One Season of Sunshine

by Julia London

  “Great. I’ll be back.” He was smiling as he retreated to change. This was going to be a good day.

  Asher took a detour by the garage on his return, remembering that he’d stored an old blaster there. He used a garden hose to fill it, then entered the party blasting, getting Riley and Tracy up on the grotto. Just as he knew they would, the two girls shrieked and scrambled down from the grotto, but young DJ, a veteran at having older siblings, shouted at Levi to get his gun. The boys were ready for Asher when he cannonballed into the water. When he came up for air, Levi and DJ dog-piled him in the shallow end, trying to drag him under.

  He thrashed around with the boys, feeling the stress of the week float away from him. As Jane and Linda Gail grilled hot dogs, Asher gathered the boys and plotted an attack on the girls. It didn’t go precisely as planned, because Riley figured it out and ran and DJ, in his eagerness to blast her, missed and hit Jane.

  Jane whirled around. “Who did that?”

  Asher and the boys froze.

  “DJ did it!” Tracy shouted, pointing at her brother.

  “Is that so?” Jane asked, handing the barbeque fork to Linda Gail. “Do you mind, Linda Gail?” she asked sweetly. “DJ and I are going to have a little talk.”

  “Good. He needs one,” Linda Gail said.

  Jane lunged for the blaster Levi had left on the edge of the pool and deftly filled it as DJ frantically swam to the other side of the pool with his. She fired at DJ, hitting him squarely.

  “Game on!” Asher called to the boys.

  “That would imply you have game,” Jane said and blasted him, which earned a burst of laughter from Riley. Asher responded by grabbing his daughter and dragging her into the pool, laughing at her sputtering protests and her attempt to shove his head underwater.

  The afternoon was a blast, one of the best Asher had had in a long time. He’d always been a competitive guy, and he discovered Jane was competitive, too. As the girls battled the boys, she was not afraid to take him on while directing Tracy and Riley in coordinated attacks on DJ and Levi. Linda Gail sat in her chaise and called out suggestions to both sides.

  The game of pool war gave way to Marco Polo. Jane delighted in taunting Asher when he was Marco, drawing very near and whispering, then swimming just out of his reach. Nevertheless, Asher refused to be bested by her. When he at last sensed her behind him, he swirled around, launching himself at the same moment he shouted, “Marco!” He heard her little cry just as he landed her, pinning her up against the side of the pool with both arms.

  He opened his eyes. She was trapped within the circle of his arms, her breasts breaking the surface of the water just inches from him. Her amber eyes were sparkling beneath the V of her devilish frown, her hair dark and wet on her shoulders. His gaze fell to her mouth.

  “Polo,” Jane said, and splashed him in the face before dipping beneath his arm and swimming away, much to the delight of the kids.

  Much to Asher’s private delight.

  By the time they had played a couple of rounds of Marco Polo, they had all worked up a ravenous appetite. Jane lined the kids up like a pro, handing out plates, tossing hot dogs onto them, sitting them down at the table. Linda Gail handed Asher a plate full of food and sat with him at one end of the table, while Jane sat at the other end with Levi and DJ.

  “You should find someone, Asher,” Linda Gail opined as she munched on some Cheetos. “The kids need someone, and so do you.”

  Who was he going to find? It wasn’t as if women were lining up at his door. “We’re doing okay,” he assured her.

  “Sure you are. But a man can’t live on kids alone,” she said with a wink. “I’ve got a friend—”

  “Oh, no,” he said, throwing up a hand. “Thanks, Linda Gail, but I’m good.”

  “Okay, fine, I won’t set you up with one of the loveliest women I ever did know, and she’s pretty, too. But you call me, Asher. You call me when you’re ready to stop being lonely up here at Summer’s End.”

  Linda Gail had no idea how lonely it was at Summer’s End, but Asher merely smiled and ate his hot dog.

  Linda Gail and her kids left an hour or so later—reluctantly—and Asher followed them out to the drive. Linda Gail lingered another ten minutes chatting about Cedar Springs before finally getting in the minivan and starting it up to the gate.

