One More Summer

by Burke, Dez

  I glance around to see if anyone is listening to us. As far as I can tell, they’re not.

  “People in this town have big ears and like to gossip,” I say. “Besides, we don’t want to give our secret spot away.”

  “It took a four-wheel drive vehicle to get up to Brasstown Point, so I’m not too worried,” he says. “If a young couple is as dedicated as we were to finding a place to be alone, then they can have it with my blessing.”

  “You have a valid point,” I say.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he suddenly asks. “Are you working?”

  “No, I’m off tonight. This is a rare weekend when I don’t have to work at the pharmacy.”

  “I’ve ordered a rental car to be dropped off this afternoon at the house. Do you want to take a drive with me later?”

  “I’d love to,” I say without hesitation.

  We both know things have changed between us. There’s no point in playing coy and pretending it hasn’t.

  “Whew,” he says, letting out a long breath. “I was worried you’d turn me down again and then I’d have to keep asking over and over. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.” He picks up a sturdy paper plate from the stack on the picnic table and hands it to me. “Point me to the food. If it’s as delicious as it smells, I might have to write a song about it. I can see it now. My next album will be titled Dinner on the Grounds, with every song being about a different Southern dish.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “You would sing about cornbread?”

  “Sure! Along with biscuits and gravy, German chocolate cake, and fried green tomatoes. Now that I think about it, it might not be a half-bad idea. I could publish a cookbook to go along with it. Maybe even start a cooking show on the food channel.”

  He grins at me and my heart melts. After all this time, my feelings for him have never changed. All I’ve done is push them down where they couldn’t hurt me anymore. Now they’re rushing to the surface again and threatening to overflow.

  I’m terrified.

  Levi broke my heart once. I can’t bear the thought of going through that again. But I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t give us another chance.

  Levi is the one man in this world who is worth risking everything for.

  21

  Levi

  The rented vehicle I ordered has already been dropped off at the farmhouse and is waiting with the keys inside by the time we return from church.

  “You rented a truck?” Cole asks in surprise while parking alongside the bright red vehicle.

  “Sure, why not?” I say.

  “I don’t know,” he says as he turns off the ignition. “For some reason I thought you’d be renting a fast, convertible sports car to drive around town in, not a regular old pick-up truck.”

  “I figured we could use another work vehicle,” I explain. “You’re always hauling stuff around, and I want to help out wherever I can.”

  “That’s a good idea, and I’ll take you up on it,” he says with a curt nod. “I appreciate the thought. We need to cut and bale the hay soon. Are you up for getting those manicured hands of yours dirty?”

  I grin at him. “Do I hear a challenge, big brother? You know I can work circles around you in a field when I put my mind to it. Game on!”

  Cole lets out a rare chuckle. “We’ll see. Make sure to pick up a pair of thick gloves next time you’re in town. Otherwise the hay strings will cut your soft hands to hell. I don’t want to be responsible for getting your guitar player’s hands ripped up. Can you claim disability for that?”

  Dad slowly climbs out of the front seat and walks over to the rental truck.

  “Whose truck is this?” he asks as if we haven’t just been talking about it.

  “It’s mine, Dad,” I say. “For the time being.”

  He slaps a hand on the bed of the truck. “It’s a fine truck for baling hale,” he says. “We need to cut hay soon.”

  “Yes sir, we sure do,” I say, winking at Cole above Dad’s head. “I just need to buy a pair of gloves first.”

  I’m with the program now. Cole is right. There’s no point in trying to straighten Dad out about things. It’s a pointless and frustrating waste of time for everyone involved. It’s far better to just go along with whatever is in his head at the moment.

  We’re a strong family. We can get through this together.

  “I’m taking Annie on a drive later,” I tell them. “Do you think she’ll mind going out in a truck?”

  “She never did mind tooling around in your truck,” Dad says, chuckling at my question. “I like Annie. You should bring her around the house more often. She’s a nice girl. Always polite and sweet.”

  It pleases me that he still remembers her.

  “That’s the plan,” I say. “I’m glad that you approve. It means a lot to me.”

  22

  Levi

  After spending the afternoon playing in the backyard with Lily, I shower quickly and head over to Annie’s house. On the way, I swing by the grocery store. Before I go in, I don a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses, pull an Atlanta Braves baseball cap down low over my forehead, and roll down my shirtsleeves to cover my tattoos.

  With any luck, I won’t run into fans inside the store. I’m not in the mood to have another date with Annie ruined.

  Second chances can’t be taken for granted.

  After grabbing a grocery cart, I quickly stroll up and down the aisles, picking out a few things for a picnic along with a cooler to store it in.

  I’m not sure what Annie likes so I grab her old favorite fixings for a sandwich: loaf bread, bologna, and mayonnaise, along with three kinds of potato chips.

  She always brought bologna sandwiches for lunch when we were in middle school. I hope she still eats them. With my luck, she’s probably vegan and I’ll strike out again.

