“Is that mine?” He pretended to reach for the sandwich she held, but Dinah jumped to her feet and dashed down the steps and around the side of the house. At the corner she stopped, one eye on her brother, and ate the rest of her sandwich through giggles.
“Damn, she’s cute,” Mac said around a mouthful of pickle.
Damian nodded.
“How’s your mom?”
“Pretty good.”
“She working?”
“She did the books for a place in Silver Valley, few months back. Didn’t work out.”
Mac stood, one hand massaging his left knee.
“You all right?”
“Huh?” Mac grimaced. “Oh, yeah. Too many tackles in high school. Left me with no cartilage in either knee. Course I didn’t care back then. Told coach to wrap me up, and I’d play ’til I couldn’t move.”
“And now you really can’t.”
Mac laughed. “Hell, who thinks about that when you’re in high school?”
Damian scanned the lawn. “Where’s Dinah?” He didn’t like it when she disappeared, even for a few minutes. Made him nervous to have her out of his sight. He supposed it wasn’t really fair to his sister, watching over her shoulder all the time, calling her back and interrupting her games of make-believe, but he couldn’t help it. He knew what T.J. was capable of.
Mac hobbled down the steps and looked around. After a minute, he pointed to a grove of small pine trees. “Over there.”
Damian shaded his eyes and saw the tiny figure. She waved her hands and talked to a chipmunk that sat on the ground beside her. He let out a tense breath. So quiet. Too quiet. Sometimes he wished she’d just run screaming in circles. Even on the soccer field, Dinah stood apart from the others, a silent statue who waited for the ball but never slapped her teammates in high fives or cried out when she twisted an ankle. He supposed she’d learned the silence from their mother. He didn’t like the idea.
“Hello?” The voice came from somewhere around the front of the house.
Mac looked up at Damian and winked. “Back here, Summer!”
Damian ignored his buddy’s knowing glance and leaned against the railing as she approached. Part of him wanted to disappear inside the house. The other part wanted to pick up where they’d left off the other night, after the kiss and before the anger. He cleared his throat and ran one hand along the banister. She looked as good as he remembered. Better, even. One strap of her green tank top had slipped off her shoulder, and he stuck his hands in his back pockets to resist the urge to slide it up again. Or down.
“Hi there.”
Summer fixed the strap herself, juggling two white Styrofoam containers. “I brought some goodies.” She met his gaze. “Peace offering.”
You can’t buy me off with brownies, he wanted to say, but the comment made him sound like an ass even inside his own head. Get over it. Not her fault she’s gotta sell the place.
Mac had crossed to her before the words were out of her mouth. “Lanie’s? All right.” He dug into one container and came out with an enormous chocolate chip cookie. “Thanks,” he mumbled. The crumbs fell from his mouth.
She offered the other one to Damian, and when he took it, he let his fingers brush against hers. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” she said under her breath, and Damian’s throat closed. God, she had bottomless eyes. Fifty different emotions shimmered under their surface, and for an instant he wanted to lose himself there, just plummet down into her invisible ocean and find a place to float.
She stepped back after a long moment of silence. “Wow.” She leaned back. “It looks good. I didn’t get a chance to see the roof the other day.”
“Sure you want to sell it?” He hated himself for asking, but he had to try. So much lay at stake if they had to pull up roots again.
Her glance skittered away. “What choice do I have?”
“You could subdivide it. You talk to Sadie about that? Maybe we could work something out. I could buy the piece with the farmhouse on it, and…” He’d stayed up thinking about it last night, trying to work out the finances in his head. It was the best solution so far.
She looked away, across the tree line. “I did.”
“And?”
“Damian, it would take weeks. Months, maybe. I’d need an engineer. Someone to draw up new blueprints. Someone else to do an environmental study.”
He stared at her. “So it’s not worth it.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Maybe not exactly. But it’s too much work for you, and—”
“And I don’t have that kind of time or money.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Believe it or not, I’m not doing this to try and ruin your family.”
“You don’t know my family. Or anything about me.”
Her eyes blazed. “Goes both ways.”
“I know that half the reason you’re running back to San Francisco so fast is because your father told you—”
“Be very careful what you say next.” Her voice, low and threatening, seared him straight through the gut.
He lifted both hands and backed away. “Fine. Let’s just make a deal not to talk the rest of the time you’re here.”
“Fine.”
“You have any kind of paperwork for me, put it in the mail. Or give it to Mac.”
He thought he saw tears rise in her eyes, but he turned away before he could see for sure.
“Damian—”
“I have things to do.” He headed for the nearest scaffolding. Hand over hand, he hauled himself twenty feet into the air. Without a look behind, he pounded nails into shingles until anger and fatigue drove thoughts of Summer Thompson, and that damn green strap sliding down her shoulder, from his mind.
* * * * *
Summer stood in the middle of the lawn, stunned. She’d brought them cookies. She’d apologized and tried to explain herself. And Damian had thrown her words back in her face and then ignored her. If he’d slapped her, it might have hurt less.
