How long she sat there crying the scab off of years of hurt, she wasn’t certain. Her face felt swollen, her throat raw, barely able to catch her breath. She was soaked, but it mattered not a whit against exorcising the years lost with her grandfather, and the fight with Tom, and the block of her artistry, and the fact that she had one friend and no life outside those parameters.
Headlights split the night along with the growl of an engine. A black truck pulled into the driveway and her heart seized.
Tom.
He got out and jogged up the walk, stopping when he saw her sitting there in the dark. He stood motionless in the rain and became soaked like she was.
She found her voice, raspy yet clear. “Why are you back?”
He shrugged. “I’m a fool.”
She struggled to see his eyes through the rain and darkness.
“My fool,” she finally said. It was the only words he needed. He stepped to her and pulled her off the step and across the porch into the house.
They dripped on the floor. They must have.
But his mouth was on hers, hot and demanding. Without thought, the woman she wanted to be rose up to meet him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tom rose before Summer was awake and left. He should have stayed away Friday night. He should have left sometime during the weekend. But the yearning wasn’t to be denied.
Restless at home after their fight, he’d taken a drive—a short one right back to Summer’s house. A night with her against him was as necessary as sunrise. A passionate weekend spent avoiding the division, one to hold in memory. This morning, he didn’t want to face the disagreement. It had nothing to do with Monday, and had everything to do with forever.
At home, he quickly showered, the relentless question of whether he could leave Echo Falls to be a part of Summer’s life butting against his love of his family and his job. By the time he’d finished dressing and consuming a half a pot of coffee, he was driving himself stark raving mad. He went on duty and met Bret at the firing range for some training time with two other officers. Here, at least, he managed to keep his mind on business…until Bret divulged Summer’s confrontation with Miranda Watson.
Tom looked up from inspecting his gun. “She what?”
Bret lifted his weapon from his bag. “She must have been off her meds. Wasn’t making much sense. Rambling on and on about Summer needing to leave.”
“Summer never said anything.” Of course, considering the topic of conversation over the weekend, or lack thereof, it wasn’t surprising that she’d forgotten.
“Clem called when he saw what was going on. I intervened. Had Carmen take her to Doc Garrison. Summer said she was all right.”
End of report, except Tom couldn’t get the news off his mind. Lunchtime came, and all he could think was to grab a couple burgers, go scoop up Summer, and talk.
The talk part was the problem though. Instead, he stalled. He parked in front of the courthouse and went in search of Howard Snidely. According to his wife, he was meeting with Mayor Helen at noon on a matter of utmost concern.
“She doesn’t waste any time,” Tom muttered. He took the steps two at a time, waving at the gardener before entering the building and going up the back stairs to his mother’s office, which was empty. The only other place she could be was in the council chambers, an elaborate word for a simple conference room at the end of the hall.
The door was open, and the low buzz of conversation stopped when he appeared in the door. His mother smiled at him from across the room.
“Tom, what a nice surprise.”
Jonathan Freeman and Howard Snidely sat on either side of her at the end of the table. “Am I interrupting?” Tom rounded the table, shaking Jonathan’s hand on the way by.
“We can take a break.” Helen stood and kissed his cheek. “You need something, dear, or is this just a social call?”
“I needed to talk to Mr. Snidely for a moment, if I can borrow him.”
“I paid those parking tickets, Tom.” Howard guffawed at their usual joke.
The man hadn’t changed in all the years Tom had known him. With gray hair and a crew-cut style that went out in 1969, he looked forty-five, but he had to be closing in on retirement. He wore a bright gold shirt with a striped black tie, Echo Falls Mustang colors—his usual attire.
“That’s not what Eleanor says, Howard.” Tom stuck to his standard line too.
“My beloved wife has been known to be in error on occasion,” he whispered in an aside that made Jonathan chuckle. He was smitten with Mrs. Snidely and had been for thirty-five years.
Helen pointed her finger at him. “You better not let her hear you, Howard, or you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for a week.”
“I hear you, Helen. Well, Tom, what did you need me for?”
“It’s about Summer’s paintings.” He gave Jonathan a questioning look.
“No, I didn’t say anything about it. We’ve been talking about the new idea.” Jonathan eased back in his chair.
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to return a phone call.” His mother wrapped an arm around Tom for a hug and disappeared down the hall to her office.
Tom pulled out a chair and sat. “Summer’s having a problem we thought you might be able to help with.”
“It sure is nice to have her back in town. Such a success she’s made of herself. I’m happy to help.” Howard looked from Tom to Jonathan.
Tom cleared his throat, speaking his thoughts with careful deliberation. “Someone from town is copying Summer’s paintings.”
Howard frowned. “Forgeries? How many?”
Tom looked at Jonathan, not sure they needed to be specific. Jonathan answered him. “Several. They are appearing all over the country.”
Howard shook his head in confusion. “What do you need from me?”
“A list of anyone you’ve taught, or know of in town, who might have the talent to do this,” Tom said.
“So you think this is someone in town? Why?”
