“Fine,” Willow said. “I reached out to Dennis. Like I said, I thought he’d enjoy seeing you and your kids. I’ve been searching for him for a few days now. I actually found him. Summer, he lives just a few miles away. It took me a couple of days to work up the courage to go and see him. He works at the high school.”
Myriad emotions took root inside of Summer. Knowing her father, now, as an adult, would be at once amazing and totally strange. Did she even want to know him? Well, of course she did. What was he like? Also, of course she didn’t. He hadn’t bothered getting to know her before, so why should she waste a single breath on him now?
So deeply immersed in her own thoughts, Summer forgot Willow had been talking about Dennis. She was startled when Willow spoke again.
“I wasn’t sure whether I should call him,” she said. “So instead, I took the bus to the school and waited for him to come out. I did that one day, stood on the curb and waited. I watched him come out. But I was too scared to approach him. So I walked away. Got back on the bus.”
“The next day, I gathered all my courage and walked onto campus. I sat on a bench in the quad and waited for the bell to ring. When it did, I stood up. I stood there as he walked across the campus lawn. But still, I couldn’t talk to him.”
Despite her best efforts to remain emotionally distant from the situation, Summer found herself feeling nervous as Willow drew a deep breath to finish her story.
“He didn’t notice you?” Summer said. Willow shook her head and Summer said, “So then what?”
“I went back. The third day. Yesterday.”
So that’s why she was inebriated yesterday. Something went wrong.
Willow continued: “I told myself, ‘You’re going to talk to him today. That’s it. Just walk up and talk to him.’ So I put on my best skirt. The one without the baby poop stains. I went back to that same bench. When the bell rang, I went right up to his classroom door. He was in there. Leaning over his desk, explaining something to a student. Even from the doorway, I could see the muscles in his arms. He was always exceptionally fit.”
Summer rolled her eyes.
“What?” Willow said. “He was. Anyway. He looked up when he saw me, and our eyes met. I know, it sounds cliché, right?”
Summer nodded, shrugged one shoulder.
“So,” Willow went on. “I’d always been expecting this romantic reunion, you know? I don’t know why. But throughout my entire life, I always believed Dennis was the only one who could see me for who I really was. That’s why I never dated anyone else long-term. No one really understood me like he did. So I assumed he’d forgive me for staying with my parents. But when I saw him yesterday, and he looked up at me, I could tell right away there would be no romance. His eyes hardened, like he was recognizing me as a criminal from one of those grainy bank robbery photos. You know? On the news? Or a sex offender on one of those posters: ‘A sex offender has reported living in this neighborhood.’”
Summer nodded. She could picture it perfectly. “So there was no romantic reunion?” she said.
“No.” Willow shook her head, looking down at her hands, which were busy knotting themselves together at her waist. “I saw that look on his face and I took off.”
Went straight to the liquor store and binged on bourbon, Winter said to Summer. Summer shrugged her off.
“Went straight to the liquor store,” Willow said.
Summer jumped. How had Willow known what Winter was saying?
“So you never even talked to him,” Summer said.
“Never even talked to him,” Willow said.
For a moment, they stood there, each lost in her own thoughts. Summer wondered what Dennis had really been thinking. She wondered if he’d have given Willow a chance. And she was surprised Willow hadn’t pushed him in to talking to her. The sound of a bedroom door opening in the back of the house startled her out of her thoughts. For the second time in as many minutes, she jumped.
If Willow were one of her children, Summer thought, she’d come up with something reassuring to say before going to greet the kids and make breakfast. But she didn’t. She didn’t have to, and she didn’t want to. If it took Willow this long to learn her life lessons, then so be it. The beauty of being grown up was that Summer didn’t have to be emotionally tied to her any more.
***
For the next few days, Summer found herself thinking about her father. She didn’t blame him for being angry with Willow. Willow was the type of person who sucked people in like a black hole, even as they scrambled for freedom, and then spit them out on the other side when she was done, with no apparent concern about how they’d fare in outer space.
Summer had been spit out. She’d experienced the feeling of free-falling through the universe, arms and legs scrambling for some kind of hold, but never quite getting one, until she was completely removed from Willow’s orbit.
But didn’t her father want to know how she’d turned out? Didn’t he ever wonder about her, worry about her, wish he’d been able to meet her? He should have rushed up to Willow and asked about Summer. Why hadn’t he done so years ago? What if his look hadn’t been one of distaste, but one of surprise? Willow had probably caught Dennis off guard. Summer could understand the whirlwind of emotions that Willow Carson brought along with her.
Meanwhile, Luke continued to heal perfectly. Almost too well for Summer’s own comfort, as he wanted nothing more than to resume typical activities like running and jumping and three-legged races with his brother. Nevertheless, Summer hovered over him, checking his forehead for fever several times per day, examining his incision for redness, hissing through her teeth if he lifted his arms above his shoulders. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time she fussed over him, he said, “Mo-om,” and she tousled his hair or leaned down to kiss him on the top of his head.
So when Josie and Delaney arrived the following week for Happy Hour, Summer found herself distracted, her mind flitting between Dennis and Luke. The girls brought Summer a bottle of Chardonnay, and Josie had opened it and poured two glasses while Delaney, a wine glass full of water in hand, set out some cheese and crackers and green olives.
