Dragonfly Summer (A Smith Mountain Lake Novel Book 2)

by Inglath Cooper

  I scream out of pure terror, running after him with every ounce of energy I can push through my body. I grab for his jacket, miss, lunge again and get his hair. I hold on, its oily length the only thing between me and losing this child who belongs to my daughter.

  I hear Bowie behind me then. I wonder if he’s going to tackle the guy, then realize he can’t because of the baby. But Bowie runs out ahead, stopping dead in front of him, the gun pointed squarely at his chest.

  “Stop,” he says, his expression pure steel.

  He does. Like a statue. I’ve still got his hair, so his head is tipped back slightly, and he’s looking up instead of directly at Bowie.

  “Give the baby to her,” Bowie says.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asks, his voice a razor edge of rage above the baby’s screams.

  “Reece is my daughter,” I say. “You’ve kidnapped my grandson. Give him to me now.”

  “Your angel daughter,” he says, disgust underlining each word, “owes me ten thousand dollars. You think I’m supposed to just write off her debt?”

  “I don’t give a damn what she owes you,” Bowie says. “The FBI is on the way to this address right now. You can give us the baby and get out of here, or we can wait with me pointing this gun at your head until they arrive. I’m fine either way. I’m also happy to pull the trigger.”

  I hear in Bowie’s voice something I haven’t seen in him before. I remember what he’d told me about why he’d left the FBI, the point of disgust he’d reached with the type of person he’d so often been charged with finding. People with no regard for life, no respect for others.

  I release my hold on the guy’s hair enough so that he can look at Bowie. I ache to reach for the baby, grab him from this scum bucket’s arm, pull him to me, and assure him that he’s safe.

  But I’m afraid to do anything for fear that he will drop the baby.

  “Which one is it?” Bowie asks.

  I sense the guy’s tensing, and I dread his answer.

  Silence hangs between us, and if it is possible to feel hatred like a wave of heat, I feel his.

  “Fuck you!” The words explode into the silence, and all of a sudden, I see the baby flying high into the air.

  I scream, lunging forward with my arms outstretched. Oh, dear God, please, dear God, don’t let him fall! I’m tripping, stumbling, going down on the sidewalk with my arms still outstretched, reaching for the baby, even as I know I am not able to catch him.

  Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety.

  – William Shakespeare

  Keegan

  I SLIDE ON the concrete, my chin slamming hard into the uneven surface. I hear the baby’s cries, trying to scramble to my feet. And then I see that Bowie has caught him. He has him in his arms, tucked tight against his chest, his gun at his feet.

  I start to cry and reach to take him. Bowie hands him to me, grabs his gun and starts running after the dealer.

  “Bowie, don’t!” I call out after him. “Let him go!”

  But I know that he won’t. That he can’t. I drop to my knees, looking down at the innocent face of this child my daughter has brought into the world. He is looking up at me with wide blue eyes that are wet with tears, but he has stopped crying. He holds his little hand up, and I put my finger against his palm. He squeezes it tightly, and I say, “You’re safe, sweet boy. You’re safe.”

  When you’ve got it coming, it’ll get there sooner or later.

  – Author Unknown

  Bowie

  MY ONLY HOPE is that his punk-ass, drug-addicted self will give out of gas before I do. But he’s holding out better than I would have expected.

  At first, he sticks to the sidewalks, running fast and straight, but as I gain on him, he cuts through a yard, jumps a short fence, and hits an alleyway that runs between houses.

  I clear the fence and follow him, pushing myself to pick up speed. Our footsteps pounding the asphalt along with our ragged breathing are the only sounds.

  I could shoot him. Stop dead, aim, and shoot him. Part of me wants to. Part of me knows I would find satisfaction in making sure he never gets another girl addicted, never terrorizes another child.

  But that’s the part of me that made me realize I had to get out of law enforcement. My own desire to see justice meted out on thugs like this one began to overrule my patience for trusting the system.

  So I run harder, fast enough that my heart is pounding against the wall of my chest. As I hoped, he starts to slow, his drugged-out body beginning to fail him.

  Another ninety seconds, and he’s going down, rolling hard into the asphalt. I jump him, and we tumble into the grass at the side of the path.

  He grunts, yelling, “Get off me, man!”

  I wish I had handcuffs, but since I don’t, I decide I’ll just sit on him until help arrives. I pull my cell phone from my pocket, dialing 911. As I wait for the answer, I decide it’s a good day to be six-three.

  In time of test, family is best.

  – Burmese Proverb

  Evan

  WHEN MOM’S NUMBER flashes on my phone screen, I answer fast, my pulse pounding. “I’ve been worried,” I say before she can speak. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

  “I’m sorry, Ev,” she says.

  There’s something in her voice that makes me instantly scared. “What happened? Did you find her?”

  “We did. She’s in a rehab center in Knoxville now. She’ll need to be there for a while. But I think she’s okay with it.”

