Summer's Song

by Lindi Peterson

  “I don’t think he will,” Levi says. “He’s good people.”

  “He better not.” Mother rolls her eyes. “That would be it for you trying to get custody. One more story, and you’re through, Summer. No judge is going to let Sam be subjected to all this drama.”

  For once I have to agree with my Mother. I say a quick prayer that Blake Anthony is telling the truth, and my poor decision making won’t make the newspapers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Sam’s sleepy. I need to get him home for a nap.”

  Mother’s eyes roll before her expression changes into total frustration. “I’m not done shopping. There were a few more things I wanted to look at. But as usual what I want …”

  I’m totally embarrassed as her voice trails off. She is so selfish.

  “I’ll take Summer and Sam home. That way you can continue on your shopping venture.” Levi looks at me and smiles.

  “Thanks, Levi, but we’d have to switch Sam’s car seat, and it’s just easier for me to take my car.”

  Levi digs in his pocket. He pulls out a set of keys and hands them to my mother. “See that blue Chevy over there? Shop ’til you drop, then drive it back to Summer’s.”

  “Levi,” I start. “That’s—”

  “No big deal.” He smiles. “Here, give me these.” He takes the bags from my mother. “Summer, pop your trunk.”

  I click my remote. Levi places Mother’s bags in the trunk.

  How I wish I had a camera. Mother’s expression is priceless. She’s so irritated and annoyed, yet curious, and it’s about to drive her to probably say something I’m going to regret.

  But she keeps her comments to herself, a first I’m sure, as I settle Sam into his seat. After I make sure Sam is strapped in tight, Levi opens the passenger door for me. His combination of being a take-charge kind of guy while also being a gentleman amazes me. He amazes me.

  “I’ll see you later, Mother.” She’s still standing in her thousand dollar outfit in front of the multi-purpose general store. Such a contrast.

  I hope she keeps shopping for a while. I know she’s not done questioning me about Sam’s tree adventure. Or misadventure. I really need to downplay it.

  “So, are you enjoying your visit with your mother?” Levi asks as we drive out of town.

  “I’m enjoying my visit with my son. Mother is, well, she’s Mother. I put up with her.”

  “She said something about a judge not standing for any more drama. Seems she and Coleman are your drama. You’re just trying to go about life.”

  I glance in the back seat, and Sam’s eyes are already closed. “They do act out. They’re so dependent on me.”

  “You or your money?”

  “My money, for sure.”

  “Neither one of them seems to value anything you say.”

  “Levi, when my career first started taking off, when I first started making all this money I had two choices. I could’ve gotten involved with all the decision-making. I could’ve helped take control of what directions my career was going. But I didn’t. I let them make all the decisions, decide what was best for me because I wanted to party, have fun and not take responsibility for anything. I’ve created my own monsters.”

  “You’re trying to tell me they aren’t the total bad guys I’m making them out to be.”

  “I’m not saying they don’t need some work, that they haven’t taken advantage of my situation, but they aren’t totally at fault.”

  “Which is why you are going to be cardboard for a little while longer?”

  “I’ve made my decision.”

  “And I respected it. I haven’t bothered you these last two days.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “But I’ve thought about you.”

  I don’t respond. I can’t. Because he’s all I thought about until Sam showed up.

  “No comment?”

  “No.”

  “You sure do know how to wound a guy.”

  “No. I know how to protect myself. My therapist taught me that much.”

  Luckily we pull into my driveway. I carry a sleeping Sam into his room and lay him on his bed. I want to curl up with him, hold him, keep him safe, but Levi is still here.

  He’s outside sitting on the steps just a few feet away from where we kissed. I don’t sit next to him, but walk down the stairs to stand at the bottom. We are at eye level this way.

  Probably not a good move on my part since his eyes are so gorgeous.

  “Will you guys come to church tomorrow?” he asks.

  I can’t even picture my mother in church. “I don’t think so.”

  “I wish you would. Sam would like it. There are a lot of kids his age. Sunday school is fun.”

  “He’s never been, but I’m sure he’d have fun.”

  “I don’t know any kid who doesn’t have fun in Sunday school.”

  “I don’t know any kid who’s been to Sunday school. My friends don’t hang there, you know?”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His broodiness is back in a mighty way. His total facial expression has changed, and he’s actually standing up. Ready to leave. I don’t get it. I don’t get him. But that’s okay. I don’t need to be around him.

  “I’m going to head back to Skeet’s. I hope you change your mind and come to church. Skeet’s coming back today, and he’ll be there.”

  I deliberately choose to ignore the church stuff. “How’s his brother?”

  “He’s doing better. Skeet may be going out again next week. He’s not sure. But I know he would like to see you.”

  “I’m glad his brother is doing okay. Tell Skeet hi for me. And, um, how are you leaving? You don’t have your car.”

  “I’ll walk. I’m not going anywhere the rest of the day. I’ve got work to do. If you pick me up for church, then you can drop me off here afterward I guess, and I can get my car then.”

  I can’t go to church tomorrow. I just can’t. “Why don’t you have Skeet drop you off here on your way in the morning?”

  “Scared?” he asks.

