The Summer He Came Home

by Juliana Stone

  “Sure. Why don’t we grab some lunch first. Did you get worms? I think we’re all out.” At Jake’s nod, Michael’s face fell.

  “We didn’t think about worms. Can’t we just pretend?” His open smile tugged at her heartstrings.

  Cain laughed. “There’s no fun in pretending.” He moved closer to her son and rested his hand on Michael’s shoulder. It was a small gesture, but one that twisted her insides something fierce. “We’ll hop in my truck after lunch and drive into town to get some bait. Sound good?”

  They both looked at Maggie—Michael’s face full of hope, Cain’s unreadable.

  “Can I, Mom?” Michael was near bursting, antsy. “I promise I’ll sit in the back and everything.” He looked up at Cain and whispered, “Air bags freak Mom out.”

  How could she say no?

  “That’s fine, Michael.”

  “Sweet!” He high-fived Cain. “I’ll get my pole. I left it on the dock.”

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I need some food.” Mac turned toward the house. “Your mom make her potato salad?”

  Jake shrugged. “I’m sure she did.” His eyes lingered on Raine. “You coming?”

  She shook head. “Maggie and I had a late breakfast.”

  “Did she eat?” Jake asked Maggie, his face hard. He looked like he was back in that dark place…the place he’d been when he first returned to Crystal Lake over a week ago. Gone was the lightness of the morning. Something had changed, and she shifted uncomfortably.

  Truth was, Raine had barely touched her fruit salad, and Michael had finished it.

  “Oh for God’s sake, Jake. What are you, the food police?” Raine turned and shook out her towel. She grabbed a pile of magazines from her bag, mumbling under her breath, and flopped down onto the low-slung chaise.

  Her skin was milky white, and the two-piece amber-colored suit she wore was retro—very forties in style and totally suited to her looks. With her hair piled on top of her head and the overlarge black sunglasses perched on the edge of her nose, she resembled a movie star from a long-ago era. She rapidly flipped through the pages, ignoring them as she settled into the chair.

  “Okay, I’m gonna grab some grub,” Mac said to no one in particular. Marnie and Steven were on the lower deck. The barbecue was lit, and the smell of burgers and dogs wafted on the breeze. He headed toward them.

  Jake swore and followed suit, while Cain watched them, a frown replacing the smile he’d sported moments earlier.

  “Is he…”

  Cain’s gaze swung back to her. His dark eyes were shadowed with concern.

  “Is he all right?” The man’s brother had just died—of course he wasn’t all right. But there was something more at play, and Maggie had a feeling things were a lot more complicated than most people realized.

  “No.” He shook his head and looked behind her. “He’s not.” He exhaled and ran fingers along the back of his neck. “So you girls are good?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “Okay.” His mouth crooked into a halfhearted, easy smile. “I’m going to grab a burger and then take Michael out on the boat. If you change your mind and wanna come with, just let me know. There’s lots of room.”

  The last place she wanted to be right now was on a small boat with only a few feet between them.

  “Thanks for taking him. He loves the water, but I just don’t really have the time to get him out…between work and…” She shrugged. “Well, and the fact that I don’t have a boat.”

  Cain smiled, a lazy, slow, seductive smile that started the old heart up but good. “Come with us,” he said carefully, watching her way too intensely.

  Her mouth was dry and she shook her head. “I’m…I’ll,” she stammered, “stay with Raine.”

  His grin widened.

  “I have a book.” She jutted her chin slightly, regaining a bit of her composure.

  Cain looked down at her in silence. A breeze rippled the air between them, lifting long wisps of her hair into the wind. She tucked them behind her ear, and his gaze followed the action. Heat flushed beneath her skin as she looked up at him.

  The look in his eyes set her heart beating even faster against her chest. So fast that it was uncomfortable. Electricity charged the air, and her breath hitched at the back of her throat. A vision of his mouth sliding across her neck flashed before her eyes, and she blinked rapidly in an effort to clear it from her mind.

  “No problem. He’s a great kid.”