  The picnic supplies seem pathetic for a date with a girl I want to impress, so I make my way back to the deli and grab a box of fried chicken, potato salad, and coleslaw to go with it. When I can’t decide between chocolate cupcakes or pecan pie, I pile them both into the grocery cart.

  My last stop is to grab a six-pack of my favorite beer off the shelf and a bottle of Chardonnay for her along with a wine opener. I’m standing in line at the checkout when I realize I’ve forgotten the plates and silverware.

  It’s been a while since I’ve had to take care of life’s mundane details. My personal assistant usually does everything for me. In a rush, I abandon my cart and hurry back to get them along with a small blue-and-white checked picnic blanket.

  I should’ve put more thought into this.

  My plan is to take Annie away from any public place where we might be bothered. A picnic in a secluded spot is the only thing I could think to do at the last minute.

  When I’m satisfied we’ll have enough food to feed a small army, I check out and pay with cash.

  The exhausted cashier hands me the receipt. “Thank you and come back soon,” she says without glancing up from the scanner.

  “I sure will,” I reply, relieved that she didn’t recognize me. “You have a good day.”

  Back at the truck, I load everything perishable into the cooler and place it securely in the back of the truck. Before I pull out of the parking lot, I roll down both windows even though it’s ninety-five degrees outside and turn on the local country music station.

  I grin when a familiar song comes on and turn the volume up full blast, singing along with it at the top of my lungs. An elderly woman sitting in a car beside me at Monroe’s only traffic light turns to say something nasty about me to her husband then gives me a scolding glare. I smile back and reach up to tilt the brim of my cap to her.

  God! It feels great to be back home.

  23

  Levi

  Annie’s house isn’t too far on the outskirts of town. She’d mentioned she wanted to stay close to her parents now that they were getting older. She’s an only child, who unlike me doesn’t have another, more
responsible sibling to shoulder the family responsibilities.

  It’s hard for me to believe Annie has a home of her own now. I’m proud of how hard she’s worked to make a good life for herself.

  Being able to make a decent living in a small rural town is hard. Most people in Monroe struggle to make ends meet and pay their bills on time.

  Years ago, the numerous textile mills in the county closed, with the jobs being shipped overseas. In a few months’ time, many people in Monroe lost their jobs without any other options to turn to.

  Most of the young people now either work on the family farm or make the hard decision to leave for the city to find work.

  Annie was smart to choose a career path where she could make a decent living and stay in her hometown too. People will always need their medications.

  I pull into her driveway and park in front of the house. For a moment, I sit in the truck and take it all in. Her house looks exactly as I would’ve expected it to. When we were younger, she’d ask me to drive by a place we jokingly called the ‘gingerbread house.’

  She’d point out different things about the house that she liked and talk about how when she got older, she wanted a gingerbread house too.

  Now she has one.

  I’m not surprised.

  Annie was never the type to sit around and wait for someone else to do something. She was independent and always could take care of herself.

  The house is painted light blue with bright white shutters and latticework. The front porch is covered with hanging baskets filled with colorful flowers. There’s a rock pathway leading up to the front steps lined with purple and white petunias. A huge yellow overgrown rose bush covers one entire side of the house.

  On one edge of the porch, she’s hung a variety of hummingbird feeders. There must be at least a hundred of the busy birds buzzing around and fighting over the feeders. I can hear their humming and angry chirps even from inside the truck. There’s plenty enough food for everyone, yet they’re fighting over one tiny feeder.

  The house is all Annie.

  Full of love and her own special touches.

  Even as a kid, she always had a green thumb and a special way with flowers. She could take the deadest, broken plant and bring it back to life. My parents used to tease her and say she should be the farmer’s child instead of me. It was a running joke that they wanted to trade us.

  If we’d stayed together, this is how our house would’ve looked. Our evenings would’ve been spent sitting in the wood swing on the front porch drinking sweet tea and watching the hummingbirds.

  Our kids could’ve romped in the yard with a Golden Retriever puppy or two while I played the guitar and wrote music.

  Music that I’d never get a chance to perform in front of a crowd.

  The image in my mind tugs at my heart.

  It hurts to think about what I gave up for a musician’s life on the road. To sing to arenas filled with strangers and sleeping alone in hotel rooms. Drinking too much to mask the loneliness and to fill the empty void inside me.

  Since I’ve returned to Monroe, I’m beginning to doubt my life choices and wonder if I’ve made the right ones.

  I’m torn up inside.

  I step out of the truck and jog up the front steps then rap loudly three times on her front door using our old signal.

  24

  Annie

  I pick up a dishrag and wipe down the kitchen counters for the hundredth time. I’m anxious to know how Levi will feel about my home.

  It’s a simple house, warm and inviting. I’m comfortable here and I hope he’ll feel the same way. My style of decorating is not overly feminine, with rooms filled with frilly lace curtains or white furniture. Instead I chose large, soft chairs and a sofa that is big enough to hold four people comfortably.

  Or a large man who likes to sprawl out on the sofa to watch his favorite sports team on television.

  Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, I was always trying to design a home where Levi would fit in.

  Three loud raps on the front door tells me he’s here.

