Ghost of Summer

by Sally Berneathy

  "So was Houston. I didn't have any trouble finding my way in Houston," Luke protested. "I have a good sense of direction."

  "But I'd get lost in Houston, just like you'd get lost in Dallas. Nope. I'm going on Monday. And while I'm there I'm going to get us a computer system."

  "A computer system?" Kate echoed in shock. "You want a computer? I gave you a laptop for Christmas, and you made me take it back! You said you'd lived this long without one and didn't need it now!"

  "I changed my mind. You've got to stay in step with the times, you know. Anyway, this is for the office. Luke used one when he was in Houston, and he's convinced me they can save a lot of time and paperwork."

  A quick glance at Luke's face told her he was a little confused by this information about his part in this situation.

  "Pete used to do all the paperwork," Papa went on. "I never was too good at it."

  Kate had no trouble accepting that last. Papa had always been an action-oriented person, not a desk-work person. "Okay," she said, "you and I will go to Dallas on Monday. I'll help you get your computer system, and you can pick up your papers at the courthouse."

  Papa ate his final bite of pie, chewing thoughtfully. Finally he nodded. "That'd be fine, Katie. We can do that."

  Kate was relieved the matter had been settled so easily. Thank goodness she wasn't going to have to drive all the way to and from Dallas with Luke beside her.

  Knowing how stubborn Papa could be, she'd half expected him to protest, to insist that she and Luke go together.

  She'd half wanted him to protest.

  Her insanity was worse than Papa's. His at least made him happy. Continued contact with Luke Rodgers wouldn't make her happy and could make her very unhappy if she didn't get all those rampant hormones and emotions under control.

  Yes, it was a good thing that she wasn't going to Dallas with him on Monday. A very good thing.

  Chapter Eight

  The choir had already started to sing Sunday morning when Kate and her father hurried into the big stone Methodist church on Grand Avenue. Papa had forgotten his Bible, and they'd had to return to the house, so they were running a few minutes late.

  Not being on time for any event made Kate nervous. This occasion she'd looked forward to as a soothing time of quiet and solace, a respite from the increasing tensions of her life, had already become stressful even before they got there.

  The church was filled almost to capacity but Papa guided her unerringly toward a pew halfway down. As they approached, the dark haired man on the end turned to look at them, and Kate's heart lurched.

  The stress was intensifying.

  Papa had chosen the pew where Luke sat, where there was room for only one more person, someone about the size of a six year old child.

  She tugged on his arm, trying to steer him toward the other side where she'd spotted a larger space, but he ignored her.

  Luke, just as delectable in a suit and tie as he had been in his uniform, smiled up at them and obligingly scooted over as far as he could, practically into Mrs. Lawther's lap.

  Mrs. Lawther looked up and Papa smiled charmingly at her. She smiled back and moved closer to Mrs. Moncrief who also smiled at Papa, gave him a finger-waggling wave with one gloved hand, and moved closer to Mr. Moncrief...which was probably, Kate reflected, the closest those two had been in at least twenty years.

  There was barely enough room for Papa and her to squeeze in if she sat really close to Luke. And that was something she didn't want to do...because it felt so darn good.

  For a moment her gaze met his...as luck would have it, just as the choir burst into the Hallelujah chorus.

  She turned her eyes determinedly toward the front.

  Luke's shoulder and thigh pressed against hers. In his lap his hands were folded on top of a black Bible that was identical to if not the same one she remembered his mother having in their childhood.

  An eerie sensation of past and present merging swirled around her, tugging her in different directions.

  The way his body against hers made her feel was very definitely the present, something entirely new.

  But as children, she and Luke had spent many Sunday mornings in this church, and a part of her seemed to be back in that time. The hymns sounded the same. The stained glass with the sunlight making the Madonna's halo glow was the same. Even the scents were the same...perfume and powder mingled with the light fragrance of the fresh flowers on the altar and the slightly musty paper odor of all those hymnals and Bibles. Like a wispy thread woven through all of it was Luke's essence...earthy and clean and masculine with a trace of peppermint gum.

  He was at once a young boy and a grown man, her friend and a sexy stranger.

  Kate swallowed hard and tried to focus on the music, on spiritual matters, on anything except Luke, past or present.

  From the corner of her vision, she could see his knuckles turning white.

  He was as tense as she.

  That observation only increased her own tension.

  She felt wedged between the past and the present.

  Pulling her in one direction were the wonderful years she'd shared with Luke when they were children. But the pain that had come with depending on him for so many years then losing him battered her from another direction. She didn't want to be reminded of all that. She'd dealt with that childish dependence and pain and put it behind her years ago. There was no reason to resurrect it now.