  By the time Asher returned to the pool to help clean up, his kids had disappeared inside. Jane was still there, picking up empty juice boxes and soda cans.

  Asher picked up the cooler. “Great party,” he said to her. “Thanks for pulling it together.”

  “Honestly, I didn’t do much. Carla and Jorge did most of the work.”

  “Ah. Nevertheless . . . thanks.”

  She smiled. “You are welcome.” She shifted the bag of trash she held.

  Asher supposed it was heavy. Still, he just stood there, holding the cooler.

  Jane smiled and shaded her eyes with her hand, looking toward the breezeway and a large trash can. “I’ll finish up.”

  “Have dinner with us,” Asher said.

  Jane turned her head and looked at him with surprise.

  She couldn’t have been as surprised as he was—he suddenly felt like a bumbling sixteen-year-old. “I mean . . . Carla’s not here, and I am going to make something, and after all the work you did today—why not have dinner with us? One less meal you have to make for yourself.” He tried to say it easily, like it was no big deal, like they were friends. But they weren’t friends, and Jane’s expression confirmed it. “Unless you have to work on your thesis,” he added quickly.

  Jane shifted.

  “Whatever you want,” he said and took a step toward the house, alarmed by his complete lack of finesse.

  “You’re cooking, right?” she asked. “Because I really am not much of a cook.”

  Asher paused. “Yes. I’m cooking.”

  Jane suddenly smiled. “Thanks. I’d like that. I’m about to overdose on frozen dinners as it is. What time?”

  He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He hadn’t thought at all. “Ah . . . whenever you’re ready.”

  “Cool. Thank you.” She padded across the decking in her bare feet to the trash.

  Asher tore his eyes away from Jane’s derriere, walked into the kitchen, and deposited the cooler. He looked blankly at Riley, who was doing something on her phone, and told her he was going to shower before he started dinner. He continued upstairs, his mind’s eye full of Jane in that sexy swimsuit, blushing when she realized he was looking at her in a not disinterested manner.

  And then he’d blurted that invitation to dinner like some lovesick kid. Asher cringed; he was really starting to question himself. He was thinking about Jane, and thinking a lot. He knew men who were dogs, who would take advantage of their nannies if the opportunity presented itself. But he’d never been one of those guys. Asher was not a playboy, and in spite of his troubled marriage, he’d been painfully faithful.

  He couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d met Susanna. Lord, but he’d thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—she’d had beauty queen good looks, with long, sleek black hair and sparkling blue eyes. When she’d agreed to go out with him, Asher had thought he was the luckiest guy on the planet.

  They’d begun to date, and everything had seemed perfect to Asher. Susanna had been so vibrant, an exciting lover, and she’d seemed to adore him. They’d played like young couples play—dinner out with friends, weekend trips to South Padre. He’d thought it was cool that Susanna was an artist and had studied at some art school in New York. Before they’d married, she’d spent hours in a little studio in the back of her parents’ house, working on her art. She’d never really had a job, but Asher hadn’t been surprised—she’d come from money. She’d been a little spoiled, but that had been part of her charm.

  Every once in a while, Susanna would get a little down. She’d said she’d suffered from anorexia when she’d been a teenager. That had boggled Asher’
s mind—Susanna was gorgeous and educated, and he hadn’t understood how she could possibly have had self-esteem issues. God, what a joke. Here, Susanna, eat something, they’d all said when she’d get down, as if food was the answer. Her mother, Helen, had seemed especially hell-bent on preserving some image of Susanna as a happy, confident person. Asher had chalked that up to her being overly protective, but for him, Susanna’s occasional blues had been a minor blight on an otherwise beautiful relationship. She’d been everything to him.

  They’d married a year later in a big wedding at the Four Seasons in Austin. They’d set up house in Clarksville. Susanna had painted while Asher had worked. She would complain from time to time that the ideas weren’t coming, but for the most part, she’d seemed happy.

