Second Chance Summer

by Allie Boniface

  “It’s a lotta work,” Mac interrupted her thoughts. “But your father paid us through Labor Day, and we’ll probably finish most of the major structural work by then. ‘Course, I don’t know what your plans are. If you’re gonna sell it as is, or...” He stopped and waited for her to finish the sentence. She didn’t.

  “Can I see the inside?” she asked instead. She wanted an idea of the mess she was dealing with. But her doubt grew as she looked around. The needed repairs seemed overwhelming, and those were just the ones she could see.

  “Sure.” Mac glanced at his watch and turned to Damian. “You’re leaving early today, right?”

  “Yeah.” But Damian didn’t move. Instead he ran one hand through his hair and sent a cloud of sawdust flying. A grin touched his eyes and, for a brief second, Summer saw her own reflection in his gaze. She looked small and dark, a little girl floating on the blue of his iris. He smiled, and in the sunlight, the blue deepened until she felt like she was falling inside it, forgetting who and where she was. Something jumped in her stomach, and her palms tingled. Knights in Whispering Pines? There hadn’t been any for as long as she could remember.

  Don’t fall for the guy whose heart you have to break tomorrow.

  Mac cleared his throat. “Uh, there’s a door around back we can use until these stairs are fixed.”

  “Okay.” She did her best to negotiate the walk with care, but a couple of times she almost tripped over a loose stone or a soft spot in the grass.

  Get a grip. She tried not to think that her unsteady steps came from anything else besides high heels on cracked pavement. Certainly not from the guy behind her, whose gaze she swore she could feel burning into her back. She managed to reach the far corner of the house without losing her footing again, but then she made the mistake of turning and peeking over her shoulder. Damian had pulled on a faded T-shirt, which promptly turned damp and stuck to his broad chest like it had been painted on. He gave her a grin, and her head spun yet again.

  As he bent and collected some tools, his chiseled arms flexed as he deposited them into a box. Summer wondered what they’d feel like on her instead. Carrying her, perhaps, straight up the stairs and into an abandoned bedroom where he...

  “You still there?” Mac called from the porch.

  “Ah, yes. Right here.” She pinched the skin on the back of her hand to keep herself from drooling. You’re being ridiculous. Damian’s a local guy working on the house, that’s all. So he’s got a great body. And an amazing smile. He’s probably got a girlfriend too. You’ll be gone in a matter of days. And he’ll be packing his things and moving, courtesy of your signature on a sheet of paper.

  That thought got her head back where it belonged, even though it made her heart ache. “I’m coming,” she called to Mac, and hurried to join him. Better to get this over with as soon as possible.

  Chapter Four

  Twenty minutes later, Summer and Mac stood on the landing between the first and second floors. The air barely moved inside the house, and the humidity seemed to have skyrocketed since noon. Summer pulled her hair off the back of her neck. “You were right,” she said. “It is beautiful. And it has tons of potential.”

  “Yep,” Mac agreed as he wiped his face.

  She turned in another slow circle and took it all in with her curator’s eye. Who had lived here a century ago? The lady of the house, preening before a mirror as she waited for guests to arrive? Her husband, who toiled over the books by candlelight? Had five or six children tumbled across the threshold? Had an army of servants kept it spotless? She made a mental note to visit the archives down at the Town Hall and see what she could unearth about the history of the house. It would definitely help the sales listing.

  She glanced into a good-sized bathroom off the main hallway. A claw-foot tub stretched along one side, and built-in cabinets covered one whole wall. Maybe she should let them continue remodeling. It would increase the value of the place, that was for sure. The second floor would make a nice master suite and a good place to—

  Summer stopped breathing.

  From where they stood, she could see straight through the great room’s tall windows. Thickets of pines surrounded the house. Beyond that, the tall peak of Sunrise Mountain. To the right, the roof of the rental farmhouse peeked out in the distance. But beyond the roof, beyond the trees, a mile or so away, rose the black iron gate of All Saints Cemetery. And somewhere in that green expanse lay her brother’s remains.

