She loved him.
She would do anything she had to, to protect him.
It was as simple as that.
Resolved, she turned her face to the wall, a tear rolling down her cheek. She just hoped he never found out what she had done.
Cary picked at his dinner, his appetite gone. Something was wrong with Jess, and it wasn’t an upset stomach. Was it him? Was she regretting the turn their relationship had taken? Did she suddenly realize she didn’t want to be involved with a man so much older?
He moved around a piece of food on his plate, lost in thought.
“You don’t care for it, Cary?” Summer asked softly.
He looked up. “What?”
She nodded to his plate.
He looked back at his plate, realizing he’d barely eaten. “No, it’s delicious. Guess I just got lost in thought.” He smiled, taking a bite. “You’re a very good cook, Summer.”
She smiled at him relieved he liked it. Her gaze slid to Steve, who remained silent at the head of the table. She’d tried everything she could think of to smooth things over between them, but nothing had seemed to work. Looking back down at her plate, she picked at her own food, and thought about leaving Ruby Falls. She had no idea where she would go, but she didn’t want to stay if this was how it was going to be. A deep depression was settling over her. She felt it more every day.
Cary glanced over at Steve. What the hell was wrong with him? “Don’t you agree, Steve?”
Steve looked up at him. “Huh?”
“Don’t you agree that Summer’s a good cook?” he prompted.
“Yeah,” He glanced over at Summer. “She is.”
Cary gave Steve a look, letting him know he had a lot to learn about the opposite sex. He shook his head. “You’re a man of many words, Boss.”
Steve dropped his fork on his plate, and reached for his sweet tea, glaring at Cary over the rim. He set his glass down. “Maybe we all can’t be as big a flirt as you, McBride.”
Cary glared back. “Flirting has got nothing to do with it, ol’ man.”
Pop, sensing the escalating tension, stepped in. “Boys.”
They both returned their attention to their plates.
Summer didn’t want Steve’s compliments. Not, if they had to be dragged out of him. If he couldn’t get past this, maybe she
did
need to move on. Margie had told her she was short a waitress. Maybe she would give the job to Summer. She knew there was a tiny studio apartment for rent over the diner. Maybe she could swing it. It would probably take all her paycheck and tips, too, to pay the rent, but she wouldn’t really have any other expenses. She wouldn’t need a vehicle, or a phone. And possibly Margie would let her have meals for free or at a discount. It was worth asking about. Things couldn’t go on like this.
She’d miss living here. She’d grown to feel like it was home, but it really wasn’t her home, was it? It was just a job. Just a job a nice man had given her to help her out. Nothing more. Whatever had happened between them obviously hadn’t meant to him what it had to her.
Summer thought about the times they’d made love. She refused to let herself feel bad about it, or to have regrets. It had been special to her. She would always cherish the memory of their time together.
Feeling better, now that she had made the decision to at least ask Margie about it, she returned to her meal.
The food
was
good.
She didn’t need anyone else to tell her that.
Chapter Eighteen
Steve came down the stairs and strode into the kitchen. He was fully dressed, with his hat in his hand, ready to go. It was just 6am. The coffee was brewing, but the kitchen was empty. He set his hat down on the table, walked over, and poured himself a mug of coffee. He took a sip as he walked over to the table. He hadn’t sat down yet, when he glanced toward the front of the house. He had a clear line of sight, all the way to the front door. It was open, and he could see out through the screen door.
Summer was in her robe, sitting on the front steps. He took another sip of coffee, wondering what she was doing out there. Setting his coffee down, he picked up his hat and walked to the front door.
The wooden screen creaked as he came out onto the porch. Summer turned, looking up as he crossed the porch and sat down on the steps next to her. “Morning,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his.
“Morning,” she replied, nudging him back.
They both smiled at each other.
She noticed the hat in his hands. “Leaving already?”
“Yeah. There’s a 1939 Ford up in Helen. I’m going to go check it out. What are you doing out here?” he asked, studying her.
She gazed out over the fields at the sun peeking up over the horizon. “Just watching the sunrise. I do it every morning.”
