Ghost of Summer

by Sally Berneathy

  "We'll clean up the dishes then watch television for a while," she said briskly. That should keep her mind occupied and off him. "If the messenger doesn't get here before ten, we'll go to bed, then we'll get up in the morning, go to the courthouse for those papers and head home."

  "No problem. I didn't have anything planned for the evening anyway." He smiled.

  She smiled.

  ***

  Emma smiled and squeezed Jerome's hand. Actually, she surrounded it with a flow of energy, but the sensation was close.

  Jerome returned her smile but shook his head. "Emma, I'd never have believed you had such a devious mind."

  "Neither would I, but I guess it's true that a mother can do anything when her daughter's happiness is threatened."

  "I hated to bring up your accident."

  "If our daughter wasn't so stubborn, it wouldn't have been necessary. They'll thank us for this on their wedding day."

  "You're still so sure it'll come to that?"

  "I'm positive. And do you know what they're going to be watching on television tonight? Harvey. That old James Stewart movie about a man who could see a six-foot rabbit no one else could, the one they watched a hundred times when they were kids. They loved that movie."

  "Kind of fitting," Jerome said. "Sort of like the man who could see his wife but nobody else could." He patted her hand. "Come on, wife, let's go upstairs to bed."

  Together they climbed the stairs. Emma didn't need to go through the motions of walking, but she always did, always stayed beside him.

  "How'd you arrange for that movie to come on tonight?" he asked her.

  She laughed softly, and the sound flowed around him, like the morning mist scented with lilacs. "If I told you that, you'd be wanting me to make a John Wayne movie come on every night."

  "I'm pretty sure one already does, Emma."

  His wife was every bit as amazing in death as she'd been in life.

  He reached behind and slapped her playfully on the rear.

  She giggled and blushed. "Oh, Jerome!"

  He was sure going to miss her when they got Katie squared away.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke carried the bowl of microwave popcorn into the living room where Katie sat on one end of the sofa, her feet curled under her and hidden by her long skirt. She held the remote control to the TV and was channel surfing from one scrambled picture to another. This whole situation would be one hell of a lot easier if she didn't manage to look so damned sexy even waving that remote control around and swearing at the television.

  "Blasted cable. It's on the fritz again. For some reason the only station I can get is one showing that old black and white movie, Harvey."

  Luke sank onto the opposite end of the sofa and set the popcorn on the glass coffee table. "That really is an oldie. It was old when we watched it as kids."

  But he silently blessed the cable company for their problems. This was good. A trip down memory lane, a blast from the past. Keep his mind in an era when his body didn't get hard just from being around Katie. Much better than one of the new movies. Most of them had nudity and sex scenes. Surely a story about an invisible rabbit, a story he and Katie had shared when they were children, would keep him from having thoughts he shouldn't be having and from doing something dumb.

  Something like what he'd almost done in Sheriff's kitchen and again on Katie's balcony.

  "Yes, we've seen it a hundred times, but it'll have to do for tonight." She gave up switching channels and sat back. "Popcorn smells good. After that meal, I didn't think I could eat another bite, but I might be able to force down a few kernels."

  "Can't have a movie without popcorn, even if it is made in the microwave."

  She reached over and took a handful as the movie began to unfold on the screen.

  They watched in silence for a while.

  "This is my favorite part," Katie said when the sister of Stewart's character reluctantly admitted that she sometimes saw that big rabbit herself. Katie turned to look at him, her face inches from his.

  Luke wasn't sure how it had happened, but somehow he and Katie had moved from opposite ends of the sofa to the middle, right next to each other.

  Probably it was the bowl of popcorn sitting in the middle, both of them sliding closer to reach for a handful, then not going all the way back to their original spots.

  Or maybe his body had just taken charge and moved him over closer to her.

  In the flickering glow from the television—when had they switched off the lights?—her eyes were luminescent. For a moment they held his then abruptly she sat back and again tucked her feet under her, distancing herself from him.

  This wasn't exactly working out the way he'd hoped. He was still very much aware of Katie the woman sitting next to him. No way could he mistake her for the little girl who used to watch this movie with him. Beneath that thin cotton blouse, her breasts rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing, in time with the pounding of his heart. She might have her legs tucked under her, but he was only too aware that those legs were long and sleek, the legs of a woman, not a young girl.

  "Do you think he's really crazy?" she asked quietly.

  It took Luke a moment to pull his thoughts away from her legs and realize she was asking about the movie. "You mean because he sees a six-foot rabbit nobody else can see or because he's always so nice to everybody?"

  She laughed softly, but it was a half-hearted laugh. "Just because somebody hallucinates doesn't mean he's crazy, right?"

