by Sarah Monzon
What had Summer told her mom? As far as he knew, she still thought he’d start chasing after other women any minute. He hadn’t had enough chances to build her trust in him yet.
“Your reputation precedes you, and Summer is my little girl. I don’t want to see her get hurt by someone like you.”
Was it hot in here, or was it just him? He ran his finger along the inside of his collar, pulling the material slightly away from his throat.
“Are you or are you not a ladies’ man? Trifling with young girls’ hearts and then leaving them to pick up the broken pieces?” Patty’s shaped brow arched high on her forehead.
How was he supposed to answer that? Ladies’ man? Yes, that probably described his actions toward women in the past. Leaving them with broken hearts? He remembered the note left on the pillow a few weeks before. Not likely many shattered hearts. They'd all used him as much as he’d used them.
Trent met the icy blue eyes of Summer’s mother. Mama bear protecting her cub. That revelation eased some of the tension collecting in his shoulders. She wasn't attacking him personally. She was only trying to protect her daughter. What could he say that would put her mind at ease?
“I'm not going to lie to you, Ms. Arnet. I’ve been with my fair share of women.” Patty’s face pinched, and he winced. Maybe the complete truth hadn't been the way to go. No backing out now. He plowed ahead, hoping he’d say something that would douse the sparks shooting from the woman’s eyes. “But there's something different with Summer. Something special. When she smiles, she lights up the room. She’s feisty and fiery and we butt heads, but she’s also amazingly talented and creative and sensitive.”
Slowly the lines around Patty’s eyes and mouth softened.
“To tell you the truth, I’m completely captivated by your daughter, ma’am.”
A hint of a smile curled the corner of her lip. “That’s a pretty good answer, and I’m going to choose to believe in its sincerity.”
“I’m being completely sincere. I’ve never felt for any woman how I feel for your daughter.” He laughed without humor. “I just have to convince her of that fact.”
“Summer can be a bit stubborn, but persistence usually wins out in the end.” She leaned over and patted his leg. “So why are you here, Trent? I doubt it's to have this particular conversation.”
He chuckled. “No, not exactly.” Although the topic he was about to broach would be equally uncomfortable.
Patty took a sip of her tea. “I'm listening.”
Where should he start? “I want to do something for Summer, but I need your help.”
“Intriguing. How can I help?”
He licked his lips. “Summer has mentioned several times how wonderful a mother you are. You two seem to have a great relationship.”
“It’s been just the two of us for a long time.”
“And that’s great. Really.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
He ran a hand through his hair. This was a sensitive subject—fragile, handle with care written all over it. “No one was meant to be both father and mother to their child, Patty. As terrific a job you did as a single mom, there’s still something missing in Summer’s life. A piece you can’t fill by yourself.”
Trent felt like a cad as Patty stared out the window of the living room, moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes. This wasn’t going well. He’d insulted the woman by implying she wasn’t good enough. That her daughter was somehow not whole and the fault lay at Patty’s feet.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
She looked at him, a tear slipping over her cheek. “No, you’re right. I’ve seen it too. The way she used to look so longingly at other dads in the neighborhood when they played with their kids.”
Instinct took over at the sight of her distress, and Trent scooted over, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I want to find Summer’s dad for her.”
Patty sniffed, then pushed back so she could look at him. “Does Summer know what you’re planning?”
He shook his head and let his arm fall back to his side. “I want it to be a surprise.”
She seemed to be chewing the inside of her cheek. “You might want to talk to her about it first.”
Why? “You don’t think she wants to meet her dad?”
“I don’t think she knows what she wants, besides changing the circumstances of her birth. But I can’t change that. And I can’t change that she didn’t grow up playing catch with a daddy who adored her. As far as reality…” She shrugged. “If Summer really wanted to meet her father, she could have. I’ve kept tabs on him all these years.”
None of it made sense. If Summer had a dad-sized hole in her life, why wouldn’t she fill it, especially since the man’s location wasn’t a mystery after all? “Did you ever tell the father he had a daughter?”
Patty’s cheeks flushed pink. “No. We hooked up one night after a few too many drinks at the bar. When I realized I was pregnant a few months later, I did go to tell him. I never made it out of the elevator of his apartment complex.”
“Lost your nerve?”
A scornful laugh ejected past her lips. “I didn’t think he’d want to be interrupted. He and a blonde were going hot and heavy. Couldn’t even wait to get his front door open.”
Trent cringed. “I’m sorry.”
She waved away his condolences. “It’s not like we’d been in a serious relationship. At least this way Summer knows she wasn’t rejected by her dad, because he doesn’t even know she exists.” Patty hung her head, and Trent squeezed her shoulder.
The picture she’d painted struck too close to home. There weren’t any children running around with his genes coursing through their bodies, were there? He’d always been safe, always used protection. Had it been enough?
He clenched his eyes tight, trying to wring the uncertainty and sudden self-abhorrence from his mind. “Why do you think she’s never contacted him?”
“Plain and simple? Fear.”
“And if I contacted him for her?”
