Second Chance Summer

by Allie Boniface

  “Dame!” Ten years old and tall for her age, his half-sister wrapped her arms around his waist and grinned.

  “Hey, ladybug.” Damian bent down and hugged her, damp hair and gangly arms and all. He tickled her ribs and she giggled up at him.

  “How was practice?”

  “Good. I scored two goals.”

  “Great job.” Damian smiled and looked over her head. Station wagons and minivans idled at the curb, and one by one the players climbed into their cars and waved goodbye. Dinah leaned into Damian’s legs and watched them go, and his heart ached the way it always did. His little sister deserved better than this. She deserved a father who’d pick her up from practice and take her for ice cream, a father who’d come to her games and cheer from the sidelines. Most of all, she deserved a sober father who’d carry her on his shoulders and protect her from the darkness that waited around corners. Damian felt like a poor substitute most of the time.

  “Let’s go.” Dinah pulled at her brother’s hand. But they’d gone only a few steps when he heard the voice behind him.

  “Dinah! Damian!” Petite and blonde, with breasts that always seemed on the verge of escaping her tiny T-shirts, Joyce Hadley jogged across the field.

  Damian took another few steps and reached for the car door. Just pretend you didn’t hear her. But Dinah tugged at his shirt.

  “Dame.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Coach Joyce wants to talk to you.”

  Damian resisted the urge to close himself in the car, roll up all the windows and take off without looking back. Instead, he took a deep breath, inhaled perfume and gagged.

  In her matching sky-blue shirt and shorts, Joyce looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than at the helm of a soccer team. She blushed and tucked her hair behind one ear with a pinky finger.

  “Hi, Joyce. How’d my sister do today?”

  The platinum blonde fixed her gaze on Damian, barely looking at Dinah. “Fine.”

  “Anything I need to know about the game this weekend?” Damian stuffed his hands inside his pockets.

  “Be at the field by nine, same as usual.”

  Joyce glanced at Dinah and took one step closer to him. A gold cross dangled in the low-cut vee of her shirt. “We’ll be at Murphy’s tonight. You and Nate should stop by.” He nodded and turned away without answering.

  As Damian turned the key and pulled away, Dinah leaned out the open car window and waved. Joyce stood in the driveway beside the school. One hand twisted her hair; the other fluttered in their direction. Damian didn’t bother waving. Instead he reached over and tweaked Dinah’s ponytail.

  “Why don’t you like Coach Joyce?” Dinah asked as she propped both feet on the dashboard. Damian slowed at the red light and tried to decide how to answer the question.

  “Dame?”

  “What, ladybug?”

  “Why don’t you like her? She’s always saying hello to you, and you never want to talk to her.”

  “I like her fine. And what do you mean? I was just talking to her. She seems like a good coach.”

  “Yeah, plus she’s pretty,” Dinah continued. “And she bakes really good chocolate chip cookies.”

  “So you told me.” If that were all it took, I’d date her in a second. But baking skills and good looks only counted for so much. Once you started peeling the layers away, you found out the truth about a person. All the truth, ugly and whole and real. After the heartbreak of Angie, Damian had no interest in dating. He couldn’t bear to fall again, only to have the world pulled out from under him. Besides, Dinah and his mom needed him at home. Even if he’d wanted one, a relationship with Joyce Hadley wouldn’t fit into his life.

  “I wish I had hair like that,” Dinah said after a minute.

  “Hair like what?”

  “Like Coach Joyce’s. Long and blonde. Don’t you like it?”

  Damian grinned and pinched his sister’s nose. “I like your hair just the way it is.” He turned before the McCready place—or rather, the Thompson place now, he corrected himself—and drove down a long dirt driveway. A minute later the barn-red farmhouse appeared. As soon as the engine died, Dinah jumped out and ran inside.

  “Mom!”

