Summer Burns

by Candice Gilmer

  What did she have to convince him so easily? I'd wondered all of our marriage, how had she swayed him, turned him against what we'd talked about. Because when it was all said and done, he was determined to go into the Army. No amount of convincing could change Jake's mind.

  And now, here she was, talking to Matthew.

  Giving him phone numbers.

  Did the woman just want to torture me? Take any guy I might actually like?

  It was enough to make me nuts.

  I needed to sort this before I made myself crazy.

  Yet with a house full of people, I wasn't sure when the best time would be. It seemed like every corner I turned, I ran into someone to talk to. People were laughing and smiling everywhere. Most of the men had migrated outside and had taken over the grilling.

  Really, it was where they all were talking and being guys.

  Matthew sat in a patio chair, talking to Nicole's husband, with Emma on his lap.

  Probably not the best time to have a private word with him. Anger and frustration boiled in me, and that tiny part of rational left inside knew I was being overly dramatic, but it couldn't seem to squelch the feelings surging through me. The more I thought about him talking to Shelby, the more I was certain he'd taken her number, well, because, he was ready to move on.

  I wouldn't give him a firm answer.

  Maybe that's the reason he came here in the first place--looking for me, for a future, a family, all that. Feeling that mortality, or whatever it was they felt when they came back to empty homes.

  He just was looking for a wife--and here I was, former, well, everything, packaged with a kid and all.

  I rubbed my head.

  "Good lord, even I'm sounding crazy to myself," I whispered. See? This is how nuts I get. I can get all sorts of crazy when I care, when I date.

  This is why I shouldn't date.

  A moment alone, away from all the people in the house seemed the best idea. I didn't want to fly off the handle at anyone, just because I've lost my damn mind. I slid down the hall to my bedroom and slipped inside.

  "Paula was just talking," I said to my empty room, and my gaze landed on a picture of me and Jake.

  "Wasn't she?" I asked the picture. I picked it up, and stroked the glass, staring at my husband's face. Smiling and laughing. It was taken when we'd gone on a last-minute camping trip, to have some time together before he left to go to Iraq again.

  Emma was conceived that weekend.

  Just looking at his face, I could see Emma, so clearly.

  So perfectly.

  "Oh Jake," I whispered. "I miss you so much." As the drama of dating, something I'd avoided since he died, seemed to crash down on me, I felt horrible. Tears fell onto the picture frame, and I brushed them away.

  "What the hell am I going to do, Jake?" I asked the picture. Sometimes, right after he died, I swear, I would look at his picture and I would feel him there, patting my shoulder, promising me that it would be okay, and that I would make it.

  Not in so many words, of course, because that would be creepy, but just that...

  That feeling.

  I knew that he watched over me and Emma.

  At least he used to. I hadn't felt him around in a long time, though. Maybe he'd--what do those psychics on TV call it--crossed over.

  Gone to Heaven.

  Left.

  A couple more tears poured down my face, missing my husband and the solidarity and strength that came from being married. While there were aspects I hated--happily alone came to mind--I loved being a unit. A team. I could go to him, upset and out of my mind over something and he'd get me through.

  Even from overseas, Jake could always calm me down.

  A knock made me jump, jerking me out of my jumbled thoughts. "Come in," I said, wiping my face while I glanced at the door.

  Matthew stopped in the doorway. I felt his eyes darting over me, over the scene, and I felt like I was being analyzed and mapped out.

  "Summer?" He crossed the threshold, like a man on a mission, but stopped cold just out of reach.

  "Yeah, hi." I sat the picture back down on my nightstand, straightened it to sit just right next to the flag.

  "Are you okay?"

  I nodded. Then I shook my head.

  "Which is it?"

  "I don't know," I said, my finger stroking the picture of Jake.

  "I see." There was something hard in his voice. Rough. Like he saw a lot more than just me sitting there on the bed.

  Maybe it was already over.