One thin shoulder lifted. “It could go either way.”
It was his turn to stare out the window, although there wasn’t much of a view—just another single-wide that had seen better days.
What should he do? He’d been certain that once Summer met her dad, she’d see the ridiculousness of the idea of a heavenly Father. There was also the possibility she’d see his grand gesture and start to take his feelings for her seriously. Was that still the case, or would he be opening her up to greater pain? He could always contact the man first, and if her father didn’t want to have anything to do with Summer, then Trent could just not tell her that he’d talked with her dad. Then again, maybe the man would be thrilled to learn he had a smart, successful, daring woman as a daughter.
A fat bumblebee buzzed around the yellow blooms that hung from the porch. In his peripheral vision, a small brown bird swooped in and perched along the railing. Trent shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Ironic. Birds and bees show up at that particular time when the conversation hovered around parentage.
“Would you like Dave’s information? That’s his name. Dave.” Patty’s voice snapped his attention back around.
“Please.” There were always worst-case scenarios, but he’d shield Summer from any hurt. She didn’t have anything to fear, because he’d be there for her. He wasn’t going anywhere. The sooner she realized that, the better. Besides, he had to show her the truth. Fathers came in flesh and blood and didn’t reside on fluffy clouds or sit on golden heavenly thrones.
Patty walked to a small bookcase with two shelves and bent down to retrieve a turquoise pottery jar. She sifted around in it and brought out a folded Post-it Note. Her fingers pried open the paper, and he watched as her eyes scanned the writing. She folded the paper back over and handed it to him. “I hope you and this—what you’re trying to do for her—I hope it will make my girl happy. That you both will fi
nally make her feel full up to the top and flowing over.”
And to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of God.
Trent groaned inwardly. Twenty years later and Bible verses his mom had forced him to memorize as a kid were still lodged in his brain. Guess it was no different from knowing the story of Peter Pan, although a lot more annoying.
Trent took the paper. “I’m going to try my hardest to make your daughter happy. I promise you that.” He unfolded the paper. Dave Landstrom, 551 Juniper Rd, DeLand, FL. Where was DeLand? Google was definitely going to have to help him with that one.
“What about that sunken treasure of yours?” Patty picked up her glass of tea and took a long drink.
Trent stuffed the paper in his back pocket. “It’s been there for over three hundred years. I don’t think it’ll be going anywhere in the next couple of weeks.”
“And then what?”
“Then we’ll dive down there and see what prizes the old girl holds.”
Patty gave him a pointed look. “That’s not exactly what I meant, and you know it.”
Were they on to mother interrogation round two?
“I guess it depends. If the galleon had been full of gold and silver and on its way back to Spain, then I’ll be set for life.”
“You’d be content to leave the adventurous lifestyle behind? No more hunting after shadows of the past?”
He gave her one of his charming grins. “Life is full of adventures.”
“Exactly. You don’t need to be off chasing new ones.”
Trent laughed. Seemed the Arnet ladies were full of spitfire.
“What if that galleon of yours is emptier than my bank account?”
How he hoped that wasn’t the case. “I’ll be teaching history when the school year starts.”
She seemed to be considering that as she nodded. “Good to hear you have a stable backup plan.”
Stable was one word to describe it. He’d probably go with dull or boring. At least there would still be summers available to hunt down those shadows of the past, as Patty put it.
Patty’s head tilted to the side. “You know, I’ve heard teaching can be very fulfilling.”
Fulfilling. They were back to that. The verse in Ephesians jumped in his mind again. The phrase grated on his nerves. It implied that he was somehow not already filled, that there was something lacking in his life.
Wasn’t there?
Yeah. There was. And he had the ink on his arm to remind himself of it every day. The missing piece’s name was Trevor, and no fulfilling job would ever take away the hole left in his life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Two pounds of the regular salted peanuts please.” Summer let one handle of her purse fall from her shoulder, then unzipped the bag and pulled out her wallet.
“That’ll be five dollars.” The roadside vender rolled down the top of a brown paper bag and held it out to her.
She counted out five one dollar bills and exchanged them for the sack.
The south had a few foods that were iconic—grits, hominy, and boiled peanuts. And fried chicken, of course. But who didn’t like fried chicken—with mashed potatoes and gravy followed by a warm apple pie with a lattice crust? Summer’s stomach growled. No time for a decent meal, but when she’d seen the pickup truck with a posted sign on the side of the road, she hadn’t thought twice about pulling over.
She slid into her PT Cruiser and cranked the AC. Steam escaped from the bag when she unscrunched the top. She took a deep breath of the briny scent. Heaven. A peanut squished between her fingers as she fished one out of the bag and placed it seam-side up between her front teeth. Salt water squirted in her mouth, and she sucked all the juice out, cheeks caving in. Sucked dry, she used her thumbnails to pry open the shell, then popped the small nuts into her mouth. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she chewed.
The ringtone of her phone interrupted her foraging for the next peanut. She didn’t pay attention to the name that flashed on the screen. “Summer Arnet speaking.”
