Summer by the River

by Debbie Burns

  “Why?” Zoe rubbed her index finger back and forth across her nose.

  “Because it’s in a dog’s nature to want to establish his place among his pack members—in this case, the people he lives with—as high up as he can. That means the few areas a dog is the least willing to share—his food, toys, and his bed—need to be off limits to you until he earns our unconditional trust. Understand?”

  “What’s unconditional?”

  “It’s another way of saying absolutely always with no exception,” Josie interjected.

  Zoe’s brows furrowed into a knot. “So, he can’t sleep with me?”

  “No,” Josie said. “Absolutely not.”

  Zoe’s shoulders sank. “Can I at least help you feed him?”

  A hint of a scowl formed along Carter’s forehead. Josie was about to answer when he looked at her in earnest. “So long as your mom agrees.”

  Josie frowned. “I’d say no, but I’m worried she’ll try it when no one’s looking.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” He pushed himself up so that he was balancing on the balls of his feet and motioned Zoe over. “Come stand on this side so I’m between you two.”

  When Zoe was on the opposite side of Carter as Buttercup, Carter said, “I’ll put one piece into your hand at a time. But you have to promise you’ll never do this without me.”

  “I won’t, but Buttercup won’t hurt me. He’s my friend.”

  Josie suppressed a grimace. It was quite possible Buttercup could be trusted more than Zoe at this point.

  Carter patted the big dog confidently, then dropped a piece of kibble into Zoe’s hand and guided her hand toward his mouth. Buttercup inhaled the kibble with an almost imperceptible flick of his tongue.

  Zoe giggled. “That tickled.”

  “Want to do it again?” Carter reached behind him for another piece.

  They’d done the same process another few times when Buttercup shoved forward and began licking Zoe’s face. Zoe squealed with delight, her hands flying out to grab his neck in an embrace.

  “No, Zoe!” Josie lunged forward instinctively, knocking the bowl of salad fixings to the floor in the process.

  Surprised by the crash, Buttercup whipped around, tucking his tail and whining.

  Zoe patted his hip, her fingers burrowing into his thick fur. “Mommy, you scared him!”

  She’s okay. Josie’s knees nearly buckled underneath her as memory melted into the present. Sam’s helpless scream rang in her ears. She could picture her mother’s face too—white as a ghost—as clearly as if she were seeing it on a screen. Her lips had been moving in a fervent prayer to a God she insisted didn’t exist. It was the only time Josie ever saw her pray.

  It’s over. Josie let out a shaky breath. Sam survived. He grew and healed and remained a dog-lover for life. He did all those things. Just not for long enough. Not nearly long enough.

  As the memory receded, the soft commotion in the kitchen pressed in. Myra ushered Zoe back to the table and her artwork while Carter offered Buttercup the rest of the kibble in the bowl.

  Josie sank onto her heels and began to scoop the mess of kale back into the bowl. Her fingers were shaking, and her blood was racing like she’d been standing in front of a firing squad. Carter walked over and squatted beside her.

  “I’ve got it.” She didn’t want his help. Especially not right now.

  He took her by surprise by cupping her chin in his hand. His eyes held hers, his expression earnest. “If you can’t do this, I want you to know, I’ll work something else out.”

  Crunching a mouthful of food, Buttercup trotted over and sniffed the kale on the floor, then Josie’s hair. His tail wagged innocently, and his warm, brown eyes seemed solemn and friendly.

  Josie understood it then; he wasn’t a bad dog. Maybe there were no bad dogs, just bad owners. Whatever the case, so long as they proceeded cautiously, the dog would be fine.

  Rather than letting her go, Carter’s thumb remained at the rim of her jaw.

  “I’m okay. We just need to take it slower than this.”

  “We’ll take it as slow as you need.”

  Buttercup trotted back to his dish, and Josie stood up to dump the pieces of kale into the compost bin. She knew they were both talking about the dog, but the way he’d been looking at her, it was as if he meant something else too.

