by Loree Lough
She stared out the window, past the wingtip and into the velvety blue sky beyond. Her mom liked to say she never felt closer to heaven than when bulleting through the sky in a jetliner. Summer felt that way now.
So she prayed that Keeper wouldn’t feel abandoned…
…and that Zach would forgive her for leaving without saying goodbye.
*
ZACH CROUCHED AND patted Keeper’s head. “What do you mean,” he said, looking up at Rose, “she’s gone?”
“Her agent called her, set up an audition in LA and Summer jumped at the chance to get back to work.”
“But why California? Surely there are businesses in Colorado in need of a voice-over actress.” What if the allure of Hollywood was so strong that she decided to stay? The image of her on the arm of some actor made him wince.
“Is your knee bothering you again?” Rose asked as he stood.
Rather than cook up some half-baked fib, he shrugged.
“So she left the day before yesterday, huh?”
Rose nodded and put on her coat.
“When will she be home?”
“She didn’t say. But recording a commercial isn’t like filming a movie.” She clipped Keeper’s leash to his collar. “I’m guessing she’ll be home in a few days.”
He stood up, pocketed both hands and shook his head.
“You could call her, you know.”
If asked, Zach would have to describe her smile as maternal. And he didn’t much like being talked to as if he was Alex’s age.
He couldn’t decide if he was angry or hurt or disappointed that Summer had left without so much as a passing goodbye.
Rose tucked a slip of paper into his shirt pocket, gave it a gentle pat. “Well, if you change your mind, that’s her itinerary.”
She tugged on her gloves and opened the door. “Hate to give you the bum’s rush, but furface and I were about to go for a walk when you showed up.”
Things happened in a blur after that. Zach didn’t remember saying goodbye, but he must have, because there on the passenger seat lay a plate of Rose’s sticky buns. Didn’t remember driving home, either, but here he sat, alone in his apartment, eating one.
Summer’s itinerary crackled in his pocket. Was it a coincidence that when he removed it, the paper stuck to his sugary fingertips? He’d never been the superstitious type, so he dismissed the possibility that it was a sign that he should call, make sure she’d landed safely, see if she was still planning on going to the Double M for Christmas. Because if she wasn’t, didn’t he owe his mom a heads-up?
Zach balled up the note and dropped it into the kitchen trash can. Disappointed. That’s how he felt.
At the sink, he rinsed frosting from his fingers, wishing it could be as easy to clear his brain of Summer.
*
KEEPER HAD WATCHED her every move as Summer packed up homemade cookies, loaves of banana bread and brownies. Watched just as closely as she made pretty displays of each on Christmas plates, then wrapped them in red cellophane and topped the packages with big festive bows.
He’d sniffed every decorations box that she dragged up from the basement. Ears perked and eyes bright, he followed as she put up the tree, draped garlands from the banister and displayed her collection of snow globes and winter baby figurines on the mantel. Now, as she untangled a strand of lights on the porch, he stood on his rear legs, smiling out the living room window at her.
Last Christmas and the one before, she hadn’t bothered to decorate. But this year, thanks in part to the tail-wagging enthusiasm of her housemate, Summer felt like celebrating.
Alex stepped onto his front porch. “Hey, Summer,” he said. “Bet your house will look great…if you ever get that mess straightened out.”
“If I do, I hope they’ll work!”
“Plug ’em in now. No point wasting time if they don’t.”
She grinned. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
He was hopping from one foot to the other, shoulders up, hugging himself.
“What are you doing out here without a coat?”
“Waiting for Zach,” he said as she inserted the plug into the outlet. “He’s gonna teach me how to parallel park. We’ll be in his truck, and the heater on that thing is stuck on high.”
Zach. If her heart counted out a few extra beats at the mention of his name, how would she react to seeing him for the first time in days? The strand lit up. Probably just like that, she thought.
“Haven’t seen much of you since you got back. How was California?”
“Noisy and busy and smoggy, same as always,” she said. “But working again made it all worthwhile.”
“Will we be able to hear the commercial in Colorado? Or is it just an LA thing?”
“It’s national. When it starts airing, you’ll know. You eat that breakfast cereal five days out of seven.”
“Cool,” he said, rubbing his upper arms. “Gee, I hope Zach’s okay. It isn’t like him to be late.”
And as if on cue, the familiar red pickup with its gray-and-gold marine insignia on it lumbered into the cul-de-sac.
Alex ran to meet him. “Wish me luck!” he called over one shoulder.
She waved. From here on the top step, she couldn’t see Zach. Just as well.
Last night, Libby had called to welcome her home. “You want proof that he cares?” she’d asked. Something told Summer to say no, but she hadn’t, and now she had to live with what Libby had repeated. “‘She left without a word,’” Zach had apparently said. “‘Without a word. I knew I should have told her…’”
“Told me what?” she’d wondered aloud.
“Only one way to find out,” Libby had answered.
Zach jogged around the pickup, handed Alex the keys, and slid into the passenger seat. If he had looked up, she would have said hello. She couldn’t hear him through the rolled-up window, but his strained expression told her he was exerting great effort to maintain calm as the clutch screeched.
