One Reckless Summer

by Toni Blake

  In the short silence that followed, a TV announcer declared, “And this one belongs to the Reds!” They both looked up to find that the game was over and fireworks were exploding over Great American Ball Park, although you could barely see them in the daylight.

  Reaching for the remote by Wayne’s bed, Mick turned off the TV, then reached down and flipped on the boom box he’d brought from home. The radio blared with that Tommy Tutone song from the eighties—about a girl named Jenny.

  Wayne hadn’t replied, but Mick wasn’t sorry he’d said it. And he was about to stand up and take some garbage to the kitchen when Wayne said, “What do you love now?”

  “Jenny, Jenny” flowed from the radio and Mick tried to tune it out of his mind a little—he even reached down to lower the volume. “I don’t know. I…like my work. I like…” What else? What else was big enough for him to put on a list of things he truly loved? He couldn’t think of anything.

  “The girl?” Wayne asked. “Jenny Tolliver.”

  Mick blinked, then turned his gaze on his brother. “Do I love her? Hell, man…it’s just…you know, sex.”

  “Liar,” Wayne said confidently.

  Did it show on his face? His feelings for Jenny, his need for her? “I’m not saying I don’t care for her, but…love’s a damn big word. I haven’t known her that long.”

  “What? You’ve had a hard-on for her since we were teenagers.”

  Mick laughed. “That’s different than knowing somebody.”

  “It’s a good start, though. So…you think you could love this girl?”

  Still freaked out at the very suggestion, Mick shook his head. “She lives across the lake and her dad’s the chief of police. You do the math.”

  “I didn’t ask what the problems were—I asked if you could love her.”

  Shit. He’d had to go and bring up love, of all the damn things in the world, hadn’t he? This is what he got for being honest with Wayne, just saying what he felt. But now they weren’t talking about him loving Wayne, they were talking about Jenny. His chest tightened with…the truth…and how hard it was to think about it…and how hard it was to admit it. “In a different place and time…maybe.”

  “Thing is,” Wayne said, letting his eyes fall shut, looking suddenly like he’d drift off any moment, “I’d feel better dying if I thought I wouldn’t be leaving you…completely alone.”

  “Don’t worry about me, bro. I’ve been alone awhile now, and I get by all right.”

  And he waited for Wayne to argue with him, to keep pressing him about this, but he went completely quiet and Mick realized he’d fallen asleep.

  Well, good. The medicine was making Wayne…unpredictable suddenly. Or maybe, like he’d thought before, it was death making his brother that way. Whatever the case, he was glad the subject was closed. He wanted Jenny, he craved Jenny, he fantasized about Jenny whenever they were apart, and he looked forward to the time when he’d see Jenny again. But none of that equaled love. He wouldn’t know that kind of love if it slapped him in the face anyway.

  And he didn’t even want to. What he’d just told Wayne was true—he’d learned to be alone. After their parents had died, after Wayne had gone to prison. And the truth about being alone for Mick was—in his life, it felt safer that way, and he liked it just fine. Jenny was…comfort. But whenever this was over, he’d be good and ready to throw his stuff back in the truck and head back to Cincinnati—alone.

  Under the Covers occupied an old two-story building painted sage green with cream trim on Destiny’s Town Square

  . A sign in the window announced a book club meeting on Tuesday night. When Jenny and Sue Ann stepped inside, the wonderful smell of books met Jenny’s nose.

  A large tabby cat bounded silently from a high bookshelf to land on the counter, and Jenny heard Amy scold, “Watch it, Shakespeare,” just before she looked up to exclaim, “Hey, you finally stopped by to see the place!”

  “Wow, great store,” Jenny said, and she meant it. The space immediately felt warm and cozy, dotted with overstuffed easy chairs and braided rugs. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

  “We have an outdoor patio in back, too,” Amy boasted with a smile as she rounded the counter to greet Jenny and Sue Ann. “The book club meets there in good weather—although lately it’s been so hot we’ve opted to stay inside.”

  Jenny’s eyes dropped to the cat, who’d made its way to the floor and had just woven through her ankles before hopping up to settle in one of the chairs. “What’s with the cat?” The truth was that it had felt oddly…comforting simply to have a cat rub up against her, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in ages.

