The Summer of Us (Mission Cove Book 1)

by Melanie Moreland

  With my gentle encouragement, Sunny had given up the day-to-day running to Mack. He still controlled the kitchen, but he had lots of help. Lori and Shannon were still there and fulltime, along with three other staff members. Sunny handled all the marketing and finance and developed many of the new products they offered. She went in from time to time and helped out during the busier tourist time, but she now had a desk in the office here at home and worked in the kitchen a lot.

  I was the official guinea pig for her attempts, and I loved it.

  She volunteered at the community center fairly often. We had added a day care into the plans, and she loved spending time with the little ones, as well as talking to the teenagers. She was a favorite with many at the center—both staff and kids.

  I was thrilled, knowing her life was easier now. I took my job as her husband very seriously. The caveman in me wanted her at home all the time, relaxed and stress-free, but I knew she would hate that. This was a good compromise for now. The day she decided she wanted something else, I was ready.

  Emily now lived in Mission Cove, teaching at the local school. She also assisted at the community center, offering her services as a tutor. She lived in Sunny’s old apartment and loved to help out at the bakery. Sunny was thrilled to have her close. Hayley was in nursing school. I had paid off their student loans and financed Hayley’s continuing education. As their only “brother,” I felt it was the least I could do. Sunny had cried, the girls cried, but none of them objected. I was pleased to be able to look after my family, and I took my job as brother as seriously as I took my husband role.

  Sunny glanced up, her smile warm and welcoming. I dropped to the blanket beside her, leaning over for a kiss hello.

  “You were at the bakery,” I stated, reaching for the glass of iced tea beside her. “Yet no biscuits appeared on my desk, no visit from my wife to brighten my long, lonely day.”

  She snorted, passing me the glass. “I saw you two hours prior, and I was in the bakery for a short time to pick up some paperwork. I had other errands to run. I hardly think you needed a visit.” She shook her head. “Abby was there, so don’t give me the lonely bit.”

  I chuckled. “She was in and out all day. Jenny had something going on at school, so Abby was busy with her.”

  Sunny chuckled. “She’s always busy.”

  I had to agree. Abby and Michael had a rocky, angst-filled start, but once they both accepted the feelings they had, and Michael came to grips with the fact that he could love another woman, they had flourished. Abby adored his kids, and they, in return, soaked up that affection, giving it back to her in spades. The first time Jenny had called her “Mom,” Abby had wept in my arms for over ten minutes while telling me the story. Thinking it was something she would never have—a family of her own—I knew how special that was to her. Now married, she was entrenched in their lives. They were at our place a lot, Michael and I having grown closer, and she and Sunny best of friends.

  Sunny sighed quietly, leaning against the bark of her tree, closing her eyes. I studied her for a moment, suddenly noticing the lines of fatigue on her face and the fact that she was paler than normal.

  “Sunny?”

  She didn’t open her eyes. “I feel you looking at me. I’m fine, Linc. A bit tired, but fine.”

  “Then you need to rest more. You do too much for too many people.”

  A smile tugged on her lips. She opened her eyes, the look she gave me warm and tender.

  “I will.” Then she picked up a small bag. “I got you something.”

  I took the bag, filled with curiosity. I loved buying Sunny presents and did so regularly. She deserved to be spoiled. Her gifts were rarer. She said I was hard to buy for, but the truth was, I had all I wanted. Usually her gifts came in the form of a new kind of biscuit or something lacy she would wear for me. Those, I had to confess, were my favorite gifts.

  But this bag was too heavy for lacy. I reached in and pulled out a small pot, containing a plant. I frowned at the odd gesture, then looked at Sunny. Her expression was bright, her eyes luminous.

  “Um, thank you?” I murmured. “For my desk?” I guessed.

  She shook her head. “I want to plant it about ten feet that way.” She pointed toward the house.

  “Oh. Another willow?”

  “Yes,” she said. “A baby willow. I thought we could plant it in recognition of the one you planted.” As she finished speaking, she bit her lip, looking nervous.

