Hot Summer

by Judy Powell

  “Summer.” Brian’s voice brought her back to the present and she turned towards him.

  “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  She sighed then smiled wryly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just not looking forward to humiliating myself.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The big man put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Just do it, get it over with, and move on. You want to keep this job, right?”

  “You know I do.” She sighed again. “Alright, I’ll do it. But I hope to God I never set eyes on that woman again as long as I live.”

  As she turned to go Brian stopped her. “Hey, Summer.”

  “Yes?”

  “You were joking when you said you didn’t know who Monisha Stone was, right?”

  “No, I wasn’t. Who says I have to know every singer in this city? Knowing them won’t put money in my pocket.”

  Shaking his head, Brian grinned then turned back to the chicken on his chopping board. “Girl, you need a life.”

  She shook a playful fist at him then flounced through the door.

  The apology came hard for Summer. She felt she would choke on every word. As she spoke she stared at a spot above the woman’s head, refusing to make eye contact with her tormentor. She held her body rigid and inside she was seething but she kept her voice calm and steady and forced herself to speak until she had exhausted the words she had quickly rehearsed.

  When it was finally over she looked down and found herself staring straight into the amused dark eyes of Lance Munroe. A slight smile softened his firm lips and as he lounged in his chair, watching her through half closed eyes, she had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her. She felt hot blood rise to her face and she bit hard on her lower lip and clenched her fist at her side. After seeing the way he was looking at her she felt angrier still, even more than when she was in the middle of her apology to the woman who now sat staring at her, smiling smugly.

  Totally ignoring the woman and the two men who sat on either side of her, Summer focused her glare on the man in the shadows. “Do you find this funny?” she demanded, her heart pounding hard in her chest.

  The man’s lips parted in a slow smile and he drawled, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Something about the way he spoke the words made Summer catch her breath. Strangely, her anger suddenly disappeared and her raging emotions were replaced by a feeling of confusion then anticipation. She’d been so ready to blast him with words that would have shriveled any man. Instead, she was as tongue-tied and breathless as a school girl, and all because of seven simple words the man had spoken. No, not seven simple words - seven huskily and softly spoken words that had stopped her dead in her tracks; words expressed in a strangely melodious voice that sent tingles up her spine. What in heaven’s name was happening to her?

  She opened her mouth to speak but, finding herself totally at a loss for words, she snapped it shut and scowled at the smiling man. Without another word she turned and stalked off.

  2

  “But Mom, it wasn’t my fault.”

  “Summer, remember it’s your mother you’re talking to. I know you better than you know yourself. I’m sure you wouldn’t have found yourself in that position if you’d kept your temper in check.”

  “But I was real calm, Mom,” Summer said earnestly.

  “Really?” The older woman seemed unconvinced.

  “Well, okay, my control slipped, but just once. I just couldn’t stand there and let that woman talk to me that way - no matter who she is!” Summer pouted, wishing her mother would just accept that she wasn’t at fault.

  “Child, I know you were upset but there are some times when you just have to swallow your pride and err on the side of peace.”

  “Mom, I’m not like you.” Summer frowned. “I’m not the ‘turn the other cheek’ type. I just can’t let people walk all over me.”

  “Hush, child, it’s got nothing to do with people walking all over you. Of course there are situations where you have to defend yourself but you have to make that decision with a mind that’s under control, not one that’s red hot with temper.” She wagged her finger under Summer’s nose. “You’d better keep that temper of yours in check or else it’s going to get you in some serious trouble one day.”

  Summer smiled wryly. “I’m already there.”

  The older woman smiled back, “No, not yet. This was just a warning. Now take heed and change your attitude, young lady.”

  “I’ll try,” Summer said in a subdued tone, then grinned mischievously at her mother.

  “Naughty girl,” she laughed and pinched Summer’s cheek. “You’re always pulling my leg. But you’ll learn…one day.”

  Outside of a few distant cousins Edna Jones was the only family Summer had. Her father had long since passed away, the victim of liver disease which had resulted from years of alcohol abuse. That had been eleven years ago when she was only thirteen. But for Summer it had been eleven years of relief from the abuse that her father used to mete out to her mother whenever the alcohol turned him into the monster she had grown to fear.

  Her mother had cried at the funeral but Summer hadn’t shed a tear. She just stared at the stiff, lifeless body of the man who had raised her and thanked God for finally taking him. At thirteen she had already endured years of watching her mother suffer, and she had raged inside at her father’s cruelty. She would beg him to stop; she promised to be a perfect daughter to him if only he would stop hurting her mother. His expressions of shame and regret came easily and his promises were frequent. But he never stopped. Then her fear of him turned to hatred. She stopped pleading with him and instead, became cold and silent in his presence, her eyes the only part of her that spoke. One day she would kill him, she thought. Her child’s innocence was replaced by an adult awareness of suffering and pain, and a woman’s consciousness of the latent power of a man to control the mind as well as the body.