  About six months after they’d married, Asher had come home from work one day and discovered Susanna had been shopping. She’d found a shoe sale, she’d said, and she’d bought two dozen pairs. Asher had been shocked by that. He’d known women liked their shoes, but two dozen pairs seemed extreme to him. He’d asked her to take some back. That request made Susanna livid. Asher had never seen her like that—she’d screamed at him, accused him of wanting to keep all the money for himself, of keeping her prisoner in that house. She’d locked herself in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka and sobbed.

  Even now, Asher shook his head as he ran the water for his shower. He’d been a young man then, about as equipped to handle that scene as he’d been to fly a space shuttle. So he’d called Helen, who’d appeared promptly the next morning and whisked Susanna to a doctor. “I’ll handle it,” she’d said firmly, and honestly, Asher had thought Susanna was acting like a spoiled child. But later that afternoon, when Helen and Susanna returned from the doctor, Helen said, “The doctor can’t be sure without some tests and therapy, but he thinks it might be depression.”

  Asher had nodded. “She’s been depressed before.”

  “No, Ash. I mean clinical depression,” Helen had said. “The doctor recommends therapy and more evaluation.”

  “Of course,” Asher had said instantly. “Whatever she needs.”

  Anything for Susanna. His life, his happiness, his future, all for Susanna. And with therapy, Susanna had recovered and improved greatly, and Asher had thought everything was okay. But it wasn’t okay; it was the lull before the proverbial storm. Asher had often wondered if signs of impending doom had been there all along and he’d been so blinded by lust and young love that he’d ignored them.

  He hadn’t known then—he couldn’t have known then—he wouldn’t know until much later that Susanna had bipolar disorder.

  Yet in spite of it all, he’d never wanted anyone but Susanna. Not even when their lovemaking had gone from the frenzied passion of true desire to the frenzied desperation of holding the tatters of their marriage together. Even when he’d had to work so hard to hold on for his kids’ sake, to find that place they could exist, he’d only wanted Susanna.

  And when the wanting had stopped, he’d still been loyal, still faithful, because he had married her.

  He’d never been the type of guy who couldn’t get the nanny off his mind. He supposed that now it was due in part to his need for sex—he hadn’t been with anyone but Susanna since he’d married her. Sex only added to his ongoing sense of frustration.

  Asher stripped down and showered quickly. He toweled off, wrapped the towel low on his hips, and lathered his face for a shave. He wiped the steam off the mirror, then picked up his razor. He hesitated, studying himself in the mirror a moment. What would a woman like Jane think about him? Was he attractive to her? He was older than she, and while he was fortunate to have a full head of hair, there were a couple of gray strands in it now, and a hint of gray in his whiskers.

  He glanced down at his abdomen. It wasn’t exactly washboard anymore, but he wasn’t fat, thanks to the running he did. Asher’s gaze drifted up, to his shoulders. They were fairly broad—he’d played football in high school—and he had a scar just above his right pec, where he’d run into a barbed-wire fence as a kid.

  What would she think of him?

  Jane could probably have any guy she wanted, he thought as he began to shave. But then again, she was different from the other women he knew. She was pretty in an exotic way, but she wasn’t highly buffed with hair and skin treatments. Susanna had been a high-maintenance kind of woman. Jane seemed . . . real. What you see is what you get. She had a great smile, the best smile he’d ever seen. Not only that, she looked at him like he was real and not all-powerful, like so many young women at the firm with stars in their eyes.

  Asher liked the way Jane was with the kids, he liked that tease of a tattoo, and he liked her wild hair and honey amber eyes. . . .

  “Get a grip,” he muttered to himself and took an angry swipe, nicking his neck. “Great.”

  He was stupid to even think this way. It was inappropriate as hell, and besides, looking at himself now, he believed himself too vanilla and too old for someone like Jane Aaron.

  He sighed, washed his face, pulled the towel from his waist, and walked into the adjoining dressing room to dress.

  When he returned to the kitchen wearing a Willie Nelson concert T-shirt and a pair of old khaki shorts with a couple of holes and frayed at the hems—his cooking pants, Riley liked to call them—he found both kids and Jane already there. Levi was, as usual, the first to see him, and in the way of a five-year-old, he dispensed with any greeting. “Daddy, can I have the water gun you brought? It was so cool!”

