A Man for the Summer

by Ruby Laska

  “What?” Griff straightened in his chair and pressed the phone hard against his ear.

  “I said, don’t bother—”

  “No. You said Nepal.”

  “Don’t yell at me. You’ve gotten very short-tempered, by the way. You’ve been away from the action too long, I’m telling you as a friend, it’s doing weird things to you. Unfortunately there isn’t room for two prima donnas in this office. Yes, Nepal. First in the series. Eighty thousand words so you’re going to have to do some actual work this time around—”

  “I’m not going to Nepal.” Griff pushed a breath out; his own voice sounded tinny and thin to him. “I’m not going to Nepal.”

  A long, audible, trademark sigh came over the line. Griff steeled himself for the tirade to follow.

  Seconds ticked by and then Griff heard, faintly, the unmistakable sound of Gloria’s long fake nails clicking against each other. It was what she did when she was thinking.

  She wasn’t going to yell. She didn’t yell and think at the same time. Not that Griff cared. He’d let her rant dozens of times before, and this time she was hundreds of miles away.

  Actually, it would be easier if she just started yelling. This made him nervous.

  “Griff, have you honestly gone and fallen in love?” she finally demanded, her voice more thoughtful than angry.

  Love. Maybe. Yes.

  Yes, he loved Junior but he hadn’t exactly fallen. He felt like he’d been pushed, seized by the collar and dropped, like he’d found himself plunged breathless and terrified into love, and only now was he discovering that it was a place he wanted to stay.

  “You have,” Gloria said, her voice surprised, awed even, but not angry. This somehow spooked Griff more than her usual tirades.

  “It’s not deadly,” he said irritably. “Probably not even contagious. At least over the phone.”

  “Griff Ross in love. Damn. Wait until this gets out.”

  “Gloria, don’t go doing anything rash now—”

  “I’m giving Nepal to Earl.”

  “Earl! He can’t do Nepal. He can hardly do upstate New York. The guy can’t even read a map.” Griff tried to get indignant, but it was difficult when what he was really feeling was relief. He wasn’t going to Nepal. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Shut up. Earl gets Nepal. You need to figure out exactly what you’re doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Griff, six months ago I would have believed that. You were the most driven guy who ever elbowed his way from Point A to Point B. It’s why I hired you, in fact.”

  “And now?” Griff was curious.

  “Now you’re…I don’t know. You’re a mess. You remind me of me when I was twelve and I snuck love notes into Ira Finster’s backpack for six months until his parents called my parents to make me knock it off.”

  The image made him smile. “Wow, Gloria, I wouldn’t have imagined you to be so sentimental.”

  “Yeah. Luckily it turned out to be just a phase. Thing is, in your case, I don’t think you’re going to outgrow this.”

  Griff massaged his temples. His headache was nearly gone. Gloria’s caustic brand of sarcasm had always cheered him up. He’d miss it.

  The thought jarred him. Had he really managed to put all that—his life in the city, the money, the prestige—out of his mind? Out of his future?

  As miserable as he’d sometimes been these last few days, as empty as his heart felt, it was Junior, not his old life, that was missing. Gloria was right—he wasn’t about to outgrow the woman.

  “Gloria,” he said thoughtfully, “are you firing me?”

  He was rewarded with a burst of hacking laughter. “Not yet,” Gloria rasped. “I don’t want to do anything to piss you off before I have a chance to visit you two little lovebirds. You know, I’ve never been to the Midwest.”

  “Well, it’s high time you give it a try. I’ll try to line up a cow for you. Maybe even a couple of cowboys, though I don’t know if I want to unleash you on these poor helpless guys. I guarantee you’ll shock the pants off them.”

  “Hmmm. That sounds good, except I was thinking maybe chaps. Or at least those really tight Lee jeans—”

  “Okay, Gloria, that’s enough. Calm down.”

  “But you’re really going to do it? Stay there just to be with her?”

