Summer Rose

by Caroline Hartman

  Hal sighed and shook his head. He didn’t raise his voice, but its edge cut through the night air. “Aside from the fact that you’re my best friend, and you’ll no doubt be murdered for your arrogance and poor attitude one day, I’m impressed with this land. After the war, I’d like to settle in this valley. Maybe not all the time, but it would make a great retreat, like the Blairs and the Biddles have. A hell of a fishing and hunting camp. For Christ’s sake, Daniel, I’m your friend. You’re damn lucky.” He nodded to the girl. “She’s one in a million. Dressed in style, with that face and figure, she’d stop a regiment on Pennsylvania Avenue. And I see her eyes follow you. I’m not sure she knows it yet, but she wants you as much as you want her.” Hal tossed a stick in the fire.

  Daniel stretched out on his back, stared into the stars. “Sorry. I’m being a … I really don’t understand why I’m acting like this.” His eyes drifted to the girl and he chuckled. “Am I crazy?”

  Hal snorted. “You’re crazy if you don’t want her. Let me know if that’s the case.”

  CHAPTER 7

  MINT AND MIST AND

  BLACKBERRY

  Overnight, a heavy fog rolled into the valley. Before first light Summer Rose had navigated the canoe by sound toward the smaller of the two waterfalls, leaving the men asleep. All the talk about her brothers and father had brought back nightmares of war, of losing them and her mother. Even though almost a year had passed since her mother had died, Summer Rose missed her so much her chest ached. When she thought about her mother, like she did now, a dry sob stuck in her throat, and hot tears seared behind her eyelids.

  The night before, she’d told the soldiers she’d cried as much as she could, that now she was strong, but she hadn’t been a hundred percent honest. At least now she wasn’t blubbering all the time, but the loss of her mother still cut like a pick thrust into her heart. She wanted to ask her so many questions; right now she wanted to ask her about the feelings curling inside her. This morning she needed time alone, time to renew.

  From experience, she knew the trout. This season and early in the morning, they liked to gather in the lower stream of spring water at Forty Foot Falls, just below where she’d directed the men to bathe. She set out two rods, and within a half hour she’d caught a nice basket of trout. She filled another with blackberries. To navigate the return trip through the fog, she’d planned to whistle for Nip and Tuck and aim toward their yapping. Instead, she smelled coffee and wood smoke, and pointed the canoe toward the aromas.

  Fog smothered the island. Daniel awoke as she left, worried about her. He was about to shake Hal’s shoulder when he heard her paddle slice through the water. He rolled his pant legs to his knees and waded toward the sound. When she came into view, he walked the canoe to the beach, then lifted her from it, taking advantage of the position and cradling her against his chest.

  She giggled and held the creel by its strap. “Six gorgeous trout. Do you know how to clean them?”

  He noticed her bare feet and the way her breath tickled the side of his neck when she laughed, then reluctantly deposited her on the damp sand. “I’ll clean the fish, but please don’t go off again without telling us. You gave me a scare.”

  She dangled the basket of fish out in front of him, tilting her head to one side and smiling.

  “How do you navigate in this fog?” he asked, his voice a little sharp.

  “With ease.”

  Her voice, high-pitched and smooth, sounded like music. Her innocent demeanor drew him like a magnet, and yet she wore a mantle of agelessness, of knowing something he didn’t. He could see how her brother might allow her to live alone. On the other hand, Daniel wanted to shake him, wounded war hero or not, for allowing such a thing. Here she stood in front of him, her neck as delicate as a flower stem, achingly beautiful, and cheerfully telling him about listening for the falls and returning by the smell of coffee.

  Waves of mist thickened about them, and her blue-green eyes twinkled devilishly. “You should trust me a little, you know. I did fine before you showed up.”

  The white ruffle of her skirt brushed against the sand clinging to her feet. Still holding the basket away from her, she smoothed her skirt, stuck her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a compass. She held it up and he saw imps dance in her eyes. “If I found myself in trouble, I would have used this.”