  Her chest grew tight. She’d never stepped foot inside All Saints. She had no idea where her brother was buried or what his headstone said. Her father had never allowed it that summer, nor bothered to tell her years later. Now he wanted her to live within shouting distance of Donny’s grave? Was this some kind of punishment? Or messed-up karma?

  “Summer, listen carefully. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m telling you?

  She rolled her head against the pillow. Everything hurt, from the bandage around her forehead to the splint that held her broken ankle in place.

  “Aunt Sue is coming tomorrow to take you to her place. You’ll stay with her out in Chicago for a while.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I’ve already decided. It’ll be better for everyone.”

  She blinked. Was that her father’s voice? That conversation—she didn’t remember having it. She didn’t remember anything from the night of the crash or the three days following. She stared into the distance as the cemetery gate grew blurry in her vision. Wiping both hands against her skirt, she fought growing anxiety. Perspiration covered her forehead. I can’t breathe. She turned to flee and caught one heel on the top riser.

  “Whoa!” Mac caught her elbow just before she pitched headfirst down the stairs. “Might want to wear some different shoes if you’re going to be spending a lot of time here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Summer said through clenched teeth. “I’m not.” She counted to ten and drew a breath. Then another.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just the heat, I guess. It got to me.”

  “Here.” He handed her a clean rag from a pile on the stairs, and she pressed it to her forehead.

  “Thanks.”

  “So what do you think?” He asked as they descended.

  What do I think? Summer shook her father’s voice from her mind. “It’s great. And enormous. I’m definitely putting it on the market. Today, I hope.” It was some kind of weird flashback, that’s all. Her therapist had told her she might experience them, especially in the wake of her father’s death. She just hadn’t thought coming back to Whispering Pines would jog the past into her present so quickly.

  “Let me know if I can help out with anything,” Mac offered.

  “I will.” By the time they reached the first floor, the strange memory was gone. “Any chance you know Sadie Rogers’ number? She took over the family real estate agency, right?” She’d asked Joe for some realtor names, but she needed to get this house listed and out of her hands as quickly as possible. She’d figure out how to deal with the complication of Damian Knight and the rental property later.

  “I don’t know it offhand, but there’s a good old-fashioned phone book in the kitchen.” Mac checked his watch. “Might be tough to catch her, though. It’s already after four.”

  “She closes that early?”

  “Well, she’s got the twins that she’s always running around to things, plus I don’t know if ya heard, but Manny left her last year, so she’s a single mom now,” Mac’s cheeks turned red, as if he’d said too much. “She’s got a lot on her plate,” he added.

  Summer pulled out her cell phone. “Well, let me call her, at least.” Maybe she could get the paperwork started.

  “Staying at the Point Place Inn?”

  Summer nodded. It wasn’t as though the town boasted a slew of choices. Though she would have been welcome at Rachael’s, she wasn’t sure she could deal with the memories that would greet her there. Better a neutral hotel room with n
o connection to her past. She Googled Sadie’s number, but as Mac had promised, the answering machine at Rogers’ Real Estate picked up, so she left a quick message. With any luck, Sadie would call her back soon. The two of them had gone to school together, even shared some of the same classes their junior year. Maybe Sadie could rush things along, work out the details over the phone, arrange for Summer to fax her signature from California.

  “If you need anything else, or have questions about the place, gimme a call,” Mac said. “Or just stop by. We’re here pretty much all the time.”

  “Okay. I appreciate it.” She checked her voicemail. Four messages, none crucial. Good thing. Her brain, already on overdrive, couldn’t handle much more this afternoon.

  “I’ve got to go into town for some supplies,” Mac said as he headed for the door. “You’re welcome to stick around if you like. Just be careful. You have a key?”

