Just for the Summer

Just for the Summer

A Lake Bliss Novel

Jenna Rutland

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright ©
2013 by Jenna Rutland
. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in
any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact
the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Edited by
Kerri-Leigh Grady

Cover design by Jessica Cantor

ISBN
978-1-62266-878-6

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition
March 2013

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners
of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Olympics, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, Playboy Playmate, Mobil, Victoria’s
Secret, SpongeBob, Post-it Note, Scratch’n Sniff, PowerPoint, Googled, Adirondack,
Every Day is a Winding Road
.

To my family for their support and faith in me. To my writing buddies who try to keep
me sane, especially Shay Lacy and Constance Phillips. To my mother who instilled in
me the love of reading. And to my awesome editor, Kerri-Leigh Grady, to whom I will
always be grateful that she took a chance on me!

Chapter One

One of these children could be her son.

Dani Sullivan clutched the windowsill of her rented Lake Bliss bungalow and watched
the small group of boys who played at the water’s edge. She searched each child for
something familiar, desperate after eight years to see the sweet face of one little
auburn-haired boy.

Would she recognize anything of herself in the child? Or would his features trigger
an unwanted memory?

A woman clad in a floral one-piece bathing suit hustled out of a lawn chair. Her long
blonde ponytail swayed as she rushed toward a boy wearing bright red swim trunks who
stood near two other kids throwing sand. He wore a navy Detroit Tigers ball cap, and
tufts of his brown hair peeked out the back. The shade reminded Dani of nutmeg, a
color that matched her own curls at that age. The shape of his face and the way he’d
run—swinging his arms like they were the source of his locomotion—seemed so familiar.
So right.

Her son?

An image of a baby boy flashed in her mind. A newborn, wrapped in a hospital-issued
blanket, dark-eyed with a tuft of auburn hair. Her beautiful baby, whom Dani had promised
a happy life.

As another woman’s son.

Fueled by an overwhelming urge to get closer, she scurried onto the screened-in porch
and grasped a wooden beam for support. Outboard motors roared on the lake, drowning
out conversation. The woman appeared to scold the children next to him then guided
the boy to sit on the end of the dock where it met the beach. The others gathered
around. The woman removed the boy’s cap and tilted his head upward. The child swiped
first at his right eye then at the woman’s hand.

That could be her son’s adoptive mother.

Nausea tightened Dani’s gut.

Without thought, she pushed open the screen door and took a few steps toward the beach.
The sun was harsh on her face; the mixture of dried-out grass and weeds pricked her
bare feet. She pulled her sunglasses from on top of her head and slid them onto her
nose.

The voices at the beach escalated, and the woman grasped the boy’s hand. Once again,
he swatted her away and rubbed his eye. She massaged her temple in apparent agitation.

Instinct kicked in. Dani jogged the few yards to the beach and made her way to where
the boy sat on the dock covering his eye. “Can I help? I’m a nurse.”

The woman turned, her eyebrow raised in question.

“I’m Dani Sullivan, the new renter in cottage three. I thought maybe the boy needed
help.”

The woman glanced at the child, then back to Dani. “I think he’s got sand in his eye.
He won’t let me look, and I’m not sure what to do.”

Dani removed her sunglasses and squatted to get a better look at him, and he pulled
his hand away from his face for just a moment. Though his eye was red, she didn’t
see any sand on his cornea, and his eye was no longer watering.
She took the opportunity to scan his eyelashes, his mouth, his nose. Did they resemble
hers? She’d seen her son eight years ago for barely an hour. Would she even know if
this boy was him?

He rose from the dock. The faintest hint of unease surfaced in his uncovered eye.
“Don’t even think about giving me a shot.”

His comment surprised a laugh from her. She would have made a similar remark. “I promise—no
shots. Okay?”

After a quick nod, he lowered his hand, uncovering his eye. She took a few steps closer,
the sun-heated sand gritty between her toes. She concentrated on dragging the humid
air into her lungs. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Sam Reagan.”

Sam. A name she knew but hadn’t chosen.

Her son.

Invisible hands constricted her throat, and she fought away tears, thankful her back
was turned toward the woman.

Despite the battle between joy and sadness she felt in this moment, she cursed her
impulsive need to come so close. She’d promised herself that she’d keep her distance,
and she’d agreed to a closed adoption with no contact before he turned eighteen. She
had no ill intentions. Her only goal was to see her son, to know he was happy, to
be assured he was healthy. Didn’t she deserve to at least know how the baby had fared?

