The Summer Place

by Pamela Hearon

  Swish...swish. What a glorious sound, the blood pumping through his heart. He’d been at death’s door, too, yet here he was, strong and warm and alive. It gave her hope for Rick...but hope couldn’t trump the guilt that lay like a lead weight in her stomach.

  “I’m proud of you, Summer.”

  It sounded odd, her name coming from his lips instead of Nubbin. “Thanks, Dad.” She’d waited so long to hear those words, yet somehow they didn’t have the impact on her she’d expected. They sounded hollow. It didn’t matter much anymore what anyone else thought about her. She’d finally seen herself as everyone else saw her. A screwup. She’d caused this. All of it. She was like a computer virus. Everything she touched went haywire.

  Rick was the strong one, the one still fighting. The only thing that mattered was for him to be okay.

  “We’ll see you later.” Her dad kissed the top of her head, then was gone.

  Swinging doors separated her from ICU, but she could see through the windows to the nurses’ station and beyond to Rick’s room. It was comforting to stand there and watch, knowing he was close. Was he in pain? Aware of his surroundings? Could he hear her sincere apologies each time she was allowed to go in?

  She watched for a long time. Anything was better than sitting in the waiting room, flipping through magazine pages that couldn’t hold her attention.

  “Thought you might like some coffee.”

  Luke held out a paper cup containing a caramel-colored liquid.

  “Thanks.” Summer took it, cupping both hands around it for warmth. “They’re getting their money’s worth out of the air conditioner.”

  “You want a jacket? I have one in the car.”

  It was exactly what Rick would’ve said. Summer’s throat tightened and she took a sip. The heat burned her bottom lip, which she’d chewed raw. She could feel the hot, sweet liquid moving down through her chest. “I think this might do the trick, but thanks for the offer.”

  “I wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee.” Luke gave her a lopsided grin. “But I figured you could use a pick-me-up, so I added a little of everything on the bar. Sugar, cream, a squirt of chocolate syrup and a dash of cinnamon.”

  “I usually drink it black.” Summer smiled when he winced. “But this is delicious. And you’re right about me needing a pick-me-up.” The clock on the wall indicated visitation was in twenty-five minutes. Nineteen hours she’d been here. It felt like nineteen days. “Shouldn’t he have regained consciousness by now? I’d give anything to see his eyes open when we go back in there.”

  “Sleep’s good for him. It lets his body do its healing work. Keeps him still.” Luke’s chin buckled as he pressed his lips together. “I hope he’s having good dreams this time.”

  “Me, too.”

  “It’d be a bitch to have nightmares while you were in a coma.”

  Summer shivered, remembering Rick’s nightmares. She took a quick sip of coffee, seeking its warmth to offset the chill running through her.

  One of the nurses walked over to Rick’s door, took the file out of the holder and scribbled something on it.

  “He and Dunk had been best friends since the seventh grade. That’s when Dad retired and we moved to Little Rock.”

  “I didn’t realize they went that far back.” Summer’s lip stung, and she flicked her tongue over it. “Rick wouldn’t talk about him too much. He explained to me about the tattoo over his heart. And he told me about Dunk dying in his arms...and trying to save him. That’s about all.”

  Luke leaned against the wall, angling himself so he could see his brother’s door. “They were inseparable. Dunk wasn’t very big, so Rick always protected him from the bullies. It was Rick who talked him into joining the marines...they did it together. Rick thought he’d be able to protect him like he’d always done. That’s why he took his death so hard.”

  “I see.” Another shudder ran up Summer’s spine.

  “Luke.”

  Summer jumped at Babbs Warren’s voice so close behind her. Some of the coffee sloshed onto her hand. She wiped the drops on the jeans Kate had brought her this morning.

  “Why don’t you go get Summer a jacket out of the car?”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” Summer protested, but Luke nodded and started toward the elevator.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Men don’t wait well.” Babbs’s smile turned a little sad. “It’s always the women who are left waiting.”

