by Loree Lough
“Those sessions were a waste of time,” she said. “For Dr. Wolff and for me.”
“Your dad and I talked about that, too. We think you need someone younger. A woman, preferably. Maybe even one who specializes in treating people with your history. We’ll be so far away, and if things go well for Dad, we could be gone awhile. We want to be sure you’ll be all right.”
Summer had given them their one shot at parenthood, and since her chances of finding someone to share her life with were slim, the least she could do was give them less to worry about.
“I’m sorry for all I’ve put you and Dad through these past two years.”
Susannah wrapped her arms around Summer. “Oh, honey, there’s no need to apologize! None of what happened was your fault. You’ve been so brave and so strong, and worked so hard. We’re proud of how far you’ve come.”
Susannah tucked Summer’s hair behind her ears, a gesture that took her back to happier times.
“Maybe once you’re settled in LA, I’ll fly out there, see if Marty can line up a job or two for me,” Summer said.
“That would be lovely. But in the meantime, I might have found a therapist for you. I saw her name on the office door, just down the street from the self-defense studio. I looked her up on Google, and from everything I read, she seems very experienced. I wrote her name and number on the refrigerator board.” She squeezed Summer’s hand. “Why don’t you call her, see if she has room in her schedule for another patient?”
Summer didn’t like the sound of that. She held her breath and hoped for the best.
“I’m doing fine without therapy. Really.”
Her mom continued as if Summer hadn’t said a word. “Her bio says she specializes in treating victims of violent assault.”
“Please don’t think of me that way, Mom. It isn’t how I see myself. I survived that night, all those operations, months of painful rehab, and I didn’t need Dr. Wolff’s help with any of it.” She lowered her voice. “If I ever suspect that I need therapy, it’ll have to be my decision and mine alone. Not yours. Not Dad’s. Not the refrigerator board doctor. Okay?”
“Oh, dear. Now I’ve upset you. It’s just that now that we’ve seen a glimpse of the Summer you were before that awful night, Dad and I want to make sure—”
“Mom. Stop. I’m nearly thirty. I know I haven’t behaved like a grown-up in a while, but that’s all behind me. You have my word—if I feel like I need outside help, I’ll get it.”
Susannah studied Summer’s face then shrugged. “All right, I believe you. Besides, it isn’t as though you’re all alone here in Vail. You have Justin. And Alex and Rose.”
And Zach?
The thought came from nowhere, and Summer didn’t know what to make of it. He’d been pleasant enough. Respectful, too, in his no-nonsense, “once a marine, always a marine” kind of way, but…
“And Zach, too. He’s such a nice guy. Made quite an impression on Dad, and you know how hard that is to do!”
Had her mom read her mind?
“You know, I think he might have a little crush on you.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you could see the way every woman in that class ogles him, as if he was the last chocolate truffle in the heart-shaped box. Why should he settle for a gimpy scar face like me when he could have his pick of any of them!” She laughed, mostly to prove she didn’t really see herself that way.
“Summer…”
“I was kidding. Kidding.” She grabbed Susannah’s mug and put it in the sink. “No more cocoa for you. It makes you way too sensitive.” She laughed again, but Susannah wasn’t buying it, and frankly, Summer couldn’t blame her.
Susannah yawned and stretched. “I think I’m going to take a little nap before supper.”
Summer had never been one to nap, not even after the most grueling physical therapy workouts. “Maybe I’ll lie down for a few minutes myself.”
She wouldn’t sleep, but in the privacy of her room, she could think about everything her mom had said, from seeing the refrigerator board doctor to Zach showing an interest in her…
…and why in the world she hoped it was true.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A LIGHT SNOW had begun to fall, peppering Summer’s coat and hair with crystalline flakes. She stepped into the studio, stomping her sneakers on the entry rug and brushing her shoulders. A perky young woman stood at the reception counter, whispering to Zach. He looked none too happy about whatever she’d said, and though Summer tried not to eavesdrop, she heard him say, “…I asked you not to…”
The door opened, interrupting the heated dialogue. A young mother and her little boy entered the reception area.
The child pointed. “Look, Mom, skeletons and witches and stuff! Awesome!”
“What a great idea,” the mother said to Zach. “Decorating for Halloween. I bet all the kids will love it.”
“It was Alex’s idea. He gets all the credit.”
“Well, it was very nice of you to let him.” She gave her boy a gentle shove. “Better get into your classroom. You know Mr. Marshall doesn’t like it when you’re late.”
The kid stood at attention, and smiling broadly, fired off a mock salute. “Luke McLean, reporting for duty, sir!”
Laughing, Zach tousled the boy’s hair. “Get in there, funny man, and tell the rest of those jokers I’ll be there in five.” He held up a big hand, fingers spread wide.
As the boy darted off, his mom flashed Zach a coy smile. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all you’ve done for my Luke.”
Summer could have removed her shoes in the locker room, but curiosity made her choose one of the black-and-chrome chairs near the door.
“He’s a different boy since you’ve been working with him. If his dad was half the man you are—”
“I like working with the kids,” he said, interrupting her unconcealed flattery. “They haven’t had time to develop preconceived notions about workouts, so I don’t have to listen to a lot of ‘but so-and-so said this,’ and ‘I read somewhere that…’ Makes it a whole lot easier to teach them.”