If not now, she thought again, when?
She hurried to the truck, and Zach jumped when she pecked on the window.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said when he rolled it down. “Just wanted to offer my car. Might be easier for Alex to handle than the stick shift?”
Alex’s relief was evident in his posture. “Could we do that, Zach?”
Zach gave it a moment’s consideration then faced Summer. If she stood on tiptoe, she could kiss him.
“We were going to practice in the church parking lot, but they haven’t plowed it yet. So yeah, your car will make things easier.”
“Excellent!” Alex said, climbing out of the truck.
Trash cans still lined the street from the morning collection, and while Zach parked his truck, Summer tossed the big brown cans into the trunk of her car. “If they can survive the garbage men, they can survive Alex,” she whispered to Zach. “Have you tried the parking lot at the elementary school? Rose says it’s usually one of the first to be plowed.”
“I haven’t, but we’ll check it out.”
She handed him her keys and gave Alex a thumbs-up. “Good luck…not that I think you’ll need it.”
“Come with us, Summer. You could stand the cans back up after I knock ’em down…” He glanced at Zach sheepishly. “While Zach explains what I did wrong.”
“You won’t knock the cans down.” Grinning at Zach, she added, “But if you do—tall as he is—folding himself into and out of my little car will be great exercise.”
To her surprise, he didn’t return her smile. Summer valued his friendship. If an apology would protect it, then she’d apologize, first chance she got.
“You’ve missed quite a few lessons lately,” was his no-nonsense comeback. “Seems to me you can use the exercise more than I can.” He pulled the backseat forward and gestured for her to climb in.
She looked at Keeper, paws on the sill, still watching from the front window.
“Give me five minutes to give
him a potty break,” she said on her way up the steps.
Alex was raring to go when she returned. He’d already adjusted the driver’s seat, rearview and side mirrors. “Hold on,” he said as she buckled up. “’Cause here we go!”
Summer braced herself for a jackrabbit start. Zach’s hands, planted firmly on the dash, told her he expected it, too. But the boy moved forward with all the skill and precision of a seasoned driver. If he kept that up through the lesson, she saw no reason why he wouldn’t pass his test.
Zach’s calm, steady voice reminded her yet again what a wonderful father he’d be. He not only anticipated what Alex might do, but also offered gentle suggestions to prevent potential mistakes. Summer didn’t need to get out of the car once, and by the time they returned to the cul-de-sac, it was beginning to get dark.
As Zach returned Summer’s keys, Alex nearly bowled them both over with an enthusiastic hug. “You guys are the best. I’m gonna ace that test next time around, thanks to you two.” Turning them loose, he darted up to his front door. “Wait till Mom hears!”
Side by side, Summer and Zach watched him disappear inside.
“Sure would be nice if, just once in a while, he showed a little enthusiasm for life.” She pocketed her keys.
Chuckling, Zach said, “It’s good to have you home.”
“It’s good to be home.” She pointed at the Christmas lights, still lying on her top step. “Guess I’d better finish up so I can enjoy the decorations for a day or two before I have to take them down again.”
She’d expected him to say a curt good-night, walk to his truck and drive away. Nothing could have pleased her more than when he picked up the strand and began weaving it through the tall Leland Cyprus growing beside her porch. An hour later, they stood side by side again, this time to admire their handiwork.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “So bright and festive.” Looking up at him, she added, “Thanks, Zach. Without your help, I would have been out here until midnight.”
Even in the dim glow of the colored lights, she could see his slanted grin. And the tantalizing warmth beaming from his eyes reminded her of that final, soul-stirring kiss for charity.
Half a turn to the right. That’s all it would take to put them face-to-face. Summer was tempted to make the first move. But first things first. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“I should have called before I left for California.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I was afraid you’d talk me out of going.”
“You were probably right.”
Summer studied the toes of her boots.
He lifted her chin on a bent forefinger and gazed deep into her eyes. “Did you really want to go?”
“No, I needed to go.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “Why?”
“To prove to myself that I’m beyond all that self-pitying nonsense that turned me into a hermit. Not long ago, my folks said they were worried I’d backslide. I guess I was afraid if I didn’t push myself, I’d prove them right.”
He was quiet for a long time. Gearing up to say good-night? Or working up the courage to tell her to face facts: he wasn’t interested in her that way.
“So how’d it go out there?”
“Good. Great, actually. It feels good, being productive again.”
“I’m glad. I’m happy for you. And if you’d given me half a chance, I would have told you that before you left.”
She didn’t trust herself to ask him why.
“It’s what friends do, right?” he said. “Support each other, no matter what.”
Oh, but she wanted to be more than friends. So much more! Wrestling with her conscience—to determine what, exactly, was best for Zach—had been one of the toughest fights of her life.
“Yes, it’s what friends do.”
And there it was again…that smoldering yet protective gleam in his eyes. He took a step closer. Dipped his head slightly. Summer closed her eyes, waiting, hoping…held her breath when he tucked her hair behind her ears.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Summer Lane.”
