by Loree Lough
“My grandfather taught me.” She wrapped the towel around her hand and ran it along Taffy’s withers. “I spent every summer and school break on his farm outside Baltimore. It wasn’t anywhere near the size of the Double M. Just big enough that every time I went back home, I felt closed in.”
“Baltimore, huh?” Zach nodded. “That explains the Orioles and Ravens magnets on your fridge. But…can you chuck hay bales?”
“Like a full-time ranch hand, and I earned the calluses to prove it.” Summer found a clean spot on the towel, ran it along Taffy’s back. “I can muck stalls, milk cows and slop hogs, too. And once,” she added, “I helped deliver a breech calf.”
“Admirable.”
What an odd choice of words. Not marine-speak, and not cowboy jargon, either. She shrugged it off and traded the towel for a mane brush.
“How long will you wait to feed them?”
“First I need to ask Nate when he last fed ’em,” he said, filling two heated water buckets.
“That was some workout,” she mused, stroking Taffy’s nose. “Maybe after dinner, we can sneak them some apple slices or carrot sticks.”
“Maybe.” He grinned. “And maybe we should get inside so you can peel off three of your four layers before dinner.”
“And maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she said as he backed Chinook into a stall, “something tells me your mom puts out quite a spread.”
She watched him lead Taffy into the next stall. “Might be nice to blame my after-dinner bloat on the extra fabric.”
Laughing, he made a move as if to drape an arm across her shoulders. She flinched, but only slightly, prompting him to step back. “I’m glad you could make it to our unofficial Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Unofficial Thanksgiving? Libby didn’t say a word about that! I thought we were having stew and biscuits.”
“We are. Along with turkey, and everything else that goes with a traditional Thanksgiving meal.”
“Then I’m honored to be a part of it. But why celebrate it two weeks early?”
“It’s the only way we can all be in one place at one time. Some family members have to work, and others are in college.”
“But…Libby said it was just a casual dinner, for the neighbors.”
“It is—most of whom are Marshalls.” Summer had tossed and turned and paced on the night of his invitation, wondering how she’d survive the long drive from Vail to the ranch, wondering how she’d cope with a houseful of Marshalls…any number of whom would be men. But she felt strangely safe in Zach’s company, and decided she could get through…if he stayed in her line of sight.
As he had in the kitchen earlier, he pressed a big palm to her back and opened the back door. Inside, when he removed it, Summer felt the disappointment all the way to the toes of her boots.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
AT FIRST, ZACH hadn’t been happy to hear that Libby would drive separately. “What am I supposed to talk to her about for an hour and a half?” he’d demanded. “Robinson Crusoe? Dickens’s Miss Havisham? Yoda?”
“Maybe I’ll start calling you the Hermit Crab, because every time you’re forced out of your comfort zone, you get all mean and grumpy.”
After scolding him for assuming the worst, yet again, Libby shrewdly pointed out that being alone with Summer during the drive might help him decide how he really felt about her. His sister had been right again, and he wasn’t too happy about that, either. Because now, in place of comfortable ambivalence toward Summer, Zach was forced to acknowledge admiration. Instead of cowering near the passenger door, as he’d expected her to, Summer raised questions about the landscape, and shook her fist at a couple of inconsiderate drivers. When he’d popped a CD into the stereo, she’d belted out the chorus to “November Rain.” She had a surprisingly good voice, and turned out to be surprisingly good company, too.
As he watched her pleasant interaction with his mom, then Taffy, Zach added charming to the “Things About Summer” list he’d started compiling on day one. When he witnessed her awestruck reaction to his favorite place, he realized the pluses far outweighed the minuses.
With awareness came uncertainty, because he’d been working hard not to like her. At least, not as anyone more than a casual acquaintance. Why, then, were those old troublesome feelings stirring inside him?
As the turkey platter grew lighter, and steaming bowls of mashed potatoes and gravy were passed up and down his folks’ long dining table, he pictured Summer, self-assured as Taffy carried her across the Double M acres. Then, halfway through the meal, her mood shifted from animated to quiet.