  "No, of course it doesn't. There are all sorts of hallucinations. A lot of people on drugs hallucinate, even prescription drugs. A thirsty man in the desert will hallucinate seeing water."

  "Of course," she said thoughtfully. "That makes sense. A person with a desperate need can imagine that need being filled without there being something wrong with that person. In fact, our whole definition of crazy just isn't valid any longer. It's all chemical imbalances, and a few drugs can straighten everything out, right?"

  "Yeah, but that's what this movie is all about. In the end, Elwood P. Dowd doesn't have the drug treatment because it would be a shame if he no longer saw Harvey."

  She chewed her lower lip. "I never thought of it that way."

  "You didn't? But we've seen this movie lots of times."

  She looked at him, and even in the dim lighting, he could see the agony in her gaze.

  "Damn it, Katie, what is it? Are you having hallucinations? Is that what's wrong?"

  She shook her head slowly. "No." Her pain was so obvious in her wide morning-glory eyes, so blatant, he couldn't stand it any longer. He pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, trying to tell himself he was only comforting her.

  "It's okay, Katie. Whatever it is, it's going to be okay. I promise."

  She wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, just the way she used to, drawing comfort even though neither of them said a word.

  But it wasn't quite the way it used to be. Her breasts pressed against him, soft and full. Her scent of rain-kissed honeysuckle wrapped around him, teasing and promising sweet delights. And his body was reacting in a way it sure hadn't in those long-ago days.

  He tried to pull away.

  No, he didn't. That was a lie. He thought about it, but his body wasn't responding to any such thoughts. His body was only responding to Katie's body.

  She was going to hate him. With her head against his chest, she was bound to hear his heart pounding out of control. Her leg was pressed against his thigh and she could surely feel the growing hardness there.

  She lifted her head and gazed at him, but it wasn't hatred he saw in her eyes. They were smoky blue with desire. Her lips seemed even more full than usual, as if swollen with the anticipation of his kiss.

  But if he kissed her—

  He couldn't think about that if. His mind wouldn't go there. All he could think about was how desperately he needed to claim her lips.

  Lowering his face to hers, he dropped t
iny butterfly kisses on her eyelids, the tip of her nose, moved slowly to stake his claim on all of her face, tantalizing himself and her with the nearness of her mouth. He'd waited so long for this, he wanted to savor every delicious second.

  Finally, unable to restrain himself any longer, he allowed himself the prize, brushed her soft, full lips with his, felt them reach toward his as she surrendered with a low moan.

  She filled his arms and his senses, her body and lips fitting against his in complete alignment as if the two of them had been torn apart leaving ragged edges and now those edges were once again joined seamlessly, forming a whole. His heart raced, beating wildly in perfect rhythm with hers, taking them to a place where only the two of them existed, not the past when both of them were children or the present where so many problems existed to keep them apart. This world was only the feel of her soft, warm body in his arms, her breasts against his chest, her lips moving sensuously on his, the scents of popcorn and honeysuckle blending and becoming a part of the whole, his blood roaring past his ears, roaring and ringing.

  Katie stiffened.

  The ringing wasn't inside his head, at least not all of it.

  Katie's phone shrilled again.

  Kate pushed away from Luke, her head swirling with confusion and desire and the ringing of that telephone. Before she could get back to her end of the sofa, turn on the lamp she didn't remember turning off, and gather her senses enough to lift the phone, the recorder broke in, the voice sounding strange even though Kate knew it was her own. "You've reached 555-9627. Please leave a message and I'll call you back."

  "Kate, this is Spencer." Kate's hand froze on the receiver. The male voice penetrated the room, out of place, an intrusion, and it took her a couple of heartbeats to remember who Spencer was. "When I checked in with the office today, they told me you'd been there to pick up a technical manual. Now you're not answering your cell, and your father tells me you're not with him and he's trying to give me some idiotic story about your being with a sick friend. I get the feeling he doesn't like me. If you get this message—"

  She snatched up the receiver. "Hello, Spencer. I'm here."

  "Kate, what's going on?"

  "Nothing." Kate flinched as if she half expected to be struck by lightning for telling such an outrageous lie.

  Nothing? Everything! She'd just been kissing Luke, her emotions and hormones careening wildly. She'd just lost her mind, that was what was going on.

  "Papa wanted me to pick up some legal papers and a computer system for him and that's what I've been doing. I was watching TV, so I guess I didn't hear my cell phone. It's in my purse. Muffles the ring tone." Did she sound as breathless to him as she sounded to herself? As she was? "I'm spending the night here then going back to Briar Creek in the morning."

  "Good idea. That's a long drive to be making this late at night. Well, I'm glad I got hold of you. The Larrimer people brought up an interesting request that you can probably help me with."