By the time she opened her eyes, he was halfway to his truck.
An odd mix of relief and regret rippled through her as she watched him slide behind the steering wheel, every plane and angle of his remarkable face illuminated by the overhead light.
She stood watching his taillights grow smaller, dimmer, as he neared the stop sign on the corner, then disappear altogether as he turned and drove away.
Sweet dreams, he’d said.
Oh, they’d be sweet, all right…if she slept at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“YOU WEREN’T ASLEEP, were you?”
“Gosh, no,” Libby said around an exaggerated yawn. “Why would I be asleep at one in the morning?”
“I took a chance this was one of your insomnia nights.”
He heard the rustle of sheets, the click of her bedside lamp turning on.
“Nope. I was out like a light. Sawing logs. Sleeping like a baby. Nix that. Babies wake up every two hours. You should’ve seen me, Zach, flying down Commando Run on my brand-new skis. Bet I would have slept until the alarm rang at six…if I didn’t dream about crashing into a tree.”
“Sorry, Libs. Maybe if I let you go, you can get back onto the mountain and pick up where you left off.”
“You’re kidding, right? You expect me to sleep, knowing my heartbroken big brother is pacing the floors?”
He’d done some pacing tonight, Zach would give her that. But unless he was mistaken, a guy needed to be in the middle of a dissolving relationship to play the broken-heart card.
“Out with it, bruthah, or I’ll drive over there in my nightgown and bunny slippers, eat all your Cap’n Crunch while I drag the story out of you.”
“I’d tell you, if I had a clue where to start.”
“Then allow me. You’re falling for Summer but you don’t know how she feels about you.”
“Ever give any thought to becoming a shrink?”
“I’m going to ignore that term. This time.”
He heard water running and the clunk of her tea kettle as she angled it under the faucet.
“Did she love LA?”
“I guess. She said it’s good to be back to work. I get that.”
“So why didn’t she call, let one of us know her plans?”
“She was afraid we’d talk her out of going.”
“Nice catch,” Libby said. “And would you have talked her out of it?”
“Would’ve tried. But it’s her life, and if it makes her happy…”
“Think she’ll relocate?”
I hope not, he thought. Oh, man, I sure hope not.
“It was one job,” he managed. “A test, she said.”
“And did she pass it?”
“I have no idea. She’s harder to read than Mandarin.”
“So did you tell her?”
“Tell her what?”
“When you left that message on my machine, you said, ‘I knew I should have told her…’”
Oh. That. The night she confronted him in the Marshall Law office, he’d come this close to admitting that he loved her.
Libby probably thought he’d meant to confess his part in bringing Keeper into Summer’s life, and he saw no reason to tell her otherwise.
“What stopped you?”
He pictured the way Summer had looked that night, small and vulnerable as she stared out at the falling snow. He’d come this close to blurting it out. But memories of every bad decision, stupid mistake and character judgment he’d bungled reminded him why he shouldn’t.
“Zach? You still there?”
He heaved a grating sigh. “Because being around her reminds me of those word problems Mrs. Campbell assigned in fourth grade. ‘Zack needs the love of a normal woman to prove he no longer suffers from Knight in Shining Armor Syndrome,’” he began. “‘He meets a beauty with big
sad eyes and the voice of an angel who says one thing but does another. The price to pay for her affections is sanity and peace of mind. How many sleepless nights before Zach admits he isn’t cured of KISAS, after all?’”
“Well, it’s good to know you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
He’d been dead serious, but saw no advantage in admitting it.
“Hold on,” she said. “Somebody’s on the other line.”
She was back in less than a minute. “One of my patients is in the ER,” she said. “Gotta go.”
Zach told her to drive safely and hung up.
He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, thinking he’d watch the movie he’d recorded last week. The cap bounced off the overflowing trash can, rolled across the floor and stopped at his feet. As he bent to retrieve it, Zach realized he didn’t need a beer and an old Western. What he needed was to take back control of his life. What better way to distract himself from Summer’s mixed messages than by putting the apartment into marine-clean order?
Plucking a trash bag from the dispenser, he went upstairs, adding old issues of Vail Daily and Leatherman Magazine, and convenience store coffee cups and napkins that reminded him how Summer’s were square and printed with collaged teacups. In the bathroom, he got rid of an empty soap dispenser, the same brand Summer used. In the kitchen, paper plates and single-serve pizza boxes, like those he’d seen in Summer’s trash, covered an empty pack of store-bought chocolate chip cookies.
It reminded him of the cookies she’d baked. How she’d looked on the first night of class. The way she felt, pressed up against him on the dance floor. That unforgettable, too-short kiss on the night of the fund-raiser. He dropped the overstuffed bag into the trash can out back, then queued up the movie, hoping it would blot her from his brain. But even the opening scene—two riders and their horses, silhouetted against jagged mountain peaks—brought her to mind, and he pictured her, rosy-cheeked and smiling as the wind ruffled her curls. Everything changed that day, because he’d been forced to admit that the bluff would never be his favorite place again unless she was right there beside him.