  Cain turned, and for a few seconds Maggie stared after him, at the long, lean lines of his body. Heat curled inside her belly, and she dragged her eyes away, mad that the man was able to get under her skin so easily.

  Maggie slid into the chaise beside Raine and opened her book, though the words blended into a mishmash of letters.

  “So, what’s going on between you two?”

  “Sorry?” She turned to Raine.

  “Cain? Something’s going on between you two.”

  Maggie frowned. “I barely know the man, and from what little I can see, he’s not exactly the kind of guy I’d ever consider dating.” At Raine’s sly grin, she said, “Not that I’m considering it or anything.” Raine snorted, and Maggie’s frown deepened. “With anyone, for that matter.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.” Raine flipped through her magazine. “You would be good for him, especially after his nasty divorce.”

  A few moments of silence stretched out long and thin, and even though she knew she should keep her mouth shut, Maggie couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “So what’s the story with that?” she asked carefully, her eyes trained onto the book she held, though honestly, the words were a blur. “His divorce.”

  Raine settled into her lounger, wiggling a bit until she got comfortable. “He married Natasha Simmons. I’m sure you’ve heard of her; she’s an actress from LA.”

  Natasha Simmons. That was a name she did know. An image of a tall, leggy blonde flashed in her mind. Bond girl?

  “Really.” She tried to sound disinterested but in fact was anything but. “So what happened?” she asked casually.

  Raine sighed and closed her magazine. “I’m not sure. Cain’s never really said, but you can bet it wasn’t easy or clean.” She grinned. “At least not according to some of the tabloid things I’ve read.”

  Something twisted inside Maggie. Natasha Simmons. The total opposite of everything that Maggie was. Not that she was interested or anything.

  She looked over to where the boys were gathered. Lauren Black had arrived, and Cain stood beside his mother, his arm loose around her shoulder. It was obvious the two of them shared a special relationship, and he seemed so down to earth. It was hard for her to picture him with someone like the starlet he’d married.

  “I’ve known them my whole life.” Raine murmured. “The Bad Boys of Crystal Lake.”

  At Maggie’s arched brow, Rain smiled. “That’s what everyone called them after they were arrested.”

  “Arrested…for what?” Maggie sat straighter, more than a little interested in Raine’s answer.

  “That’s a story for another day. Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” She smiled sadly. “They’ve always been more than friends, you know…more like brothers. It’s good…” Her voice faltered, and a shuddering breath fell from her lips. “It’s good they’re together again.”

  Save for one, Maggie thought. God, life sucked sometimes.

  Maggie settled back, the book forgotten as she watched Cain and her son. Michael chatted animatedly, his arms in the air, his whole body talking, telling a story as he held on to his fishing rod as if it was the most amazing thing in the world.

  He looked up at Cain like he was some kind of god, and her chest tightened. Michael was getting much too attached to a man who’d come into their life by accident. That wasn’t a good thing. Cain would leave for LA—his career pretty much demanded it—and that was probably for the best.

  Cain glanced her way and smiled, his
gaze lingering for so long his mother turned her way. Startled, Maggie lowered her eyes and shoved her sunglasses up onto her nose.

  It would be better if he left sooner rather than later.

  And not just for Michael’s sake.

  Chapter 8

  Tuesday morning in Crystal Lake found the sun shining bright, and even though it was just past nine it the morning, the thermometer was creeping into the midseventies. Flowers were in bloom and the lake glistened as if precious gems floated on its surface.

  Cain drove along Crystal Lake Road and headed toward town. His windows were down, and the fresh air, heavy with the scent of late spring, lifted his spirits as he navigated the two-mile stretch.

  The lake was on his left, and the winding road was bordered on each side by colorful bands of black-eyed Susans and white daisies. In the distance, pine forests blanketed the entire area, painting the landscape a vibrant green.

  It was a beautiful, picturesque kind of place and one he hadn’t fully appreciated growing up. Such is the ignorance of youth.