She swallowed. Swallowed again. She could do this. A child needed help. How many other
children had she cared for over the years? Countless times she’d pushed aside her
personal feelings and forced herself to act professionally. She was a nurse; she had
a duty.

Dani sat where she’d squatted, within arm’s reach of Sam despite his retreat. “It’s
important not to rub your eye. You don’t want to scratch the surface. How about if
your mom and I get you inside so we can remove whatever’s in there?”

“She’s not my mom.” He ducked his head, kicking the sand with his toe. “I don’t have
a mom.”

Dani pushed away the alarm his pronouncement gave her and turned a questioning look
to the woman with the kids. What had happened to Sam’s adoptive mother?

“I’m Rachel Clarke,” the woman said. “Sam’s with us today while his father’s at work.”

“My dad’s the sheriff,” Sam informed Dani.

She smiled at his obvious pride. “Hmm…I got a parking ticket yesterday. Wonder if
he gave it to me?”

“Dad didn’t have to work yesterday. We went fishing.” Sam stopped rubbing his eye
but continued to squint.

“Want to know how I treat little boys who get sand in their eyes?”

He gave an enthusiastic nod.

“I flush it out.”

The kids doubled over with laughter. Sam rewarded her with a grin that revealed two
missing front teeth. He looked do darned adorable with the big gap in his smile. Her
heart warmed. This was what her soul had craved.

Their laugh was contagious and she found herself grinning. “What did I say that was
so funny?” Dani asked Rachel.

“You don’t have boys, do you?”

Dani felt her smile diminish. “Nope.”

“You say the word
flush
and they think toilet. That’s pretty much all it takes to set them off. Whatever
you do, don’t pull their finger if they ask.” More hysterical laughter. One little
boy giggled so hard he fell off a child-sized lawn chair.

Dani motioned toward her cottage. “I’d like to run some water across his eye to see
if we can get the sand out. Maybe when we’re done, we could all have some homemade
muffins.”

Rachel nodded in agreement. “What do you say, Sam?” Dani asked.

His attention shifted between the two women. “Can everybody come?”

“Absolutely.”

The boys ran ahead, scaring a group of squawking seagulls into flight.

“Thanks for the help,” Rachel said. “You’re good with children. Do you work in pediatrics?”

“Used to.” But the craving to see her son had escalated with every little boy she
treated. “After that, I worked on the medical/surgical floor. For the last year, I’ve
been on a leave of absence while I took care of my ill mother. She passed away a few
months ago.”

“Sorry,” Rachel said. “I know how hard that is.” She stared down at her empty hands.

“Yeah. It’s been difficult. I’m looking forward to a much-needed break before I return
home to my job. A quiet summer in Lake Bliss will be perfect.” Not to mention how
it would help to know her son was happy before she returned to her life alone.

The boys waited patiently on the stoop outside the screened-in porch of her cottage.
Dani ushered them inside.

“I noticed you were alone when you arrived yesterday,” Rachel said. “Are you married?”

“Single.”

“Sorry for being nosy. I’m divorced, so I’m always hoping to chat with other single
women. Seems like everybody I know is married except for Sam’s dad, but he’s been
even less prone to chatting since his divorce.”

Dani smiled. “Came close once.” Until she’d told her fiancé about the horrible night
of her attack and Sam’s conception. Stephen had run from her life so fast he could
have won an Olympic medal for the 100-meter dash.

Once in the kitchen, Dani turned to Sam. “I want you to hop up on the counter next
to the sink. Need a boost?”

The
get real
look on his face made her smile. He jumped up and waited for more instructions. At
the close range, Dani took the opportunity to make a quick catalog of her son. He
would never know where his features came from, but some of them were clear to Dani.
Freckles dotted his sweet face—freckles that would disappear in his teenage years
if he took after her. The slightly upturned nose belonged to her father. But the cleft
in his chin…that didn’t come from her side of the family.

“Are you gonna flush my eye now?” He imitated a toilet flushing. Right on cue the
other boys cracked up.

Dani gave him a slight push on his shoulder. “Lie down and Rachel will support your
head over the sink. I’ll pour a bit of water into your eye. Hopefully we’ll wash out
whatever’s there. Any questions?”

“Nope.”

Five minutes later, Dani blotted his eye with a towel. “Blink a few times. We’ll see
if the sand is gone.”