  Damian took his time before he followed her. He straightened the flowerpots on the porch steps and picked up stray bits of newspaper. When they’d lived in Poisonwood, his mom had kept a perfect house, with blooming vines and a vegetable garden and a fountain in the front yard. Ever since the divorce, though, she hadn’t been the same. Doctors called it depression, but Damian suspected that the beatings she’d endured for years at the hands of her ex-husband had caused something deeper than that. Still, since the move to Whispering Pines almost three years ago, she seemed better. The dark circles under her eyes had faded, and she didn’t worry so much about letting Dinah leave the house.

  Damian climbed the stairs and opened the screen door. Silence greeted him. The door at the end of the hallway stood closed. He stopped outside it and listened carefully. Nothing. Continuing down the hall, he ducked into the kitchen to find Dinah elbow-deep in chocolate ice cream.

  “Want some?” A spoon dripped brown spots onto the faded linoleum at her feet.

  “Ice cream before dinner?” Damian winked. “Sure, ladybug. Give me the works.” He stuck one finger into the open container of whipped cream and dotted her nose with it. Dinah squealed with pleasure. When she dug the spoon into the carton again, he backed away and knocked on his mother’s door.

  “Mom?” Damian pressed his ear to the door. “Mom? You okay?”

  Worry slid cold fingers up his spine. When did the son become the parent? After T.J. started hitting her, when I was twelve and barely big enough to fight back for her? After the divorce, when she spent twenty hours a day locked in her room sleeping? Or after we moved to Whispering Pines and she couldn’t walk down the street without looking over her shoulder?

  He knocked again, and when he still heard nothing, he gripped the knob and wiggled it. This time a soft shuffling moved across the room. A moment later the door opened, and Hannah Knight peeked out at him. Relief melted the tension at his temples.

  “You’re okay.”

  She smiled. “Of course I’m okay. Can’t a woman have a few moments to herself?”

  Without answering, Damian leaned in the doorway and studied her. Dark hair untouched by gray swung against her shoulders; faint pink circles colored her cheeks. Even the pain and loneliness that sometimes creased her countenance could never hide the huge brown eyes, the high cheekbones, the translucent skin. If only he could erase the emptiness that shadowed her expression and replace it with the easy, dimpled smile he remembered from years ago.

  Hannah raised one hand to his face. “You’ve turned into such a handsome man,” she said softly. “What happened to my little boy? Sometimes I don’t even recognize you. I catch myself thinking, what is that good-looking guy doing in my house? You must drive the women in town wild.”

  He shuffled his feet. “No women for me, Mom. You and Dinah are the only ones I need.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t be silly. You should be dating someone. What about Dinah’s soccer coach?”

  Joyce? No way. She can’t take a hint. Won’t leave me alone. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s been a long time since you and Angie broke up.”

  Damian winced. He knew.

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  She squeezed his hand. “You know what I mean.”

  He shrugged again. Angie was gone, Joyce didn’t interest him, and he didn’t have the strength to bare his soul to anyone new. But then Summer Thompson flashed into his imagination, and again he felt her soft, warm wrist under his fingertips. He rubbed the back of his neck, and his cheeks grew hot. Where did that come from?

  “Listen, the new owner of the property stopped by today,” he said.

  Hannah’s hand dropped from his. “And?”


  “And she’s talking about selling everything included with the property, this place too.”

  “Oh, no.” His mother’s face lost its radiance. “There’s no way we can stay?”

  “I don’t know. I’m gonna talk to her about it.” Damian would find a way to keep them in this house. He had to. They’d gone through so much in the last few years, spent so much time looking over their shoulders and checking the locks on the doors. He couldn’t bear for them to move again. “Don’t worry. I’ll convince her to let us stay.” He pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and backed out of the room.

  Dinah stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She held a spoon in one hand and wiped her mouth with the other, leaving a streak of chocolate down the length of her arm.

  He laughed. “You’re gonna need a bath.”

  “No, I’m not.” She beamed up at him. “Hey, you wanna go for a hike before dinner? Mom said I could pick some of those flowers down by the creek, but she won’t let me go alone.”