Tom decided to put the facts before the man. “Because the paintings that have been duplicated are all from her high school years, not anything anyone would have seen anywhere except here in Echo Falls.”
Howard was silent for a long while, tapping his finger on the table. “I can think of several people who might have the ability to duplicate her subject matter, but not to the extent they’d be taken as an original Summer LeFey.”
“These are so damn close it’s been a challenge identifying them,” Jonathan admitted.
“I’ll need some time to develop a list. Several students in those years around Summer’s were talented, but I’ll need to look at the yearbooks and my old grade books to come up with a definitive list. Give me a couple of days.”
“That’ll help.” Tom stood, prepared to leave. “I’ll let you get back to your meeting then. I have to pick up Summer to go check Mrs. Heigl’s painting.”
Jonathan stopped him with a wave of his hand. “Did you talk to Summer this morning?”
Tom shook his head. Technically, he hadn’t talked to her. A visit to Mrs. Heigl’s was a plan they’d made Friday before dinner at his grandmother’s, before their big blow-up, before he’d been stripped raw from their lovemaking.
“She’s painting. Might check with her and see what her plan is?”
Surprised, he nodded. She’d been asleep sprawled across the width of the bed when he’d left. When had she woken and grabbed her paintbrushes? And what was she painting this time?
He shrugged. “I’ll do that.”
He waved at his mother, deep in conversation with her assistant, as he passed her office and trotted down the stairs. He could call Summer, give her a moment to prepare for him to drop in, and yet, he didn’t.
He drove to her house, made his way up the walk. The front door was unlocked—a fact he’d be talking to her about—and went up the stairs. She stood with her back to him in her painting room. She’d rearranged the furniture, shoving the day
bed to the corner and moving the dressers to accommodate her easel. The area no longer qualified as her grandmother’s sewing room. She’d made the space hers without even realizing it.
Tom leaned against the doorframe and watched. She stood before the two-by-four foot painting, feet planted as if to anchor herself, chewing on the end of her paintbrush. Her ratty jean shorts showed off her long legs and rounded backside, reminding him he’d had his hands molded to the soft flesh last night.
The painting illustrated the lightning storm from Friday night against the everyday plainness of the houses across the street. Mrs. Patch’s potted red geraniums stood in stark contrast against the night and the lightning flashed against the sky. It was dark, eerie, and compelling.
“Arrk!” Summer shrieked. Her hand slapped against her breasts. “Darn it, Tom. Don’t scare me like that.”
“You really should lock the front door.”
“You disappeared this morning.” Her lips closed making a tight line, as if she was trapping any more words.
“I had to work.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes.
He ran a hand over his head. “Ah hell, that’s not true. I didn’t know what to say to you when you woke. I did have to work, but it wasn’t why I left. I just don’t want to fight with you, Summer.”
“We can’t leave this sitting between us and pretending it isn’t there. I’m going to have to leave soon.” She dropped her brush in a half-filled pint jar that smelled like turpentine. The rag she wiped her hands on was splashed with more color than her shorts.
“We can. For today.” His words were more vehement than he intended, but he didn’t want to lose her yet. “Why didn’t you tell me about Miranda?”
“Forgot, until this morning. Other things on my mind.” She walked toward him, hesitantly, an action that nearly killed him.
“Want to tell me about it?” He pulled her into his arms and rested his head on hers.
“Not much to tell,” she said against his chest. “She must be having some mental issues. We never really got along. She stalked me, copied me, made my life miserable.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” He stroked her back.
She dropped her arms. “You can’t be everywhere, Tom. It worked out.”
He knew this. He did. But not being there for her put him out of sorts. “Can you leave this? I told Mrs. Heigl we’d be by this afternoon.”
“Yeah, let me change.” She slipped around him and went into the bathroom, shutting the door. The water turned on.
Disappointment swamped him. There’d been a time only a few days ago when they’d shared that shower together. She wouldn’t deny him if he followed, but he was rubbed raw. Instead, he avoided temptation and went outside to the porch, waiting in the heat and the humidity of the day.
Summer joined him, dressed in a sassy red, diamond patterned sundress and matching heel sandals. Her hair was clipped on the top of her head in a sexy, mussed up style. He wanted to push his fingers through it and muss it up more. He inhaled and caught a sweet scent, lavender maybe, and knew he was lost.
No matter what he did, he couldn’t make her stay, he could never be sure if he’d be able to go, and this need that gripped him from heart to groin would never leave him be—awake or in dreams.
The drive was silent, so much so that after three blocks, Tom reached over and laced his fingers through hers. She didn’t pull away, so he let the quiet be. Another three miles, and he was on the other side of town by the elementary school, parking in front of a small, one-story white brick house. The curtain dropped on the front window, an obvious sign the former teacher was waiting for them.
Mrs. Heigl had been the high school English teacher in Echo Falls for forty years. Tom had her for a teacher twice, sophomore and junior English. Nearly every adult native to town had been influenced by Mrs. Heigl’s positivity. Retired five years, she still kept her finger in the education pot as the tutor for the high school GED program and an honorary school board member.
