To Summer’s astonishment, though, Rocky lived. He curled up on her lap while she studied, stretched out next to her while she slept and wound himself around her ankles while she cooked dinner. When Summer met Derek and moved into her apartment, Rocky went with her. And when they got married, he moved into their house, a fixture in her life until he died of old age.
Now that her mind was on this positive track, Summer thought about Willow taking her for a shopping spree after declaring her an “official teenager” when she turned thirteen. Thinking back on it, Summer wondered where she’d come up with the extra money, or if she always had it and just kept it for herself. They spent all day at the mall, loading their arms with clothes to try on, enjoying little fashion shows in the fitting rooms of various stores and stopping midday for cinnamon rolls and lemonade.
They walked down the mall, Summer’s stride perfectly in time with her mother’s. At one point, she looked over at Willow, and Willow looked at her. They grinned at each other and kept walking.
It was one of the happiest days in Summer’s life.
Shortly after Summer’s fifteenth birthday, Willow decided to teach Summer how to drive. Their car, a tiny Volkswagen Golf, had a manual transmission, and Summer was a slow learner. One weekend, Willow took her to the high school parking lot and had her practice starting from a stop, shifting into second gear and then shifting into third.
Every time Summer let her foot off the clutch, the car would jerk, chugging forward like an amusement park ride. She concentrated so hard, but she just couldn’t get the car moving forward. After fifteen minutes of herky jerky driving, inching forward, the tip of Summer’s tongue between her teeth, her knuckles white on the steering wheel and her quads cramping from effort, Willow began to laugh.
When she did, Summer experienced a relief so profound she wanted to cry. She’d spent the entire lesson worrying that Willow would become angry and aggressive as she sipped on the flask she’d brought. But when she laughed, Summer laughed too, so hard tears leaked out of her eyes and her body went limp.
“Well, honey,” Willow said, “you certainly didn’t get your driving skills from me.”
They traded places and laughed all the way home. So Summer’s childhood played out against a background of fear and darkness. But there were highlights. Bright spots. It hadn’t been all bad.
“Gratitude,” Summer said aloud as she walked home. “I need to practice being grateful for what I had. For what I have.”
***
Sometimes practicing gratitude was easier said than done, Summer knew. By the time she left home at nineteen, her relationship with Willow was so strained she had difficulty feeling grateful for anything. She felt like Willow had ruined her life, cast a shadow over so many potentially happy moments, wrung every drop of joy out of Summer’s life.
At the time, it had been so easy to walk away, as saturated with indignation as Summer was. But on certain occasions, Summer longed for a mother. Not Willow, necessarily, because she’d never been a nurturing figure. But a mother she could reach out to, ask for advice, share successes with.
Derek proposed on a snowy night, in the center of the courthouse square. Crystallized flakes of snow glittered on the grass, and he walked her up the steps of the gazebo, led her to the bench, knelt down in front of her and promised to give her everything she needed for the rest of her life.
Afterward, they walked around the square, holding hands. Derek twisted the ring on her finger over and over again, both of them relishing the feeling of this solid proof that they’d spend the rest of their lives together. She went to bed that night wishing she felt the giddy happiness he deserved, but Willow’s absence from her life dampened it. She wanted to want to call Willow. But she didn’t. Instead, she wished she had someone to call. She’d called Delaney and Josie right away, but it wasn’t the same.
That feeling of loss cast a shadow over her wedding day, despite Summer’s best efforts not to let it.
When she’d found out she was pregnant with Sarah, she experienced a moment of longing so strong it threatened to overwhelm the elation she felt. She wanted, more than anything, to call her mom, to tell her she’d be giving birth to the next generation in nine months’ time.
Of course, Derek’s mom, Julie, had been overjoyed. Beyond overjoyed. She hugged Summer and Derek repeatedly, and insisted on hosting a celebratory dinner for them. She threw an extravagant baby shower and helped Summer create her birth plan. All of those things had been wonderful. But Summer wanted her own mother.