  Somehow, she made it through dinner without ever being more than half-present. Thankfully, it was so close to the end of a long first week that Zoe was exhausted and ready for bed early. After Zoe’s bath, Josie curled up in her bed and half listened to Zoe’s whispered prayers.

  “Zoe,” Josie asked when Zoe was finished, “why did you hit Andrew today?”

  “I told you why.”

  “Yes, but I’ve got the feeling there are still some things you aren’t telling me.”

  Zoe turned onto her side and curled toward her. “How come I can’t pick out my own dad? How come I have to wait for you to do it?”

  “Not everybody has a dad, Zoe.”

  “Andrew says everybody has to have a dad.”

  Josie frowned into the darkness. She couldn’t go there with Zoe today, but she needed to. Soon. “You have so many people who love you, Zo. More than you even realize. All week customers have been asking about you.”

  “I want a dad though. They’re different than you and Myra. I like the way they smell. And the way they have those short, rough hairs on their cheeks and under their chins. And the bigger hairs on their hands and arms.”

  Josie’s father had walked away so long ago, Josie wouldn’t have guessed Zoe’s words could conjure up an image of his stubbly chin and cheeks, and the way they’d felt against her palm. She’d not known it then, but that smell on his breath, it had most likely been bourbon or scotch.

  “You still haven’t answered me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Zoe reached out to run her fingertips down Josie’s neck. “It’s like a birthday wish, Mom. The ones you want the most, you aren’t allowed to tell.”

  After a moment of reflection, Josie said, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but there’s something I need you to hear.”

  “What?”

  “Carter. I know you like him, but you have to remember he’s not going to be here forever.”

  Zoe pulled her hand away from Josie’s neck and tucked it into a fist under her chin. “I know, Mom.”

  “You say that, Zoe, but you need to believe it too.”

  “I believe in fairies and you don’t, but you never said I can’t believe in them.”

  Josie brushed back Zoe’s bangs. Shit. For the thousandth time, she wished there was a fail-proof guide to raising kids.

  “That’s true, but I’m not worried about fairies—or the lack of them—hurting you.”

  Zoe stayed quiet for so long that Josie wondered if she was drifting off.

  “Mom,” she said finally, her voice an easy whisper, “maybe you just shouldn’t worry so much.”

  Chapter 20

  “Clarify one thing for me, will you?” Carter said the next night as he flipped over the ignition, and his car purred to life.

  “That would depend on the thing.”

  “About you and not driving,” he said. “Is it that you can’t or won’t?”

  “Or don’t want to,” she offered. “A blend actually.”

  “Want me to teach you?” He cocked an eyebrow her direction.

  Josie clicked her buckle in place and shot an apprehensive glance through the darkness toward Myra’s house as he backed out of the drive. “No thanks… Well, maybe.” She wasn’t in any hurry to learn to drive, but if she intended to stay planted in rural mid-America, sooner or later she was going to have to. “Can I think about it?”

  He chuckled. “I’m here if you want me.”

 
; Of course he would say that. Josie already had full-on fishbowl stomach at the idea of being alone with him, away from the security of this place. It wasn’t that she was worried about Zoe needing her; after her first full week of school, Zoe was out like a light. And Buttercup was closed in Carter’s room for the next few hours. Though, none of that calmed her nerves.

  Rather than turning toward town, Carter got on Highway 20 East, which led out of town toward not much else but farmland.

  “Where are we headed, anyway?”

  “A little dive I heard about. Supposedly it has great food and good music.”

  “That sounds more like a bar than a coffee shop.”

  “No one will stop you from having a coffee, or tea, in your case, but it’s eight o’clock on a Friday night, and I’ve been writing at a tea garden all week. I’m in the mood for a drink that isn’t served with a saucer.”

  Josie failed to suppress a snort of laughter. This was day eight of Carter in her world. It was safe to assume he was never without a joke or wry comment.