  “Joe gave me one. Thanks.” Mac left, and Summer took her time surveying the kitchen. A bay window looked out onto the back lawn, a green expanse that stretched to a grove of pine trees about a hundred yards away. She could imagine a breakfast nook here, a table with chairs pulled up close and a checkered cloth on top. In her imagination, children tugged on their mother’s legs while she laughed over their heads to her husband. A family belongs here. A family with lots of kids and lots of hope and no heartache.

  She pushed open the screen door, made her way down the steps and had almost reached the ground when her foot hit another soft spot. Stupid high heels. She grabbed for something—found nothing—stumbled and fell. “Oof.” Her knees met the ground and she wrenched her wrist trying to break her fall. She kicked off both shoes, disgusted with herself.

  “Are you okay?” The voice came out of nowhere.

  Terrific. A witness for her humiliation. She didn’t answer, hoping the voice and the person it belonged to would go away. It didn’t. Instead, a hand touched her shoulder.

  “Summer?”

  Damian. Something loosened in her stomach, and she scrambled to her feet. “I thought you were gone.” She dropped a quick glance at his left hand. No ring. But construction workers didn’t always wear rings on the job, did they?

  “Forgot something.”

  His hand had moved from her shoulder, but it left an imprint of heat, and she shivered despite the eighty-degree temperature. Touch me again. And don’t let go this time. Her wrist ached and she cradled it, more to keep her hands from reaching out and touching him in places they probably shouldn’t.

  “Sure you’re not hurt?” He took a step closer and bent to inspect the wrist she was rolling back and forth.

  Summer shook her head and tried to find words. Her skin burned at his touch.

  He rubbed it lightly, feeling the bones and massaging the tendons. “Doesn’t feel broken.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Just having a clumsy moment.”

  He smiled. “You get a look at the place?”

  She nodded. Her arm tingled from where he’d touched it.

  “It’s beautiful.” Squinting, he leaned back as if to take it all in. “I can almost picture how it’ll look when it’s all done.” He met her gaze. “Your dad had a lot of vision. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to know him better.”

  Summer bent to brush dirt from her skirt and didn’t answer. It would take a lifetime to explain her relationship with her father to someone who hadn’t always lived in Whispering Pines, who hadn’t known the way her father had protected her. Worried over her. Blamed her and sent her away after her brother died.

  “Listen, about the rental house,” she began.

  He stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Yeah. About that.”

  “I know you’ve been living there for a while. If I can, I’ll try to sell the place to someone who’ll leave it status quo.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I get it. If you’re selling fast, you don’t have a lot of choices.”

  “I’m trying to figure them out. Really.” The grass didn’t feel so bad between her bare toes, and she leaned into it for a moment. “Leaving early for a hot date?” she teased.

  He gave her a half-grin. “You could say that.”

  Reluctantly, she slipped her shoes back on. Of course he is. Look at him. Probably every woman in town wants to go out with him. “What’s her name?” Maybe Summer had graduated with the lucky woman.

  “Dinah.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t recognize it. “Well, have fun.”

  “I will.” He backed around the corner of the house, holding her gaze longer than he needed to.

  Summer watched until Damian disappeared into the shadows. A long breath escaped her. On the surface, Whispering Pines seemed the same sleepy hamlet she’d grown up in, but when she looked closer, certain details had shifted in the last decade. A house that towered to the sky. A handsome, complicated stranger who turned her thoughts inside out. Memories of her brother and father that sprang up when she least expected them.

  Suddenly exhausted, she headed for her car. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  SIX HUNDRED MILES AWAY, Theo Braxton drew a sleeve across his mouth and wiped away lunch. “You got ’em?”

  Randall Potts, dime-store private investigator, nodded. He slid an unmarked manila envelope across the scarred desk and smiled. “Eight pictures. Taken last week.”