She’d spent nearly two years cooped up alone in her town house. Was the big family dinner too much, too soon? Did she wish her folks could be here? Or had the horseback ride taken its toll on her leg?
Zach was considering possible excuses for getting her home early, so she could call her folks and rest the leg. Then, as suddenly as she’d clammed up, Summer brightened. He followed her gaze to the swinging door between the dining room and kitchen, and saw Libby, smiling in the glow of thirty-five candles atop a two-layer chocolate cake. How was he supposed to pay equal attention to the family members who offered good wishes when he only had eyes for Summer, who, cheeks still flushed from the cold November wind, added her voice to the birthday song?
After the cake was gone, Zach gathered a stack of dirty dishes and followed the women into the kitchen.
“What are you doing in here?” his mom said as he deposited the plates in the sink.
Libby took one arm and his mother took the other, and together they ushered him into the hall.
“Go watch football with the rest of the men,” his mom said, “and leave us women to our gossip!”
Unlike most Marshall males, he’d never been a fan of the game. As a small boy, he hid under the table, listening as the women shared everything from the latest cold remedies, to recipes, to stories about what happened to rude, eavesdropping children. His voice was changing before he figured out he was the rude, eavesdropping child. Just as well, because folding himself in two got harder with each passing year.
Now Zach knew better than to argue the point, and ducked into the parlor. Maybe a moment of quiet and solitude would help him figure out why he’d rather be in the kitchen with Summer and the other Marshall women instead of the family room with the kids and men.
The other Marshall women?
Eyes closed, he settled into his dad’s big recliner. Good thing Libby can’t read minds, he thought, or she’d deliver yet another of her “you’re suffering from knight in shining armor syndrome” lectures. Zach shook his head at the irony, because he did want to help Summer, whether she needed it or not. Except for those couple of iffy moments in the dining room, it was becoming more and more clear that she did not.
Better get a grip, he told himself, the sooner, the better.
Hard experience taught him there was only one way to break the cycle: work. Hard work, and lots of it. Emma and Alex could run things at the studio for a few days. Once he got Summer home, he’d turn right around and come back to the ranch, give Nate a hand with that fence, maybe chop that fallen tree into firewood. If he was lucky, he’d fall into bed too tired to think about anything—or anyone—else.
“Earth to Zach, earth to Zach…”
He blinked as Libby snapped her fingers, inches from his face.
“What planet were you visiting?” she teased, plopping into the chair beside his. “As if I don’t know.”
Zach decided to beat her at her own game. “Guess I zoned out there for a minute,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I was thinking about Summer.” He averted her “I knew it!” retort by adding, “We took a long, hard ride before dinner, and last time I saw her, she seemed to be favoring her leg. Guess I shouldn’t have let her go full-out that way, but she was having such a good time, I didn’t have the heart to tell her to slow down.”
Libby’s silence tol
d him he’d succeeded in foiling whatever wisecrack she’d prepared. He found it surprisingly difficult not to gloat. “Any idea where she is?”
“Last time I saw her, she was in the kitchen with Mom and Nate.”
“Nate? You women booted me out of there. Why does he get to stay?”
“Because Nate rates?” she said, smirking. He got to his feet. “Think I’ll head in there, see if she’s ready to hit the road.”
“Leave? You mean you’re not staying for the big breakfast feast?”
“Depends on what Summer wants to do.”
Nodding, Libby rose, too. “Yeah, she sure has come a long way in a short time, hasn’t she?”
Zach remembered the moment just before Libby had carried his cake to the dining table. Had they pushed her too far? he wondered.
“She’s really sweet, Zach. I like her.”
“Good. She can use a friend, and as you so astutely pointed out, so can you.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Just be careful, okay?”
“I’ll have you know my driving record is perfect.”