“Whatever your reasons,” she said, eyelashes fluttering, “you’re worth twice what you charge. It isn’t easy for a single mom to find positive male role models, you know.”
Summer stifled a groan as Zach tapped his watch.
“Guess I’d better get back there.”
Though he’d smiled when he said it, Ms. Available bristled slightly.
That’s when he noticed Summer, untying her other sneaker, and his face brightened. I think he might have a little crush on you, her mom had said.
Summer returned his smile. “Hey, Zach.” It wasn’t easy, but she broke eye contact and pretended to glance around the room. “The place looks great. Alex did a great job. The kids must think it’s gr—”
“Great?” Luke’s mother finished, giggling.
Zach frowned at the woman, but the sour look faded when he turned to Summer again.
“Alex is setting up your classroom—and doing a great job, I’m sure—so when you get back there, you can tell him yourself what a great job he did, hanging the ghosts and pumpkins.” He paused and aimed a lopsided grin at her. “It’s great to see you, by the way.”
Luke’s mom emitted a soft huff, buttoned her faux-fur jacket and turned on her high-heeled boots. “See you in an hour,” she said, click-clacking across the linoleum.
Zach waited until the door closed behind her then fell into step beside Summer. “Hope she doesn’t fall off those stilts and break her neck. Looks kinda slick out there.”
The cute blonde stepped up on her other side and held out a hand. “I’m Libby, this big oaf’s sister. C’mon. I’ll walk with you to the locker room.”
Ah, Summer thought, the refrigerator doctor, in the flesh.
Halfway there, Zach called out, “It really is great to see you.”
Why? Because he hadn’t expected her to show up? Or because her mom’s suspicions had been accurate?
“I half expected you to float in here on a cloud and ask where you could stow your harp and halo,” Libby said, breaking Summer’s train of thought. Laughing, she added, “It was smart, leaving your wings at home, Miss Amazing. I don’t think they would have fit in that skinny locker.”
“Amazing?” Summer laughed, too.
“Alex speaks very highly of you,” Libby said, “and he isn’t the only one.”
Summer felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks and hoped Libby would blame it on the steamy warmth of showers and hair dryers in the locker room. She stowed her coat and valuables and set the padlock in place.
“We’d better get into the classroom,” Libby said. “I have three classes to make up. Emma’s not a former marine, but she doesn’t go easy on grown-ups who miss sessions or come in late.”
After a quick exchange of polite hellos around the room, Emma got busy. Summer had been tempted to skip the recommended exercises, telling herself she was already fit, thanks to the work she’d done for physical therapy. But with nothing but time on her hands, she’d performed every one, following Emma’s instructions to the letter. Good thing, too, because the young woman seemed determined to put her students through their paces.
Afterward, Libby joined her at the long bank of sinks in the locker room and met Summer’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m glad my brother wasn’t there to see a newbie outperform me,” she said with a playful elbow jab to Summer’s ribs. “You’re in pretty good shape!”
Why did she get the feeling there was more to the sentence. Like …for somebody with a limp or …considering some guy ran you through a meat grinder.
“I skipped supper, and I’m starving,” Libby continued. “There’s a great little pub walking distance from here, and Monday is ladies’ night. One free glass of wine for any patron who wears a bra.” She giggled. “They make the best Reuben sandwiches in town, but I can’t eat a whole one all by myself…”
A pub, filled with guys, lured there by the women who showed up for free wine…all of them looking to pair up. What if some guy hit on Zach’s gorgeous sister, struck out and made a move on her? Summer’s heart beat faster just thinking about it.
“Don’t worry,” Libby said. “If some gorilla hits on you, I’ll show him my business card and say ‘You seem to have issues with women. Call me. I can help you with that.’”
Summer pictured the imaginary gorilla’s reaction, and chuckled despite herself. “All right,” she said. It wasn’t like she had kids waiting for a bedtime story, or a dog to walk. Besides, she was hungry, too.
They strolled over to the pub, and Libby chose a tall table near the entrance. “I like to sit with my back to the door,” she said, sliding out a stool.
“In case you need to make a quick getaway?”
“Heck, no! You can see the whole place from here. If you spot a gorilla who knows how to shave, you know what to do, right?”
Summer shrugged. “Send him a banana?”
“Hmm…that might just work!”
After the waitress took their order, Libby said, “I noticed the scar, and the limp. Accident?”
“Not exactly.” If she told Libby the truth, would it raise ugly memories, or provide an opportunity to let off a little steam?
“If you’d rather not talk about it, no biggie.” With that, Libby told Summer that she’d been attacked, years ago. Then she lifted her right pants leg, showed Summer the scars on her knee. “Could have been worse if witnesses hadn’t interrupted the guy.”
What could it hurt to share just a few of the details with someone who understood what she’d gone through—and survived.
“I was attacked, too.”
It was shocking, really, how quickly the story poured out of her. No tears, no tremors.
Afterward, Libby studied Summer’s face. “You lived that nightmare, and look at you, sitting there all calm and collected.”
