Summer Dreams

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the waiting area at Twilight Bar, watching people shuffle in and out of the front door. Sean still hadn’t arrived, and considering it had only taken me four minutes to drive there, I assumed he’d arrive a few minutes after I did. When he didn’t, and the minutes kept ticking by, my mind created alternative scenarios to justify why he wasn’t there.

  Maybe he was pulled over by the police.

  Or maybe the errand he ran took longer than he thought it would.

  Or maybe he’d changed his mind and decided not to meet me after all.

  It was the one scenario I didn’t want to accept—the fact I may have been stood up. I didn’t even know the protocol for being stood up, or if there was one. I just saw the guy. Surely he hadn’t changed his mind. I didn’t have his cell number, so I couldn’t call, and I had no idea where he lived.

  I glanced at my cell phone again. Almost thirty minutes late. Thirty minutes was too long to keep a girl waiting.

  You’ve got two more minutes, buddy, and I’m outta here.

  A woman dressed in a white shirt and black slacks with hair twisted into a tight bun entered the waiting area. The nametag pinned to her shirt read Clarissa. She glanced at everyone who was seated and then zeroed in on me. “Excuse me, are you Kenna?”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “We just received a phone call from, well, a guy. He was kinda frantic. He didn’t give his name.”

  I braced myself for what she might say next. “He called for me?”

  “He said to find you and tell you he’s on his way to Hilltop General. Some emergency concerning his daughter. He also said he’s sorry for not being here.”

  I slung my handbag over my shoulder and jerked the restaurant door open. I reached my car, slid into the seat, and turned the ignition on. But instead of moving, I sat there.

  What was I doing?

  I was thinking of going to the hospital to see a man I barely knew to check on his daughter who I didn’t know at all. It was like showing up at an event when I wasn’t invited. I drove to the end of the parking lot. Decision time. Left for Hilltop General. Right for home. If I didn’t go, I’d be up all night wondering if he was okay, if she was okay, and I’d been through enough sleepless nights. I exited the parking lot and headed left.

  “Hi, excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for Sean.”

  The receptionist glanced up at me. “Whom?”

  “Sean Conrad. His daughter Madeline is here. I believe she was brought in an hour ago.”

  “And you are?”

  “I’m a ... umm ... I’m his friend.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t give you any information.”

  “I understand you can’t give me a room number, but could you tell him Kenna’s in the waiting room?”

  She rolled her eyes. “What do I look like to you, a personal message service? Have a seat. When he comes out, you can talk to him.”

  I mentally flipped her the finger.

  “Do you have any idea when that might be?”

  “Honey, if he really is your friend, why don’t you call his cell phone or send him a text message and tell him you’re here?”

  “I actually don’t know his cell number.”

  I shouldn’t have admitted it, but it was too late now.

  She raised a brow. “And yet you’re supposedly friends? Mmmhmm.”

  “Can you at least tell me if he’s here or if his daughter’s here?”

  She frowned and lifted a finger in the direction of the waiting room. My options limited to one, I sat and fidgeted, not only for Sean, but because being there brought back unwanted memories—something I hadn’t even considered when I’d made my way over. Across the room a vacant set of chairs served as a trigger, a memory I wanted to forget. Chairs that Rae, Sasha, and Callie had sat in when I told them Robert was dead. I felt sick, my stomach queasy.

  I couldn’t do it.

  I couldn’t be here.

  It was too hard.

  I stood, clasped both hands over my mouth, and ran toward the door, knowing there was a strong possibility I’d throw up before I got there. I made it out the door and sprinted for the bushes. Somewhere behind me, Sean called my name. But I couldn’t stop. Not now. I fell to my knees, bent over, and released the contents inside my stomach.

  Sean’s hand grazed my shoulder. “Kenna, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  Without looking back, I shook my head, pulled the sleeve of my shirt over my wrist, and wiped my mouth. “I’m fine.”

  “Can I do anything for you?”

  I was supposed to be there for him, and here he was trying to be there for me. I stood, but backed away from him. My breath was the last thing he needed in his face right now. I dug into the pocket of my pants, popped a stick of gum in my mouth, even though I was fifty percent sure I’d throw up again. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  “I’m embarrassed. I can’t believe you just had to see me ... you know ... it’s gross.”

  “It’s fine. What happened? Are you feeling any better now?”

  “This hospital is where my husband died a year ago after he was in a car accident. Sitting in the waiting room just now, I couldn’t stop thinking about the memories I have from the last time I was here.”

  “Why are you here? For me?”

  I nodded. “I’m not a stalker or a crazy woman. I swear. I was just wondering if your daughter was okay and decided I’d just drive over to see if—”

  A woman exited the hospital, looked around, then centered her attention on Sean. “Madeline’s asking for you.”

  I wanted to believe she was his sister, but she didn’t look anything like him, and I’d been under the impression he wasn’t married. Thinking about it now, he’d never actually said he wasn’t married. He hadn’t said anything.