  It was Myra who’d convinced Josie to go tonight so Carter could get her input on some of what he was writing for her. “You’ll never open up if you’re worried about me overhearing,” she’d insisted. They hadn’t needed to leave for that, Josie knew. She and Carter could’ve sat out on the terrace after Myra and Zoe went to bed.

  But somehow, she’d found herself agreeing anyway.

  The bar was a good fifteen minutes outside of town. Nestled atop a gently sloping hillside and illuminated by landscaping lights up the winding entrance, it was surprisingly inviting. The parking lot was nearly full, and Carter parked in an open spot at the end. A muffled Lady Antebellum song greeted Josie’s ears as she got out of the car.

  She couldn’t help but notice Carter headed around the car empty-handed. “Where’s your laptop?”

  “Back at Myra’s.”

  He was in jeans and a long-sleeve, button-down shirt that was tucked in and drew her attention to his waist. Again. It didn’t seem as if he had his well-worn moleskin notebook on him either.

  “How are you going to remember anything I say if you don’t write it down?”

  “I haven’t forgotten a single thing you’ve said, and I don’t plan to start tonight.”

  As they got closer to the building, Josie could feel the thrum of the music reverberating in her chest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this is a bait and switch.”

  He held up his hands. “Us getting out of the house was Myra’s idea. I’d have been fine to hang out on the terrace. I’ve been craving a big fire in one of those fire pits, and it’s about cool enough tonight to appreciate one. If you want to head somewhere else, we can, but I say we give it a shot since we’re here.”

  Josie shrugged off her apprehension as Carter pushed through the entry doors. Inside, it was intimately lit, and there was a large dance floor on one side filled with couples who were clearly adept at Western moves. After a quick scan of the room, Josie guessed she and Carter were the only two people not in cowboy boots.

  Carter’s hand locked over her elbow, and he guided her to the side farthest from the dance floor.

  “Nice place,” he said, sliding into a seat at an open booth.

  Josie sank down across from him. “Quite the change of pace from your Manhattan scene, isn’t it?”

  “True, but as I said, I lived the first half of my life in west Texas, sweetheart. This feels closer to home than anything in Manhattan. Hell, if you don’t mind me saying it, I lost my virginity in a joint like this.”

  Josie suppressed a snort. “Aside from being TMI, I know you’re lying. You can’t go to bars until you’re twenty-one, and I’m never going to believe you were that old when you—you know. Besides, you said earlier that you moved to New York when you were twenty.”

  “All true, but I started going to bars like this when I was seventeen. You could get by with stuff like that in my hometown. And I know what you’re thinking—seventeen’s old for a prime specimen like me. But I’m not afraid to admit I was a terribly awkward teenager. Gangly as all get out and with my share of acne. And a god-awful retainer. My first time was probably more out of pity than anything else.”

  “I don’t believe you for a second.” Josie pressed her lips into a tight line and shook her head but still couldn’t shake off a laugh. “But we’re here to talk about Myra, not your teenage prowess,” she said as she recovered. “Or lack of it. So, what is it you want to know?”

  Carter drummed his fingers atop a name carved into the table. “Has anyone ever told you it isn’t easy to break the ice with you?”

  Josie cocked her head. “Weren’t we just discussing your virginity a second ago?”

  “I was. But you were locking up your smile.”

  Josie buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “Myra. Please. What do you want to know?”

  “Ah, things I can’t come up with on an identity search, I guess. For starters, tell me more about her kids. Have you met them?”

  “A few times. They don’t come home often.”

  “Why? Any bad blood there?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. Not toward her, anyway. Her son eyes me like I’m the devil incarnate whenever he comes home. It’s my guess that he thinks I’m trying to whittle away Myra’s fortune, which I’m not. Obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  She wished something would catch his attention and distract it from her. The intimate lighting, tall booth, and the way he was focused on her mouth—probably to understand her over the music—stripped away at her composure.