  “Want him?” Amy asked. “He just started hanging around about a month ago, so I started feeding him so he wouldn’t starve, and—of course—now he won’t leave. I started calling him Shakespeare because he seems to sleep in that particular section a lot. But he’s officially up for adoption, so what do you say?” Amy’s eyebrows lifted hopefully.

  Yet Jenny quickly balked. “Uh, don’t look at me. I’m only in town for the summer.” Even if, in some way, the idea appealed. Of having a cat around again. Kind of. Except…pets never lasted. A fleeting thought of Snowball passed through her mind.

  Amy shrugged. “I’m sure he’d be happy wherever you end up.”

  But Jenny just laughed and shoved the idea aside, because it was easier that way. God knew she had enough on her mind already. “Why don’t you adopt him? You’re a cat person, if I recall.”

  “No can do,” Amy said with complete certainty. “Mr. Knightley would never allow it.”

  Now it was Jenny who raised her eyebrows. According to Sue Ann, neither Amy nor Tessa had ever married, nor had Rachel. “Mr. Knightley?”

  “My cat at home,” Amy said. “He’s very possessive of me. And he doesn’t play well with others.”

  Just then, Tessa popped out from between two tall shelving units carrying a stack of books in her arms. “You have to forgive Amy,” she explained by way of saying hello. “She’s very into her cat. And she reads way too much Jane Austen—hence the cat’s name.”

  Amy rolled her eyes in protest. “May I point out that it’s technically impossible to read too much Jane Austen? She only wrote six books.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes right back. “Well, then…” She shifted her gaze to Jenny and Sue Ann. “She re-reads too much Jane Austen.”

  “I like Jane Austen,” Sue Ann offered cautiously.

  “Sure, we all do,” Tessa said. “But do you have pets named after her characters?”

  “Well, okay, maybe I see your point,” Sue Ann replied, and Amy crossed her arms and tried to look put out.

  “Enough about my cat already,” she said, “and on to another matter of importance. Jenny, are you going to join my book club?” An encouraging smile spread across her face.

  “Oh, gosh,” Jenny hedged, “I’d love to…except my summer reading probably isn’t what your customers would enjoy. Stephen Hawking? Brian Greene?”

  Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “Brian Greene? Isn’t he a science guy, too?”

  “Another of her physicist idols,” Sue Ann clarified for the girls.

  “So you’re still all into astronomy, huh?” Tessa asked.

  “Afraid so. Even though I know it sometimes makes me hard to socialize with,” Jenny said on a laugh.

  Tessa shrugged. “We’ll still socialize with you—but we just won’t read with you.”

  “It’s a shame, though,” Amy added, “because I’ve even gotten some guys to start coming to the book club lately.”

  And at this, Jenny let out a harrumph. “Well, then all the better reason for me to stay away. Guys are the last thing I’m interested in this summer.” Other than a criminal I met in the woods, that is.

  Amy responded by lowering her chin and looking as if she knew all. “But have you seen Adam Becker lately? He’s looking very fine. And he promised me he’d come next week.”

  “Because you browbeat
him,” Tessa pointed out.

  Jenny let her eyes go wide with exasperation. “What is it with everyone wanting to fix me up with Adam Becker? I’m so not interested.”

  “Logan Whitaker then?” Amy asked. Jenny searched her memory and remembered Logan being Amy’s neighbor when they were growing up—sort of like a brother to her.

  “No thank you,” she said with a smidge of extra emphasis. “Nothing against Logan, but…”

  Yet Amy would not be quelled. “How about Mike Romo? Though he’s a little older than us, he’s a cop and works for your dad, so you probably know him.”

  “No, I don’t know Mike Romo. I mean, I remember him a little from when we were young, but—”

  “He’s majorly hot,” Amy informed her in a voice designed to entice.

  Which made Tessa roll her eyes. “And he’d never darken the door of your book club in a thousand years, and that’s probably good, because most people think he’s a jerk.”