  “Did she have a baby?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Yes,” Mom says. “A little boy. Evan, he’s beautiful.”

  “Really?” I ask, a sudden knot of emotion in my throat. “Are you bringing him home?”

  “We are. Could you make a trip to Target and get some things for him?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Oh, man, I have a nephew.”

  “You do.” I hear the smile in Mom’s voice, and it’s only then that I realize I haven’t heard her sound this way in a really long time. Like our world has a chance of being right again. That maybe Reece is going to be okay after all.

  “Can you text me a list of what you need? And is it all right if Analise goes with me?”

  “Sure. And Bowie says you can take his truck.”

  “Cool.”

  “Are the dogs okay?”

  “They’re great,” I say. “Living the good life.”

  “Good,” she says. “I can’t wait to see them. We’ll be there around eight or nine tonight.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  “Bye, Evan.”

  “Hey, Mom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Ev.”

  Love is all the motivation we need.

  – Author Unknown

  Keegan

  IT FEELS LIKE a dream.

  Griffin asleep in a bassinet next to my bed. I doubt that I will actually sleep tonight because I keep rising up to look at him, make sure he’s all right.

  I know he is what Reece is fighting for. He is what will get her through the awful moments when she will want to leave that facility and give in to the drug that has taken her brain hostage.

  I will protect him with my own life. I look at him and see Reece as she had been at his age. I believe with all my heart that she can beat the addiction. She has the will, and this child is her motivation.

  And he will be here for her when she is ready. We will be here for her when she is ready.

  I’ll wait for you.

  – Joe Nichols

  Bowie

  I AM BONE-TIRED, but wide awake.

  I feel the way I used to feel following an arrest I had been after for a long time. So fueled with adrenaline that it would take days to come back down enough to fall asleep at night in my regular pattern.

  Maybe it’s because my brain insists on playing back not only what had happened, but all the scenarios t
hat could have caused a completely different outcome.

  I keep thinking about how close I came to not catching Griffin before he hit the ground. How easily that sorry excuse for a human being could have gotten out the back door and escaped. That he very well might have if Keegan hadn’t grabbed him.

  I think too about the look in her eyes when we had taken the baby to the rehab center so that Reece could see him. So much pain for her daughter mixed with hope that she will find her way out of the grip of addiction.

  My phone rings.

  I fumble for it on the nightstand, see Keegan’s name on the screen. “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey. Were you sleeping?”

  “No. You?”

  “No,” she says. “Can’t seem to turn my brain off.”

  “Me either,” I say.

  We’re both quiet for a couple of moments, and then she says, “How do I ever thank you?”

  “You don’t owe me any thanks.”

  “Bowie. You risked your life for us.”

  “And didn’t you save mine not too long ago?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How so?”

  “I didn’t have to chase down a meth dealer to help you out.”

  I laugh a little. “I actually think it was kind of good for me.”

  “Good for you?”

  “I got to revisit my past and remember why I was right to leave it.”

  “Can I just say you were darn impressive?”

  “If you insist,” I say, teasing.

  She laughs. And we’re silent again. But it’s a good silence, two people comfortable with each other. Aware of the connection between them.

  “Can I ask you something?” she finally says.

  “Anything.”

  “Life is going to be a little crazy for a while. But once it settles down a bit, do you think we could see what this thing between us might be?”

  “You mean like spend some time together?”

  “Some serious time,” she says softly.

  “Should I pretend like I need to check my calendar?”

  “Only if you need to play hard to get.”

  “I don’t think I do.”

  “Oh, good. So I’ll pencil you in sometime in August?”

  “Would I sound overeager if I said I’ll be waiting by the phone?”

  “I like overeager.” There’s a smile in her voice.

  “I can definitely give you eager.”

  “I can’t wait,” she says.

  “In August then,” I say.

  “In August.”

  It might take a year, it might take a day, but what’s meant to be will always find it’s way.

  – Author Unknown

  Keegan

  August 8th

  IT FEELS AS if I’ve never been on a date before.

  I can’t decide what to wear, and my bed may soon buckle beneath the pile of clothes I have tried on and discarded.

  A knock sounds at my bedroom door. “Come in,” I call out.

  “Wow,” Reece says, looking at the bed and smiling.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “No,” she says, walking over to sit down on the corner of the mattress. “You want to look great for Bowie. But you know you could wear a brown paper bag, and he wouldn’t be able to quit looking at you.”

  “I may resort to that bag then,” I say, looking at my daughter with a smile on my face. “You look so good, Reece.”

  She shrugs, not exactly disagreeing. “I feel good,” she says.

  I walk over to the bed and sit down beside her, tightening the belt to my robe. “You have no idea how grateful I am for how hard you’ve fought.”

  “I’m not completely there yet,” she says, looking down at her hands.

  I smooth my palm across her hair. “I know. But I’m proud of you for where you are.”

  “I really don’t deserve that,” she says, looking directly at me without bothering to hide the self-loathing she still struggles with on a daily basis.