  “I should go,” I said. “This was a bad idea. I have no right to be here.”

  I pivoted, intending to head for my car. He grabbed my arm. “Kenna, wait. Don’t go. It’s not what you think.”

  “I don’t think anything. I just don’t feel well. I’ll see you later.”

  The woman walked over, stood beside him, and looked at me. “Hi, I’m Elle.”

  “Kenna. I’m—”

  She smiled. “I know who you are. I’m Madeline’s mother, but I’m not married to Sean.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “You mean you’re divorced?”

  Sean and Linda exchanged glances.

  “Oh, I get it,” I said. “You’ve split up, but you’re still living in the same house for Madeline’s sake.”

  I was babbling. Poking my nose where it didn’t belong. It needed to stop.

  Elle shook her head. “We’re not married, and we’re not a couple. We’ve never been a couple. We’re just friends.”

  “But Sean’s Madeline’s father, right?”

  “He is. He’s just not her biological father.”

  Confused, I looked at Sean. “I’m still not following what’s happening here. But it’s none of my business.”

  “It’s fine. Let me explain, please.”

  “Oh...kay.”

  “I adopted Madeline right after she was born.”

  I looked at Elle. “Are you her biological mother?”

  “I am.”

  “So, how do you know Sean?”

  “We’ve been friends since high school. We were roommates when I found out I was pregnant. It’s a long story. One night stand. I won’t bore you with the details. Sean saved me from a bad situation. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him. My parents were unsupportive and pushed for me to have an abortion. When I refused, they said I was making a mistake and they wouldn’t help me with the baby if I chose to have her.”

  Sean leaned against the wall. “Once she had the baby, I kept thinking about how she deserved to grow up with a father. Elle had no interest in dating, and from the moment I laid eyes on Madeli
ne, I fell in love with her. I asked Elle if she’d let me adopt her—whether or not she got into another relationship, at least Madeline would always have a father figure in her life. It’s unorthodox, I know. I figured one day if Elle met someone else, he could be in Madeline’s life too.”

  What kind of man sacrificed his own future to help raise his friend’s baby? I was both shocked and in awe of him at the same time.

  “Speaking of Madeline,” I said, “I’m assuming she’s okay since we’re all out here talking. What happened tonight?”

  “She was having difficulty breathing,” Elle said. “She’s fine now. Everything’s back to normal, or as normal as it can be.”

  “I’m glad she’s okay.” I pulled my keys out of my pocket. “I better head home. You two probably want to be in there with her right now.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Sean said.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. Besides, Elle said Madeline’s asking for you.”

  Elle smiled, said Madeline would be just fine for a few minutes. “I’ll tell her you’ll be in soon, Sean. Nice to meet you, Kenna.”

  She turned and walked back into the hospital.

  “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get you to your car.”

  Even though it was a simple escort to my car, I panicked. It wasn’t a date. We were in a hospital parking lot, for heaven’s sake. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to walk with me when my car was less than twenty feet away. Preparing for anything, I dug back into my pocket, doing my best to act nonchalant while I unwrapped a second stick of gum and swapped it out with the first.

  Don’t look over, Sean. Nothing to see here. Nothing at all.

  Sean reached the car before me and leaned his back against my door, blocking me from getting inside.

  My palms were sweaty, my armpits perspiring so much I worried sweat would seep through my tank top. Nothing was going to happen because it couldn’t. By this time, every inch of me smelled. Unsure about what to say, I tried to end the evening with, “Thanks for walking me to my car.”

  “Can I make it up to you—make tonight up to you, I mean?”

  “Yeah, sure. Just let me know what works for you.”

  “I would, but I don’t have your phone number.”

  I pulled out my phone, gave him my number, and put his number into mine. He still hadn’t removed his backside off the door of my car. He just stood there, smiling, staring, arms crossed.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Looking at you. Why? Does it bother you?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand why.”

  “You’re beautiful, Kenna.”

  “Not right now I’m not.”

  “Especially right now. Everything about you is attractive to me. The way you look, the things you say. The fact you came to the hospital tonight to see how I was doing. You’re a good woman.”

  I still didn’t get it. I smelled like a dirty towel, and in the last few seconds, I happened to glance down, noticing I had a tiny bit of vomit on my shirt. Fantastic. The last thing I was right now was attractive. “I should go.”

  “Thanks again for coming here. I’m sorry it was hard for you.” He pushed himself off my car door, placed a hand on my hip, leaned over, and planted a single kiss on my neck. “Drive safe. I’ll call you soon.”

  Two days later I was questioning my ability to make good decisions while finding myself strapped into a harness, standing next to Sean. We were on the rooftop of the Stratosphere on the Las Vegas strip waiting to SkyJump off the tower. No biggie, right? I was only eight hundred twenty-nine feet in the air, preparing for a forty-mile per hour freefall that held the Guinness World Record for the highest controlled descent. It had taken Sean a few tries to talk me into going, but when he said nothing in his life had ever made him feel so alive as doing the SkyJump had, part of me felt it was the perfect thing to add a bit more to my life. So there I was, locked and loaded and clinging onto Sean’s hand like a baby clutching the pacifier so hard that his mother couldn’t pry it away.