  “Okay, fine, you talked me into it, Gloria. Look, I have to run—I need to go find out what she thinks of the idea.”

  Junior slid onto one of the worn vinyl-topped stools and leaned her elbows on the counter. Lynette came by and filled her coffee cup without a word, then stared at her, hands on her generous hips.

  “You have anything to say for yourself?” She finally said.

  Junior shrugged. “Ah, maybe a short stack and coffee?” she tried, forcing a smile.

  Lynette wagged a playful finger at her. “No, no, no, honey, I mean maybe you want to tell me exactly what is going on. I like the motel plenty but I don’t know as I’d exactly want to live over there. It gets terrible TV reception. I keep telling Otis he needs satellite. It’s come way down, you know.”

  “Is that so?” Junior reached for the cream pitcher and poured herself a generous amount, watching the coffee turn pale. “Satellite, huh. Maybe I ought to look into that.”

  “Now, don’t go changing the subject. We were talking about—”

  “--television reception,” Junior said. “You know, I saw the most fascinating documentary last night. Endangered frog species.” She adlibbed easily, widening her eyes for an innocent effect.

  “I doubt that, darling,” came an entirely familiar voice behind her. It was low and throaty and edged with a grin and as she spun on her stool, she came face to face with Griff, looking as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He slid onto the stool next to her and for a split second Junior almost thought he might lean in and kiss her. And she didn’t know if she would have had the strength to pull away.

  “I know first hand that all they get over at the motel is network channels, and they doesn’t come in too well at that.”

  Junior opened her mouth and slowly closed it again, dismayed that he was teasing her. The bright spark in his eyes was all too familiar. It was like when he was coaxing her into bed; he loved to say outrageous things just to watch her body react.

  And heaven help her, it was reacting now. She could feel the warmth flowing from the heated spots of her cheeks, down through her neck, reminding her of all the times he caressed and nipped the achingly tender skin of her nape. To her fingertips, which she could barely still, longing to touch his face still moist from a fresh shave or his arms, more muscular than when he’d arrived just a few weeks ago. To her breasts, which swelled and pulsed against her thin T-shirt.

  “What are you doing here?” she mumbled.

  Griff grinned, taking in the hushed occupants of the diner with a sweep of his hands.

  “Best biscuits in town, and the company’s not half bad either.”

  There were murmured chuckles of appreciation and silver began to chime against china as the diners went back to their food. Lynnette moved down the counter, flicking her rag at imaginary spots on the gleaming Formica, but Junior guessed she was probably straining to hear.

  “What I mean is…I thought you would be gone by now. You know, Nepal. I heard the message.”

  Griff picked up a menu, a photocopied hot pink sheet with a pattern of coffee rings. He scanned it idly as Lynnette returned and filled his coffee cup.

  “Yeah, I thought so too, I guess. But then I kind of had a change of heart.”

  Junior caught her breath, his words triggering the kind of hope she had no right to. Was it possible that he had changed his mind about her?

  Everything had gone wrong the last time she’d seen him—what she thought was the last time she would ever see him. If he hadn’t longed to get away from her before that conversation, surely he would have afterwards.

  He’d asked why it had to be over,
because there wasn’t a baby. And at the time it had seemed obvious. Griff had stayed out of his sense of duty, but he had resented her for it. And she had gotten involved, knowing they could never be together for any reason but the worst one of all: because they had to be.

  But now he was looking at her as though none of that mattered. And Junior wanted to dive right back in, to drink him in and hold him close.

  “What…what kind of a change of heart?” she asked.

  “Well.” Griff set down the menu and rested his forearms on the counter. A note of sheepish pride crept into his expression. “I’ve had another job offer. I’m thinking of taking it.”

  Several of the nearby patrons turned to stare, openmouthed, at Griff. Clearly this was news worth hearing.

  “A job? Where?”

  “Here.” He looked positively like the cat that ate the canary now. “I’m thinking of taking over the paper. Ed’s pretty much got his heart set on retiring. I tried to talk him out of it but he’s itching to get out on his fishing boat as soon as they spring him from the hospital.”