  Yet neither was she prepared to deal with her responses to Luke the adult. As an engaged woman, as a reasonably intelligent woman, she shouldn't become breathless in his presence, her heart shouldn't speed up, she shouldn't want to reach over and touch the dark hairs that sprang from his white-knuckled hands.

  The church service crept by with an agonizing slowness. Several times Kate surreptitiously checked her watch, certain it must be long past noon.

  Actually, the service ended five minutes early.

  Kate shot to her feet, released at last from the delicious torture of sitting beside Luke.

  To her chagrin and her body's delight, the crowd pushing to get out kept her pressed to Luke's chest, her bottom to his groin, his warm breath on her neck.

  Her head whirled with the confusion of desire and suppressing that desire.

  Finally they burst into the open air, and the sultry summer temperatures were much cooler than the air-conditioned proximity to Luke had been. She had to get away from him, get home by herself where she could think clearly and rein in her confused emotions, get them untangled and back into their proper slots.

  The crowd milled around in the church yard, friends and neighbors visiting, discussing the sermon, smiling, nodding, shaking hands, hugging. In the parking lot only a hundred feet away she could see her car, her vehicle of escape. She was almost safe.

  "Well, Luke," Papa said, squinting into the sun, "how about some lunch at the Grand Street Café?"

  Her heart fluttered and sank and fluttered again. It was as confused as the rest of her.

  Luke hesitated, and she saw that his forehead glistened with a sheen of perspiration as if he, too, had been fighting his own personal demons. "Well, I—"

  "Then we'll see you there," Papa said, clapping him on the back. "Won't be as good as Katie's meal last night, but Helen fries up some mighty tasty chicken. We'll save you a chair at our table."

  Kate's only consolation was that half the congregation went to the Grand Street Café for Sunday lunch. With that many people around to dilute Luke's presence, surely she could maintain an impersonal attitude.

  After lunch she'd have the rest of the day to get everything straightened out in her mind. That was all she needed, a few hours away from him. Since she'd arrived in Briar Creek two days ago she'd been thrown together with him almost constantly. Between his disturbing presence and Papa's relationship with Mama's ghost, it was no wonder she was in a state of total confusion.

  She'd have the rest of the day and night alone at home with Papa, then tomorrow a tr
ip with him to Dallas, and by the time she got back, she'd be prepared to face Luke with all her jumbled emotions sorted out and under control. She'd have Luke properly catalogued and contained in one of the compartments that held her past.

  But then after lunch Papa invited Luke over for an evening of porch sitting.

  Luke demurred.

  Papa insisted.

  And Luke could no more deny Papa anything he wanted than she could.

  ***

  As soon as they got home after lunch and changed clothes, Katie took two glasses of iced tea and went to join Papa in the porch swing. Even in the sweltering midday heat, the shade of all those trees kept it cool enough to sit outside...provided you drank plenty of iced tea.

  Leo jumped into Papa's lap, and Papa stroked him.

  "Good sermon," Papa said.

  "Umm," Katie replied noncommittally. She wasn't real sure what the sermon was about. "Papa, have you ever thought about retiring?" she asked.

  "Oh, sure," he said, and she looked at him in surprise. "Thought about it and decided not to."

  "I see. Well, maybe you should give it some thought now that you have Luke to take care of things. I can understand why you didn't want to leave Pete in charge—"

  "Pete was too old."

  "Pete was younger than you!"

  "Only in age."

  She couldn't argue that. "Anyway, this might be a good time to think about retiring. When Spencer and I get married, we're going to move into his condo because it's larger, and you could have mine."

  He cut his eyes around at her.

  "Or we could sell mine and get you a different one," she hastily amended.

  Papa turned to her and smiled. "That's real nice of you to offer, Katie-girl, but I'm not planning to retire just yet and I sure don't want to move to Dallas. Not that you don't have a nice place, but this is home and I'm going to stay right here." He lifted his glass and took a big drink of his tea as if the subject was closed.

  Katie sighed. "Papa, did you ever think there might be a reason why people retire when they get older?"

  "Well, sure. Lots of reasons. They're tired and don't want to work anymore. They don't like their jobs. They have something else they want to do. None of that applies to me. As long as the people keep electing me, I'll keep doing my best to take care of them."

  "But what if you can't? What if there's a big shoot-out and maybe your reflexes aren't quite as fast as they used to be and what if you get killed?"

  Papa chuckled and patted her leg. "Katie-girl, you've been watching too many movies. Nothing ever happens here in Briar Creek. Bob Fenton may get drunk and pick a fight with his wife and she'll lay him out cold and call me to come drag him to jail for the night. Homer Grimes and Seth Flanders may carry on their little feud. Clarissa Jordan runs that red traffic light on Main Street just about every day, but nobody's ever coming from the other direction. Don't you worry about me getting into a shoot-out. Only things get shot around here are a few deer and wild turkey."