  “Jerk schmerk,” Sue Ann said. “He looks good on the softball field.” She glanced to Jenny. “He and Jeff play on the same team.”

  Despite the unwelcome topic of conversation, the more they talked, the more it felt like old times to Jenny—in a good way. Amy had possessed a matchmaking streak even back when they were young, and it reminded Jenny that, at heart, most people didn’t change very much, which was kind of reassuring.

  Except for Mick, of course. He had changed. She truly believed that, more and more each day. And maybe that was healthy for her in more ways than one, because she needed something good to believe in this summer.

  And the more they talked and gossiped and giggled, the more she reimmersed herself in the simple ease of being one of the girls, there rose a tiny, immature part of her that wished she could just tell Amy and Tessa everything about Mick, just as she’d told Sue Ann. But she couldn’t, of course.

  Such was the hell of living…well, almost a double life. By day she was “good Jenny” Tolliver, and by night she was Mick Brody’s lover. She tingled a bit in her panties just thinking about it, about him.

  “Why the wicked little grin?” Tessa asked suddenly, and Jenny flinched, wanting to smack herself for it.

  “Grin? What grin?” She blinked nervously.

  Then Amy narrowed her gaze and lowered her chin, looking a little like Sherlock Holmes about to solve a case. “You’ve got a secret,” she said slowly, surely. “A secret…man.”

  Holy God. “What?” she gasped. “That’s crazy.” Next to her, Sue Ann made a choking sound, then broke into a light coughing fit.

  Tessa, who had long since set down the books she’d held, stepped over to slap Sue Ann on the back, laughing a bit at the whole situation—then turned her eyes back on Jenny. “You know, I’m not usually one to dig for this sort of thing like Miss-Jane-Austen-is-my-life over here,” she said, motioning to Amy, “but if I do say so myself, you look completely suspicious right now. Your face is even turning red.”

  “It’s the sun,” she said quickly. “I’m overly sensitive to it. Ask Sue Ann.”

  “It’s true,” Sue Ann said, finally getting her voice back. “It comes over her very suddenly sometimes, just from as little sun as you’d get, say…walking here from the café, like we just did.”

  Jenny became aware that she and Sue Ann were both nodding, so she stopped, in an attempt to look natural. As if there was a prayer of that at this point.

  “It’s okay,” Amy said, sounding sly. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But I’m sure we’ll figure out who it is eventually.”

  And Jenny’s stomach churned. She didn’t think it was possible they could find out, but she didn’t even like the idea of anyone snooping around the topic. “Amy, my husband just dumped me—what on earth would I want with a guy right now?”

  “Um, I think you just answered your own question, Jen,” Tessa said. “Your husband just dumped you. Why wouldn’t you want another guy right now?”

  “Because I’m so not ready to date.” But I am apparently ready to have a lot of sex. “And because I’m still recovering.” And sex, it turns out, helps a lot with that. “And…who in the world could I possibly be seeing in Destiny who you wouldn’t know about?” Besides the scary guy across the lake who no one knows is here.

  Thankfully, that last argument seemed to hold some water with Amy and Tessa. “You do know everything that’s going on with everyone,” Tessa pointed out to Amy.

  “True,” Amy agreed, then looked to Jenny. “So I guess that lets you off the hook—for now. But I still think you’ve got a secret.”

  Swell. Just what she needed. It was bad enough to have a secret—much worse when people started figuring that out and wanting to know what it was.

  Jenny felt good.

  Mostly.

  Okay, so Amy’s accusations this afternoon had made her nervous. Now she knew a little something about how Mick had felt when she’d been prying into his secret. But by the time she’d left the store, they’d talked about lots of other things and Jenny was hopeful that Amy had forgotten all about it.

  And except for the fact that it was too warm in the house—the A/C was acting up again. As her dad worked on it some more, she sat in the living room, reading—and wondering when Mick would come again.

  That was part of why she was feeling so good. Since deciding it was okay to have a wild affair with Mick, she truly felt…all grown-up about it, in control of the situation, and like a woman of her own. Even if Mick was technically breaking the law.

  And she was starting to enjoy socializing again. Catching up with her old friends had been good for her soul. Even if Amy was too intuitive for her own good.