  Of course she won’t. Though the divorce had been final for years, with sole custody of Dinah granted to Hannah, their mother still lived in fear that her ex-husband would steal the girl away. T.J. hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t called. But neither did they believe that the guy was gone for good. Damian’s fists tightened. With a love of liquor and a smile that could sweet-talk the devil, T.J. was a rattlesnake with a deadly bite. Since their move to Whispering Pines, Damian had made it his personal responsibility to make sure he never got close enough to the girls to hurt the air they breathed or the ground they walked upon.

  “Sure, let’s go,” he said as he took Dinah’s hand. “But don’t forget the rules, ladybug. In my sight at all times, okay?”

  THEO SLOUCHED IN THE chair and pulled a baseball cap over his eyes. He didn’t need the librarian or the old guy next to him giving him an eyeful while he was pecking away at the keyboard.

  His first Internet search turned up nothing. “Shit.”

  A young mother nearby frowned and covered her toddler’s ears. “Excuse me,” she hissed. “This is the library.”

  Didn’t think it was the circus, he wanted to say. He bit his lip instead and tried another search. This time he typed in Hannah’s son’s name. Damian Knight had never been anything but trouble in the years Theo had put a roof over their heads. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who had told Hannah to leave the state in the first place. He scowled at the screen. No matter where they’d ended up, Theo was one-hundred-percent certain Damian still lived with his mother and sister, if not in the house with them, then somewhere close by.

  This search turned up something. Knew it. Theo glanced around and hunched as close to the computer screen as he could get. Damian’s name appeared halfway down a list of graduates from a two-year college somewhere in upstate New York. Theo pursed his lips and jotted the name of the school on a scrap of paper. The date was almost two years old, but he would bet Hannah hadn’t taken the family too far from there. He hadn’t tried to contact her in ages. She would have grown comfortable by now. Safe.

  Theo shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and shut down the computer completely. Next step: finding a map of New York. After that, he’d drive straight from center-city Baltimore to whatever podunk town Hannah and Dinah now called home.

  He’d worry about Damian when he got there.

  Chapter Six

  Summer studied the papers strewn across the blue polyester motel quilt. Only a few days away from work, and she already felt out of the loop. Later that summer, their museum would have the rare opportunity to borrow a collection of artifacts recovered from the 1607 Jamestown colony. She ran a finger down the list of broken wine cups and cooking pots. She loved reading background material, reliving archeological digs that brought such finds to light. She loved seeing them up close and in person, wondering how many hands had touched them before hers. And yet all the documents in the world could never explain the most important things.

  They couldn’t explain why a young girl, on a particular day, might have chosen to mix corn and venison stew in her cooking pot. Or whether she’d learned the technique from a Potomac Indian woman or raised a callus on her finger as she stirred. Had she watched her mother nurse a newborn? Had she blushed and dropped her chin when a certain boy walked by?

  Summer pushed the papers together in a heap. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand and wished it held something stronger. I only like putting other people’s pasts in order because I can’t remember my own. That’s what an ex-boyfriend had told her once. She downed the water and wondered if it were true.

  She’d been back in Whispering Pines for forty-eight hours, and aside from the one strange moment in the house, she still hadn’t remembered anything about that night. Not that she really wanted to. Her eyes filled as she tried to remember her brother’s face, his laugh, the way he teased her about being in love with Gabe. She couldn’t. Everything about Donny had become a fog. More than one therapist had told her she was better off not remembering anything about the accident. Selective amnesia they called it, the brain sorting out and banishing any traumas too painful to recall. She’d thought being back here would bring them to the surface, but it looked as though she’d buried them too deep for that.

  Just as well.

  Summer pulled off her T-shirt and panties and flung them over a chair. The sheets, pilled but soft, she drew up to her chin. Sleep, she ordered. A good eight hours of it, please. This day had worn her out. Tomorrow or the next day, she’d meet with Sadie Rogers and get the house on the market. By the end of the week, she’d fly back to California. And this whole thing would be over.