He turned to watch the show. It really was pretty. “It’s going to be a hot one, again today.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“I wish it’d rain. We’re overdue,” he commented, checking the sky. She didn’t say anything. He turned to look at her and noticed the sadness again in her eyes. He turned back to the view, not sure what to say to make it better, turning his hat over in his hands. They sat there together in silence for a few minutes. Steve felt bad about how things had soured between them. “Hey, Summer? I was wondering…”
She turned to look at him.
“Maybe you’d like to ride with me. Up to Helen,” he finished, turning to look at her.
Her eyes searched his. “I…I don’t know. There’s laundry to do, and-”
“It’ll keep,” he cut her off, the corners of his mouth pulling up. “Come on. You’ll love it up there. The town is really cool.”
“Well…”
“Come on. Go get dressed. I’ll wait.” She got up, walked across the porch, and he heard the screen door bang. Looking out over the horizon, he hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. He got up, walked back into the kitchen, and sat down to finish his coffee while he waited for her.
She came down a short while later. She had on a sundress and sandals, and she looked soft and feminine. He liked it when she wore a dress. He realized he’d been hoping she would today. “Ready to go?” he asked, standing and grabbing his hat off the table.
“Yes, let me just leave Pop a note, so he won’t worry.”
“I’ll meet you out at the truck.” Steve walked out through the mudroom and across the yard to his pickup. He had the flatbed trailer hooked to the trailer hitch. He would need it to transport the old car, if he purchased it. Opening the passenger door, he looked at the mess of old drink cups, receipts, and paper bags littered all over the cab. “Shit.”
He began gathering it all up and clearing a spot for her. She came out just as he finished. They climbed in and buckled up. He noticed she had a thermos in her hands. “Is that coffee?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Want some?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She poured him a cup and passed it to him. They pulled down the gravel drive, and he turned left onto the paved road. He sipped the coffee, and she stared out the window. “Here, want some?” He held the plastic cup out to her. “I don’t have cooties.”
She smiled, took it, and drank. “How far is it to this town?”
“It’s not that far, maybe an hour. These woods up the road? The ones we searched that day?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a lake on the far side to the east. The town is several miles to the north. It doesn’t sit on the lake, but it does sit on a river.”
“Oh.”
“It’s kind of a cool little town, like I said.”
“What’s so cool about it?”
“Well, it’s an interesting story. Back in the ‘70’s, the town was kind of dying. There was a county highway that ran through town, but not a lot of people stopped. The town council got together and tried to think of a way to get more people to stop. They came up with a real creative plan, and it really didn’t cost them all that much. They get quite a good tourist business, now.”
“So, what was the idea? What did they do?”
He looked over at her and smiled, debating whether to tell her. “No, I think I’m going to let you be surprised when we get there.”
She shook her head and smiled.
They drove in silence most of the trip. Then, just as Summer was getting a little fidgety, they crested a hill, and the town was spread out before them.
“Oh, my!” Summer exclaimed. The town was right out of the Bavarian Alps, complete with gingerbread trim and flowering window boxes. “It’s…magical!” she exclaimed. “I love it!” She turned to Steve, excitedly.
He grinned. “Good. I thought you might.”
They continued on into town and crossed a bridge over the river. There were several restaurants built along the river’s edge, and Summer could see that they all had outdoor terraces and patios overlooking the river, many with tables with multicolored umbrellas.
Steve drove on, and they passed a cobblestone courtyard, complete with fountain and clock tower. He turned down a side street and found a shady, gravel parking lot. They got out and walked back toward the town center. There were many shops with little cobblestone alleyways between them. Each store had its own brightly painted, wooden sign hanging over the doorways. Fritzel’s Fudge Shop, Olga’s Bavarian Bakery, the Black Forest Clock Shop, the Innsbruck Brauhaus, Alpine Music Box Shop…
It was still very early in the morning and most shops were not open, yet. They wandered around window-shopping a little, and then found a café on the river that was serving breakfast, and they sat at a table outside. Steve ordered pancakes and bacon, and Summer ordered a muffin and juice.