Well, fine. I won’t bother talking to you again, that’s for damn sure. She dusted crumbs from her hands and turned to go. But then she saw a little girl sitting under the trees a few yards away. “Hey, who’s that? Mac?”
The stocky man adjusted his tool belt. “Ah, that’s Damian’s little sister. Dinah. She hangs around here sometimes.”
Dinah? Summer glanced up to where Damian worked above them. The one he’d mentioned the other day. The one she’d thought was his girlfriend, his fiancée even. Not his sister. She glared at his back.
“I don’t know your family, huh?”
Summer strode across the lawn, watching Dinah sing and trace patterns in the grass as she approached. The girl’s hands moved in circles, fingers fluttering. In her lap lay a pile of daisies and dandelions. She seemed to be enjoying herself, but she didn’t smile. Rather, a serious look darkened her face, making the expression in her eyes appear much older than the seven or eight years old Summer guessed she probably was.
“Hi there.” Summer knelt beside her. “I’m Summer Thompson.”
Dinah didn’t say anything for a minute. Her hands continued to orbit an imaginary sun above the grass, skimming the surface in rhythm to her humming. Finally she raised her head. “Hi.”
“What are you playing?”
Dinah placed her hands on her knees and looked at her lap. “Just a game I made up.”
“What’s it called?”
The little girl exhaled at the question, and Summer recalled how she herself had been as a child, impatient of adults who tried to understand her language or pretend they remembered what it was like to be young and alone.
“It doesn’t have a name.”
Summer leaned back on her heels. She’s carrying around the weight of the world with the emotions of someone twenty years older. Why
?
“Are you going to make us leave our house?” Dinah looked up from her game. “Damian said some lady was going to sell it and make us leave.”
Guilt stabbed Summer in the chest. “Oh, sweetie. No, I’m not. Not if I can help it.” Terrific. Now she’d just lied to a little girl. She thought a minute. “Hey, have you seen the inside of this house? The one your brother is working on?”
Dinah shook her head, but curiosity filled her wide brown eyes.
“Would you like to?”
“Okay.”
Summer stood and held out a hand. The girl pushed herself to her feet but didn’t take it, and she kept her distance as they walked back to the house. Summer put her hand in her pocket instead and watched the girl’s thin back and long legs move in silence. Something about the way Dinah carried herself, the shift of her shoulders and the jut of her chin, reminded her of Damian. An old, familiar ache pulsed inside her—the wish for a sibling still living. The wish for two parents or a close-knit family like the Hunters’. Funny how a few days back in Pine Point could set those old bruises to hurting.
A cell phone rang as she and Dinah neared the house. Summer checked her pocket, but she’d left her own in the car.
Two stories up, Damian answered his. “Mom? What’s wrong?”
The concern—no, the almost-fear—in his voice jerked her attention upward. Damian stuck his hammer in his tool belt and was on the ground in less than ten seconds. A combination of panic and anger contorted his expression. “Slow down. Dinah’s right here, with me. Of course I’m sure. I’m looking at her.” He wrapped an arm around his sister and drew her close.
“Did you call the police? Well, call them right now. Did you lock the doors? Did you get the number off Caller ID? I’ll be right there.” He dropped the phone into his pocket. Without looking at Mac, he yelled up, “Gotta take Dinah home and check on my mom, okay? I’ll be right back.”
From the balcony, Mac grunted assent.
Damian pulled off his tool belt and ran a rag across his forehead.
“Everything all right?” Summer asked, though clearly it wasn’t.
He didn’t answer.
Dinah’s lip trembled. “Is Mom okay?”
Her brother smiled, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. “She’s fine. She just got a phone call that made her nervous, so we’re going home to make sure she feels safe.” He took his sister by the hand and led her toward the path that wound around the property to the farmhouse. Urgency hovered over them, a cloud of tension that grayed the day. In another moment, they were gone.
Summer shaded her eyes. “Hey, Mac?”
“Yeah?”
“What was that all about?”
He leaned both arms on the balcony railing. “Not sure. Damian’s mom has an ex who’s bad news. I know they moved here to get away from him, but…maybe he’s back in the picture.”
Summer’s shoulders sagged as the guilt around her heart deepened. “Really?”
Mac nodded. “He keeps telling his mom to get a restraining order, but I guess she hasn’t yet.”
She shivered. No wonder Dinah walked around scared of her shadow; no wonder Damian kept one eye on home. You can’t read this place. Closed doors hide so much.
Summer made her way back to her car, turning over possibilities inside her head. Maybe she could work something out with Sadie or an engineer after all. She couldn’t turn the Knights out of their house, not if some crazy ex-husband was stalking them. If they’d found safety here in Pine Point, why should she rip that away from them? Dinah’s solemn face appeared in her mind’s eye, and her heart broke a little. She knew enough about ghosts to know they never stopped haunting you.
She stared at the mountains. Why couldn’t the lives people built here match the idyllic hills or the green lawns that formed such perfect patchworks when seen from the highway? Why did shadows always have to carve things up into an ugly, fractured mosaic? Why did pain always ride on the heels of happiness?