  The town had come into existence because of the flourishing lumber industry back in the 1800s. Crystal Lake was but one of many lakes and waterways that connected to the powerful Muskegon River. The Edwards family had garnered most of their wealth when the twins’ ancestor Thomas Edwards, a lumberjack from the wilds of Canada, had arrived in the area with ten dollars in his pocket and a burning ambition to make a life for himself.

  His hard work and keen mind had enabled him to push forward, and the Edwards Lumber Company had been born off the sweat of his brow and the blind determination in his heart. During its heyday, the lumber company had made him and a select group of individuals who’d laid down roots in Crystal Lake millions.

  Those roots had taken hold with a tenacity that survived the downturn in the lumber business, and now, more than a hundred years later, the town was still home to the descendants of many of the first-wave inhabitants.

  It wasn’t a large town by any means, boasting a population of only four thousand souls when Cain had lived there ten years earlier. As he drove into town he noted they’d gained another thousand over the last decade—at least according to the sign on the side of the road near the old mill: Crystal Lake, Home of the Lumberjacks. Population 5,120.

  He grinned as he passed the sign. Hoo-yah. Football was still king. He was glad to see that not much had changed and that those things that had changed were for the better.

  He took his foot off the gas and eyed the old mill as the SUV rolled by. It was now a fancy gift shop with an adjacent pub-style restaurant. A patio filled with patrons jutted out into the water. Crystal Lake sported a tributary waterway that ran through town and dumped into the large body of water the town was named after.

  Cain’s gaze drifted overhead to the iron railway, and a vivid image of himself and the boys jumping off of it, just shy of the dam, brought another wistful smile to his face. It had been dangerous—stupid—but Christ, the high was one he’d never forget.

  Large, stately homes from another era with huge oak trees guarding them welcomed him back, and he marveled at the feeling of déjà vu as he turned down Front Street. It was short and ended at the water. Two young boys pounding the pavement furiously, with their skateboards and fishing poles tucked to their backs, rushed down the sidewalk to his left, swerving at the last minute as a couple of girls screeched in their direction.

  They didn’t break stride. They were on a mission—Michigan boys in search of water and fish.

  He pulled into Lawrence’s Tackle & Bait and cut the engine. The place was the last one on the street, a smallish brick building that had stood for nearly one hundred and fifty years. At one time it had been the post office, but when the downtown business district had sprung up across the bridge in the thirties, it had been taken over by the Lawrence family. It was the place to get bait and tackle, and over the years the family had added a variety of items to their inventory—everything from screwdrivers to shotguns.

  Cain slid from his truck and grinned like a kid. Damn, but it felt good to be back.

  He strode inside and took a few seconds to adjust his eyes to the dark interior. The smell of sandalwood oil, wood, bait, and fish greeted his nostrils. It was a sharp blend that hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Well, shit, Cain. You back already? Don’t tell me you used up that bait you got on Sunday.” Daniel Lawrence—a.k.a. Old Man Lawrence—moved from behind the counter. He’d been old for as long as Cain could remember, and though his gait was a bit slower than a decade earlier, he was still spry for a man in his mideighties.

  Cain shook Mr. Lawrence’s hand and nodded. “Yeah, and we didn’t catch squat.” Cain moved to the display of lures. “I think I need to invest in some new tackle.”

  Mr. Lawrence guffawed. “You lose your touch, Hollywood?”

  Cain grinned. He hadn’t been called that in years. “Naw, I think the fish have gotten smarter, is all.”

  The old man’s faded eyes softened, his once-tall body slightly bent as he shuffled closer. “It’s good to have you back, son. You been gone too long. This town takes care of its own, and eventually most who leave find their way back.”

  Cain glanced toward the colorful fishing lures, more than a little unnerved at the intensity behind those faded eyes.

  “You take your time there. I’ll grab you some bait.”

  Cain watched him shuffle down the narrow aisle and then proceeded to pick out several lures, including some new ones for Michael. He grinned as he thought of the boy. They’d had shit luck Sunday afternoon and had caught a few sunfish, which they’d thrown back in the water. Cain wasn’t so sure if it was because the fish weren’t biting or if he was just too distracted by thoughts of the boy’s mother to concentrate on fishing.