  “You’ve been talking to Ed?” Junior demanded.

  “Yeah, had to do it kind of on the sly. You know how folks are,” Griff said, managing to include the other customers in his wink. “I bribed the nurse with pecan clusters and she let me in past visiting hours a few times.”

  Lynnette swung into view and plopped her coffee pot onto the counter, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping.

  “What about your books? What about Chicago?” Lynette demanded, as though he was insane. “Taking trips? Going places?”

  “I’m going to keep writing,” Griff said. “Way the newspaper business is headed, that won’t be a full-time job, and I might get around to the novel I’ve got in my drawer. Thing is, I can do all of that from right here. But hey, maybe we’ll hang onto my place up in Chicago and you can go up some weekend and stay there. See the sites.”

  Lynnette looked as though Griff had suggested that she run for Miss America.

  We.

  “You said we,” Junior murmured.

  “Well, yeah, genius. You and me.”

  “Griff—” Desperate to keep their words private, Junior leaned in closer. “What are you doing? We’re over. We can’t be together. And it’s—” she choked on the words, and swallowed before she tried again. “It’s not right for you to talk this way. If we can’t be forever, we can’t be together. I can’t, anyway.”

  For the first time since he’d walked into the shop, Griff’s grin faltered, and uncertainty filled his eyes. He reached for her, but when she pulled her hand away from his grasp, he let her go.

  “Junior. I’m not talking about some fly-by-night thing. I’m talking about moving here, to Poplar Bluff. Being with you.”

  “Being with me? For how long? Do you really think you could handle forever? Marriage, and a mortgage, and, and, maybe children? Don’t you see, Griff, you haven’t thought this through!”

  “I’ve thought a lot--”

  “No. You’ve thought about what you want, now, this minute. That’s what you do. Griff, when you wanted me, it made me feel like I could do anything, be anything. But you don’t want all of me. Think about it. I still want a baby. Some day. I want a family.”

  “I want family. I do. Picket fence and minivan and—kids, too.” She could see him struggle to get the words out, and his willingness to lie to her broke her heart just a little more.

  “You don’t,” she said gently, even as tears welled in her eyes. “I would give everything I have to be what you want, Griff, but I’m not. You want excitement, and sophistication. I’ll never give you those things.”

  Griff closed his hand on her arm, and this time she let it stay there, warm and faintly trembling.

  “You don’t know that,” he said. “Please. Let this work. Give it a chance.”

  “I gave it a chance,” Junior said, her voice breaking. “I gave it one chance too many.”

  She slipped offer her stool and out of his grasp, out of the restaurant, leaving a trail of silent onlookers behind.

  “Teddy? Sorry to call so early. Uh, were you asleep?”

  Griff could hear Teddy stifle a yawn, while the twins shrieked in the background.

  “Hi Griff—nah, you got a couple of four year olds around, ain’t nobody sleeping past six. How’s it going, anyway?”

  “Uh, well, okay. I think I just lost my job.”

  “Yeah?” Teddy sounded amused. “You’re a writer, man. How the hell can you be fired?”

  Griff snorted. “I guess I have a special talent. Actually, I kind of quit. I think. It’s a long story. Look, I need to borrow the girls.”

  “You need what?”

  “I need their help. Jayce and Margaret. For a project. You know, a craft like thing.”

  There was a long pause, and when Teddy spoke again, his voice was bemused.

  “Look, Griff, what the heck has gotten into the two of you? Junior was around here the other night acting all weird—”

  “She was over there?” Griff bit his lip. So that’s where she’d been hiding out.

  “Yeah, you know, for dinner. I mean, do all the crafts you want, you know. Knock yourself out, the girls’ll love it. But I gotta tell you, I got Junior acting like a lovesick teenager and you acting like a camp counselor, I gotta wonder if you all don’t need some sort of professional help or something.”