They settled in the living room, Josie on the floor and Summer and Delaney on the couch.
“Is it going any better?” Josie asked, motioning with her chin toward Sarah’s room, where Willow had said she was going to lay down (although Summer figured she was probably listening with her ear to the door).
“A little,” Summer said. “I mean, she’s not the biggest help with the chores, but she is helping keep the kids occupied. The baby grosses her out, but she’ll spend time with the other four. Enough about that. I still can’t believe you guys both had sex on my couch.”
Just like that, they were laughing again. The merriment worked like a balm, soothing Summer’s frazzled nerves.
“I don’t know what was so romantic about it,” Josie squealed. “We’d just gotten the kids to bed. I thought he’d be exhausted, you know? He’d just done battle with the boys, and I’d just gotten the girls to bed, and we sat down on the couch and before we knew it, we were kissing. And, you know, one thing led to another.”
Summer dropped her head into her hand and groaned.
Delaney howled. She leaned back on the couch and slapped her knee. “It was almost the same with us,” she said. “I know you think your kids are great birth control, Summer, but they’re actually great kids. They’re lots of fun.”
Summer snorted, almost spitting out the sip of wine she’d just taken.
“In fact,” Delaney said, growing solemn, “it was the whole putting them to bed routine that I think got us in the mood for having kids. There’s just something so sweet and special about four squeaky clean, freshly bathed kids in jammies, and reading to them, putting them in bed, and then sitting in a quiet house that’s just breathing with these sweet little souls.”
“It’s actually a turn-on,” Josie said.
Summer barked out a laugh, and the t
hree of them dissolved into giggles again. Several minutes passed before they managed to stop, and they sat in relative quiet sipping wine.
A few moments later, when Derek came through the front door, they began laughing again, and Delaney patted the spot on the couch between her and Summer. Derek shook his head, said, “I think I’ll hang out in the bedroom,” and bent over the back of the couch to give Summer a quick kiss. Josie whistled at that, and Summer could have sworn Derek picked up his pace. Even as he walked out of sight, though, she took notice of the shape of his backside. She licked her lips, and Delaney swatted her on the leg.
***
Time with the girls had left Summer feeling calm, centered, and happy.
Oh, and don’t forget horny, Winter whispered.
As Summer rinsed the wine glasses and snack plates, she thought about how long it had been since she and Derek had been intimate. They’d had lots of intimate moments. Stolen whispers, hushed conversations, silent discussions through eye contact.
But when was the last time they had actually touched one another in a sexual way? So long ago Summer couldn’t even remember. When she was pregnant with Sarah, they’d been so pleased with themselves for maintaining their sex life throughout the pregnancy, and reinstating it at precisely the six-week mark after she gave birth. Actually, Summer thought with a snort, they’d been pretty smug about it.
During the second pregnancy, they felt a little more tired. But because they’d been so smug about the first, they kept up almost the same pace they had before. Luke had come along, and they’d excused their mediocre sex life, saying they had two other children to tend to. During Hannah’s pregnancy, they dropped the pretense. Keeping up a prolific sex life was hard work! And they were so tired.
So when Summer became pregnant with Olivia, they practically stopped all together.
Now, after listening to Josie’s juicy recount of sex with Paul, and Delaney’s almost-wistful description of a house filled with children, Summer wanted to rekindle the fire.
Derek was asleep already, but she doubted he’d mind if she woke him up for some attention of this nature. In their bedroom, she sneaked past him and went into the bathroom, where she showered and shaved and rubbed vanilla-scented lotion onto her smooth skin. It was his favorite, and she knew he wouldn’t miss that detail.
Although it was getting late and she knew Olivia would be up to eat soon, Summer slipped between the sheets and curled her body against Derek’s. In his sleep, he pulled her arm around his waist and held her hand.
She smiled against the back of his neck and began running her hand from his knee to his hip and back again.
“Are you wearing vanilla lotion?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Mm-hmm,” she said.
Although she couldn’t see or hear it, she knew he was smiling.
“Feeling a bit frisky, are you?” he said.
Still giddy, she chuckled. He grabbed her hand and brought it around to the front. He was already hard, which Summer found exhilarating. She stroked him, not gently, and he sighed. He turned around to face her, and she could feel the urgency beneath his kiss. Derek put one hand on her waist and ran it up to her breast. Summer felt an immediate pulling in her lower stomach.
“It’s been so long,” Derek said, his voice almost a growl.
“Too long,” Summer said, kissing him again.
As their bodies moved together, Summer found herself revolving around a set point she’d been unable to find in recent weeks. Her friends had brought it into focus, and her husband had provided the grounding.
“When can we actually do it again?” Derek asked, his mouth against hers.
“Just a few more weeks,” Summer said.
“I can still make you a very, very happy woman,” Derek said.
Summer laughed. “I am a happy woman.”
“Just wait,” he said. “You don’t know what happiness is.”
They kissed again, and Summer sighed. “Yes, I do,” she said. “This is it.”