***
Throughout her adult life, Summer sought ways to find inner peace and happiness. She took innumerable online personal development courses turned to yoga as a vehicle for enlightenment. During one of the lectures she attended, she learned that every person in her life served a purpose. From every interaction, she could learn a lesson.
By reframing her relationship with Willow in this way, she began to understand that Willow’s presence had taught her self-reliance and self-preservation. Willow’s neglect had taught her to find contentment within herself rather than seeking it in other people.
For that, she knew she should be grateful. As she walked up the walkway to her present-day house, Summer thought she should focus on that aspect of their relationship.
She knew she should. But thinking about Willow still caused her to feel just a hint of loss. Despite her best efforts, her most yoga-like thought processes, she still felt like she had missed out.
“Gratitude,” she said aloud, for the second time, as she opened the front door and stepped into the home she and Derek had filled with children and love. “Focus on what you’re grateful for.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Summer’s newfound gratitude lasted for approximately forty-seven minutes. She walked into the living room with a smile on her face, ready to embrace all the little twists and turns that comprised her life.
She sent Derek off to bed with a lingering kiss. When Nate dumped the entire contents of his cereal bowl on the floor, creating a puddle of milk and cereal that extended across the kitchen floor, Summer merely smiled and handed him a towel, despite his foot-stomping. Then, Sarah burst into tears because Summer hadn’t yet washed her brand new light blue T-shirt and she wanted to wear it today. Where normally, Summer would have told her to find something else to wear and do her own laundry from now on, instead she smiled serenely and offered to spot clean it.
Nothing could bring her down. Her happiness was independent of what everyone in her family did and said. Her happiness came from within.
Hannah slipped in Nate’s spilled milk even while he was cleaning up the other side of the gargantuan lake, and hit her head on one of the dining chairs. Summer scooped her up and held her, making sure her daughter could feel her sympathy. Maybe even overdoing it a little. But Derek had pointed out once that she didn’t show enough sympathy, that her “pick yourself up and dust yourself off” attitude came across as cold. Now that Willow’s parenting was fresh in her mind, she knew where she got it. But she would not allow anything or anyone to ruin her serenity.
Someone let Chuck in, and the puppy came charging through the house, skidding to a sloppy stop in Nate’s cereal mess, doing his best to lap it up. Everyone in the house braced for Summer’s reaction. She often blew up when someone let the dog in at an inopportune time. She blew up even more frequently when that timing resulted in a mess.
If she were being honest, she almost lost her serenity at that moment, when Chuck’s huge feet splashed milk and bits of cereal onto the wall. That stuff stuck like crazy. The serenity, which felt like a soft, cozy blanket, began lifting up at the edges, like a picnic blanket on a windy day.
But instead of blowing up, she smiled brightly and said (through gritted teeth, but who noticed?), “Aw, look at Chuck drinking the spilled milk. That’s what dogs are for.”
Of course, Willow was the one who broke her at that forty-seven minute mark. Later Summer would think, It all comes back to
Willow.
But she wasn’t sure whether that was Winter talking, or herself. Their voices had become so intertwined recently.
***
After Nate got his spilled cereal cleaned up and Summer managed to calm Hannah and Sarah down, Willow waltzed into the kitchen.
“What a ruckus,” she said, looking down her nose as if she were the High Queen and all the rest of them were her underlings. “I couldn’t keep sleeping with all the noise.”
Even Sarah guffawed at that. “What did you think you were getting into, staying here with five children?” she said to her grandmother. “We never sleep past seven.”
“Is there any coffee?” Willow asked. Sarah rolled her eyes and Summer laughed.
“It’s long gone,” she said to her mother. “I only made a tiny bit and I finished it off hours ago. But you can make more.”
“Could you make it? I wanted to shower before I leave the house. I’m feeling a bit rushed.”
