Ghost of Summer

by Sally Berneathy

  "Katie, would you pass the salt, please?" Sheriff asked, cutting off his question. It surprised Luke a little. Sheriff was always unfailingly polite.

  Katie frowned. "Are you sure you need extra salt? Doesn't it raise your blood pressure?"

  "My blood pressure's just fine, so I'd be much obliged if you'd pass the salt, Katie-girl."

  It was a small thing, but Luke felt again that Katie was patronizing her father. He wanted to tell her—and would at the first opportunity—that there was nothing wrong with Sheriff. He was the same man he'd always been. Briar Creek was the same town it had always been.

  Only Katie had changed.

  Well, so had he, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He was having a very hard time remembering that Katie was his friend and that he wasn't going to do anything to ruin their relationship this time.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes.

  "Katie, these stuffed mushrooms are wonderful," he told her.

  "They sure are," Sheriff seconded. "Can't say as I've ever had anything quite like this before, but I sure wouldn't mind having it again." Almost before the last word left his mouth, Sheriff clamped his lips shut and looked guilty, as if he'd said something wrong.

  Katie's eyes widened, and she seemed to pale. "But Papa, you said—" She glanced at Luke then down to her plate. "I'm glad you both like them," she said softly.

  Luke had no idea what that interplay was all about. "They're great, Katie," he said. "The best I've ever eaten. And you said you couldn't cook. I'm impressed."

  "Thank you," she mumbled without looking up.

  When they finished, Sheriff leaned back, rubbed his stomach and groaned. "I'm as stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey. I haven't eaten so much or so well since your mama died. She'd have been real proud of you, Katie-girl." He scooted his chair back and stood, picking up his plate and silverware.

  "Put that down, Papa. Let's all take our coffee and go in the living room. We can have our pie in there, and I'll clean up later."

  "I'm so full, I couldn't possibly eat pie right now. Your mama always washed the dishes before they got dry and all that food stuck on there. She said it was a heck of a lot easier that way. You did all the cooking, Katie. I'll do the cleaning. You kids go on."

  Katie took the dishes from him. "I didn't do all the cooking. You helped. You and Luke take your coffee to the living room, and I'll do the dishes before the food dries on them. Then I'll join you for pie."

  "Well, I don't know. That's an awful lot of work for one person. Maybe I could help you." Sheriff's voice seemed a little uncertain, and Luke wondered if he was tired. Not surprising if he'd had a part in cooking all that food.

  "I'll help her," Luke volunteered.

  "Okay," Sheriff agreed...amazingly easily, Luke thought. With a smile of gratitude, the older man took a fresh cup of coffee and headed for the living room.

  That wasn't like Sheriff to be eager to sit down and rest. Was it possible Katie had reason to worry about him?

  "You don't need to do this," Katie protested as he began to gather up the dirty dishes.

  "I don't mind. It's kind of like when we were kids and we each had to wash our own milk glass and sandwich plate." Except when they were kids, her fingers hadn't been long and slender and graceful as they wrapped around a glass, and she'd certainly never worn a dress like the one she had on tonight.

  And he hadn't wanted to touch those fingers and the smooth bareness of her back the way he did now.

  What the hell had happened to those good resolutions he'd made just before dinner? He mentally cursed his libido and wondered if Sheriff would welcome him into his home, would treat him like a son, if he had any idea of the kind of thoughts Luke was having about the man's daughter.

  For sure Sheriff wouldn't be sending them off to the kitchen alone.

  He carried his load of dishes to the kitchen sink and returned for another while Katie began scraping the plates. When he brought in the last bowls, she was squirting soap into the sink under the flow of water from the growling faucet.

  She looked up at him and smiled distantly...or was it nervously?

  No, he was the one feeling nervous...among other things.

  "Thanks for your help," she said. "I'll finish up."

  He opened the drawer that had always contained clean dishtowels, took out the last one and closed the drawer. "You wash, I'll dry."

  She shrugged and plunged her hands into the soapy water, her attention focused on her task. In the dark glass of the window over the sink Luke stared at their reflections. How many times had he seen those same images in that glass? A few inches shorter, maybe, but not so different.

  Katie handed him a soapy plate, and he rinsed and dried it.

  Not quite the same, he supposed. They'd never eaten off the good dishes before.

  "Your dad's quite a guy," he said after a few minutes of working in silence...an uncomfortable silence, not like the ones they used to share.

  Katie nodded. "I know."

  "He hasn't changed a bit in all these years."

  Her hands stilled in their underwater movements, and she looked at him for just a moment with the same trusting, hopeful expression he recognized from years gone by.

  But immediately she looked away and resumed washing dishes. "We've all changed."

  He wouldn't have called her tone hard exactly, but definitely solidified.

