folks around here don’t get out much. We’re all in our seventies and eighties,” Dave said, turning his head, then his face returned to the local news.

  “My name is Summer, and yes, I’ll take you up on a cup of coffee.”

  Jane walked to the counter and poured her a steaming cup.

  “Do you take your coffee black? I do hope so because we don’t have cream or sugar. Diabetes, you know.” She laid the cup in front of Summer.

  “I’ll take it black,” Summer said.

  Jane handed Summer a slice of pound cake. “The cake will help the coffee go down better.”

  Summer glanced at her and smiled. She broke off a piece of the cake and put it in her mouth. “Wow, this is good,” she said.

  “Grandma’s recipe, I put currents, nuts, and…” She was interrupted.

  “Well, look at that,” Dave said, taking a sip of coffee and leaning into the television as if he were watching his favorite movie. “An accident near Fort Stockton on I-10 west. A car hit a big rig and the car was totaled. Nothing left. Those big rigs are dangerous,” he added. “The person driving was okay and was released this morning. Must have been a miracle, I’d say.”

  He turned to face Summer. “It’s an old car. They use to know how to build cars that last. I had a Chevy like that, wish I still had one. I hear you can get good money for one at auction in Houston. The cars now-a-days, if you even so much as back into a post, you could lose your life.”

  “Okay, Dave, let the lady have something to say.” Jane interrupted, touching Dave’s shoulder. Summer’s eyes were plastered to the television, trying to see what type of car had been demolished. She missed the comment about the Chevy. What color? What year? Her car was an old Chevy Malibu.

  “Where is that husband of yours?” Dave said, turning, meeting Summer’s panicked eyes.

  “He drove to Fort Stockton. That’s why I walked over here. He left yesterday and I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Could be he’s the one that ran into the back of that truck. That car you two drove up in looks just like the one in the accident. Blue Chevy Malibu I think. Yes, indeed, just like yours,” Dave said, eating a piece of pound cake.

  Summer caught her breath with her hands to her chest. “Did they say anything more?”

  “Only that the young man was released.”

  “Can someone drive me to Fort Stockton now?” Her eyes pooled with tears. Jane saw it and she felt her pain.

  “Yes, dear, Dave will be happy to take you wherever you need to go.”

  Dave got up, took off his house slippers, slipped on his boots, tied them and said he would be happy to take Summer. For Dave, it felt good having something to do to pass the time.

  ***

  Summer arrived at the nearest highway patrol station, inquiring about the accident. She was informed that they had traced the car to her because of the vehicle identification number and that no one was hurt in the accident. The individual driving the car didn’t know who owned it and why he was driving this ‘beat-up old car,’ or where he was going and why. Furthermore, the officer stated, “Mr. Jackson Van Hughes left money for anyone who came to claim the car, and he hoped the amount was sufficient to compensate the individual for their loss and for the purchase of a new car.”

  The information shook Summer. Did he say Jackson Van Hughes? She had to ask again. She knew it was something about him that was unsettling. Could Adam be Jackson, the boy who she had fallen in love with in high school? Could he be the one who promised to find her and marry her one day?

  It was difficult to believe that it could be him. Yet all of the signs were there—his kiss, her reaction to his body. She had never reacted to another man in that way. She never understood why.

  “Did Mr. Van Hughes say where he was headed?”

  “I think he mentioned that his private jet would take him to San Francisco.”

  Summer couldn’t believe the coincidence. It had to be him. The Jackson she knew when they were alone had the best qualities. It was his cocky persona of being a football jock that people saw, not the caring, considerate young man that she knew. He never let anyone get close to him to see the other side of him.

  He had to keep up the persona of the bad boy, a womanizer, which his fellow football players heaped on him and blew his reputation out of proportion.

  Jackson was bigger than life; a golden boy who could do no wrong, and would win games under adverse conditions. He played with pneumonia; he played with injuries to his arms and legs; still he threw the longest pass ever recorded in a high school or college game. He went on to win the
final game of the season, limping, as he ran and dove for a touchdown.

  There were no athletes his age to compare to him because there were none who could match him. He was the best and the brightest. And when all the football scouts came calling, he agreed to go to Stanford, which was his father’s alma mater.

  Summer was the only girl to get close enough in one night to see the man he would become. And she liked what she saw. Her memories of the young Jackson were vivid. She woke the day after her eighteenth birthday, making a mad scramble out of his bed.

  “What time is it?” she asked, looking around in panic.

  “About nine. Let’s go to breakfast,” Jackson said.

  “I can’t, I have to get home.” Looking into the floor-to-wall mirror, she said, “I look terrible.” She took her hand and tried to rake her fingers through her hair.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, laughing at how amusing Summer appeared trying to comb her hair with one hand, and straightening her white linen pants and top with the other.

  “Are you laughing at me?” She paused for a moment, realizing that she didn’t care. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn this. My mother and father will know,” she said frantically.

  Laughing still, Jackson pulled a pair of white sweats from his closet. “Here,” he threw them on the bed, “wear my sweats.” Summer didn’t think and in a mad panic, she pulled her pants off as Jackson stood looking at her in her sheer panties.

  “Gorgeous. I was wondering what you were hiding,” Jackson said. Summer peeked at herself and hid behind the door to the closet.

  “They’re too long and I look ridiculous in them,” she said, throwing the clothes back at him and then dragging the legs of her linen pants with her hands until she had them within her grasp.

  “I need to find Tiffany. I can borrow clothes from her and change at her home,” she said, breathless.

  Dashing out of the room with Jackson following her without a shirt, he stopped her in the middle of the foyer. “Wait, you haven’t said when I can see you again?”