  Griff smiled. “Gee, Teddy, I hadn’t pegged you as the sensitive guy type.”

  “Can it, Ross. All’s I’m saying is that you and Junior sure are going about this in a kind of unusual way, you have to admit.”

  “Just what kind of way—”

  “Don’t get all bent, now. Look, if you’re wondering if you ought to ask my permission or something, don’t worry about it. You can have her. Anyway I’ll bring the gals over in twenty. I have to get the syrup out of their hair.”

  “Okay, great,” Griff said, hanging up.

  Syrup in the hair. That sounded nasty, indeed. Maybe, by the time he had to deal with it, they’d come up with a handbook or something.

  “Damn, damn, damn, damn,” Junior muttered, pacing from the Hoagland’s hydrangea bush to the crack in the sidewalk and back. “Oh, hey, Trevor.”

  Trevor screeched his bike to a halt inches from her feet, kicking up a spray of gravel. He looked at her with a very self-satisfied grin dividing his freckled face.

  “Hey, Junior. Were you talking to yourself?”

  Junior frowned, as sternly as she could manage, and worked her tense shoulders in circles. “Naw, I was cussing to myself. There’s a difference.”

  “Uh huh. I guess. Well, Mom sent me on over.”

  Junior stopped circling and sighed.

  “Your mom sent you to find me?”

  “Not really. I mean, she knew exactly where you were. We can see you from the upstairs bathroom.” Trevor jerked a thumb in the direction of his house, a block over. “Mom was doing her eyebrows. Hey, does that hurt?”

  “Does what hurt?”

  “Pulling the hair out of your eyebrows. I mean, seems like it would hurt.”

  Junior managed a small smile. “Hurts like hell, Trevor. But you know women. We’ll do anything for beauty.”

  Trevor nodded sagely as if, at the age of ten, he knew women all too well.

  “So anyway, mom says to tell you quit draggin’ your feet and go on in.”

  “She did, huh?” Junior sighed heavily.

  “Yeah, she says to tell you he’s home and you might ought to strike while the iron is hot.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yup. And she also said she didn’t know what you was thinking parking down at the end of the street like that when you have a perfectly good driveway of your own.”

  “Except I bet you weren’t supposed to tell me that part.”

  Trevor grinned. “Nah.”

  “Okay, Trev, I owe you one.”

  The pair stood for a minute in silence. Tr
evor jammed his hands in his back pocket and followed Junior’s gaze over to the house.

  “You want my advice?” he finally said.

  Junior laughed. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “What have I got to lose?”

  “I think you might as well let him stay,” Trevor said. “Everybody says he’s rich, but I don’t even care. I just think he’s pretty nice.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “Well, you know, stuff he does. Like, he always talks to us, doesn’t just walk by kids like we’re not there. I ran over his foot with my bike once and he didn’t make a huge deal about it. And he told Joe’s brother he could practice for his driver’s test on his car since it was just a rental anyway.”

  “Ahhhhh.” Junior considered. Not bad reasons, she supposed. Especially since she had no idea why she was pacing around trying to talk herself into going to talk to him.

  “Anyway, Mom just wanted you to get a move on,” Trevor reminded her, getting back on his bike and careening back the way he came. “See you.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Junior took a deep breath, fully aware that Trevor’s mother was probably watching her every move. She started marching purposefully toward her house. Up the steps.

  The door was cracked open. Junior let herself in and looked around. It was better. There were piles now, at least, and a path swept through the plaster dust.

  From the kitchen she heard giggling.

  “Hello?” she called.

  “Don’t come in here, Aunt Junior!” A squeaky voice commanded.

  “Give us five minutes!” added Griff’s voice. Then more giggles.

  He didn’t sound the least bit shaken. On the contrary, his voice was deep and full of life.

  He poked his head around the corner and he was smiling, a big, broad grin that somehow went just fine with the two days of stubble and the hair that was going in the wrong direction and dusted with flecks of glitter.