  “Reece. At some point, you need to decide that it’s okay to forgive yourself. You took some wrong turns, but you definitely made some right ones. Look what you’ve given our family in our precious Griffin.”

  “He’s asleep,” she says, her face infusing with sudden light at the mention of his name.

  “You mean you got Evan out of his room long enough for that to happen?” I ask with a smile.

  “Who knew he’d be such a good uncle?”

  “I think they’re good for each other.”

  “Me too.” She hesitates, and then, “Mom?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I’m sorry for how selfish I was, for trying to make you feel guilty for the things you’ve accomplished. I don’t know why I couldn’t see how much you’d given up for Evan and me. I guess having Griffin has made me realize how much you must have sacrificed and how hard it must have been without anyone to help you.”

  I press my hand against hers. “The past doesn’t matter, honey. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  “I’m just sorry for hurting you the way I did.”

  “Thank you,” I say because I sense that she needs to be forgiven instead of placated.

  “Will you promise me something?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “That you’ll give this thing with Bowie a real shot? You deserve a good man in your life, someone who sees you for you. I think it’s pretty clear that he does.”

  I pull my daughter into my arms, saying softly, “That’s a promise I’m happy to make. Because I do want to give it a real shot. And I’m hoping he feels the same way.”

  We hug for a long moment, and then Reece stands up. “If you don’t get dressed, I might have to go on this date with him.”

  “I’m on it,” I say, jumping up and grabbing a dress off the bed. All of a sudden, I don’t really care what I’m wearing. I just want to see him. So much that I can’t get ready fast enough.

  When I’m done, Reece gives me a look of approval. “You look amazing,” she says.

  I glance in the mirror, pressing my hands down the front of my dress. “Are you sure this color doesn’t make me look—”

  “It makes you look gorgeous,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Okay, I think he’s downstairs. You have to go.”

  “But my lipstick—”

  “Looks fabulous! Come on!”

  I follow my daughter down the stairs, and I’m so nervous that it feels as if my face is frozen in place.

  “Here she is,” Reece announces with pride, as she leads me into the living room.

  Bowie is standing by the window that looks out at the lake, talking with Evan. The three dogs are lounging on the rug next to them. Bowie turns at the sound of Reece’s voice, his eyes widening at the sight of me.

  “Wow,” he says. “I’d almost forgotten how beautiful you are.”

  “Points, Bowie,” Evan says, reaching down to rub Noah’s head.

  I find my smile and say, “Thank you. We worked at it. Or I should say Reece worked at it.”

  We look at each other then like teenagers trying to navigate the waters of awkwardness and finding the waves a bit choppy.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Evan says. “We’ve got the fort.”

  “I think he means we’ll hold it down while you’re gone,” Reece says, shaking her head.

  “Okay, then,” I say.

  “I’ll have her back by midnight,” Bowie says, taking my hand and leading me to the door.

  It’s the first time I’ve left the two of them alone with Griffin, and I’m suddenly beset with a bout of worry. “The monitor is on, right?” I call back over my shoulder.

  “Monitor’s on, Mom,” Reece says. “Go have fun.”

  AND WE DO.

  We take Bowie’s truck to dinner at the Landing Restaurant. We sit at a table by the window overlooking the marina and the cove where boats moto
r in and out.

  The waitress takes our order, and once we no longer have our menus to focus on, Bowie looks at me and says, “Reece is doing well?”

  “She is. It’s a daily battle, the addiction. She knows it though and approaches it that way. But I think it’s going to take a long time for her to forgive herself.”

  “She will though because the people who love her have.”

  The waitress returns with a glass of wine for us both. I take a sip of mine, and then let myself say what I’ve wanted to say to him for weeks now. “Do you believe people are meant to meet each other, Bowie?”

  He holds my gaze for a moment, and then says, “Yeah. I do.”

  “There hasn’t been anyone in my life for a long time. I stopped wanting to date just for the sake of dating. I kind of started to think I would never meet anyone that—”

  “—made it worth the effort?”

  I shrug a yes.

  He studies me for several long seconds, and then, as if he’s sure he’s going out on a limb, “I’d like to be that someone, Keegan. I’d like to be the man who makes you believe in love like you’ve never believed in it before. A man who wants to be your partner in life, who shares your joy and holds you up when there’s pain. You don’t need a caretaker. You’re a strong woman whose made a great life for herself. I’d like to love you. Just that. For the rest of my life, Keegan.”

  I feel the words wrap themselves around my heart, and something inside me clicks into place. I’ve waited for him. I know this from the bottom of my soul. I reach across the table and slip my hand into his. Tears well in my eyes, and I smile through them. “Is that a proposal?”

  He smiles back at me. “Not the most well-crafted one, but yes,” he says, and then adds, “Will you have me?”

  I entwine my fingers with his, letting him see my desire for him. “Yes. And I hope it’s sooner than later.”