  Summer looked her in the eye. “How do you stand it? The waiting, I mean. When your husband was gone...when Rick was in Afghanistan? With Jack in Lebanon and Luke headed to Syria in a couple of months? How do you stay so strong?”

  “It’s not easy, I can tell you that. And don’t ever let anyone tell you any different.” Babbs took Summer’s hand. Her grip was strong and warm...more comforting than the sweet coffee.

  “But I’m a military wife and mom, and I know in my heart they’re fighting for a cause they believe in. I constantly remind myself what an honor it is to be a part of their lives...an honor I work hard to try to deserve.”

  A sudden movement drew Summer’s attention. The nurse had rushed into Rick’s room. A light blinked above his door, and some kind of call went out over the intercom. The doctor hurried from one of the other rooms.

  “What’s happening?” Summer set the cup of coffee on the floor and gripped Babbs’s hand with both of hers.

  “I don’t know.” Fear punctuated the words.

  Summer held back the sob trying to force its way free as she watched a machine from the central desk being pushed through his door. She tightened her grip on Babbs, the woman’s words echoing in her head. “What an honor it is to be a part of their lives...an honor I work hard to try to deserve.”

  “Fight, Rick,” Summer whispered. “Please fight.”

  “He’ll fight.” Babbs Warren’s voice was strong and sure. “Regardless of the outcome, he’ll fight.”

  Her arm came around Summer’s shoulders. Strong. Warm. Unsure how things would turn out, but capable of handling it with the dignity this man deserved. Without a doubt, Babbs Warren had earned the honor bestowed on her.

  But the same acknowledgment pointed a condemning finger in Summer’s direction.

  She’d earned no such honor. She was a screwup...completely undeserving of a hero like Rick Warren in her life.

  * * *

  RICK RAN, PUSHING HIS BODY as fast as it would go, but he made no progress across the wide green meadow. No, he wasn’t running. He was trying to run, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His legs were too heavy...wouldn’t move. He gasped with effort, but no air entered his lungs. His heart pumped wildly in panic. He clawed at his chest. An odd growth protruded from the area over his heart. A stone. The tattoo of Dunk’s dog tags had taken on dimension. Fossilized. As he watched in horror, its depth increased, taking up air space in his lungs, piercing his heart. The weight increased until he could no longer hold his torso upright.

  And then, he was falling, but the ground didn’t get any closer. He was floating. The stone in his chest grew larger...heavier...would split him wide-open soon. The pressure was growing unbearable.

  Thunder crashed through the trees, like a gunshot, reverberating through him, making his body quake.

  “Losing him!” He heard the cry...knew it referred to him...but the voice was unfamiliar.

  The pain in his chest intensified with every beat of his heart. He could feel it rupturing out through his fingernails.

  A fleeting image of Dunk scampered across his consciousness. Smiling...running...whole again and happy. No pain. No suffering. Rick tried to call to him, but his friend was gone before he could form the words.

  A surge of electrical shock ripped through his nervous system like a flash flood through a dry gulch. The fossilized mass of tattooed stone broke free of his body, pulling with it the fibers that held his being together for so long, shredding his essence.

  He was vaguely aware of voices around him.<
br />
  “...in rhythm but weak.”

  “...have to wait and see.”

  “Rick, can you hear me?”

  Someone kept messing with the volume of the speakers. Voices lowered to whispers, then faded away. Some were familiar. Some weren’t. Concentration was impossible...and unimportant.

  Cold hands touched him. “...seeing improvement.”

  “...damage from the bullet...”

  Oh, yeah. There’d been a bullet. A truck. Someone on the ground.

  No, he was on the ground. A shadowy figure hovered above him. Screaming. Then someone turned down the volume. Quiet talk. Whispers.

  “Don’t die, Rick. Please don’t die.”

  He recognized that voice...liked its soothing quality. It faded. Why wouldn’t they leave the volume up? It was too hard...straining to make out the words exhausted him.