  “You helped Myra stay in her house with your idea to open the tea garden. That’s hardly taking advantage of her.”

  A server showed up with two bottles of beer, both Stella Artois, and set them on the table along with menus. So that’s what he’d said to the server as we walked over.

  Carter lifted a beer to his lips and slid the other Josie’s way.

  “What if I don’t like Stella Artois?”

  “Then I’ll drink it, and you can order your tea when she comes back.”

  Josie chewed on the inside of her cheek before deciding to take a swig. It had been a while since she’d had a beer. She enjoyed a small glass of wine every so often, but considering the affinity her mother had had toward anything addictive, Josie had always thought it was better not to test fate.

  The beer proved more refreshing than she’d have anticipated as it rolled over her tongue. She took another sip and turned her attention to the dancers who were moving in impressive rhythm to “Whiskey Glasses.”

  “So, I’d love to hear how you two met.”

  Josie’s discomfort heightened instantly. She didn’t want to talk about anything related to her arrival. “There’s not much to say. We met in town. I was new to Galena. She needed someone to help her open the tea garden, and I needed a job.”

  “So, it was just business then?”

  “No.” She dropped his gaze almost as soon as she looked at him. “It was more than that.”

  “Yeah, I know. She loves you like family, and it’s obvious you feel the same way.”

  Josie shrugged. “She’s easy to love.”

  He sat back, stretching out his legs. His jeans rubbed against Josie’s bare calf.

  “Did Myra tell you I’m taking her to New York with me next weekend?”

  Josie’s jaw dropped. “No, she didn’t.” Myra’s going with him to New York? “Why?”

  “I need some of my things since I’m staying on, and I need to make sure the rest gets into storage. It isn’t much after Katherine took what she wanted, but it’s worth keeping.”

  “But why are you taking Myra?”

  “She’s never been to New York. She wants to go. You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, but no way.” Josi
e had never been on a plane in her life, and the idea of being in a city that size made her limbs lock up. And though a part of her would like to see New York someday, even if it was just to see for herself the city that had drawn her father away, she’d not yet put her fake ID through any real tests. She certainly wasn’t going to start at an airport.

  “She said you wouldn’t come with us.”

  “She knows me better than I know myself most of the time.”

  “I guess we’ll see about that.”

  Josie felt a challenge in his words, innocent as his tone was. “What do you mean?”

  “She wants Zoe to come with us.”

  “With you? To New York?” She huffed. “Not a chance.”

  “Myra will be there.”

  Josie shook her head adamantly. “No.”

  “She said you’d say that. But the thing is, Myra would really like to see it with Zoe. She loves that little girl a great deal. Almost as much as she loves you.”

  Josie flattened her hands against the seat of the booth. Cool as the leather was, she suddenly craved something much colder against her skin. She’d known this would happen. Her life was like a spiced apple cake mix that had separated out. The thin, easy stuff was at the surface, and the heavy stuff had settled to the bottom. And Carter was stirring shit up.

  “She’s hoping you change your mind once you’ve had some time to think about it,” Carter added into her silence. “And I’ve got no doubt Zoe would eat it up. Lady Liberty. The Brooklyn Zoo. Yankee Stadium. Times Square. You name it.”

  Josie’s skin was growing clammy. “Can we not talk about this?”

  He was quiet a few seconds. “Yeah, sure.”

  She swiped a loose strand of hair behind her ear and took a swig of the beer. “What are we doing here, Carter?”

  Carter tapped his thumb against the table. “Good question. Dancing, I hope.” His reply was light and playful as if he’d picked up on the tension locking up her insides. “Have you ever done any of these line dances? They’re fun. Come on.”

  He stood up and paused at the edge of her seat. When she didn’t move, he scooped up both beers in one hand and wrapped his other hand around her wrist. “Come on, Josie. Let’s dance. I promise not to embarrass you with my moves.”