  Maybe he'd already called Shelby, and was just looking for a chance to tell me.

  "Did you get a phone number today at Target?" I asked him.

  "How did you know I was at Target?"

  "Answer the question."

  "You answer mine."

  I stood, and took a step across the room, just a little closer to him. "Paula. She saw you today, getting awfully friendly with another woman."

  He shook his head. "That is not what happened."

  I crossed my arms. "So explain it to me." My heart hammered in my chest, from adrenalin, fear, all those emotional things that I haven't felt in a long time, because, well, I was married, and I didn't have to deal with the dating thing and the jealousy thing and the doubt thing.

  Yet here I was.

  Dealing with it.

  Sucked so bad.

  "I shouldn't have to. You should trust me."

  I glanced at the picture of Jake. "Here it is. Completely plain, right in front of me. Why I don't want to get involved with anyone. Because I can't take this stupid bullshit drama."

  Matthew put his hands in his pockets, watching me. "So this between us, it's stupid?"

  "Yes."

  "I see." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, his gaze, now cold, finally turned away from me and glanced at the paper. Then he held it out to me. "You seem way more concerned about this than I am."

  I snagged the paper. Sure enough, it was Shelby's phone number.

  My stomach dropped, and I felt cold, all the way to my toes. "Were you going to call her?"

  "Don't know."

  "Do you want to?"

  "Don't know."

  "Well, what do you know?" I waved the piece of paper in the air. "Because this, still being in your pocket, tells me that you actually do know. And if you're intent on being with... with... her, then you can just see yourself out."

  He nodded and snagged the piece of paper from my hand, before he turned and walked out of my bedroom.

  He didn't slam the door.

  He didn't say a word.

  But even over the crowd of people, the talking and laughing and all the noise in the house, I could hear him drive away.

  And I swear, he took a piece of my soul with him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Wednesday

  Dino's Bar and Grill was not too busy tonight, unusual because right after work, it had a helluva happy hour crowd.

  The remnants of the vat of buffalo wings dominated the table, and Hennessey just stared at them, wondering if he could eat the last couple.

  "There's two left. Who gets them?" Ortiz asked.

  "Well, it's a difficult job, but someone has to do it," Miller said, reaching for them.

  Hennessey cleared his throat.

  Miller pushed the plate toward Hennessey.

  Hennessey laughed and pushed it back. "I don't need them." He leaned back and rubbed his belly.

  "Thanks Sarge," Miller said and started to wolf down the last wings.

  Ortiz sipped on his beer. "You ready to get done, Sarge?"

  Hennessey nodded. "Mostly." There was still a lot of shit he had to do, but time was getting closer and closer.

  "Staying here, or going back home?" Miller asked around a mouthful of food.

  "Going home."

  Miller tipped his head to the side. "Thought you might be staying."

  Hennessey raised his eyebrow. "Because?"

  "That little blondie you've been
seeing," Miller said.

  Ortiz rolled his eyes and smacked him upside the head. "Ignore the girl here."

  Hennessey smirked. "No, I'm not staying for her. Don't think she wants me to."

  "Why not?" Ortiz asked.

  "Thought you all were good," Miller said.

  "We were. And then we weren't." He wasn't going into details about the fight he'd had with Summer.

  Hell, he wasn't sure he understood what it was about, in any case. It was a fight. Yes. He knew that.

  But what, exactly the big deal was, he couldn't figure it out.

  So what if some woman had given him her number.

  Not like he can control that.

  "You all fight?"

  He shook his head, and then proceeded to tell them everything--the woman he'd been talking to at the store, then the fight he'd had with Summer.

  "What was the gal's name?" Ortiz asked.

  "I, uh..." He patted his pockets. "I can't remember. Marley. Something -eee at the end."

  "You don't think," Miller asked, glancing at Ortiz.

  "Shelby?" Ortiz asked.

  "What?" Hennessey asked.

  "Shelby, she, uh, has a reputation in town for dating military men. Especially married ones. She's broken up quite a few marriages over the years."