“Trust me, I was a mess at first.” Who are you kidding? You’re still a mess…who learned to pretend.
“No wonder Zach speaks so highly of you.”
Neither Alex nor Rose could have told Zach about the incident because Summer had never shared any of the details with them. That left only her parents.
“Did my mother happen to call you?”
“Only to find out if I’m accepting new patients.”
Eyes closed, Summer shook her head. “Why am I having trouble believing that’s all she said?”
“Because you have trust issues?”
Summer chose to ignore the therapist-type remark. “My folks are actors. Laying things on thick comes naturally to them.”
“No kidding.”
“And I did some voice-over acting before the attack.”
Libby looked confused. “Meaning…”
“Making mountains out of molehills is what we do.”
Libby sat back as the waitress delivered their wine and a promise to return soon with their sandwiches.
When she was gone, Libby leaned in. “I spend my whole day looking into people’s faces, listening to them talk about everything from the agony of being a middle child to surviving a suicide attempt. Vail is a good place for the rich and famous to get the help they need without the paparazzi finding out about it. So trust me when I say I know a sane, rational person when I see one.”
Nodding, Summer sipped her wine. Libby hadn’t been raped, probably hadn’t been held captive, either, but she had some understanding—both personal and professional—of what Summer had been through. Only Detective Richards and her doctors could say that. Libby had nothing to gain from feigning friendship, and Summer had nothing to lose by trusting her.
The waitress delivered their food then left them with another promise, this time to return with the dessert menu.
Summer lifted her wineglass. “To normal,” she said, clinking it against Libby’s.
“No! To almost normal.” Libby took a sip. “I earn a living helping almost-normal people achieve normal.” She picked up half of the sandwich. “You trying to deprive me of a means to buy Reubens and pinot grigio?” She lowered her voice and added, “If you tell my brother I said that, I’ll deny it!”
The mere mention of him made her stomach flutter. Or maybe she was just hungry.
Lifting the other half of the sandwich, she said, “All right. To almost normal.” And to Zach, she added silently, who had no idea he was the reason she’d taken that first important step into her future.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SUMMER’S DAD PADDED into the living room on white-socked feet.
“Hey, Summie, what’re you doing up so late?”
She loved the nickname he’d given her as a toddler. Loved that no matter how many candles there were on her birthday cake, he continued using it.
“Guess I’m overstimulated from tonight’s lesson. Or maybe it was the Reuben and fries I washed down with wine after class.”
Harrison quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize food and drinks were part of the enrollment package,” he said, sprawling on the couch.
Summer laughed. “Zach couldn’t make much of a profit if it was. One of my classmates invited me out.”
That sat him upright, fast.
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
“Still…you said yes?”
She didn’t blame him for seeming so shocked. It had been ages since she’d last ventured out on her own. “How could I say no? It was ladies’ night at Pepi’s.”
“Man, I have to meet the gal who talked you into going to a crowded bar!”
“I thought you’d already heard all about refrigerator doctor.”
He looked confused, but only for a second. “Ah, Dr. Marshall, the psychologist your mom’s been going on and on about.”
“Bingo.”
Harrison frowned. “Wait till your mother hears that the incredible Dr. Marshall isn’t so incredible after all. Therapy? In a bar? Over drinks?” He shook his head. “Doesn’t sound ethical to me.
”
“It wasn’t a therapy session. And I’m not a patient. Just two women with something in common, getting better acquainted over corned beef and free wine.”
“I know that look,” Harrison said. “You’ve already made up your mind not to see her again.”
“Not in a doctor-patient capacity, no.”
He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “Your mother won’t be very pleased to hear that. But I’m glad you’re getting out, making friends. Frankly, I think you’re doing terrific without a shrink.” He rested crossed ankles on the coffee table. “So tell me, is it just a coincidence that her last name is Marshall? As in Zach?”
“Very funny, Dad. I know about the other lunch you shared with her brother. And before you leap to any Cupid-type conclusions, you should know that he isn’t my instructor at Marshall Law…a woman named Emma is. So he’s a father figure of sorts for Alex—which earns him points because you know how I feel about that kid—but that’s it.”
He aimed the clicker at the cable box and flicked through the channels. “Relax. I’m in no hurry to walk you down the aisle. Hey—a John Wayne movie. Watch it with me?”
“Sure, until I get sleepy.”
He loved Westerns. Hopefully, a good, old-fashioned cowboy flick would keep his mind off the Marshall siblings and give her time to mull over the gossipy things Libby had told her about Zach.
The way he still felt partially responsible for Libby’s attack, for starters. She called him borderline obsessive-compulsive, a term Harrison and Susannah had aimed at Summer. If only she could make them understand that locking herself in the house was the only way to regain control of her upside-down world. If Zach sometimes seemed obsessive, maybe it was because in his mind, letting things get out of control came at too high a cost, for him and those around him.
Her dad’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“Because we’re watching a movie.”
“You’ve been quiet even during the commercials.” He levered himself up on one elbow. “You okay?”
“Just a little sleepy is all. I’m not used to wine and food this late in the day.”