“This is nice, eating outside, and the river…” Summer noted.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, studying Summer. “You needed a break. You needed to get out of that house.”
“Did I?” she asked.
“Yeah. I think you were getting cabin fever.”
“Cabin fever? That’s ridiculous. It’s not winter. I was hardly snowbound,” she smiled, looking away.
“Well, you needed a day out, anyway.” She didn’t say anything. “Summer, I, uh…wanted to apologize for being such as ass lately, and for the way I’ve treated you.” Summer looked down at her juice glass and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Steve reached across the table and touched her wrist. “Hey. Look at me. Please.”
She met his eyes. The breeze blew a strand of her hair across her face. He reached up and tucked it behind her ear. “I think I’ve come to realize that I’ve never let go of the past.” He looked off at the river and admitted, “…that I’ve never let go of Rita. I think it’s time…well, it’s time I did.”
Summer sucked her lips into her mouth, afraid to say anything, wanting him to continue.
He did.
Looking back at her, he asked, “Can we start over, you and me? Can you let it all go?”
“Let it go?”
He nodded. “Yeah. My stubbornness, my rudeness, my general, all-around dickhead behavior,” he clarified with a sheepish grin.
She nodded, a sly grin on her face. “I suppose, since that apology was so…”
“Sweet?” he prompted.
“Thorough,” she corrected.
He laughed. “Good enough.”
They smiled at each other.
He knew it was going to take time to fix things between them, but at least he had a shot. “I, uh, thought we’d eat breakfast, and then we could go get this car business taken care of. I told the guy I’d meet him around ten.”
“Oh, so soon?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just thought we’d have time to look around a bit more.”
“Well, I was going to suggest we come back this afternoon and spend some more time here. We have to come back through this way, anyway. Is that okay?”
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“Great.” They ate, and Steve paid the check. They walked back to the truck and headed further down the highway. Steve pulled a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and studied it.
“What’s that?” Summer asked.
“Hmm? Oh, this? Directions the man gave me. There’s supposed to be a turnoff coming up here, somewhere. Hell, I can’t even read my own handwriting. What number is that?” he asked, passing the paper to Summer.
She looked at the paper. “Steve, your handwriting is atrocious!”
He turned and grinned at her. “I know.”
“Well, it’s nothing to be proud of!”
“Can you read the damn thing or not? Don’t give me any lip, woman,” he teased.
“It’s either Hwy 39 or 89. I can’t tell which.”
“Well, we’ll turn off on whichever comes first,” he decided. About fifteen minutes later, they were pulling down a long, gravel drive tucked back in the woods. They pulled up to an old house built around 1910. Steve stopped the truck. “I hope this is the right place.”
As Steve and Summer got out of the truck, a man in his eighties came out onto the front porch. He was wearing gray twill slacks, a white, short sleeve dress shirt, and suspenders. He used a cane to walk.
“Are you Mr. Powell, sir?” Steve asked.
“Yup. You must be Steve,” the man replied, as he came down the stairs, slowly.
“Yes, sir.” Steve walked over and shook the man’s hand. “Steve Garrett. It’s nice to meet you, sir. This is Summer.”
“Ma’am,” he said, nodding to her. He turned back to Steve. “Any trouble finding the place?”
“No, sir. You’re directions were fine.”
“Good. Good. Well, come on. The car is over here in this shed, yonder.”
Steve and Summer followed, as he led the way and unlocked the double wooden doors. Steve pushed them back, and they walked into an old, large wooden building with a dirt floor. The man gestures to the vehicle against the far wall, covered in a tarp.
“My daddy bought this car. It was our family’s first automobile. I was about five years old when he brought it home.” He turned and smiled at Summer. “That was a long time ago, young lady.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, sir.”
He turned to Steve. “Go ahead, and pull the tarp off, son.”
Steve stepped over, flipped the cover back, and pulled it to the ground. Underneath was a black, four-door sedan.
Steve walked around the outside of the car. There was some sun damage to the paint, especially the roof. There was damage to one of the running boards, but the other was in good shape. There were a couple of dents that would need to be taken care off, but the body was in pretty good shape.