  Miller looked at Ortiz. "You're the one from around here. Isn't there a story? About her and some girl fighting way back in the day?"

  Ortiz nodded. "My big sister told me about it. Guess Shelby stole the gal's boyfriend, and they got into a fight under the bleachers."

  Hennessey sat up straighter. Bleachers? Surely not... "Wait. Who was the other gal?"

  "Uh, I can't remember. Something weird. Like Fruit or something. It was a goofy name."

  "Summer?" Hennessey said.

  "That's it, Summer," Ortiz said. "The way my sister talked about it, it was quite the deal."

  "Who was the guy?" Hennessey asked.

  "Don't know." Ortiz rubbed his head. "I think she wound up marrying the guy."

  "Who? Summer or Shelby?"

  "Summer."

  Hennessey nodded.

  Son of a bitch.

  Well that explained a lot.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Saturday

  "You absolutely are not going in there," Winter said, trying to arm-bar me from going into the waxing room.

  "Oh, you wanna bet?" I said, and I did the one thing that Winter couldn't dare resist--I tickled her on her rib.

  She jerked back, her blocking of the door gone, and I was able to slide past her and jump into the waxing room.

  I shut and locked the door before Winter could stop me.

  And I made Shelby jump in the process. Or maybe that was Winter banging on the door.

  "What the hell?" Shelby asked, hoping up from the table.

  "Where's Matthew?" I snapped

  "Who?"

  "Don't play dumb, Shelby. I know you hit on him last week. And now he's not returning my calls? I wasn't born yesterday." And I wasn't about to admit that the idea of Matthew spending time with Shelby--or hell, any woman at this point, but mostly Shelby--made me sick to my stomach.

  The stuff of nightmares.

  She put her hand on her hip. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm married. Did you forget?"

  "Doesn't seem to stop you from hitting on every guy in this damn city."

  "I've always flirted with everybody. This is not news," Shelby snapped. "What's your beef? Can't hold up your end of the bargain or something?" She took a step towards me, resting her hands on the waxing table in between us. "After all, I am, well, all that. You're just, uh, you. Which has never quite been enough, has it, Summer?"

  I kept the table between the two of us, because if I got any closer, I'd probably strangle her. Just because, you know, she's a bitch for trying twice to steal a man I wanted.

  And that was the crux of it--whether I wanted to admit it or not, I wanted Matthew. I... I felt a lot for him. Enough that the more I thought about him and Shelby, like it had been with Jake and Shelby, I wanted to throw up.

  Or break stuff.

  Right now, I'd settle on breaking her face.

  Did I love Matthew? I wasn't sure. But I sure as hell wasn't willing to share him with anyone.

  "Well, this isn't the bleachers, but I bet I can still beat the snot out of you."

  "And once again, Summer Jones can't handle a little competition." She said it with that head-rocking thing, and I expected her to try to snap her fingers in my face.

  How damn old school.

  I rolled my eyes and inched my way around the table. My fingers slid over the cart where the powders and lotions sat for waxing services. "I just wanna know one thing."

  "What?"

  "What in the hell did I ever do to you, that you had to try to steal every guy I've ever been interested in?"

  "I take what I want because I can. I always have."

  "And it always seems to be what I want."

  She blinked, her posture relaxing. "Seriously? You're still pissed off about Jake? Girl, you need some chamomile or something. That was like fifteen years ago on a lark."

  "This isn't about Jake!" I snapped.

  "Well, then what is it? Because, I hate to break it to you, but you are not that damn important in my life."

  "If I'm not, then why is it the first guy I start spending time with since he died, and you have to try to hook up with? I mean, seriously, he meets you, and I haven't heard from him all week? Sounds awfully suspicious."

  "Regardless of what you may believe, my life doesn't revolve around how I can make your life miserable."

  "Well you do a pretty damn good job of it without trying."

  "What the fuck ever. I don't even know who you're talking about."