  Never, she resolved then, would she love a man so much that she could not walk away from him. No man would ever have the power over her that her father had had over her mother all those years. For her there could be no love so great that she could not tell a man to get the hell out of her life.

  “Summer, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mom?” Summer blinked, her mother’s voice suddenly bringing her back to the present.

  “I was asking you about your thesis. How is it coming along?”

  “Oh, sorry, Mom. I was a million miles away.”

  “I could see that.”

  “It’s been rough going because I have so little time to dedicate to my research. You know, I took this waitress job because the hours were flexible and I thought it would’ve freed me up a lot,” she said with a shrug, “but I guess my timing was off because the restaurant has been really busy. The manager even asked me to work extra hours a couple of times. That wasn’t in my plans when I took the job.”

  “I know. You said you wanted a part-time job so you could have enough time for your graduate studies.” Edna looked confused. “So how come you’re full time now?”

  “I’m still part time but it’s just that sometimes I’m called in to do extra hours and it really throws my study schedule off.”

  As she saw her mother’s face get serious she quickly added, “Don’t get me wrong. The extra money is always welcome. It’s just that I don’t want to lose focus now. I’m just one project away from my Master’s and I can’t afford to let anything slow me down.”

  “Of course you’re right, dear.” Her mother sighed then closed her eyes and leaned back on her pillow.

  “Mom, are you alright?” Summer leaned forward and put a hand on her mother’s brow. “Is the pain back?”

  “No, not the pain. Just felt a little dizzy.”

  “Want me to get some smelling salts?” Summer rose to leave the room but her mother stopped her.

  “No, dear. Just give me a moment.” She breathed heavily. “I’ll be alright in a second.”

 
; “Oh, Ma, why did this have to happen to you?” Summer’s voice trembled as she spoke. “You’ve been through so much already.”

  “Such is life, child. We just have to make the best of what life has to offer.”

  “But it’s not fair.”

  “Nobody ever promised us that life would be fair, Summer.” Edna patted her hand. “We’ve just got to take the blows, pick ourselves up and keep on going.”

  With tears in her eyes Summer hugged her mother’s thin body and whispered, “You’re so brave. I just don’t know how you do it.”

  “I’m not brave, child, just practical.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  Summer sat on the bed and put her arms around her mother’s shoulders, and rocked her back and forth as she stared out the window. They were on the fifteenth floor of the Serenity Nursing Home on Martin Luther King Drive and from that height she could see the afternoon sun reflected on the shimmering blue water of Lake Michigan.

  This was Edna Jones’ home and had been for the past six years, ever since she’d fallen ill. She’d been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and hers had been one of the less common forms of the disease which progress rapidly without any periods of remission.

  At first she had experienced only slight numbness in her left arm when she woke each morning. She hadn’t worried too much about it at the time and had simply attributed it to the arthritis which plagued her from time to time. But the numbness spread to her left leg and then to her lower back and, giving in to her daughter’s expressions of alarm, she went to the family doctor with her complaint.

  Tests were done but nothing conclusive was determined and after a while Edna became accustomed to the numbness and simply ignored it. Then one morning she woke up to find that the muscles on the left side of her face had gone dead. She could neither blink her left eye nor wrinkle the left side of her forehead and when she spoke only the right side of her face moved. She was immediately placed in the care of a neurologist who put her through a battery of tests - a blood test, an electrocardiogram, Magnetic Resonance Imaging to check for lesions on the brain, and a spinal tap.

  After two months of tests she was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, a debilitating disease which could range from mild and merely annoying, to severe and crippling. To Edna’s dismay and to her daughter’s horror she was told that she had the severe form of the disease. She would gradually lose control of her muscles and would probably even lose her sight. She was also told there was no cure.

  Always practical, the forty-nine year old woman prepaid her daughter’s college tuition then checked herself into a nursing home. Summer had pleaded with her mother to let her nurse her back to health but Edna was determined that her daughter should achieve her dream of becoming a journalist. She convinced Summer to live on the Northwestern University campus for all four years of college, studying during the school year and working during the summers. The only time she left campus was to visit her mother.

  Now, six years later, Summer had completed her Bachelor’s degree and was in her second year of the Master’s Program in Communication. This time she couldn’t look to her mother for financial assistance so she funded her education through a partial tuition scholarship and a federal grant. She no longer lived on campus so, in addition to her studies, she had to find time for a part-time job that could cover the rent for her tiny studio apartment and the rest of her bills. She lived frugally and was just able to survive. This didn’t bother her. She’d never been into flashy clothes, jewelry or partying. She had goals in life and knew that the sacrifice she made now would allow her a more comfortable life in the future.

  Her greatest concern right now was her mother. She wished there was something she could do to ease her suffering. Although the doctors were making no promises they had mentioned surgery as a possibility to stem her decline but the surgery would cost a lot of money.

  That evening Summer was uncharacteristically quiet at work. Normally upbeat, she felt like she had lost some of her spark. Brian noticed right away.

  “Hey, girl. Got a lot on your mind?”