  “It’s yours,” Asher said as Jane turned around from the refrigerator. She was wearing a sundress, a slinky cotton thing that hit her about midthigh. Her skin was glowing from a day in the sun; she looked like a poster child for natural beauty.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” Jane said and smiled brightly. “You got a little sun today.”

  Asher self-consciously put a hand to his forehead. “Hello, Riley. Did you have a good time today?”

  Riley shrugged as she put a stack of plastic cups in the cupboard. “Like it’s possible to have fun at a swim party over the age of five.”

  “Riley!” Jane said laughingly. “You and Tracy have been texting each other since she left. You said you had a great time.”

  “I did not say great,” Riley said. “That would be so lame. I said okay.” But she was smiling.

  There was something different about the kitchen, Asher thought. It seemed brighter somehow. Lights? No, the usual lights were on. Maybe it was the fact that his kids were actually helping Jane. Riley and Levi, who heretofore could hardly have been convinced to pick up their dirty socks, were helping Jane clean up from their party. Riley was putting away the paper goods, and Levi was wiping out the inside of the cooler.

  “So . . . what’s for supper?” Jane asked. She was standing, her hands on her hips, with an irreverent smile, as if she didn’t believe he could cook.

  For one fleeting moment, Asher imagined that cotton dress sliding down her body and pooling silently at her feet. “Steak,” he said.

  “Yes!” Riley cried with a fist pump.

  “And roasted potatoes,” Asher added.

  “Wow. I’m impressed. Can I make a salad?” Jane asked.

  “That depends,” Asher said. “Will we die?”

  Her smile deepened. “I really can’t say for certain.”

  “Let’s risk it,” he said with a wink. “Thanks.”

  He gathered up all he’d need to fire up the grill and enlisted Levi as his helper. Riley stayed in the kitchen with Jane, chattering away like she used to do with Susanna. Jane had finished making the salad when Asher and Levi came in again. She’d also put the steaks on a tray, ready to be seasoned and grilled.

  “You can’t cook, but you do good prep,” Asher remarked.

  Jane grinned. “It’s insurance. I figure this way, I get out of cleanup. What else can I do to help?”

  “You could help with the potatoes,” he said as he began to season the steaks. “
I have a special herb packet I put on them. If you don’t mind, I can tell you what herbs to mix together for that.”

  He waited for Jane to get a bowl and rattled off some of the herbs he used, laughing out loud when she actually tried to measure.

  “What?” she demanded, spilling sage on the counter.

  “Just a pinch, Jane,” he said as Riley giggled.

  “I hate that ‘just a pinch,’” Jane complained. “What exactly is a pinch?”

  “A pinch.”

  “Yes, but is that an eighth of a teaspoon? A quarter?”

  “I think it’s like a spoonful,” Riley offered.

  “I know how to pinch!” Levi said.

  “Not that kind of pinch, buddy,” Asher explained. “We’re talking about herbs.”

  “What’s herbs?” Levi asked.

  Jane explained it to him. “It’s like dried grass,” she said, to which Levi said, “We have to eat grass?” Riley laughed.

  Asher felt happy. Truly happy. This was what he’d always pictured, what he’d always wanted. A family who laughed together. Who knew how to be happy together.

  When the meal was ready, Asher opened a bottle of wine and the four of them sat down in the dining room. Riley and Levi filled the room with their bright chatter about the day and the swim party. It was good to see them happy; they’d had more than their fair share of heartache, and Riley especially. The girl could build a staircase to heaven with all the heartaches she’d suffered.

  Tonight, his kids were at their best. He was proud of them. Riley spoke with great animation and detail about what Tracy said a girl named Lindy had said, and what Riley had said to that, and so on. It was the effortless, thoughtless chatter of a pubescent girl, a surprising and welcome change from the gloom Riley had cast over a table of three in the last year.

  “Oh, Jane, I downloaded that new song by Lady Gaga,” Riley announced. “She’s mad cool.”

  “Who?” Asher asked.

  Riley and Jane exchanged a look. “She’s a singer,” Jane said.