“Summer, this is Tabitha Michaels from Our World.”
Summer’s breath hitched. Tabitha Michaels was calling her? She hadn’t submitted anything new for consideration to the magazine, so why was the editor contacting her? Oh, who cared? The Tabitha Michaels was calling her!
“Look, one of our regular photographers is taking a leave of absence. The editors of the magazine have decided to fill the position with someone we feel has potential.”
Waiting with bated breath was a real thing—not just something people said. Every nerve, every cell in Summer’s body froze as anticipation rose faster than a drowning person to the surface of the water. She’d need a hyperbolic chamber after this phone call.
“There are three photographers we’ve had our eyes on. We’ve just been waiting for that perfect photo that proves at least one of you has what it takes to be an Our World photographer. You are one of those three, Summer.”
Summer bit her lip against the squeal wanting to escape and instead stomped her feet in a sitting happy dance. This was it. Her dream was finally coming true.
“We only have the one position available, and three potential photographers. We’ve decided to give you each a chance to wow us. I need a sample of your work in my inbox by Friday. This has to be your best work, Summer. Don’t play it safe.”
Summer’s face was going to split in two if her grin grew any wider. “I won’t let you down, Mrs. Michaels.”
“I look forward to seeing your work.” A click sounded over the line.
Summer squealed and threw double-time punches into the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
All she had to do was get the best picture of her life to Tabitha Michaels by Friday, and she’d be a real live Our World photographer. Goodness. That only gave her Wednesday, Thursday, Fri—three days. Was it even possible to arrange everything and dive off the Bahaman coast in such short time? Tickets would be expensive, but it could be done. Finding a hotel shouldn’t be too difficult in the middle of the week, so really the only hurdle would be securing a boat and diving equipment. She’d scour the entire island if need be to find an oxygen tank and regulator.
The cogs of her mind shrieked to a halt. What if Trent was wrong? What if the shadows he’d seen in the great white photos were just that—shadows? If she went down there and didn’t come back with the picture, then everything she’d worked for would be for nothing. She had one chance. One chance to prove herself and secure her spot among Our World’s greatest. What if she flew all the way to the Bahamas only to discover the sunken ship was a figment of Trent’s imagination? The deadline was in three days. There wouldn’t be any time to arrange a second dive in another location.
She needed to call Trent. Needed to hear his confident voice assure her that a three-hundred-year-old treasure really did sit at the bottom of the ocean. Her hands shook as she swiped the screen of her cell and punched in the four-digit passcode. Trent’s number displayed among her recent calls. One tap and the phone rang in her ear.
She drummed her fingernail against the steering wheel. “Come on. Pick up.”
“We’re sorry, but your call has been forwarded to an automatic messaging system. Trent Carrington is not available…”
Summer groaned and pushed to end the call. She swiped at the screen and brought up the text messaging.
Call me ASAP.
Where could he be? She only had three days. That meant she needed to be on a plane. Pronto. As in, the next flight out. The next day would be devoted to diving and shooting pictures, and then she’d need a solid block of time to do editing. Every photo had to be perfect. She wasn’t going to acquire another chance like this again.
Summer opened her contact list and typed Anita Carrington into the Search field. Maybe Trent’s mom would know where he was.
“Hi, Summer. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“I’m good, Anita, but I was trying to reach
Trent, and he didn’t answer his phone. Do you happen to know where he is? It’s kind of important.”
Anita clucked. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know where he is. Is there something I can help with?”
Make Trent materialize in the next five seconds? “If you hear from him, can you tell him to call me? I really need to talk to him.”
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
Summer rubbed her temples. Now what? That galleon was Trent’s thing. His dream. She was only along as navigator and to snap pictures, both to launch her career and to document his discovery.
If she didn’t dive there, then where could she go to find the edginess that Tabitha Michaels was looking for? The Arctic and Antarctic Oceans held a number of dangers—both the elements and the animals. In fact Gloria Shupe, one of Our World’s most prolific photographers, had just done a layout where she’d swum with a leopard seal, a proficient and dangerous predator amid the frozen ocean. But Summer didn’t have any connections in either the Arctic or Antarctic. She wasn’t sure she had the guts for something like that either.
If not a creature with an element of danger, then how about one rarely seen or captured in photos? It could work. Actually, it would be great. Summer crossed her arms over the steering wheel and rested her forehead in the crook of her elbow. There was a reason those creatures were unique. They were hard to find. Time was against her. She couldn’t waste a single second trying to hunt down something she might never see.
One thing was for certain—sitting in her car in front of the boiled peanut vender was getting her nowhere fast. She put the Cruiser into gear and pulled back onto the road. The phone on her thigh weighed on her leg. She glanced down at it, then picked it up, one hand still on the steering wheel. Holding the Home button for a few seconds activated the voice command.
“Call Trent Carrington.”
“Calling Trent Carrington,” the computerized female voice responded. Ringtones filled the inside of her car, but Trent’s rich tenor voice never answered.
“We’re sorry, but your call has been forwarded to the automated—”