  Summer gave him a weak smile. ”I’m okay, Brian. Just one of those days,” she reassured him, trying to avoid too many questions. She’d never been very expressive about her feelings and tended to keep personal problems to herself. Since childhood she’d had to work out her problems on her own and, no matter how friendly Brian was, she had no intention of sharing her pain with him.

  The truth was, she was very worried about her mother’s condition which seemed to be worsening. Edna had lost the use of her legs and had been confined to a wheelchair over two years ago. But now she was having pain in her eyes, too. She also complained of dark shadows that floated constantly across her vision. Summer feared that these were signs of the onset of blindness.

  “Sure you’re okay?” Brian’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “I’m sure,” she nodded. Then with a smile she demanded, “Now where’s that tray for table five?”

  Summer busied herself with serving the meals. Gradually, her gray mood lifted a little and as she worked she smiled pleasantly with the guests. It was Monday so things were slow and she was even able to engage in light conversation with a few of them. She’d been on the job only a week and a half now, but already she had established relationships with some of the faithful ones who came to the restaurant practically every night.

  She had just learned the name of a young couple she’d seen in the restaurant at least three times. They seemed so much in love that she couldn’t help smiling at them whenever she served their table. Tonight they introduced themselves as Kevin and Carolyn Madison and explained that they’d gotten married just two weeks earlier and were still trying to get settled in their new apartment in Hyde Park.

  “You’ve chosen a great area to live in,” Summer told them. “You’re close to downtown and all the night life and since you’re right by the lake you’ll be able to go jogging or biking. Many young professionals live in Hyde Park - you’ll make lots of friends.”

  “That’s what we heard,” Carolyn replied, “that’s why we decided to live there. But also,” she paused then said shyly, “because the area has some of the best schools. We want to have lots of kids.”

  “Maybe not lots,” Kevin smiled at his blushing wife and took her hand in his, “but at least three. We love kids.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” Summer teased and they all three laughed good-naturedly.

  The brief conversation with the Madisons put Summer in a slightly pensive mood. She normally considered herself a tough cookie, definitely not the emotional type. She didn’t know if it was because they looked so blissfully happy together or because they seemed to be looking forward so much to having children. She only knew that when she turned away from their table, still smiling, her eyes were misty with unshed tears.

  She brushed at them furtively, praying that they hadn’t noticed. They’d probably think she was weird. These days nobody cried over young couples in love. What the heck was wrong with her?

  She sniffed and, dragging her emotions back under control, lifted her head again. Her heart jerked violently as she stared into the piercing eyes of Lance Munroe.

  Oh my God, had he been sitting there all this time? Had he seen her wipe her eyes? She could only hope that in the subdued lighting of the restaurant he hadn’t seen her brief display of emotion. Oh Lord. This was more embarrassing than having to apologize in front of him.

  Their eyes were locked together for only a split second but to Summer it seemed like eons. She dragged her gaze from his face and hurried back to the safety of the kitchen.

  To Summer’s dismay she was again assigned to table seven for the night. She had taken refuge in the kitchen at the sight of him but she couldn’t hide from the man all night. She was normally anything but a wimp so she couldn’t understand her sudden nervousness at the thought of serving him again. Come on, Summer, get a grip. She took a deep breath, straightened her back just the way he
r mother had taught her, and marched out to table seven.

  “May I help you, sir?” Her voice was sugar-sweet as she held the pen to her order pad and waited.

  “Hello, again.” His voice had the warm, rich smoothness of molasses. His dark gaze traveled slowly over her face, then down the rest of her, then came back to rest on her now rigid mouth.

  How dare he scrutinize me like this? Inside, she was fuming. She felt she could almost taste the arrogance of the man.

  “How’re you doing tonight, little spitfire?” The rich bass of his voice was beautiful to her ears but the obvious amusement in his tone made the hair on her nape stand up.

  She stood even straighter and gave him a cold stare. “I’m very well, thank you, sir. May I take your order?”

  To her surprise he laughed out loud, a deep, husky laugh that made her think of the low rumble of thunder in the distance. Unable to stop herself her only thought just then was, the man’s voice is so beautiful. As she watched his face she had to admit that he was beautiful, too. He was like a bronzed Adonis. His brilliant white teeth glistened against his lips and the natural waves of his low-cut hair shone black as midnight on his head. His broad forehead and thick brows shielded dark eyes fringed with thick lashes. A thin, perfectly shaped moustache framed firm lips.

  But, despite the attractive picture he posed, what really fascinated Summer was the deep dimple in his left cheek. It gave him a boyish, playful air which totally disarmed her. How could she stay angry with someone who looked so mischievous?

  He leaned forward in his chair, a look of keen interest on his face, and asked, “What is your name?”

  Caught off guard by his sudden question she blurted out, “Summer…Summer Jones.”

  “Summer Jones.” The way he said her name made it sound strange, almost exotic.

  “Lance Munroe.” He said and extended his hand to her as he rose.