  “...hear me?...new IV...” He didn’t know that voice. It was loud. He’d heard it several times, but he couldn’t place it. Thinking was too hard. His thoughts raced around his brain like the remote control cars he and Dunk used to play with.

  He put his finger on the joy stick and backed the thought up to the voice he recognized.

  A name formed on his lips and he breathed it out, laboring under the effort.

  * * *

  “SUMMER?”

  The voice wormed its way into her consciousness a nanosecond before she felt the touch on her shoulder become a wakening shake.

  She jerked to a sitting position. The world tilted and then righted itself. Her eyes strained to focus through the bright sunlight as her brain regrouped and placed her in the too-long-familiar confines of the hospital waiting room. The hands on the clock indicated it was 2:34...Sunday afternoon.

  Babbs’s hand clutched her chest while the other lay heavy on Summer’s shoulder. She shook Summer again. “Rick’s conscious. He’s asking for you.”

  Summer jumped to her feet, swaying. Babbs stilled her with a brusque hug. She pointed to a nurse standing in the doorway, who nodded to Summer and motioned for her to follow.

  “Thank you.” Summer prayed, her heart brimming over at the news. She followed the nurse down the frigid hallway, keenly aware of the profound sadness lurking simultaneously just below the surface of her joy.

  For almost two days, she’d had nothing to do except think, and those thoughts had replayed the ripple effect of her selfish actions over and over in her head. She’d brought nothing but heartache to too many people.

  Her parents’ retirement investment was surely gone. They’d had to cancel the second session of camp as parents pulled their kids left and right from the list of attendees on the heels of the news.

  Rick had lost part of a lung...had almost lost his life. His parents had nearly lost a son. Luke, a brother.

  Her parents didn’t deserve a failure like her for a daughter, but they were stuck with her.

  Rick, on the other hand, was not.

  She hoped he hated the sight of her now. That would make it easier.

  Coward. If he’s asking for me, that’s not how this mission is going down.

  But she wouldn’t play on his sympathy with the “poor little screwup me” thing, either. That would only encourage him to stick around to save her from herself.

  No, she would be cheerful and strong. She would hang around a few more days to make sure he was going to make a full recovery, then she would get busy with parties...or whatever. Too busy for visits or calls, totally self-absorbed and totally in line with her selfish nature.

  Rick could wash his hands of her with a sigh of good riddance.

  Summer squared her shoulders and walked into his room with a smile of hello on her lips, every fiber of her keenly aware that this moment started her countdown to goodbye.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “HELLO?” SUMMER DIDN’T HAVE to look at the caller ID to know who was on the line.

  “Did you know Rick’s going home today?”

  Tears stung at the backs of Summer’s eyes. Again she sighed in resignation. “Yes, Mom. I know. Tara called earlier with the news.”

  She’d cried with relief and happiness when she’d gotten the call from Tara. After she hung up, the tears had been of anguish because she wasn’t ever going to see Rick again. According to Tara, he was considering a job offer in Arkansas. That was a good thing, but it still hurt.

  Maybe these tears would be cathartic. The ones that would wash away everything else and leave her feeling resolved. Healed.

  “Are you going to visit him?” Her mom’s tone took on that testy edge that came right before a lecture.

  Summer considered lying, but that would just be putting off the inevitable. “No. I’m not going to visit him. I’ve made my break from Rick. It was the right thing to do...probably the most right thing I’ve ever done.”

  “This isn’t like you, Summer.” The voice on the other end rose at least an octave. “You’ve been flighty and selfish, but I’ve never known you to be cruel before.”

  Ouch. “I’m not being cruel, Mom.” No matter what you and the rest of the world think. “It wasn’t meant to be. He needs someone...different from me.” Someone worthy of a hero. She wiped off the tear scalding a path down her cheek.

  “He asks about you every day.”