  He’d promised to take Michael out again tomorrow and wanted to make sure they were outfitted properly. The gear Cain had left behind at the boathouse—his tackle from years ago—was sad, and it was time for new.

  “Here you go.” Old Man Lawrence tossed a large container onto the counter and nodded at the lures in Cain’s hands. “Good choice.” His brow creased. “Why so many?”

  Cain placed the tackle on the counter. “I’m taking a friend’s son out for the day tomorrow.”

  “Uh-huh.” The elderly gentleman pushed round glasses up his nose and quickly packed the lures into a paper bag. “The O’Rourke woman’s boy.”

  Cain wasn’t surprised. Gossip and innuendo traveled faster than a speeding bullet in this town. That was something that was never going to change. “Yes, Maggie’s son, Michael.”

  “She keeps to herself but makes it out to church service once in a blue moon. I guess she can’t be all that bad.” Mr. Lawrence peeked over his specs, his watery blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “A woman alone is a dangerous thing, especially one as pretty as that O’Rourke lady.” The old man nodded, his expression serious. “Plus, she’s got that dark red hair, and that can’t be good.”

  Cain tried his best to keep the smile from his face. “How so?” He handed over some cash and waited while Mr. Lawrence’s gnarled fingers navigated a cash register that was older than Cain.

  “Well, son…” Cain held out his hand to accept the change that was placed into his waiting fingers. “She’s either hiding something, or that red hair has made her unmanageable.”

  “Unmanageable?” What the hell was Maggie? A horse?

  “This is the truth. Don’t you know what they say about redheads?”

  Cain was almost afraid to ask.

  Old Man Lawrence lowered his voice. “They’ve got the fire of a witch inside them and can be one of two things.”

  Cain grabbed his bait. He couldn’t wait to hear what his choices were.

  “She can be the greatest pleasure you’ll ever encounter, or…”

  Cain struggled to hide a grin.

  “She’ll be the death of you…bad luck.”

  “Bullshit.” He shivered as the damp air of the store
rolled over his shoulders, and opened his mouth but closed it again.

  The elderly gentlemen looked so serious that for a moment Cain didn’t know quite what to say. All of a sudden Mr. Lawrence’s face crinkled and he guffawed loudly, slapping his hand onto the counter as laughter rolled out of his mouth.

  “I’m just teasing, son, though no one really knows much about this Maggie. She could be a serial killer for all we know…like a black widow.”

  The man had been watching way too many thrillers. Cain shook his head and smiled. “Take it easy, Mr. Lawrence, and give my best to your wife.”

  “I will. And Cain?”

  “Yeah?” He paused in the doorway.

  “Sure is good to have you boys back here.”

  He nodded but said nothing as he cleared his throat. He had a feeling he needed this town more than they needed him, but that was a secret he’d keep to himself.

  Cain slid into this truck.

  In the meantime, he planned on getting to know Maggie O’Rourke a whole lot better than anyone else in Crystal Lake. He slipped the SUV into gear and cranked the tunes, grinning as “Summer Nights,” an old Van Halen song, erupted into the quiet.

  Hell, yeah.

  “Summer nights and my radio…”

  And a girl with dark red hair.

  Chapter 9

  “Mom, is he here yet?” Michael’s excited whisper penetrated Maggie’s early-morning fog. It was Wednesday morning, just after five a.m., and she stifled a yawn as she took a sip from her second cup of coffee.

  “He said five fifteen, sweetie. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

  She glanced out the window into the dark. Whispers of fog crept along the road, ribbons of smoke that shimmered from the streetlight down the way. Cain was taking Michael fishing as promised, and apparently the best time happened to be at this godforsaken hour.

  She’d been surprised when Cain called Tuesday evening to remind her he’d be by at the crack of dawn to take Michael out on the lake. It was another shot for her son to try the whole fishing thing, since Sunday afternoon had been a bust—they’d caught nothing. Obviously the man had meant what he said. Maggie had secretly hoped he was just being polite.