Nothing like a little entitlement, Winter whispered. In her mind, Summer told Winter to shut up and stop sabotaging her serenity.
“I don’t have time,” Summer said. “I’m dealing with a few fiascos, here.”
“Looks to me like you’re just standing there. Anyway, no problem. I’ll make it if you don’t want to go out of your way.”
Gratitude. Gratitude. Gratitude.
“Great,” Summer said. “I’m going to get the kids dressed. Luke has his follow-up appointment this morning.”
Willow nodded and went about making the coffee, exaggerating several yawns and rubbing her eyes. Still, Summer maintained her sense of calm.
“Have you had your follow-up appointment?” Willow asked.
Summer should have known by the renewed alertness in Willow’s voice that Willow was taking the conversation down a different path. But her focus on gratitude gave her the false sense that Willow actually cared about her. It blinded her to the cut that was coming.
“Yeah, I had it at the two-week mark,” she said. “Everything looked good.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, I mean, I’m glad you’re healing well and everything, but what I mean to say is, did the doctor mention anything about your weight loss? Or lack thereof? I mean, shouldn’t you be losing all that baby weight by now?”
Summer’s mouth dropped open. She froze where she stood at the entrance to the hallway, Hannah on her hip.
Her mind ran through all the possible retorts, throwing out phrases like, “you gave birth so long ago you probably don’t remember,” and, “your body looks like it was ridden hard and put up wet.” She didn’t say those things because she wanted so badly to remain in her new, positive place. Pressing her lips together, she turned around and walked toward the bedrooms, reminding herself that her happiness was independent of everyone else’s happiness.
Still, part of her, a tiny part, felt a mixture of anger and sadness. What right did Willow believe she had to criticize Summer even as they were working toward amends? And would she ever, ever just love Summer for who she was, how she was? Isn’t that what mothers were supposed to do?
She sighed as she pulled an outfit for Hannah from the dresser.
It didn’t occur to her at that moment to wonder about Willow’s plans for the day.
***
The rest of the morning went relatively smoothly, with only one Hannah meltdown at the doctor’s office, coinciding perfectly with the timing of Olivia needing an entire outfit change. Dr. Karlsen gave Luke a clean bill of health. He’d have to maintain a reduced activity level to give his incision more time to heal, but he was making nice progress.
Summer knew she should be rejoicing. She was happy, definitely, but Willow’s earlier behavior cast a new shadow over the inner peace she was working so hard to enjoy. It wasn’t just that Willow had said something about her weight; it was more that Willow thought it was okay to say something about her weight, that in being critical she believed she was being supportive and loving.
Willow left the house after taking a long shower and pouring all the coffee into her giant travel mug. She didn’t come back all day, and Summer enjoyed not having her around. Between board games and dance parties, Summer kept the laundry moving through the washer and dryer and the dishes moving through the dishwasher. She managed to get all the kids bathed, which felt like a major accomplishment.
Throughout the day, she planned a romantic evening for Derek. She stopped by the store to buy massage oil, and managed to deflect the kids’ questions about what it was and what she’d use it for. She scrounged up some candles and hid them in the closet to sneak into the bedroom when Derek woke up.
“Maximize the romance,” she said to herself as she dug out a silky, all-strings negligee and hung it in the front of the closet so she could access it quickly later.
By the time Derek got up to eat dinner, she was feeling quite frisky. Throughout dinner she gave him little hints, rubbing his leg with her toes (at which point Luke yelled, “What are you doing, Mom?”) and raising her eyebrows in a way she thought was suggestive (Sarah asked, over and over, “Mom? Are you okay? Do you have something in your eye?”).
As they went through the bedtime routine, helping kids into pajamas, flossing and brushing teeth and reading stories, Summer brushed her body up against Derek’s and grabbed his butt.
“Love pat,” Hannah said.
“Nothing is sacred,” Summer said to Derek at one point.