  I throw down the cleaning rag and rush to let him in. When I walk past the refrigerator, I notice a news clipping about Levi that I’d taped there a long time ago. Quickly, I jerk it down and stick it in a drawer to hide it. I don’t want to come off as another desperate fangirl.

  He knocks again, louder this time.

  “Hang on! I’m coming,” I say, hurrying to the front door. Swinging it inwards, I smile when I see him standing on the other side.

  The welcome sight of him rushes over me.

  He’s as handsome as ever in his usual outfit of worn jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a baseball cap. He’s also holding a big bouquet of multicolored wildflowers.

  He presents them to me with a flourish. “Flowers for my lady,” he says. “The florist wasn’t open on Sunday. You’ll have to make do with these until I can buy you the rarest of orchids from the highest mountains of Peru or wherever the hell they come from.”

  “They’re beautiful!” I say, giving him a smile. “Where did you get them?”

  “My source shall remain a closely-guarded secret,” he replies with a wink. “A man never gives up his source.”

  I take a whiff of the sweet-smelling bouquet. The flowers look suspiciously like the wildflowers growing in the median of the highway going from town to my house. I step back to open the door wider and wave him inside.

  “Did you by any chance steal these flowers from the side of the road?” I ask. “Because you know that’s illegal.”

  “What would ever make you think that?” he replies with a fake hurt tone.

  “You’ve been known to do it before,” I remind him.

  “That was back when I was a poor high school kid with no money,” he explains. “And I didn’t know it was a bad thing to do then. Here’s an idea. How about I make a thousand-dollar donation to Monroe’s beautification committee and we call it even? That should more than cover the cost of this little bouquet of flowers. They would’ve been dead in two days anyway in this ungodly heat.”

  “Here’s a better idea,” I say teasingly. “How about you stop stealing flowers?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he says, following me through the living room into the kitchen. “I love your house. It’s exactly how I pictured it in my mind when you told me you’d bought a home of your own.”

  I’m pleased. “Really? Why do you say that?”

  “Everything,” he says, waving a hand at the furniture and the walls. “The colors, the style. It’s what you always said you wanted. This house is all you.”

  “It’s a small house, tiny by most people’s standards,” I say. “Big enough for one person though. It would be a tight fit for a family with kids. It’s only a two-bedroom with one bathroom.”

  “That would be plenty big enough for a couple and one kid. How many kids do you need?”

  He turns to look at me because he already knows the answer to the question. We’d talked about it a million times before, about how many kids we wanted and all the family trips we’d go on together with them.

  “Three,” I say.

  “Yeah, I remember,” he says, his eyes going soft. “I just wanted to see if you’d changed your mind. Three is a good round number to me. An only child might be lonely without siblings to play with. Having two children causes too much competition. Three sounds about perfect.”

  For a moment, neither of us speaks. We’re both thinking the same thing. If we hadn’t broken up, would we have the three kids by now? Or at least one? The thought makes me sad and leaves me feeling a little hollow inside.

  “How does Cole feel about me stealing you away from the family for the evening?” I ask, changing the subject. “Did he mind?”

  “No, Cole thinks the world of you. He’s all up for us spending time together, as long as I don’t borrow Dad’s truck again. Apparently, it caused a big problem the last time. That’s why I had to rent a vehicle of my own.”

&
nbsp; “What happened?”

  “The other night after you turned me down flat, I didn’t feel like going straight back to the farmhouse. I picked up a six-pack of beer to drown my sorrows and drove out an old road with the full intention of drinking every last one. Instead, I was so damn exhausted that I fell dead asleep after finishing one can. I’m one hell of a big partyer as you might’ve guessed. When I woke up, it was five am. Cole was pissed because Dad stayed up all night worrying about his missing truck. He thought it had been stolen.”

  “Oh no,” I say. “Well, you can’t blame Cole for getting upset. Didn’t you have your cellphone with you?”

  “I’d turned it off because my manager has been bugging the shit out of me about coming back to Nashville. That made Cole mad too when he couldn’t get in touch with me.” He rubs his beard with his knuckles. “I’m so used to being on my own that I’ve forgotten how to report to other people about where I am or what I’m doing. It’s the same as having a curfew all over again now that I’m back in Monroe.”

  “I can well imagine,” I say “Cole can get a little heated at times. Just remember to cut him some slack. He’s been having it rough for several months now.”

  He shoots me a curious glance. “How do you know so much about Cole? You’ve mentioned talking to him before. Do the two of you get together often?”

  “He’s been coming into the pharmacy every week to pick up meds for your dad for quite a while,” I explain. “We usually talk for a few minutes to catch up on things.”

  “Wait a second,” he says slowly, his expression growing worried. “Hang on. A thought just occurred to me. Should I be jealous of my big brother? Please don’t tell me that.”

  “Over me?” I laugh at his ridiculous question. “Absolutely not.”

  “Whew! Well, that’s a huge relief,” he says, making a face. “Truth is, I would hate to go up against Cole when it came to getting a girl. Cole is a far better man than I am. Something tells me I might come up short if a girl started comparing the two of us.”