  Theo stared at the envelope without reaching for it. His foot jounced on the stained linoleum, nerves getting the better of him. Three years. He’d lived without his wife and daughter for three long years. And now he couldn’t get up the balls to look at what the PI had uncovered. He coughed. “Got any water?”

  The man with the hair plugs and cheap blue suit nodded and ambled down the hall. Alone, Theo inched closer to the desk. Closer to the envelope. His heart hammered in his chest. He’d wanted this, after all. He’d convinced himself it was the right thing—the only thing—to find his family and bring them home again.

  Potts returned with a paper-cone cup of water. “Here you go.” He cleared his throat and remained standing. “That’ll be two hundred, like we agreed.”

  Theo barely heard him. He downed the water in a single gulp and then slid one finger under the flap of the envelope. Eight glossy photographs slid into his hands, and there she was, his beautiful Hannah, smiling down at their daughter as the two of them ate ice cream at some roadside stand. Faint lines had etched themselves around her mouth and eyes, but he’d smooth them away. He’d make her remember what it was like to be young and carefree. If she came home again, he’d give her anything she wanted. Sweat broke out on his brow.

  “Here.” He handed over four fifty-dollar bills, fresh and uncreased. “When can you get me her address?”

  The investigator cleared his throat. “You want that, I’ll need another two hundred.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Said you wanted pictures. You want contact info, it’s gonna cost more. She’s got a prepaid cell number and an unlisted landline. Tougher to trace.”

  “So just tell me where the pictures were taken.” He could make out pine trees behind them and a cloudless blue sky. No buildings.

  “You got the cash?”

  Theo fisted both hands in his lap so he wouldn’t reach over and throttle the guy. “Got a roofing job next week. I’ll have it then.”

  “Call me in ten days. You have the cash, I’ll have what you need.”

  Theo got to his feet and slammed the office door on the way out. He was sick of waiting. Sick of wondering where his family had gotten to and how long until he could see them again. Outside, he lit a cigarette and stomped to his truck. Probably should find out if his boss had any work for him, but all he really wanted was to belly up to the local bar for a couple shots of Jack Daniels.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and cut off a minivan. The driver honked and got the finger in return as the shingle with Randall Potts’ name on it disappeared in Theo’s
rearview mirror. His temper eased. He’d give this idiot ten days, and if the guy couldn’t deliver, he’d go to someone who could. Or he’d hunt down his wife and daughter on his own.

  Chapter Five

  Damian coasted to a stop outside the soccer fields by the high school. A few hundred yards away, figures in bright yellow and red jerseys darted across the grass. Behind them, the sun hung over the hills and cast sheets of light in every direction. His watch read four forty. Good, he wasn’t late. He drummed his fingers in a restless pattern on the steering wheel and let his aching back relax. Closing his eyes for a minute, he listened to the faint shouts from the field. The images of soccer players faded, replaced by luminous dark eyes and long hair.

  Summer Thompson. From Mac’s accounts, he’d expected her to be attractive. What he hadn’t expected was someone with such a steady gaze, such long legs and a mouth he wanted to capture with his own. Something about the curve of Summer’s lips made you stop and look. And then look again.

  Damian opened his eyes and rubbed one palm against his leg to still his desire. Take it easy, buddy. She might be a looker, but she wasn’t staying in Whispering Pines longer than a few days. Besides, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend or even a fling. He wasn’t available, and beyond that, Summer was the reason he might be homeless in a month.

  The reminder threw cold water on him. Would she really sell the farmhouse out from under them? She didn’t seem cold-hearted, but with everything Mac had said about her past, Damian couldn’t blame her for not wanting to stick around town.

  A whistle blew. The players had gathered into a knot at the edge of the parking lot, and Damian pulled himself from the Camaro and headed for the group. From here, they all looked the same in their ponytails, nylon jerseys and shorts, tall white socks and black sneakers. Sometimes he tried to test himself, to see if he could spot Dinah before she saw him. He always failed. Sure enough, in another minute, she came running over.