  He shook his head and took the fish from her. Every inch of his body pulled towards her, wanting to sweep her against him, hold her in his arms. Still leaning down at the water’s edge, he set the basket in the water then looked up at her.

  “You are absolutely right. Somehow I mistook you for a helpless girl. I apologize. You’re obviously far from helpless.”

  He stood and reached for her hands, holding both of them in one of his. Grinning, he stepped across the line her toe had drawn in the sand. Daniel loved to flirt, and he knew he was good at it. A general’s wife had once told him when he smiled, her toes curled. He wasn’t exactly sure what he did, but he did it now, sending all of his heart sailing through the mist to this girl.

  She flushed and inhaled through her nose, smelling his breath, smelling him. His pale eyes seemed to laugh without sound. When his voice gentled further, it seemed to surprise him almost as much as it did her.

  “Sweet Summer Rose,” he said, “do you have any idea what I want to do right now?”

  A new woman burst from the chrysalis inside her. Heat flooded her face and spread through her body, and her heart downright pounded. Blinking slowly, she lifted her head and cocked it to one side.

  “Clean the fish?” she whispered.

  He lowered his head and kissed her lips, tasting mint and mist and blackberry. When she didn’t pull away, he leaned into her. With his one hand still holding both of hers, he brought his other around and touched her cheek and neck. His tongue brushed, ever so lightly, just under the center of her upper lip. A quiver rippled through her, like a puff of air on water, and the movement vibrated to every cell in his body. He ran his thumb across her cheek and deepened the kiss. Her body jerked at first, then softened, folding into him.

  He broke the kiss but didn’t pull away. His face smoothed, and he took a slow, shaky breath. His heart, already in his throat, calmed a little and he swallowed. After a second, he lifted her hands to his mouth and brushed her knuckles against his lips. The fingertips of his other hand still touched her face.

  His voice came out soft. “You are lovely, Summer, and very much a surprise. You are more, more, than I ever …” He stopped, not having the slightest idea of how to word his feelings. One corner of his mouth curled and he stepped away from her, his chest constricting wonderfully at the sight of her bewildered expression. “I better see to the trout.”

  After breakfast, Summer Rose asked the men to carry a load of gear to the shore. She seemed to have regained her composure and confidence. “We have so much here I think it’ll take two trips. I want to show you the house and my garden, and our animals need attention. I’m sure your horses will be happy to see you, and you need to rest, Daniel. When you feel well enough, I’ll show you the valley.” The words tripped through her lips, as if she needed to fill the air with syllables. “The waterfalls are spectacular, and we have seven springs.” Her hand swept the still foggy sky. “The mist will clear in about an hour.”

  She handed Daniel her compass and her fingers rested on his palm a split second longer than they needed. “Go exact east, and you’ll end up at the meadow where your horses are hobbled. You’ll hear them. Right now I need a good scrub.” She picked up a towel, a bar of soap, and a sack. “Would you come back for me in about an hour?”

  They nodded and she tapped the side of her leg. Nip and Tuck were there immediately, following her across the island.

  When they returned, she directed them on a short tour. The property impressed the men more than they could have imagined. The mountains, with their sheer granite cliffs, protected a good three hundred and thirty degrees of the thousand acre valley,
and the entrance to the valley crossed a swift stream only expert horsemen on strong horses would attempt. Summer Rose told them her father and half-brothers had built the stone bridge just wide enough for a single wagon. She explained how they transplanted laurel and pines, training ivy to camouflage the structure.

  The house, hidden among the pines, allowed a good view of the entrance and the lake. The flock of white geese she kept took to honking and nipping as they approached the house. “They’re more of a deterrent than the dogs,” she said. A wicked grin snuck onto her face. “They’re insurance, too. If I have a bad winter, I pick the nastiest, and …” She made a wringing motion with her hands. “Ezra and Margie gave them to me. Watch-geese, he calls them.”

  Well built of stone and log, with a wide porch on two sides, the downstairs of the house boasted two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a large living room with a beautiful stone fireplace. Upstairs there was a sleeping loft. The refinement surprised both of the men.