After Derek made her a very, very happy woman, and she made him a very, very happy man, they lay in the dark on the bed, side by side, holding hands.
“What got into you?” Derek wanted to know.
“The girls just reminded me how much I miss this,” she said. “And it was a lot.”
Derek laughed and squeezed her hand. “You should have them over for Happy Hour more often.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next morning, Summer awoke refreshed and revitalized, the buzzing anxiety turned so far down she barely noticed it. She attributed this new zen feeling to the makeout session she and Derek had enjoyed the night before. Her body felt relaxed and pliable, and her mind felt as if someone had poured a vat of cool water over it. Or Chardonnay. Yes, definitely Chardonnay.
Still in bed, she stretched, the luxury of a moment alone making her lazy, tempting her to stay between the sheets all day.
Derek walked in with a cup of coffee, and she brought herself up to sitting.
“That looks delicious. You really know which buttons to push.”
“I proved that last night, didn’t I?”
She smiled and took the coffee cup from him. He sat down next to her.
“Want me to keep the kids busy for a couple of hours so you can get your work done?” he asked. “That beer label thing?”
Summer sighed as reality came through, rinsing her system clean of the fake Chardonnay buzz she’d felt just a moment ago. Because summer was nearly over, summer camp was closed. Summer usually loved having the kids home for an extra day, but Derek had just reminded her about how overwhelmed she felt with everything she had to do.
“I do need to get it done,” she said. “But I’d much rather stay in bed.”
Derek leaned forward, kissed her on the temple and stood up. “I’ll hold down the fort for a bit. That was the whole reason I took night shift—so I could give you a few hours in the morning. Get outta bed, you lazy wench.”
Summer giggled. An hour later, she’d finalized the first draft of the beer label, and she had to admit, it looked pretty festive. She’d put in an English garden background and added masculinity by putting a rusty old truck in the foreground. They said they wanted to appeal to men and women, so hopefully this would do the trick.
Derek said he’d give her another hour, so Summer decided to go for a walk. It was something she hadn’t done in years. The crisp morning air felt invigorating and the sun felt warm on her skin. The good mood that had greeted her upon waking stuck with her as she strolled along, admiring the spring flowers and the newly planted vegetable gardens.
Summer had to admit—only to herself, of course—that she’d been overwhelmed lately. Beyond overwhelmed. But the worst was over. Olivia’s birth went smoothly. She was healthy. Luke’s surgery was seamless, and he was healing. Derek was gone a lot, but at least he had a full time job. When he’d first gotten laid off (around the same time they’d found out she was pregnant), she was stressed about money. Now things were fine, financially.
Her two best friends were moving happily along with their lives. Delaney, about to be a mother herself, seemed happy. And Josie, whose marriage had been on the rocks just a couple of months ago, was working hard to repair her relationship.
Willow’s reappearance, however unexpected it was, may be a blessing in disguise. Summer couldn’t quite see what the blessing might be, but she figured it was hidden somewhere. It just may take a while for her to dig it out.
Life was all about give and take.
Lately, Summer felt like life was sucking her dry, taking and taking and taking. Forcing her to give repeatedly, until she had nothing left.
It seemed now like things were turning around, and life was giving her something.
Tizzy, the orange tabby cat belonging to Summer’s neighbor, Sharon Rimrock, emerged from Sharon’s front yard and wound himself around Summer’s ankles. He purred when she bent down to scratch his neck. This was a perf
ect example of life giving her this one special moment.
“I’ll take it,” she said.
***
As Summer walked back to the house, she found herself reliving some of her rare positive childhood memories. Maybe the encounter with Tizzy had reminded her. After positively destroying Summer’s tenth birthday, Willow had gotten her a kitten. Summer now knew Willow felt guilty, and was compelled to make things right.
The day after the catastrophic party, Summer walked in the front door after school. Willow was waiting, ready to present the kitten with a flourish. He was mostly black, with a tiny white patch on the left side of his face, and Willow had tied a baby blue ribbon around his neck. When she held him up, as if he were a peace offering as well as a gift, Summer immediately noticed his eyes. They were huge, almost too big for his little face, and bright green. Summer squealed and Willow grinned back, pressing the kitten into Summer hands.
“For me?” Summer said.
“Yes,” Willow said. “For you. A late birthday present. The shelter wasn’t open yesterday, so I had to run over there today. I wanted to surprise you.”
Even now, twenty-four years later, Summer could clearly recall wondering whether there was some catch. Maybe Willow would yank the kitten out of her arms and say, “Just kidding,” with a nasty laugh. Or maybe someone else would come over to reclaim the kitten Willow had stolen. Even worse, Willow would probably let the cat out to be devoured by the hungry coyotes that yipped in the open lot behind their house every night during the spring and summer.
“What should I name you, little guy?” Summer said to the kitten.
For once, Willow didn’t have a suggestion. Summer named him Rocky. It seemed like a good, steadfast name. For the next several years, Summer waited for disaster to strike. She waited for Willow to insist on giving Rocky away. She waited for Rocky to escape from the house and disappear. She waited for Willow to refuse to buy cat food.
The Motherhood Intervention: Book 3 in the Intervention Series Page 17