  Leo slid out of Papa's lap and went to the door, then looked back and meowed.

  "Leo must be hungry," Papa said, rising from the swing. "I'll feed him and then I think I may take a little nap. Sunday afternoons are made for taking naps."

  Kate sat on the porch for a long time after Papa went in. She was pretty sure he'd used the excuse of a nap to avoid talking any more about his potential retirement.

  That suspicion was verified when the sound of voices drifted down from his bedroom window on the still summer air. He was watching television.

  She leaned back in the porch swing and rocked gently. The rhythmic creaking blended with the songs of the birds and insects.

  She couldn't really blame Papa for not wanting to leave here. Now that she thought about it, she didn't really want him to leave. As much as she enjoyed the fast-paced excitement of living in Dallas, coming back here was like...well, it was like a Sunday afternoon nap. If he moved to Dallas, sold this house, she wouldn't have a home to visit.

  Papa's laugh floated down to her, as it had so many times over the years when she and Luke played on the porch.

  But Papa had only had the television set in his room since she'd given him the big flat screen for Christmas two years ago.

  Which meant...what? That Papa used to sit in his room alone and laugh?

  Or had he been talking to Mama even in those days?

  ***

  That evening Kate pleaded a headache and went to her room before Luke arrived. Fortunately, her room faced the rear of the house and she couldn't hear the conversation from the front porch no matter how hard her ears strained. She probably ought to get up and close her bedroom door so she wouldn't even be trying to listen, but she wanted to hear when Papa came up to bed, to know that he was all right.

  She sat in bed reading for an hour. Then Leo came in, jumped up beside her and, shoving his head under her hand, insisted that she pet him. In a few minutes, however, he moved away from her to the edge of the bed and went through his invisible-hand routine.

  And then somehow Kate felt as if that invisible hand was stroking her, draining the tension and soothing her. The breezes coming through her open window became softer and cooler and brought the scent of those lilacs she'd forgotten to ask Papa about. She hadn't noticed any blooms on the tree.

  She closed her book, turned out the light and fell into a sleep so deep she didn't hear Papa when he came up to bed.

  ***

  Jerome knew Emma wasn't in their bedroom even before he looked in. Katie's door was open, and he could tell from all the way down the hall that she was in there with their daughter. He was never quite sure if he could feel or sense or see the glow of her energy, but he recognized it in the open doorway.

  He walked down the hall as quietly as he could, trying to avoid the boards he knew squeaked. As he approached, her familiar scent of lilacs drifted to him. He knew she couldn't have put on any perfume over the last twenty-six years, but she always seemed to trail the scent. It was as much a part of her as the glow.

  Sure enough, Emma stood beside the bed where Katie and Leo lay sleeping.

  His wife looked up and smiled as he walked in. "Isn't she beautiful?"

  Jerome wrapped an arm around his wife's waist, looked at their daughter and nodded. Katie couldn't hear her mother, but if he spoke, his voice might wake her.

  "I'm so glad I could come back and be here for all these wonderful years with her, especially now that she really needs guidance."

  "I'm glad, too," he whispered softly against her ear.

  "She's awfully stubborn, isn't she?"

  Jerome smiled. "She's your daughter."

  "And yours," she replied archly. "But our plans for tomorrow should be enough."

  "I hope so. Now come to bed. You worry too much."

  "I'm a mother. That's what we do." She leaned down and kissed Katie's cheek.

  Katie stirred in her sleep. "Mama?" she murmured softly.

  "Yes, dear, I'm here."

  Katie sighed and went on sleeping.

  "See? She's starting to hear me again. It's connecting with Luke that's doing it."

  Jerome nodded. "Being in love opens your eyes to all sorts of miracles you might miss otherwise."

  Soon Katie would have her true love, and then Emma would be free to go on. It was the way of life. He'd follow her soon. He knew that. Still, he was going to miss her.

  He extended his arm to his true love. Emma linked her arm with his and they went down the hall to their bedroom.

  Chapter Nine

  Luke woke Monday morning with a vague sense of unease, as if things weren't quite right.

  Oh, yeah. Sheriff and Katie were going to Dallas for the day.

  Holding down the Sheriff's department by himself for the first time shouldn't bother him. After Houston, he could handle the inconsequential problems of Briar Creek in his sleep.

  But Sheriff had been in that office for as long as he could remember. It would be a little stra
nge to be without him today.

  And even though things weren't working out so hot with Katie, he'd been with her so much the last few days, even this one day without her would also be strange. Last night, sitting on the porch with Sheriff and knowing Katie was upstairs but wouldn't join them had been strange, kind of empty. He hadn't stayed long. He'd been unable to focus on the conversation, his mind wandering continually to the subject of Katie, wondering if she wouldn't come down because of the scene in the kitchen the night before when he'd almost kissed her.