  “But I haven’t planted…” My voice trailed off as her words sank in. I gaped at her. A baby willow. For the baby I had planted. In her.

  A tear slipped down her cheek as I stared at her. Sweet, warm, anticipating, leaning on her tree, one hand resting on her stomach as the news—the wonderful, amazing news—she had to share with me took shape in my head.

  Then she was in my arms and we were laughing, crying, kissing—celebrating. I cupped her face. “We’re having a baby?” I confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Aside from being tired, yes. The doctor told me to rest a little more.”

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I knew you would.”

  I kissed her again, holding her close.

  “I’ll plant the tree tomorrow.”

  She laid her head on my chest. “I thought maybe we could make a whole grove someday.”

  I dropped a kiss to her head. “One, two, six. Whatever we decide. Whatever we’re blessed with.” My voice became thick. “I already have more than I dared to dream of.”

  She snuggled closer. “I love you, Linc.”

  I held her, my mind rampant, my thoughts a mass of jumbled emotions—mostly good, but one doubt I needed her to ease.

  “Will I be a good father?” I asked, allowing my fear to show. “I didn’t have a good role model.”

  “Which is why you’ll be amazing. You will give this child everything you didn’t have. I think you’ll love this child—all our children—endlessly. You’re patient and kind. Caring. Generous.” She sighed. “Just like your mother.”

  I kissed her again. She always knew what to say. I caressed her stomach with the wonder that, beneath my hand, our child was growing. Still tiny and fledgling. But there. Right under my hand.

  “I love you,” I murmured, bending low. “I already love you.” I met Sunny’s tender stare. “Thank you.”

  Sunny covered my hand with hers. Then she smiled.

  And all was right with my world.

  Four years later

  I turned my chair, staring across the street, the stress of the last meeting melting away. Sitting at the table in the window of the bakery across the street was my daughter. The light caught her golden curls, her feet swinging furiously as she babbled away to my wife, who was seated across from her. My daughter clutched something in her hand, and I was certain it would be a biscuit, slathered in jam and butter. Like me, that was her favorite.

  I grabbed my phone and texted Sunny. She read my text and leaned over the table to Amanda, no doubt giving her my message. Amanda immediately turned to the window, waving wildly. Laughing, I stood close to the window and waved back. I was about to get up and go join them when my phone rang, and with a sigh, I turned away from the window, shooting off another text before answering.

  Tell her Daddy misses her and can’t wait to see her.

  I answered the call, wanting to finish up and head over to the bakery. My family was there, and that was where I wanted to be. I always wanted to be with them.

  There were now four willow trees out in front of our house.

  The day Amanda Sophie was born was one of the greatest days of my life. When her brother, Chase Gerald, followed a couple of months ago, my life was complete. The house buzzed constantly.

  I had hated to return to work, although I knew it was necessary. But I planned on working from home more. Sunny only went into the bakery now every so often. Mandy loved going and seeing all her “friends,” r
eigning like the little princess she was from her table.

  As quickly as possible, I finished up the call and turned back to the window, disappointed to see the table empty. Sunny must have made the visit a short one, and I wondered if Chase was fussy again today. He was far more vocal and demanding than Amanda had been as a baby.

  I focused on my work, determined to get it done and head home. My office door opened, and I glanced up, expecting Abby, hoping to see Sunny, confused when the open door was empty. Using my finger, I hooked the edge of the laptop, pulling it down, confusion changing to delight when I saw my daughter peeking through the open door.

  “Daddy!” she crowed, bursting in.

  I rounded the desk and bent low as she rushed toward me. I caught her in my arms, twirling her the way she loved. Her happy laughter filled the room, making me laugh as well. She always did. She had Sunny’s coloring and stature—tiny and perfect—but my blue eyes. Freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and I loved to kiss each one, making her giggle.

  She cupped my face with her tiny hands, her eyes dancing. “Hi!”