  And I think about him all the time. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Well, I can see talking to you about it isn’t going to do any good. You’ve made up your mind, I can tell. And when you get your mind made up, you’re just like your fath—”

  “I’ve got a party to get to, Mom.” That was a lie, but her battered heart couldn’t withstand any more blows. “Was there anything else you needed?”

  “Actually, I called with other news.”

  The words held a note of apology, so the news had to be about Sunny Daze. Summer gripped the phone tighter.

  “We sold the camp this morning.”

  “You took the state’s offer.” Irritation burned Summer’s throat. Sunny Daze was worth so much more than the paltry sum Riley Gibson had offered the day after the shooting.

  No doubt, he was convinced the bad publicity of the incident would ruin the camp—which it might—and that her parents would jump at any chance to have the property taken off their hands. He wasn’t far off the truth. They did want to be rid of the camp and the memory, but they still had their retirement to think about.

  “We didn’t have to. Another offer came in. A respectable one.”

  For a second, Summer’s world came to a halt. Her knees wobbled, forcing her to sit. “Who from?”

  “Chance Brennan.”

  “Rick’s friend?” The news sent Summer’s heart in two directions. One half leaped for joy. Chance and Kyndal Brennan were good people...heroes in their own way, deserving of the property.

  The other half splattered at her feet. A subdivision was probably in the property’s future.

  “He came to see Rick a couple of days ago while we were there,” her mom continued. “Rick introduced us and told him about the property. He called the next day and said he was interested and had some investors.”

  So Rick was directly responsible. Was he still trying to save the camp, or was this his way of getting the last word?

  It didn’t matter. This was the news she’d been waiting for.

  The end of the story.

  “I’m so happy for you, Mom.” Tears were coming fast now. “I really am.” She marveled at the words. She really meant them.

  “Are you crying?”

  “Happy tears.” Cry enough of them and maybe they’ll fill up the hole that bullet left in my heart. “I do need to go now, though.” It wasn’t a lie this time. Too much emotion clogged her throat to allow her to talk any longer.

  “Okay, Nubbin.” Her mom’s tone modulated back to its normal sweetness. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Summer laid the phone down, grabbed a fistful of napkins from the basket on the table and sobbed loud and long until she had no t
ears left.

  Eventually, the weight in her heart would lighten...wouldn’t it?

  Doing the same thing she’d done for the past week and a half to combat the grueling wait for nothing in particular, she pushed up from the table and moved. Keeping her body moving kept her mind at least partially occupied, and that kept the despair from consuming her. Her apartment had never been so clean, and she fell into bed every night, too exhausted to think...or dream.

  She set to ironing the new fairy princess costume, a replacement for the one she had to throw away. It had arrived a couple of days ago, but she hadn’t had the courage to put it on yet.

  Go with the symbolism. Off with the old, on with the new.

  Taking a deep breath of resolve, she slipped out of her shorts and top and into the dress. The zipper went up easily...too easily. She glanced at the mirror, grimacing at the woman reflected back. Dark circles shaded red, swollen eyes. Toothpick arms dangled from the sleeves. The dress hung slack on her, barely touching anywhere but the shoulders. The neckline gaped. The waistline needed cinching. She looked more like a zombie than a fairy princess. No child was going to believe this creature held the secret to a pretty heart.

  A knock at the door jerked her attention away from the frightening image. Kate was early. Summer gathered up the dress and hurried to let her in.

  She swung the door open. “Rick.” She should’ve checked the peephole first.

  “Hello, Summer.”

  His voice palpitated her heart, making it come alive for the first time since...

  “I haven’t seen you in over a week.”

  Since over a week. She sidestepped his comment. “You look good.” He was obviously trying to stand in his normal, marine posture, but the slump of his shoulders hinted at the deep scar hidden beneath the blue dress shirt. He’d lost weight—his clothes fit baggy like her dress—and his hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, almost touching his ears on the side, the front combed off his forehead from a part that had never appeared before.

  He was the most beautiful sight her eyes had beheld since...since the last time she saw him.