  "Katie, you said last night you were worried about your father. Why? He seems fine. Maybe a little tired, but we all get tired sometimes. He's not as young as he used to be, and he works hard every day."

  She washed the last dish and handed it to him, then pulled the plug so the water could gurgle down the drain while she dried her hands on the kitchen towel. All done with her gaze averted from his.

  He laid down the dish towel and took her hand in his. It was warm and moist from the soapy water and still as soft as it had been years ago, but the fingers were longer now, the skin sleeker. He needed to take an hour or so and trace out the small differences, sample and memorize each one.

  What was he thinking about? He was supposed to be comforting her, not seducing her. He curled one finger of his other hand under her chin and gently tilted her face up so she had to look at him. "What's the matter, Katie?"

  "Nothing," she denied then seemed to relent. "I guess I'm just having a hard time accepting the fact that Papa's getting older, that I could lose him. He's the only one I have left."

  That pinched a little. He and Katie had sworn their allegiance to each other many times. Maybe he had left her, but it hadn't been his fault. Okay, abandoning her had been. But now he was back. She needed him, and he wouldn't let her down this time.

  He reached up to stroke her cheek bone with his index finger, feeling the silky heat of her skin, then trailed along the slight roundness of her cheek, entranced by the sudden slide into softness. Her eyes, twilight blue in the dim lighting, dominated her face, seemed, like her cheek bones, to be larger, more prominent in this face that was and wasn't Katie's.

  His finger stopped as it reached the curve of her lips. She'd eaten off her lipstick, but her lips were still pink and full and slightly parted as though waiting to be kissed.

  Everything but her lips became blurred and out of focus. He was pretty sure he'd made some sort of good resolution earlier, but he couldn't remember what. He tried to concentrate on the fact that this was only his old friend, but his body didn't believe him.

  Somehow, without his quite realizing how it had happened, his hand had dropped hers and snaked around her waist, pulling her against him. Her hands rested on either side of his neck, and he could feel his pulse throbbing wildly against her fingertips.

  His friend, Katie, had never felt like this, so alive and supple against him. Katie had never made his blood boil with desire.

  He knew he ought to release her, stop this insanity, but his body wasn't taking orders from his brain any longer. Instead of releasing her, he stroked her bare back, his fingers
touching skin above the line of her dress—sensuous skin.

  He knew he was breathing too fast. She was bound to notice. He didn't see how she could fail to notice his growing hardness as he held her body against his.

  He tried to focus on her face, her eyes, to see what she was thinking, if she was appalled at the way he was acting, if she wanted to push him away.

  All he could see was her lips, those strange-familiar lips he couldn't wait to kiss.

  He moved his hand from her waist to her head, sliding his fingers through her hair. Her eyes closed and her face tilted upward, making those lips more accessible.

  From another world, far away, he heard chimes. The sound was pleasant, blending with the world created by Katie's nearness.

  But then the sound came again, and Katie pulled away. "My phone," she said, "in my purse." She whirled around and strode toward the sound.

  Luke stood alone in the kitchen feeling deserted and embarrassed. What had he nearly done? Kissing Katie sure wouldn't help get their friendship back on an even keel.

  And unless he was greatly mistaken, she had been about to kiss him back.

  In the muggy summer night, a wave of cold enveloped him.

  What the hell did he think he was doing? Deliberately trying to lose her again? Trying to mess up his relationship with Sheriff?

  From the living room he heard Katie's voice pitched a couple of octaves too high and just a shade on the shrill side. "Spencer! It's so good to hear from you!"

  The words were like ice water tossed into his face.

  Katie was talking to her fiancé. That should be enough to get him back on track and make him stop acting like a teenager who'd just discovered sex.

  ***

  Kate clutched her cell phone tightly as if she could thereby stop the spinning, whirling turmoil going on inside her head. How was she supposed to talk to Spencer with anything resembling coherency when she was pretty sure Luke had almost kissed her?

  "I've been waiting for you to return my calls," Spencer's voice accused.

  "What? Okay, yes, that's right."

  She needed some time to figure out what had just happened...or almost happened...or what she'd just imagined almost happened. She needed to recall the circumstances, Luke's expressions, the feel of his arms about her...recall it and examine it in minute detail. Surely it wasn't possible that Luke had almost kissed her...or that she had desperately wanted him to kiss her. How could that have happened?

  Had it really happened?

  Did hallucinations run in the family? Papa saw ghosts and she thought her old friend wanted to kiss her?

  From her position in the hall, she could see through the dining room to the kitchen door. She watched that door intently, waiting for Luke to emerge, waiting to see how he looked, to see if she could read anything from his appearance.

  "Kate, I asked what you meant when you said that's right?" Spencer's even tone held a trace of annoyance. "What's right? That I've been waiting for you to return my call?"

  Why was he asking her all those questions? Why couldn't he be quiet for a minute?