  At home, she’d taken more control, too. She’d followed through on getting a new comforter set on the bed, along with coordinating curtains, and the place felt much cozier to her, much more like her own little summer bedroom. She’d planted some of the last impatiens available at the garden store under a tree in the side yard, and she was thinking of repainting the rocker on the front porch. If she got really ambitious, she might update the living room a little, too. The truth was, dismantling the shrine had given the whole house new life in her eyes, a new beginning, something she thought both she and the cottage needed.

  “Feelin’ any cooler in there?” her father yelled from the other room.

  She contemplated the question. “Maybe. I think so.” Whereas a few minutes ago she’d been on the verge of sweltering even after changing into thin cotton shorts and a tank, now she only felt slightly too warm.

  “Think I got her fixed again,” he said, and when she heard him shut the door to the laundry room, went to meet him in the kitchen. She found him wiping his hands on a rag, yet looking doubtful. “But if this keeps up, I may have to call somebody to look at it who knows what they’re doin’. I’m just tinkerin’ around and gettin’ lucky, but for all I know, we need to put in a whole new unit.”

  “Oh Dad, no,” she said instantly. Because she knew that would cost a lot. And her father wasn’t made of money, especially given that he owned two houses without having a particularly good reason, other than not wanting to part with the one he’d shared with her mom. “I’m only here for the summer—I wouldn’t want you to go to all that expense.”

  But her dad was shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter how long you’re here for—a house has gotta have air.” He reached in the fridge for a can of Sprite, which she’d taken to keeping on hand especially for him, and at the same time, he changed the subject. “Betty asked me to invite you to the Fourth of July picnic at their place. Comin’ up in just a few days, ya know.”

  Oh. Was it July already? Actually, that had totally escaped her. Her life had been filled with fireworks of a different kind lately, and her focus had been on other things than the calendar. “That sounds nice,” she said.

  “Most everybody we know goes there now. And I think some of your old girlfriends will be there, too.”

  Back when Jenny was a kid, he
r parents had hosted the annual Fourth of July get-together. But after her mom’s death, the tradition had ended, and Betty and Ed hadn’t started having their party until after Jenny had left home. “Tell them I’ll be there, and please ask Betty to let me know what I can bring.”

  After a swig of his soda, he smiled. “Knew you’d say that, so I already volunteered your lemon bars.”

  “Great,” she said. “One batch of lemon bars, coming up.”

  That’s when Jenny’s dad meandered into the living room with the words, “Think I need to take a load off for a few minutes before I head home.”

  But he didn’t take a load off—instead, he stopped dead in his tracks just inside the doorway. “What happened to your mother’s picture?” he asked, clearly aghast. “What happened to all her pictures?”

  * * *

  We make our world significant by the courage of our questions and by the depth of our answers.

  Carl Sagan

  * * *

  Ten

  Oh hell. Maybe she’d gone too far putting them all away. And she’d worried how her dad would react, but she’d—foolishly, it appeared—hoped he wouldn’t make a big deal of it. She’d already gotten so used to them being gone that she’d sort of forgotten he didn’t know about it yet. Now she realized she needed to handle this gently.

  “Dad,” she said, stepping up in front of him to make eye contact, “I took them down. They were making me think too much about her death. So they’re up in the spare bedroom, but I’ll put them all back before I leave.”

  She thought she’d explained clearly and succinctly in a way anyone could comprehend, but her dad still looked dumbfounded.

  “Dad,” she began again, “please tell me you’re not mad at me and that you understand.”

  He shook his head, looking a bit helpless for a man who wore a badge. “I’m not mad at you, honey, but…I can’t say I really understand.”

  Jenny sighed. “Let’s sit down, okay?” she suggested, and led the way by planting herself on the couch. Her father followed suit, and she tried again. “I felt like…this room was stuck in time, like it needed a change. It was no disrespect to Mom, but I…felt her—too much. In fact, I was thinking—this would be a good time for me to paint the walls, since they definitely need it.” She pointed to the darker blue square where the big portrait had hung. “And I thought I might buy some new curtains.”