“That isn’t what I meant. You know you’re well on your way to falling Stetson over boots for her. Dumb idea on multiple levels.”
He started for the door, and stopped when she said, “You’re still not over Martha.”
If he denied it, Libby would cite all the reasons she believed otherwise, and Zach was in no mood to delve into those murky waters again.
She took a step closer and looked around. “And anyway,” she whispered, “Summer isn’t emotionally strong enough for a guy like you.”
“A guy like me? What does that mean?”
“You figure it out, smart guy.”
Exasperated by her lack of confidence, Zach groaned and fixed his gaze on the rustic ceiling fixture overhead. “How’d our eagle-eyed mother miss that?” he said, mostly to himself. He stretched to his full six-two height and snagged the cobweb with a forefinger. He looked for something to wipe it on then turned back to Libby. “Give me a little credit, will you? I’m not interested in Summer.” He pulled a starched white hanky from his back pocket. “She’s got more baggage than an airport luggage carousel, and I don’t have the time, patience or constitution for another damsel in distress.”
Not the truth, but hopefully, Libby wouldn’t call him on it. But just in case, Zach decided a distraction was in order. “So tell me, since you’re so convinced of Summer’s innate sweetness, what makes you think she’d hurt me?”
“Oh, I’m not saying she’d do it on purpose, but she’s understandably vulnerable. Exactly the kind of woman you’re attracted to. She won’t be vulnerable forever. Sooner or later, she’ll get her head on straight, same as Martha did, and…”
“You know what happened after that,” they said simultaneously.
She gave him a playful shove. “Arrggh! You can be so exasperating!”
Ah, he got it now. This wasn’t about Summer at all. It was about Libby’s insistence that KISAS would dominate his life, forever inspiring stupid choices that led to disappointment and heartache.
“Never fear, Libs. I put in an order for chain mail.”
“Chain mail?”
He nodded. “To top off my knight in shining armor suit.”
It was all he could do to keep from laughing as surprise replaced her confused expression.
“I’m beat,” Zach announced, and left the room.
He made his way to the kitchen with a plan to offer Summer a ride home. Whether they stayed or not was up to her.
“I thought Nate was in here.”
“He was,” Summer said, “but he wanted to make sure the corral gate was latched. Seems Chinook is something of an escape artist.”
Zach puffed out his chest. “Yup. He’s a smart one, all right.”
Her smile seemed strained. She’d earned points, coming here and sticking it out this long. If he had to guess, he’d say she’d jump at the chance to hit the road.
“I hate to be a party pooper, but what would you say if we didn’t spend the night?”
“I’d say how soon do we leave?”
His mom joined them. “What are you two doing in here? They’re watching football in the family room, and The Wizard of Oz in the parlor.”
“I was just telling Summer that I’m gonna head home tonight.”
“What? And miss the annual Marshall breakfast?”
“Yeah, I’m whipped.”
“Just because you’re tired doesn’t mean Summer has to miss out on all the fun. She can ride back with Libby.”
“I really should go, too,” Summer said. “I’ve texted my mom and dad half a dozen times today, to make sure they landed safely in LA, but so far, they haven’t answered. And now my phone’s battery is dead, and I forgot the charger.”
Zach shot his mom a look that said, “I told you they were terrible parents.”
“Maybe one of our chargers will fit your phone. Better still, you could call them on the land line,” she suggested.
“I appreciate the offer. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring their itinerary with me, either.”
“They don’t have cell phones?”
“Yes, but—”
“Well,” Zach interrupted, “I’m sure they’re fine, but we understand why you want check in with them.”
Summer faced his mom. “Thank you so much for including me today, Mrs. Marshall. Dinner was delicious, and I had a wonderful time.”
“Please. Call me Ellen.” She wrapped Summer in a motherly hug. “Come back soon, okay?” Winking, she pulled Zach into their hug. “And maybe if you pretend to need a ride, this too-busy-for-his-mama son of mine will come home more often.”