  “Hi yourself.” I looked at the pass dangling from her hands. She loved to be grown up and be the one to swipe the pass to get into the building or use the key at home. Anything to prove she was capable—not only had she inherited Sunny’s looks, she had also inherited Sunny’s stubborn streak. Watching the two of them go head-to-head at times was vastly amusing.

  Amanda had been ahead of the curve her entire life. Aware of her surroundings early in life. Walking before she should, talking in full sentences while others her age jabbered. I encouraged her all the time. She constantly amazed me.

  I looked toward the open door. “Where is Mommy?”

  She pointed behind me. “Da bakery.”

  My heart stuttered in my chest. “What? Is Abby with you?”

  She furrowed her little brow. “No,” she explained slowly, as if I were the child and she the adult. “I took da key and came to see you, Daddy. Mommy say you miss me. Now you not have to.”

  “Amanda Webber,” I said in my sternest voice. “How did you get here?”

  “I walked.” She shook her head as if I was slow. “I waited for da little man to say it was okay, and I crossed da street and came upstairs. Just like you taught me.”

  I lunged for my phone, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Somehow, while Sunny was busy, no doubt with Chase, my daughter decided to slip away and simply come see me. By herself. Crossing at the crosswalk the way we taught her, waiting for the little man to appear instead of the hand that said stop. She even thought to bring the key.

  She thought it out and did it. By herself. At not even four years of age.

  We were toast.

  My phone rang before I could dial, and I answered without looking who it was.

  “She’s here. With me.”

  Sunny’s panicked voice stuttered in relief, her words rushed. “Chase needed to be changed. She was eating her biscuit, chatting to Lori. When I came out, she was gone—I thought she went to the kitchen. But she wasn’t there. She took the keys, Linc! She took my keys! I couldn’t find her!” Her voice rose at the end.

  “And used them properly,” I muttered. “I’ll talk to her. She’s fine, Sunny.”

  I heard her muffled sob.

  “Sit down. I’ll be there in a moment,” I instructed gently. “I’ll talk to her first.”

  “Okay.”

  I sat down heavily, still holding Mandy. Her wide grin faded as she looked at me. “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  I sat her on the desk in front of me. Then I stood, needing to be the scarier Dad for this conversation.

  “Baby, you can’t leave the bakery without an adult. Ever. Do you understand?”

  “But I’m a big girl. You said so.”

  I had. On many occasions. I praised her. Cajoled her.

  “You don’t need a sippy cup. You’re a big girl now.”

  “You did that all on your own? What a big girl you are!”

  “No, you don’t sleep in a crib. That’s for Chase. You’re a big girl and a big sister.”

  Now those words had come back to bite me in the ass.

  I improvised.

  “You can’t leave anywhere without an adult until you’re this high.” I held my hand off the floor to my shoulder. “It’s the law.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh.” Then she pursed her lips. “Mommy isn’t dat tall, and she leaves all da time!”

  She was too freaking smart.

  “Mommy is an adult. The law changes when you are twenty-one.”

  That shut her up—for a minute.

  “Sometimes Jesse comes to da bakery, and he isn’t dat tall.”

  “He’s a boy. It’s different.”

  “It always is,” Sunny sighed, walking in holding Chase’s carrier. I could see the lingering panic on her face. Her eyes were bright with tears and rimmed in red.

  I took the carrier, and she sat in front of Amanda. “You scared Mommy,” she said quietly. “You shouldn’t have left the bakery alone. Even to go see Daddy.”

  The sight of my wife’s tears did way more than my warning for Amanda. Her little face was shocked. “Mommy, why you cry?”

  “Because I couldn’t find you, Mandy. You have to promise me never to do that again. Ever.”

  “I promise.” Amanda flung herself into Sunny’s arms. “I promise, Mommy!”

  I watched the little tableau with a lump in my throat. We knew Amanda was adventuresome and brave. And far too smart. Everyone in town knew who she was, and being off-season, the town was quiet. Which was one reason she’d skipped along undetected. I doubted she had been in much danger, but Sunny was right. She couldn’t be slipping out to see me or anyone else. We needed to nip this in the bud.