She came out on the porch and gave them a wave. Her white dress with small purple flowers was in keeping with her usual flower attire.
“God, she never changes.” Summer waved back and waited for Tom to turn off the engine before opening her door.
“Must have been a time when she didn’t have gray hair, but I don’t remember it,” he mused. Tom opened his door and got out, waiting for Summer to round the truck, then he took her hand. “Mr. Heigl died about three years ago. She was a lost soul for a while, but then she bounced back.”
He could see that sobered Summer, but he didn’t want her blundering into the situation unaware. They reached the small porch, and Mrs. Heigl beamed at them both. “Summer LeFey, lands sake girl, but you turned into a beauty.”
Summer stepped forward and hugged the old woman. “Nice to see you, Mrs. Heigl. You look wonderful too.”
“Come in the house, out of this heat. Storms this weekend didn’t help.” She led them into her house. The small living room was immaculate with worn, loved furniture. The latest bestseller lay open on the footstool. A black cat eyed them from the back of the sofa. Above the sofa was another of Summer’s paintings, this one smaller than all the others they’d seen.
Mrs. Heigl saw the direction of their gaze. “Your grandfather gave it to me. That’s what you’re here for, right?”
“Yes,” Summer said. She released his hand and stepped to the painting.
Her back straightened, and that was all it took for Tom to know. “How did you come by this painting, Mrs. Heigl?” he asked.
“Oh, Walter insisted I have it. You know he and my Byron were good friends.”
“I didn’t know that.” Tom watched Summer lift the edge of the painting and peer on the back. She looked at him, misery in her eyes, and shook her head.
“I wanted to argue with him, but when I went to visit him to protest, he wasn’t having a good day, so I decided to leave it be. Seemed petty to argue at that point.”
“He was pretty stubborn about giving them to who he thought deserved one.” Tom felt bad for what they were going to have to tell her.
“Why did you need to check?”
Summer stepped into the conversation. “I have bad news on that. Someone’s been forging my art. I decided it was prudent to check all of them. I’m sorry, Mrs. Heigl. This one isn’t mine. It’s a fake.”
“Oh dear, are you sure?” The normally unflappable teacher paled, wringing her hands.
Summer reached over and took her hands. “Yes, I’m so sorry. I’ll need to take it, but I’m more than happy to replace it with something more personal. Tell me what your favorite Echo Falls scene is, and I’ll paint one just for you.”
The teacher shook off her reaction. “Well, isn’t that sweet, but you don’t need to do that.”
“I want to. Please tell me.”
She tapped a finger against her lips. “Well I guess I’ve always loved Main Street right at the cusp of the 4th of July parade.”
Summer smiled, cheered by the memory. “That’s what I’ll do.”
Mrs. Heigl clapped her hands. “That will be marvelous, although I really liked this one. Not yours, huh?” She squinted at the painting.
Tom removed it from the wall.
They sat through iced tea and cookies. Mrs. Heigl wanted to hear all about Summer’s experiences at college, her travels, and her paintings. Summer obliged, but kept her eye on Tom. She didn’t want him to feel like she was rubbing his nose in her life. His face was blank, his manner polite, so she couldn’t glean a clue. It was a relief when he indicated they had to leave.
Summer hugged her old teacher. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished with your painting.”
“I do appreciate the trouble you’re going to. It seems like you could just have not told me. I would have never known.”
“I can’t leave paintings out there that are a flagrant imitation of mine.”
“I certainly can understand that.” She
trailed them to the door. “Come visit again soon.”
Summer paused, stunned by a thought. This afternoon’s tea reminded her there were a few people here in Echo Falls whom she’d missed over the years away. They’d meant something to her.
“I will,” she promised to the woman and to herself.
££££££
Tom carefully put the painting in the back seat of the truck and waited for Summer to say her goodbyes. When she joined him at the curb, he helped her into the truck and closed the door. A car passed them by, and he looked up in time to see his father in the passenger seat of a car driven by a woman he recognized.
Bill was laughing like they were carefree kids. Then he leaned and kissed the lady’s cheek. Tom’s mood soured even further.
What the hell was his father doing kissing Marla Spooner?
Tom drove on automatic pilot, anxiety and fury riding him in equal measures. Summer reached for his hand this time, leaving him to brood. He thought things were on the way to being worked out between his parents. Maybe that wasn’t the case.
“Do you want to join me for dinner? I don’t cook much, but I dial a mean pizza.” Summer’s voice startled him from his swirling thoughts.
He looked at his watch. “I have choir practice in an hour or so. Can I take a rain check?”
She gave him a half-smile. “Choir practice?”
“Yeah, Methodist Church.”
“Why haven’t you ever sung for me?”
Tom gave her a crooked smile. “I had other things on my mind. I’ll rectify the oversight as soon as possible.” He swung the truck into the driveway and pushed the gearshift into park.
Summer leaned over and kissed his cheek. He turned his face before she could move away and captured her mouth, kissing her thoroughly before she broke away and opened the door.
He reached for the handle to walk her to the front door.
Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set Page 61