  Hal bent at the knees and examined how the sluice cut through the wall below the stone sink. He stood in the center of the kitchen and studied its features, then ran his hand along the sink and touched the faucet. “Your father designed this? I’m very impressed.”

  “We have three springs close to the house. When you go outside, take a look at the pipes and cisterns, and the windmill. The Germans helped my father with most of it. They’re very clever.”

  Turning, she motioned around the room. Fitted out with a utilitarian wood stove and work benches, the kitchen was cozy and neat. Pots, pans, and utensils hung along one wall, and shelves holding dishes and jars of spices hung on another. In the center stood a marble topped table with a fifty pound bag of flour beneath it.

  Daniel made an exaggerated motion, rubbing his stomach. His eyes twinkled. “I love pie.”

  “Do you like sour cherry?” Her eyes teased right back.

  “My favorite.”

  “I’ll make one while you’re here.”

  He grinned. “Be careful, Summer. I may never leave.”

  She lowered her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the color filling her cheeks. Then she moved toward the door, motioning for the men to follow. The steps beyond the back door led to her garden, and Daniel thought right away that she had every right to be proud of it. Rows of vegetables, manicured and lush, stretched to a small fenced paddock and shed. Five dark-eyed goats and a dozen chickens rushed out to greet them. The donkey stayed in the shade leaning against the shed and chewing hay. Beside the steps grew several pots of herbs, in which Daniel recognized mint and parsley. Vines of deep green leaves with trumpet-like flowers clung to the weathered logs of the shed. He motioned questioningly toward them.

  She shrugged. “Gourds. My neighbor grew them last year. Margie gave me the seeds. When they’re dried, they’re useful as tools and birdhouses.” She grinned. “It’s one thing the goats won’t eat.”

  CHAPTER 8

  TOMATO SANDWICHES

  The living room was both comfortable and elegant, with an upholstered sofa and two chairs, small tables, a beautiful bench covered in needlepoint all lit by oil lamps with jewel-colored glass shades. A good oriental rug stretched under their feet. Against the wall stood an upright piano and a big green fern. Daniel studied the many books on the shelves beside the stone fireplace and was impressed by the eclectic variety: Homer in Greek, Cicero and Caesar in Latin, Chaucer, Erasmus, a great deal of Shakespeare, Locke, Defoe, Austin, Cooper, Hawthorne, Poe, and a dozen or so of Dickens’ books, plus journals and pamphlets. Copies of recent works by Thoreau, Emerson, Darwin, and Harriett Beecher Stowe lay on a lower shelf.

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve read …?”

  She stepped closer and picked up Pride and Prejudice, then leafed fondly through the pages. “All of them. My grandmother believes fiercely in education, and not just for men. She hired tutors for my mother. Some were professors from a local boy’s school. My father attended university in Scotland. The boys attended college, and our parents tutored all of us. They made sure we all read both Greek and Latin. We spoke only French at dinner.”

  “Where did your brothers go to school?” asked Hal.

  “They went to Franklin and Marshall in Lancaster, just when the two schools merged. Our parents worked hard to educate us. My da probably did it so Grammie would stop yelling at him. Da taught us mathematics, astronomy, geometry, Latin, and Greek.” She ticked off the subjects on her fingers. “My mother taught literature, music, history, and geography. I’m not an expert in anything, but I know a little about a lot of subjects.” She touched the piano keys. “I also play the piano and swim like a fish.” She smiled with a teasing light in her eyes. “Oh, and you’ve seen how good I am with a knife. I always beat my brothers.”

  Daniel’s pale eyes never left her face. “I’m sure you did.”

  “Da taught me that I’m a McAllister, and even though I’m a girl, I can be as good as my brothers at just about anything.” She set Pride and Prejudice back on the shelf and handed him Walden Pond.

  “Grammie always reminded my father that he’d dragged away her only daughter, her only child, into the wilderness. She couldn’t stand the thought of our not having what she envisioned as essential, so she had the furniture, the rugs, the dishes, and the piano all shipped to us. They have lots of money and didn’t mind spending it on us.”

  The men leaned forward, fascinated. She never seemed to run out of stories, but neither of them tired of her voice.