  “You need to be punished for this, Amanda,” I said.

  Her eyes grew round with worry. I’d never used that word before now. I swallowed hard.

  “No dessert tonight,” I proclaimed. “And no TV either for the rest of the day.”

  She looked at Sunny, who nodded in agreement.

  “Okay.”

  “You go sit at Abby’s desk while I talk to your mother.”

  She slipped off Sunny’s knee and shuffled past me, gazing up in sorrow. “I sorry, Daddy.”

  I stroked her head. “I know, baby.”

  “I play with Chase?”

  I took the carrier to the desk and set it beside the table. “I’ll be right over there.”

  “Okay.” She bent over, whispering to Chase. She always did that, and I often wondered what secrets she was sharing.

  I pulled Sunny into my arms and held her. “You okay?”

  She sighed, burrowing closer. I sat down and tucked her onto my lap. We both needed to be close.

  “That hurt?” she asked. “Saying the word punishment?”

  “Yeah, it did.”

  “Pretty lame punishment, Daddy. She got off easy.”

  “It was all I could come up with on the spur of the moment. It’s my first time, you know. Cut me some slack.”

  She smirked. “I think we’ll find we’ll need some more, ah, guidelines.”

  “Christ, she’s too smart. All happy and proud, walking in, clutching your pass, coming to see me,” I muttered. “Telling me how she waited for the little man before crossing the street.”

  Sunny covered a laugh behind her hand. “Lori said the back door buzzed, so she went to let in the supplier. She told Mandy she’d be right back. She’s sat there having her snack numerous times—she’s never done this before.”

  I sighed. “I’d never waved to her before and said I missed her. I’m sure the idea popped into her head. I think we’re entering new territory here.” I glanced over at Amanda and groaned. “And she’ll teach Chase. She’s already started.”

  Sunny followed my gaze. “You said no TV. She’s streaming.”

  I put my lips close to her ear. “She’d tell us it’s a computer, therefore different.
”

  “We are so screwed,” Sunny sighed.

  I watched Amanda as she sat on the floor, pointing out funny things on the screen to Chase. She’d pulled Abby’s laptop down with her, signing in, no doubt using the password Abby shared with her at some point.

  Amanda knew she was bending the rules, and I tried not to find delight in my little rebel of a daughter. She knew I would take away the computer, and she would surrender it with no fuss, but until then, she would enjoy her time with her brother.

  And the sight of it made me smile.

  “We are screwed,” I agreed.

  “But I love them,” Sunny sighed again. “Our little fusspot and the rulebreaker.”

  I hugged her close. I rather looked forward to seeing what they would do to keep us on our toes.

  We’d certainly never be bored.

  “Me too,” I assured her. “Especially their mother.” I kissed her. Once. Twice. Third time for luck.

  She cupped my face. “Now, let’s take them home,” she said. “I have biscuits for you in the car. We can have them for lunch before you forget the no-dessert thing too.”

  I had to kiss her again. An unexpected afternoon with my family.

  “Perfect.”

  Twelve years later

  AMANDA

  I crept up the path, sliding my fingers through the wooden slats until I found the latch. It lifted noiselessly thanks to the WD-40 I had squirted on it yesterday in preparation. I had learned my lesson before—that stuff leaves a scent, and if my dad smelled it, he would know something was up.

  Luckily, my parents slept at the front of the house and I had already checked their light was off. I had Damon leave me by the beach and I cut up across the sand and stood under the willow trees to make sure. I slipped from tree to tree—there were six in total. The older ones were my parents, and the younger ones were us kids. It was kind of a sentimental thing for them, but I had to admit I sorta liked it. My tree was the tallest, then Chase’s. The twins—Cedric Michael and Kelsey Lynn—weren’t far behind. They were born two years after Chase. I loved them all, even if they were a pain at times.