  Kate barely heard the words as Spencer told her what the company wanted. She answered him automatically, but her mind was on other things.

  She had to tell Spencer that Luke was here for the night. Beyond the needs to be as honest as possible with him...though she didn't think she ought to mention that kiss...Whitney had seen them, and Whitney would be sure to bring it up the next time she saw Spencer. Whitney could never stop talking until she'd had a complete brain dump.

  "That should work," he said when they had concluded the discussion about business. "Thanks. You have a good night and I'll talk to you on Thursday."

  "Spencer, wait, I need to tell you that I'm not alone here tonight. Papa's deputy came up with me to get those papers, and since the papers weren't ready on time, Papa thought we both ought to stay here and get them first thing in the morning. He worries about me driving at night because of Mama's car wreck." She held her breath, expecting some sort of protest.

  "Is that deputy the Pete you're always talking about? Well, I hope you get things wrapped up soon so you can get back to Briar Creek and enjoy the rest of your time with your father."

  "No, it's not Pete. Papa has a new deputy, Luke Rodgers, a, uh, an old friend of mine. A childhood friend."

  Silence.

  "Okay." Spencer sounded as if he wasn't quite sure why she was telling him that.

  "Luke is spending the night in my condo, too. In the guest room, of course."

  Another space of silence.

  "Kate, you're not worried I'd be jealous, are you?"

  "No, of course not." Yes, she had been.

  "You know I'm not the jealous type, and I know you're much too rational to get swept up in some tawdry moment of passion. I am not the least bit concerned about your father's deputy spending the night in your guest room."

  Kate gave a short, nervous laugh. "Good. Well, I'll talk to you on Thursday then."

  She was glad Spencer wasn't concerned about Luke spending the night in her guest room. She was glad Spencer knew she was too rational to get caught up in some tawdry moment of passion.

  Now she'd feel a lot better if she could be half as certain as he was.

  She hung up the phone.

  She and Luke rose from the sofa at the same time.

  "Well," he said, "if you'll point me in the right direction, I think I'll hit the sack. Long day. Long drive tomorrow."

  "Down the hall, first door on the left. Bathroom's on the right."

  But Kate didn't go to bed immediately. She sat on the sofa, legs curled under her, and tried to get control of her cartwheeling emotions. It wasn't easy when one part of her wanted to relive, over and over, the incredible sky-rocketing sensation of that kiss.

  Even more frightening than that was the connection she'd felt with Luke during that kiss and earlier when they'd stood on the balcony talking. For a while she'd fallen back into the past, into trusting him, depending on him, into that old attachment to him that had caused her so much trouble when it was broken.

  Luke had made it clear with his aloof attitude when she got off the phone that he regretted what happened. He said he wanted her friendship, but he didn't want to get too close, and that was fine with her. Neither did she. In fact, even friendship was probably too strong a word for what she wanted.

  She had to get back to that safe, secure place inside herself where everything was stable and calm. Maybe that place didn't have the balloon-ride highs of kissing Luke, but neither did it have the airplane-crash lows.

  Spencer was a part of that place, her rational, logical choice for a husband. Their commitment was based on mutual respect and common interests, not something as volatile as volcano kisses and an obscure feeling of their souls joining. She and Spencer would never go through a terrible divorce, they would never leave each other because of a torrid affair. Their marriage would be sane and sensible.

  Everything had been going along just fine until Luke appeared in her life again. She had to remember that she was not that little girl she once was, so besotted with him, so needy, that she couldn't live without him. Nor was he that little boy, in spite of his efforts to retrieve that relationship. They were adults now with no connection except through her father.

  No connection except those adrenaline rushes you get every time he's near, the way his lips felt on yours, the way his heart beat in perfect rhythm with yours, the way you connect to him and feel complete.

  The reminder of things she wanted to forget almost seemed to come from someone other than her, someone speaking directly into her thoughts.

  She didn't need to think about any of that. Okay, she'd adored Luke when she was a child, but she was no longer a child, no longer at the mercy of reckless emotions and attachments, no longer dependent on anyone but herself.

  She stood and turned off the lamp, then frowned. The lamp had been turned off when she and Luke were kissing, but she didn't recall switching it off, and Luke couldn't have done it without going past her to her end of the sofa. Maybe it had been an electrical fluctuation of
some sort.

  She turned resolutely toward her bedroom. She was doing the right thing. She needed a stable, dependable relationship. She needed Spencer. Well, actually, she didn't need him, which was why their relationship would work.

  If you don't need him, why are you marrying him?

  That detached voice in her head again.

  She sank back onto the sofa.

  Because they got along well, had the same interests. Because they could support each other and help each other in their careers. Their company was family-oriented, and most functions preferred they bring an escort. More married employees were promoted than single employees.