  “She sometimes sent my mother and me crates of books and journals. In the crates she included soap and a ribbon or a new comb for me, those thick candles, seed packets, sheet music, paprika, wine, talcum powder that smelled like roses, sometimes a new blouse for me.

  “She always sends toothbrushes.” She grinned at Daniel and let out a giggle. “Do you need one? I have extras.” She sighed, still smiling. “I write her every week, but I’ll avoid visiting. If I did, someone would make me live there. I want to stay here.”

  She slowly surveyed the room. “We were very happy. I miss them all.” She took a deep breath then seemed to remember she wasn’t alone. “You may put your things in the large bedroom. Mine is the smaller room.”

  As if she couldn’t bear to settle for even a moment, she motioned with her hands for them to leave. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to set some dough to rise, and start that cherry pie. Daniel, why don’t you give your leg a rest? Just lay down on the bed or on the porch swing.” She nodded toward the book she’d given him. “Have you read Thoreau? Oh, and take these dogs with you, would you? They’re always underfoot.”

  For three days he rested, reading and watching from the porch swing as Hal mended the gate, carved shingles for the roof of the shed, chopped firewood, or tramped all over the valley providing rabbits and pheasants for their meals. Summer Rose, when she wasn’t smiling at Hal or raving about his expertise with a hammer or a shotgun, spent hours with Daniel, doing little things that suddenly meant so much more to him. She sat beside him, mending their clothes, pitting cherries, shelling peas, snapping beans, knitting socks. Her hands never idled. Between them, they talked of books and poetry, discovering they both liked Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar and Macbeth, as well as Dickens and Poe, especially The Raven. They were both well versed in guns and horses, and she spent time admiring his LeMat pistol and Spencer repeating rifle. She said Chester with his chestnut coat and flaxen mane was by far the most gorgeous horse she’d ever seen.

  She never said anything about it, but he knew she remembered their kiss, for its sweet quiver still hovered over them like a haunting melody. He no more could have excised that memory from his mind—not that he wanted to—than he could forget her face.

  On the fourth day, she handed walking sticks to both men and touched Daniel’s arm. “I believe you’re strong enough for a short hike.” She wore tan belted trousers, a long sleeved blue shirt, her bulky vest, and sturdy boots. Shouldering her knapsack, she led them up into the mountains as high as they c
ould go without ropes or picks.

  Partway up the mountain, the wind took her hat. Daniel snatched it from the air, but didn’t hand it back. “I like your hair blowing loose.” He folded the beat-up hat and tucked it in her pack. She shrugged easily and kept on, leading them halfway to the top of Switch Back Falls, where they stopped to survey the valley.

  Hal knew enough about law to ask. “Jack inherited the land?”

  She nodded. “He knows I love this valley. I’m sure he’s hoping I’ll fall for some fellow and run off, maybe to California or Brazil or—” Her eyes flashed with laughter. “Maybe Zanzibar, but I won’t.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “My home is here. I belong here.”

  In addition to her beauty, Daniel appreciated Summer Rose’s ease around men, which he supposed came from growing up with three brothers. For another, she was practical. Each morning and evening, she checked Daniel’s wound, applying more salve. They devised a routine where he wrapped himself up in a blanket before he dressed or just after he undressed, and she checked the wound.

  Now, as they climbed, Summer eyed Daniel’s leg every so often. When he tired, she stopped them high above the valley where the view of the patchwork quilt of fields and lake spread before them. They sat beside the tumbling water, and she pulled hardboiled eggs from her pack and tossed them each one, then spread a kitchen towel on the grass, setting several more eggs there. Next came a small board from her knapsack as well as the knife from the side of her boot, and she set about slicing bread, onions, white radishes, and tomatoes.

  His hands peeled the egg, but his eyes locked on her, and his heart beat like a drum just below his collarbone. If he swallowed too hard, he feared it might smash through his chest. His hands ached to touch her. She saw him watching her through his lashes and her face glowed pink. When her eyes met his, he could tell her breath caught. Over and over, their kiss came to mind.