Finally, finally, they were alone. She went into the bedroom to change and when she emerged, Derek was holding up a glass of wine. His eyes widened, and he whistled through his teeth. He handed her the glass and ran a hand down her bare arm.
“To sacred romance,” he said, winking at her. She grinned back at him. “Cheers.”
***
The candlelight gave the bedroom a soft glow. Summer set her wine glass next to the candles on the dresser, and Derek put his beer next to it. He drew her close, his hands on her hips and his mouth on hers. They kissed slow and deep, like they hadn’t done in months, or maybe even years.
“Should I shut the door?” Derek said quietly when Summer began unbuttoning his jeans.
She smiled and went to do it herself, grinning wickedly as she turned the lock. She wrapped her arms around his neck again, and his hands moved from her waist to her breasts. A breathy sigh escaped her lips, and she finished unbuttoning his jeans. He pulled them off and led her to the bed.
“I love this outfit,” he said. “It’s sexy. Or as Nate would say, super duper sexy.”
“I hope Nate wouldn’t use the word, ‘sexy,’” Summer said, her lips on Derek’s.
They both laughed. “He would say ‘super duper,’ though,” Derek said.
“Stop talking and give me some super duper lovin’,” Summer said.
Derek quirked an eyebrow at her and used one arm to flip Summer onto her back. She squealed, and he grabbed both of her hands and held them out to her sides while moving his mouth from her lips to her chin, and down her neck to her collarbone.
She felt herself shiver, and said quietly, “Yep, this is what I meant by super duper.”
He laughed again, and found her nipple with his mouth through the thin fabric of her lingerie. When he let go of her hands, she ran her fingers through his hair and then pulled him up to kiss her again. Arching against him, she managed to pull his underwear down over his hips, and he kicked it onto the floor. He pulled his shirt off over his head and with a bit more urgency, yanked her string thong to the side. He cupped her gently, moving his fingers so slowly she almost cried out. When she reached down, she found that he was ready, and she smiled against his lips.
They both froze when someone knocked on the door.
“Shit,” Derek said.
“Shit,” Summer said.
“Knock, knock,” said the voice on the other side of the door.
Derek and Summer looked at each other, and they both shrugged.
&nbs
p; “Who is it?” Summer said.
“No! You’re supposed to say, ‘Who’s there?’”
Luke. Why was he knocking on the door right now?
“Who’s there?” Derek said.
“Trick or treat!” Luke yelled.
“Just a minute bud,” Derek said.
“Trick or treat!”
“It’s bedtime,” Derek said, as he scrambled to find his underwear and shirt.
Summer laughed, but she, too, got up and got a bathrobe.
“I’m dressed up like a ghost right now,” Luke said.
“It’s not even Halloween,” Summer called. “Wrong season.”
“Trick or treat!”
Derek answered the door, and when Summer saw Luke’s face, her stomach dropped. His eyes were red and only half-open, and his cheeks were rosy as if he’d been outside playing on a summer day.
Only, he hadn’t.
She knew the moment Derek laid a hand on his forehead that she was right: Luke had a fever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’re burning up, buddy,” Derek said.
“I do feel kind of warm,” Luke said. “But I thought it’s just because I was dressed up like a ghost.”
“Let’s get you into some shorts,” Derek said, leading him back to the boys’ bedroom.
Alone for the time being, Summer felt the floor tilt beneath her. Her mind started running a million miles per hour. Infection. It was one of her worst-case-scenario nightmares and now it was coming true. She’d taken him to the doctor this morning, and neither Dr. Karlsen nor the nurse had seen even a hint of infection. In fact, his temperature had been below ninety-eight point six.
How had this happened? Her memory flashed her pictures of her hands bleeding from scrubbing the counters so hard, her knees red from scouring the floor. She vacuumed for so long her ears rang. She had cleaned up every single source of contamination.
The Motherhood Intervention: Book 3 in the Intervention Series Page 18