“It doesn’t hurt at all. It feels normal.” He hopped off the counter. “Can we have
the muffins now, Ms. Sullivan?”

“You can call me Dani.” She opened a plastic container. “I made these last night.
I’ve got blueberry and banana nut.” She’d no sooner set them on the kitchen table
when Sam grabbed one.

Rachel laughed. “You and your sweet tooth, Sam.” She helped herself to a muffin.

Sounded like he had inherited that, too.

“Can’t tell you the last time I baked.” Rachel peeled back the paper liner. She took
a bite and closed her eyes. “These are fabulous.”

“Feel free to stop by if you ever have a craving. Baked goods are my downfall, so
I usually have something around.”

“Mom, can we take these down to the beach?”

Rachel gave the boys a thumbs-up.

“Don’t go in the water until I get there.” They tore out of the kitchen and down the
porch stairs. “What do you say to Ms. Sullivan?” Rachel yelled before they got too
far. The boys shouted their thanks then took off running. “And no throwing sand.”
She turned to Dani. “I better head down there. Nice to meet you. Thanks again for
your help.”

Dani walked her to the door. “Glad to lend a hand.” Especially since it had allowed
her to meet Sam. A twinge of guilt settled over her at violating the spirit of the
adoption agreement, but she would never regret the opportunity to speak to him or
to see him laugh.

Rachel paused at the porch steps. “There’s a cookout tomorrow night, just a casual
thing for all the guests. I’ll pass around flyers later today. Hope you can join us.”

Dani raised her eyebrows and nodded. “I’d love to, thanks.” She should probably work
on some new recipes for the cookbook she was contracted to write this summer, but
she could spare an evening for dinner. And Sam.

“Take your parking ticket to the sheriff and tell him I sent you. He’ll toss it in
the trash.” When she smiled, the tiny worry lines between her eyebrows disappeared.

After saying good-bye, Dani headed toward her bedroom to change clothes. What would
be appropriate to wear to the sheriff’s office? Because this afternoon she did plan
to pay a visit to Sheriff Reagan—Sam’s father—and she knew it would involve much more
than an undeserved parking ticket.

She opened her closet door, but before she made a selection she sat on the bed. Maybe
this idea needed more thought. Her original goal was to have no contact with the adoptive
parents and instead simply watch from the sidelines. By going to meet her son’s adoptive
father, she’d be taking a huge risk of getting closer than she’d ever meant to be.
But it was necessary in order to know if the man so essential to Sam’s health and
happiness was worthy of her son, since clearly he was now a single dad. She’d have
to tread lightly and never let him know she was Sam’s biological mother. The last
thing she wanted was to complicate Sam’s life. He seemed happy, and she meant for
him to stay that way.

…

Matt Reagan shifted toward his computer, his chair creaking like an old man getting
out of bed in the morning. One last detail to his first end-of-the-month status report.
Next he’d work on the budget, where he planned to add a line item for redecorating.
Nothing fancy, but nobody could argue that the mustard yellow walls and gray aluminum
blinds had seen better days.

Finished.

Relief rolled through him. His first official document as sheriff of Lake Bliss was
an excellent report, well worth the effort he’d put forth this morning. Even if it
had taken him three hours.

He rocked back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his neck, and enjoyed the air-conditioned
blast of cool air that hit the back of his head. After a quick read of his report,
he saved the document, and tapped the send button.

The computer screen went blank. He shot forward in his chair to hit the escape key.

Nothing. He punched the on/off button a couple of times.

Still blank. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. How could one single keystroke
erase his entire document? Was it floating around in cyberspace? He slammed his fist
on the keyboard. There had to be a way to recall it, but he’d be damned if he knew
how. Not on these old behemoths that should have been sold for scrap ten years ago.

“Tiffany!” If she couldn’t retrieve the document, he’d be in big trouble.

Where was Tiffany? Probably chatting on the phone with her boyfriend of the week.
Cousin or not, she should have been fired long ago.

Tiffany’s heels clicked on the floor. “Sorry, I was on the phone with Kent.”

Matt looked up at her. “Could you try to limit personal tasks during regular working
hours? I’ll even tack on an extra thirty minutes to your lunchtime so you can make
hot and heavy calls to whichever poor schmuck you’ve got dangling this month.”

Tiffany leaned against the door frame. “You obviously don’t remember saying the exact
same thing last week. I could use an hour-and-a-half lunch.”