  “No. Just doing what’s best for me and my son.” What I don’t add is that right now staying away from Levi is what is best. He makes me think of things that can never be.

  “I hope you change your mind.”

  I don’t say anything as he walks toward the back of the house where the path through the woods is. I let him go, knowing it’s the best for all.

  “I knew that boy was no good for you. I just knew it.”

  I simply stare at my mother. No, she’s not talking about my partying, drinking, carousing ex-husband. No. She’s talking about Levi, the guy who wants to take me and Sam to church tomorrow.

  “Mother, there’s nothing wrong with taking Sam to church.”

  “We don’t go to church, Summer. He’ll be confused.”

  “He’s four. They’ll color some pictures and maybe sing a couple of songs.”

  “With our luck he’ll come home spouting off about Jesus and want to be a preacher or something.”

  I stab the one of the potatoes bobbing in the simmering water. Not quite ready to mash yet. “You are so dramatic. That’s not going to happen. And don’t worry, we’re not going.”

  “Well, for once you’ve made a good decision. I certainly don’t need lightning to strike me down if I go to church.”

  Like mother, like daughter. I had the same thought, but I’m still alive. “Lightning wouldn’t strike you down.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you should go to church. You, not me. Maybe that reporter guy would be there and report on that instead of that incident with Sam climbing a tree. How could you let him do such a thing?”

  “I was right there, Mother. He was fine.” No need to tell her all the details. I don’t really feel like listening to her now.

  “All in all, it sounds like you aren’t making good decisions again. I mean, did he just climb up, and you weren’t watching? Or did he actually ask?”

  I
stab the fork harder into the potato, with no thoughts of my mother as I do so. Almost done. “It’s over now. Sam’s fine. I don’t need any more lectures on how bad of a mother I am.”

  “Do you receive the local paper or whoever that guy writes for? Can we make sure this isn’t all over the news? You don’t seem overly concerned for someone who will forever lose custody of her child.”

  I give my mother a crazed look before stepping into the living room where Sam is watching a cartoon DVD. He seems engrossed in the world of silly antics. Thank God.

  “Mother. Sam is right there. You need to chill out about this and no talking custody hearings in front of him. What’s wrong with you?”

  She’s sitting at the kitchen table, her right foot crossed and moving back and forth very quickly. My mother is somewhat of a nervous person. Always moving, rarely sitting still. Like she has some sort of aversion to staying in the same place too long. That’s one reason my career has been good for her. She travels with me everywhere. Except this venture. She hates this place, this town, this constant reminder of where she came from. The few times she’s visited here, I get the lecture of why she left, and could we all imagine what our lives would be like today if she hadn’t?

  I think I’m supposed to praise her good decision making. (While she berates mine!)

  “Yes, Sam is right there watching TV thanks to a stranger. Do you hear what I’m saying? A stranger.”

  She’s now standing up, and she walks towards me. She points at the stove where the potatoes are cooking.

  “You think mashing some potatoes can make up for what happened today? That a home cooked meal can counteract the disaster that took place while you were ‘in charge?’”

  My insides quiver. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I’m going to be a witness in this custody case. Can I, in my heart, get on the stand and convince anyone that you are a good mother?” She places her hand over her chest. I want to throw up at her fakeness.

  “I am a good mother.” My heart hurts at the realization that I can’t even count on my own mother.

  “Summer, I want what’s best for you. I really do.” She chooses this moment to look at me eye to eye. “I’m just not sure that being a mother is what you’re best at.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The night surrounds me as I sit on my front porch. Crickets sing their nighttime songs, while leaves rustle with the slight breeze as it blows. Sam is asleep, and my mother, thank God, is resting in her room with a fashion magazine before going to bed.

  I don’t think I could have stood one more minute of her tonight.

  My conclusion is that Coleman sends her here to drive me crazy so thoughts of drinking or taking a pill to relieve myself of the mental stress of her will overtake me, and I will revert to the old Summer. The one who never questioned him. The one who did everything she was told.

  That girl is gone.

  The new Summer is here.

  Well, I’ll admit the word “new” is not as strong as it was at the beginning of the week. It didn’t work out so well. So I’ll be cardboard for a little while longer.

  There is some peace in that. But there is absolutely no peace in knowing my own mother is against me. That stinks. She belittles my attempts at everything. She even refused to eat my meatloaf tonight because she said it wasn’t healthy. That by cooking this food I’m damaging all of our arteries. I’m so glad she’s in bed.

  I try to relax in the rocker on the porch. It’s quite peaceful out here. As I close my eyes, I hear footsteps. I sit straight up, my gaze scanning the darkness. My insides race while my hands grip the arms of the chair.

  They loosen their grip as I realize it’s Levi. “What are you doing? I ask. “You scared me.”

  He abruptly stops as if my voice scared him. “I decided to come through the woods and get my car. Didn’t want to bother you in the morning.”

  “So you decided to scare me at night?” I keep my tone light hoping he will see I’m not serious. Although I don’t want to hang around him, I’m not going to be rude.

  “I didn’t expect you to be sitting on the porch. It’s late.”

  “I’m escaping.”

  “Totally understand.”