And why the hell did she care so much about someone she’d met less than a week ago?
Chapter Eight
“Mom?” Damian fumbled with his key and rushed into the house.
“In here.” The voice came from her bedroom. He crossed the hall and pushed open the door.
Hannah sat on the bed, facing him. Though white, her face remained composed, with her hands folded in her lap like small, fragile birds.
“Are you okay?” Damian wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Dinah stood in the doorway, brows knit together and tears in her eyes.
“I’m fine.” Hannah’s gaze flickered toward her daughter and she lowered her voice. “I called the police. They’re going to file a report.”
“Did they trace the number?”
“They said they couldn’t. It was a pre-paid cell phone or something.” She sighed and turned away from him. “He called my cell phone, Damian, not the house. That’s a good thing. He doesn’t know where we are.”
But how long until he finds out? Damian’s hands tightened into fists. “What about a restraining order?”
“He isn’t here. He’s probably a thousand miles away, just making noise.”
“You don’t know that. He could be hiding out in the next town over.” Damian’s knuckles turned white as his anger grew. “File one anyway. Just in case.”
“I don’t want to turn it into something uglier than it already is,” she said. “I don’t want Dinah thinking her father is a monster.”
He scowled. She was wrong; T.J. was a monster. It didn’t matter whether he’d fathered Dinah or not.
She leveled her gaze on him. “Let it be. Please.”
“Maybe we should at least get an alarm system or have the police drive by on a regular basis.” T.J. already had her cell number. A new address and a couple of deadbolts wouldn’t keep that bastard away forever.
Hannah sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She leaned against the pillows. “I think I’ll lie down for a while.”
“I’m here if you need anything.” He pulled a blanket over her shoulders.
She murmured a response, already half-asleep. Underneath closed lids, blue veins pulsed as she headed toward dreams. Weak sunlight winked through the open blinds, but in a few minutes she breathed the silent, steady rhythm of someone far away, lost in slumber and glad to be there.
Damian eased the door shut. Behind him, Dinah waited in the hallway. He ran a hand over her ponytail and felt his heart tremble. Why couldn’t they live a normal life in Pine Point like everyone else? Why did the past have to rear up in their faces? He squared his shoulders. No matter what, he’d protect Dinah and Hannah. No matter what.
“Want something to drink?” He didn’t have to go back to the jobsite right away. Mac would understand.
Dinah stared at him with her lips pressed into a straight, silent line. “Okay.” Her quiet understanding broke his heart. They headed for the back porch and sat side-by-side, sipping glasses of iced tea and watching the light change.
“That lady at the house…” Dinah began.
Damian found some mosquitoes to slap. “Summer Thompson.”
“I know her name,” Dinah said with impatience, and Damian forgot that she’d talked with Summer under the trees. “Is she going to make us leave?”
His chest tightened. “I don’t know. I hope not.” How he wished he could comfort her, tell her something else. His cell phone rang and he jumped. He checked the screen but didn’t recognize the number that came up. Call this number, you bastard. I dare you. I’ll have you arrested within the hour. But it wasn’t T.J.
“Hi, Damian.” Joyce Hadley’s soprano tones bubbled across the line.
“Oh. Hey.” He studied the pattern of the sunlight on the floor.
“How’s Dinah? All ready for her big game this weekend?”
“Yeah,
I guess. What’s up?” Maybe he owed money for Dinah’s uniform or was supposed to organize the parents’ carpool next week.
“Well…” She drew out the syllable in anticipation, as if she were about to announce the grand prize of a game show. “My parents are having a bunch of people over for a party on the lake next weekend. Wondered if you could make it.”
This is a social call? Damian closed his eyes. No way. Not on your life.
“You can bring Dinah if you want,” she added.
He reconsidered for a half-second and then shook his head. Sweetening the deal by inviting his kid sister wasn’t enough to sway him. “Sorry. Mac and I have to work straight through the weekends. No time off during building season.” He tried to sound flip, as if he wasn’t turning down her so much as the notion of partying in general.
For a minute she didn’t say anything, and he wondered if the lie rang as hollow on her end of the line as it did on his. “Yeah, well, it’s okay. I know you’re busy,” she said. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Damian closed the phone and shoved it back into his pocket. He wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Any guy in town would give fifty bucks to be in his place. Joyce Hadley had been after him for months. Why the hell didn’t he just go out with her? He laced both hands behind his head and stared out the window as the answer crawled up from his heart. Because I feel nothing when I look at her. He tried to picture himself kissing Joyce, winding that long hair around his fingers, breathing her in. It didn’t work. Instead he saw a painted pink mouth and painted pink nails, a tinny laugh and shallow eyes. As much as he sometimes hated himself for it, he’d never been able to date simply for the sake of dating. He needed more—a soul to burn for, someone to open up the darkest corners of his mind and heart and make him laugh from the inside out. A sharp pain stabbed him in the chest. He’d felt that way once, a long time ago. But something like that didn’t happen twice in a lifetime.
Did it?
Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 Page 7