  DAMIAN SETTLED HIMSELF into a lawn chair on the front porch and stretched out his legs. Folding one hand behind his head, he yawned and studied the mountains that wrapped their arms around the town. At night, especially in the absence of a moon, they became shadowy giants that towered over the residents. A few clients had told him they were good for hiking, especially Sunrise Mountain, but after almost three years of living in Whispering Pines, he still couldn’t decide whether they soothed him or scared him. Sometimes it was a little bit of both.

  His cell phone buzzed, and Nate Hunter’s name appeared on the screen.

  “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “We going out tonight?” Damian’s best friend asked.

  “Sure. Where?”

  “Murphy’s?”

  Joyce Hadley flashed into Damian’s mind, pink and sky-blue and smiling with eyes that wanted much more than to coach his kid sister. We’ll be at Murphy’s tonight... “No. No way.”

  “Then how about Jimmy’s? I’m trying to get in good with the manager there. Word is they’re looking to hire a part-time bartender.”

  Damian nodded in the dim light. “All right. I’ll meet you there around nine.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’m going out with Nate for a little while,” Damian told his mother a few minutes later.

  “Good.” Hannah smiled over the dishes she washed, though her expression seemed weary. “There’s no reason for you to sit home with us every night.”

  But I would. He didn’t need to say the words; they hung in the kitchen above them, understood.

  “We’ll be fine,” Hannah said, and the set of her mouth confirmed her words. “Go.”

  Out of habit, he checked the deadbolts on the front and back doors before he left and made his mother promise not to open the door for anyone except the police. She nodded, slipping into her quiet nighttime mood, and Dinah waved goodbye from her beanbag chair by the television.

  With the day behind him and food in his stomach, Damian felt rested and more relaxed than usual. He tapped the steering wheel as music poured from his speakers. He headed down Main Street, toward the highway, until he reached a side street just beyond the overpass. Nate stood in the doorway of Jimmy’s Watering Hole, waiting. A corner bar away from the center of town, this place attracted the local thirty-somethings more than t
he drunken college kids home on summer break. Much better than Murphy’s.

  Damian had never really been into the bar scene, though he’d done it enough when he first started college. But too many nights of wandering home near dawn and puking into the toilet bowl had turned his stomach. Now he only went out occasionally, usually to quieter bars or the ones with a good band playing. Tonight this bar looked more crowded than usual, though, and he wondered if even Jimmy’s had been a mistake.

  “Thanks.” He took the beer Nate had bought him and followed his buddy through the narrow room. Before him, a sea of faces blended together. He finished his beer in a few long swallows and propped the empty bottle on the table beside him. A collection of other bottles sat there, next to a wrinkled cocktail napkin with a smeared phone number scrawled across it. Damian worked his hands into his pockets. Sometimes it felt like he was getting too old for this sort of thing.

  Then he saw her. The door to Jimmy’s opened and four women pushed their way inside. Clad in tight T-shirts and miniskirts, they strutted across the room and winked at the bartender. Damian’s chest tightened. The Hadley sisters: Tara, Joyce, Eva and Marie. All blonde, all beautiful. According to Nate, they’d grown up in Whispering Pines, two years apart in age, and never left. Damian wondered if they ever would. Joyce had mentioned going to Murphy’s. What were they doing here?

  He glanced over his shoulder and wondered if Jimmy’s had a back exit. Nope. Nothing but bodies stuck too close together. He shrank into the wall and looked at his feet.

  “Damian!” She’d spotted him.

  His stomach did a slow flop, over and back, and he raised his chin. No use avoiding her. “Hi, Joyce.”

  The shortest and blondest of the four wound her way through the crowd, and heads turned as she passed. When she reached him, Joyce looked up through mascara-drenched lashes and shook her head with a teasing smile. “This is a nice surprise.”