  He’s standing at the bottom of the porch stairs. I haven’t moved out of my rocking chair. I really don’t want him to stay.

  “How’s the CD coming?” he asks.

  “It’s coming.” What would he say if he knew I wrote a song about him? Purrfect Man. I don’t think he’d be thrilled. Unlike ninety-nine point nine percent of the rest of the male population.

  Of course he won’t recognize the song. He probably won’t ever hear the song. I don’t think a Summer Sinclair CD will be found in his collection. I’m okay with that.

  “That’s good,” he replies. “I’m glad you’ve gotten some work done on it.”

  “I probably should be working on it while Sam’s in bed, but I’m really tired.”

  Why I choose to tell this man everything I don’t want to tell him is a mystery to me. He doesn’t need to know, nor does he care if I’m tired or not.

  “I suppose running after a four-year-old makes for a hectic day.”

  “It does.”

  I wonder how long we are going to continue this filler conversation. There is nothing that needs to be said, yet he continues to stand there, I continue to sit here. And we continue to say words that really don’t mean a whole lot to anybody. To say this is awkward is putting it lightly.

  “I really—”

  “Are you—”

  We both speak at the same time, then stop as we realize the other is speaking. “You go,” I say.

  “No. It was nothing. Really.”

  I shared a kiss with this man. The best kiss I can ever remember. And now, here we are. I can’t handle Levi. I can’t be fudge, he won’t let me be cardboard, so we have no choice but to part ways.

  “Well, then I really need to go in. Sam will get up early, so that means I’ll be up early.”

  “Summer!”

  My mother’s voice shatters our soft conversation. The front door swings open and she’s holding Sam who is crying.

  “Summer, Sam just fell out of bed. I think he hit his head.”

  Heart pounding, I jump up and grab Sam. I hold him tight. “Where does it hurt? Mother, turn on the light.”

  Levi is up on the porch. “Maybe we should take him inside.”

  “Good idea.” Levi has no idea how calming his presence is right now.

  The three of us head into the house. “The kitchen is the brightest room,” I offer.

  “Summer, there’s blood on me.”

  My mother’s voice sends a panic through me. “Oh, no.”

  “Here.” Levi’s hand brushes through Sam’s hair. “The wound is right here at the back of his head.”

  Sam is still crying. Screaming is more like it.

  “Oh, baby. It’s okay.” My voice shakes, like I don’t mean it.

  “Head wounds bleed a lot. Doesn’t mean it’s anything serious. Let’s take a better look.” Levi’s voice and manner are calm. He appears to know what to look for.

  I move as if I’m on automatic pilot. I hold Sam close to me while Levi peers at the back of his head.

  “Could I have a towel please?” he asks.

  I glare at my mother as she just stands there. “Mother, a towel?”

  Moments later she hands Levi a towel. He wets it and starts wiping the back of Sam’s head.

  “Well?” I ask. “How does it look? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  Sam starts squirming even more in my arms, but his cries have weakened.

  “I don’t think so. He’s going to have a bump, but the cut is really small. I’d say he just bumped his noggin really good.”

  Levi spends a couple more minutes cleaning the wound. “There. I think that’s it.”

  Sam is clinging to me. His cries have now subsided to quiet sobs.

 
“Thanks, Levi.”

  “No problem. You’ll have to go to the park tomorrow, Dude, and show off your war wound. You’ll be the hero.”

  I smile wishing Levi didn’t make me feel so good. About everything. But I can’t get used to him. I can’t be like him.

  “Summer, why didn’t you put pillows on either side of him? The bed you have him in is huge. I can’t believe you just left him there.” My mother’s accusatory tone slices through me.

  I don’t know which is worse. Levi making me feel good when I can’t have it, or my mother making me feel bad when I deserve it.

  “Cut her some slack.” Levi shakes his head. “She had no way of knowing Sam would fall out of the bed.”

  “You don’t know anything about our life,” my mother snaps. “Summer doesn’t seem to be well equipped in the mothering aspect, and I’m just trying to teach her a few common things.”

  “Levi,” I say before the conversation gets too out of hand, “I think you should go. Thanks for all your help and not letting me panic. I think I can handle it from here.”

  He looks at my mother. “Are my keys in the car?”

  “Yes,” she replies.

  He lays the towel on the kitchen counter. “You’re better than this,” he whispers as he passes by me. His arm brushes mine before gently ruffling Sam’s hair. His touch and his scent remind me what I have given up.

  The front door opens then shuts. Moments later I hear his car start.

  “That man is a trouble-maker,” my mother says. “And he’s the last thing you need. Here you are, Sam under your watchful care for one day, and he’s been stuck in a tree and now has a head injury. Maybe you should just stick to singing.”

  I don’t reply as I make my way to the living room. I sit in the recliner, Sam still in my arms. I rock him as he settles into me. I run my hands over his soft baby hair. My fingers slide down, and then I feel the bump.

  Closing my eyes, I wonder what I’m really doing. Millions of women have had babies with no training. Why can’t I seem to grasp motherhood? I love my son. Instinct is supposed to take over. Where’s mine? It seems to have disappeared. Well, it could only disappear if it existed in the first place.