It felt strange, standing between these two women. Stranger still, admitting how much they both meant to him.
As though she’d read his mind, Summer stepped away and began plucking her things from the coat hooks behind the kitchen door. When the stack of extra clothes she’d brought nearly reached her chin, Zach chuckled.
“Let me root around upstairs, see if I can find something you can stow those in.”
“It’s okay,” she said, “I managed to get it in here. I’m sure I can manage to get it out again.”
“I know you can,” he said, backing out of the room. “But why struggle if you don’t have to?”
As he rounded the corner, he heard his mother say, “No suitcases for an overnight stay?”
“I think Zach left them in the foyer…”
He took the stairs two at a time. The quicker he found the bag, the faster he could get Summer out of there. The door to his boyhood room stood ajar, and as he stepped inside, a familiar sense of calm settled over him. His high school trophies and college awards stood shiny and still on the bookshelf, and dozens of red and blue 4-H ribbons were still tacked to the bulletin board above his desk. If years of sunlight hadn’t faded the blue-and-gray plaid curtains he’d grown up with, he was sure they’d still be here, too, but his mom had replaced them a few years ago with a navy valance and white plantation shutters.
He peered through the slats. How many hours, he wondered, had he spent out there on the weathered, shake-shingled roof of the back porch, whispering to this girlfriend or that, long after the family had gone to bed? Too many, he admitted, opening the closet door.
Zach shoved aside his letterman jacket and crouched, poking through the battered footlocker that had gone with him to college. There, alongside worn cleats, his catcher’s mitt and an assortment of scarred baseballs, he found the old duffel bag he’d carried to and from football practice. Oh, this is gonna smell good, he thought, unzipping it. Then he said a silent thank-you to his mom, because instead of the expected stink of gym socks and workout shirts, Zach inhaled the fresh, clean scent of fabric softener sheets.
He cleared out the bag then headed back downstairs.
“Here y’go,” he said, holding the duffel out to Summer. “That oughta hold all your stuff.”
His mother laughed. �
��I should say so! Why, Summer could climb in there with her stuff and have room to spare. Let me get you something smaller,” Ellen said. “Something that doesn’t reek of high school.”
“Please don’t go to the bother,” Summer said, clutching it to her chest. “This is fine, just fine.” And then she proceeded to tuck her jacket, two sweaters, scarf and leather gloves inside Zach’s bag.
Zach didn’t know what to make of her peculiar smile and the odd glint in her eyes. But after spending so many months alone, he figured she had every right to look a little uncomfortable after a day as noisy and busy as this one had been.
“Don’t forget your suitcases,” his mom said. “I believe Zach left them in the foyer?”
They exchanged a quick, knowing glance, said their final goodbyes and made their way to his pickup.
For the first few minutes of the drive, Summer sat quietly, and he didn’t think much of it. It had taken a while for her to open up on the way here, too. He was humming along with a song on the radio when she turned it off.
“What, exactly, did you tell your family about me?”
He was about to make the turn onto the interstate, and the steady click-clack, click-clack of the turn signal kept time with his heartbeats. “At the risk of sounding simple-minded,” he said, merging with traffic on Route 285, “huh?”
“I’m not talking about general stuff, like the fact that I’m enrolled in classes at Marshall Law, or I live next door to Alex,” she said impatiently. “I’m talking about…about personal stuff.”
“I didn’t tell them anything. Wait. What’s this all about, anyway?”
“It’s about…how nice people were all day. How polite. As if they think I’m made of spun glass and might shatter if they so much as look at me cross-eyed.”
Zach resisted the impulse to blurt out that they were nice people and of course they’d be polite.
Instead, he considered her side of things. It had riled Libby no end when anyone pitied or pampered her. Maybe that explained Summer’s reaction to his family’s hospitality. She’d been through a lot in the past two years. Breaking free of her self-imposed prison couldn’t have been easy, but she’d done it. He told himself she was just second-guessing herself. Very normal under the circumstances. Right?