  It was time. I had to let go of his hand, step onto the platform, and do it. He’d paid good money for me to have the experience. I released his hand and listened to the male employee giving me instructions on where to stand and where to place my hands. He kept saying, “It’s all right, ma’am. I got you. You can do it.”

  I stood where he told me to stand, grabbed hold of what he told me to grab hold of, and closed my eyes.

  “Good,” the employee said. “Now, I’m going to give you a countdown, and then I just need you to let go.”

  “Okay.”

  “Three, two, one ... go.”

  Only I didn’t go. I froze. “I just don’t know. I don’t think I can do this.”

  The employee did his best to offer support and reassurance, and then he did the countdown one more time. When I still didn’t go, he tried a third time. “You got this. If you don’t go, we’ll have to bring you back in. You can do this. I know you can.”

  He counted down one last time, and this time I stepped off the ledge and embraced it. I thought I’d scream, see my life flash in front of me. Instead I felt invigorated. Sean was right. It was one of the most freeing things I’d ever done in my life.

  Sean went next without hesitation, high-fiving me once he reached the ground. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into him. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”

  Feeling the warmth of another man’s arms wrapped around me—someone I saw as potentially more than a friend—was interesting. I’d always assumed I’d feel like I was betraying Richard. Somehow I didn’t.

  “You deserve a reward for that freefall,” he said. “How about we get some food somewhere?”

  “Or we can skip the food and go straight for dessert.”

  “I like it. Have you ever had frozen hot chocolate before?”

  “I haven’t.”

  He grinned and reached for my hand. “Let’s give you one more experience you’ll never forget.”

  A couple hours later, after driving through a neighborhood of Mediterranean-style homes and showing him the dream house I could never afford, he pulled up to the curb in front of my home. I’d wrapped my fingers around the door handle when I realized he’d jumped out to open my car door again just like he’d done when he picked me up. Before I stepped out, I turned, and noticed a camera sitting inside a box in the back seat. “Nice camera.”

  “I’m an event photographer.”

  “Do you mean you shoot events like weddings or baseball games?”

  “Sometimes. I do a lot of side projects for the casinos. It pays good.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. What about you?”

  “I’m a teacher. Second grade.”

  He smiled. “I would have guessed you were a teacher.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I don’t know. I just can. You have a very nurturing, easy way about you.”

  “Not always, but I try.” I stepped out of the car. “Today was fun. More fun than I’ve had in a really long time. Thank you.”

  “I like being with you, Kenna.”

  “I like being with you too.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  I smiled and nodded, and we walked to my front door.

  This time I assumed he’d upgrade the kiss on the cheek to a kiss on the lips. No such luck. He looked at me and said, “Have a good night. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him walk down my driveway to his car, hands pressed inside his pockets. Feelings resurfaced, sparking to life. I liked him. I really liked him.

  “Hey, Sean,” I said.

  He stopped and looked back at me, and it occurred to me I had no idea what to say next. I just didn’t want him to go. Not yet. I walked toward him. When I reached him, he cupped his hands around my face and pressed
his lips against mine. Such a simple, passionate kiss. And one that led to another and then another.

  Passion.

  Longing.

  Desire.

  It was all there—every feeling and emotion awakening inside me again.

  I reached my hands beneath his shirt, feeling my way up and down the contours of his hardened body. He ran his fingers up and down my arms, then pressed his hands against my waist, his lips still pressed against mine.

  My nervousness took over, and I pulled back. “I ... umm ... I mean, I hope it was okay for me to ... well ... for us to ... do this.”

  He pushed his hands inside his pockets. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day. I just didn’t want to do it unless I knew it was okay. I didn’t want to push you.”

  “I like you, Sean. I don’t know what I can handle, but I’d like to find out.”

  He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “We can take things slow. If anything is too hard, I want you to tell me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He caressed the side of my face with his hand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I assumed I’d hear from Sean the next day. I didn’t. As the hours passed, I found myself glued to my cell phone, checking it over and over again, looking for a sign that it wasn’t working properly. I checked the ringer. I checked the volume. I even texted myself to see if the message would go through. When it did, disappointment turned to frustration and then anger. Maybe I’d missed something. Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe he didn’t like me the same way I liked him.

  I slept all night with the cell phone a few inches away from me on the bed, my ringer volume turned all the way up. It was all for nothing. He never called.

  The following day, I was in need of a rational conversation with a rational friend so I called Rae. She came right over. I poured two glasses of wine and we sat at the dining room table.

  “What happened?” she said. “Give me all the details, and don’t leave anything out.”

  I told her.

  “And you’re sure he said he’d call you today, right?”

  “It was the last thing he said to me. He actually used the word tomorrow—twice.”