  Oh, jeez! She couldn't have that kind of thought about Spencer. She was going to marry him. She couldn't want him to be quiet so she could think about Luke, figure out if he wanted to kiss her. This was not a good sign. She'd only been around Luke for two days, and already he was causing problems.

  "I forgot to call. I'm sorry. Things have been hectic here. I was going to call you on Saturday."

  "Today is Saturday," Spencer persisted.

  "So it is. And here I am."

  "Kate, is something wrong?"

  "No, everything's fine." It was the second time she'd lied to Spencer.

  Luke strolled through the kitchen door and into the living with three plates of chocolate brownie pie topped with whipped cream. He didn't as much as glance in her direction.

  "Are you sure? You don't sound all right. Do you need me to come down there? I can be there tomorrow morning. I don't have anything on my schedule until Monday morning."

  That's all she needed, for Spencer to come down and find his fiancée lusting after her childhood friend and that same fiancée's mother's ghost performing the other-worldly version of Julia Child's cooking show.

  "No! Really, everything's fine. We, uh, we have company. A neighbor. An old friend. We were just having dinner."

  "My apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt."

  "You didn't." She pressed a hand to her forehead as if she could somehow press the chaos in her mind into some sort of order. "Of course you didn't interrupt. Things have been a little crazy. As soon as I get it all straightened out, I'd like you to come down and meet Papa but there's no point in your coming tomorrow."

  "I understand. We'll schedule it for another time. I'm looking forward to meeting your father."

  Papa's touch on her arm startled her. "Where's your mother's pie?" he whispered. "She just wants a tiny piece. Always worried about her waistline."

  "What?"

  "I said I'm looking forward to meeting your father," Spencer replied.

  "Not you."

  "You don't want me to meet your father?"

  Papa smiled beatifically and held up his dessert plate. "She can have part of mine if there's not enough."

  "There's enough. There's plenty of pie for her, too."

  Good grief! What was she saying?

  "Obviously I've caught you at a bad time," Spencer said. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving town Monday morning, and I'll be back on Thursday. I've got to meet with the Larrimer people in Connecticut. If you need me, you can check with my secretary and she'll give you the number of the hotel, and you have my cell number. Call me back tomorrow if you get a chance. If not, I'll phone you in a day or two."

  "She doesn't want whipped cream on hers," Papa whispered, then patted his own expanding waistline. "Calories."

  "A day or two. Fine. Great. No whipped cream. Good-bye, Spencer." On the third try, she managed, with a shaking hand, to disconnect the call and return her phone to her purse.

  Papa was already back in the living room by that time.

  Kate hurried after him, hoping to catch him before he could tell Luke about Mama's request for a piece of pie, hoping to spare him the embarrassment of an outsider knowing his mental condition.

  If she wasn't already too late. If he hadn't already told Luke.

  The two of them were deep in conversation, Papa relaxing in his recliner and Luke on the sofa.

  Luke was nodding. "I can take care of that," he said.

  Take care of what? Getting Mama a piece of pie with no whipped cream?

  "There you are, Katie-girl!

  "Yes, here I am!"

  "The pie's great," Luke said.

  "Thank you."

  Both men looked at her expectantly, and she realized she was still standing...hovering, actually, waiting.

  She perched on the sofa beside Luke.

  Then moved one cushion away.

  "Katie, Luke's going to go to Dallas Monday and pick up some copies of legal documents at the Dallas County Courthouse for me. Would you mind going with him to show him where the courthouse is?"

  "She doesn't need to do that. I can find my way around." Luke's protest was adamant, and she felt again the sharp, cold stab of rejection as clearly if it had happened yesterday rather than seventeen years ago.

  Or today.

  Maybe it wasn't quite the same thing, but he'd just made it clear, after almost kissing her, that he didn't want her with him on his trip to Dallas.

  And she didn't want to be with him, either.

  Determinedly she brushed aside that stab of rejection. When she was eleven years old and lonely, Luke had been able to hurt her. She'd needed him. She'd written him countless letters, begged him not to desert her.

  But she was no longer a child, no longer lonely and no longer desperate for his or anyone else's friendship. That was all in the past, dead and gone.

  "Papa, I came to visi
t you, not run back and forth between here and Dallas."

  Papa smiled at her. "I understand. Of course you don't want to make that long drive on your vacation. I'll do it." He concentrated on cutting off his next bite of pie with his fork.

  "Sheriff, I can get those papers for you!" Luke cast Kate a frustrated glance.

  They were, at least, united in their efforts to take care of Papa.

  Papa chewed and swallowed his bite then waved his fork in a dismissive gesture. "I've done it before. I know exactly where the courthouse is. If you don't know, you could get lost in all those one-way streets in downtown Dallas. Back when I first started going down there fifty years ago while I was still a deputy, it wasn't like that. Dallas is big now. Huge."