  "Sure you don't. Matthew Hennessey. Tall. Dark hair. Army man."

  "And I thought you hated the military life. That's what Jake said, anyway. Why he never talked to you about his desire to enlist. He said you wouldn't listen to him. Didn't matter if he wanted it, it wasn't what you wanted. I just told him he'd look good in uniform."

  And that's it.

  That's when I lost my friggin' mind, right there, in the wax room at the beauty shop. Jake's joining the military had been a point of contention between us from the day he signed up. I didn't want him fighting in wars. I'd told him that over and over.

  I begged him.

  I pleaded with him.

  Hell, I promised him sexual favors if he wouldn't sign up.

  Then he started talking to Shelby, and poof, he's in the Army.

  I had always suspected she had encouraged Jake, but he would never admit to it.

  "He's dead. Because. Of. You." I grabbed the nearest item, a little decorative candle, and hurled it at her.

  Shelby ducked. "You are fuck-nuts crazy." She grabbed a couple of cups and hurled them back. "I didn't tell him to do anything!"

  I hurled a plastic container full of cotton swabs. "Then why'd he go? Why'd he do it?"

  "Because he wanted to!" She dodged my throw--not hard since I always sucked at throwing things--and hurled a balled up towel at me. "He wasn't a baby. He could make up his own mind, Summer. Men do that! They can choose!"

  And then it was on.

  Things thrown.

  Glass shattered.

  Baby powder flying.

  I stopped when it came to the wax pot--throwing hot wax could not be good.

  And I learned that Shelby's kickboxing class had nothing on the grappling skills I learned from all the wrestling matches I watched in school. I had her in a headlock on the floor when the door opened.

  Winter, Mom, Autumn, assorted other staff, all stared at us. Powder floated in the room, giving everything a hazy white dusting.

  "What?" I panted as I started to release Shelby.

  "Summer, have you lost your mind?" Mom stared at me, and while I'd only seen that look a time or two in my lifetime, I knew it.

  It wasn't good.


  She was about to go absolutely medieval on me...

  This was not going to be pretty. Nope, not in the slightest. And from the look on Winter's face, I was pretty sure she was going to help Mom rip me up one end and down the other.

  I looked at Shelby, and she looked at me. Both of us were covered in baby powder, our hair gray, our faces alabaster.

  I couldn't help it. I started laughing.

  So did Shelby. Not just giggles, but those teenage girl explosions of laughter that make no sense to anyone around except the people laughing, and even then, they don't always know why they're laughing.

  They just are.

  Then it happened. Because my asthma's a bitch, my laughter turned to wheezing. This one came on fast, too. Because one second I was fine, panting from being out of breath, but otherwise fine. And then I was in full blown asthma attack.

  My hands shook and my chest ached, and I had that momentary panic, wondering if I would ever get air in again. The room started spinning and the floor started getting closer and closer to my face until I hit it with a smack.

  "Oh my god, is she okay?" Shelby said. "What did I do?" The woman was crying, that much I could hear. Of course, she was sobbing on the floor next to me.

  I felt someone shove the rescue inhaler in my mouth.

  I breathed.

  In and out.

  In.

  In...

  Ahh...

  The air started to move again. I must have looked pretty bad, because when I started breathing again, so did everyone else.

  "I'm okay," I managed to croak out.

  "That's good," Mom said. "Because right now, Summer Bettes, I am so mad at you, little girl! You have destroyed this wax room!" And off she went.

  I felt like I was two. Of course, as I looked around the room, I knew I deserved every yell and scream that my mom said.

  "And you're lucky that Shelby here doesn't sue us--" Mom's lecture was cut off by Shelby.

  "I'm not going to sue you," she said. "If anything, I'll help you clean."

  I glanced at her. "You don't have to do that."

  "No, I think I do," Shelby said.

  ~*~

  It's amazing what a fight, baby powder and cleaning with your nemesis will do for your relationship.