Summer on the Mountain (12 page)

“Lie down,” she said crisply.  He finally did as he was told and she dropped onto the cushion beside him.  She draped the rag across his forehead, then pulled back to study his face.  She laid a gentle palm on his cheek, which he covered with his own hand.  She attempted to pull her hand away, but to no avail.  Instead, he took her palm and kissed it.

“Jarrod, stop that!  You need to rest.”

“Oh, all right,” he grumbled.  “Wanna play cards?”

“Do you ever really hear what I say?” she asked in a frustrated voice.

“Well, I see your lips moving but then I get distracted by your beauty.”

She cocked her head, giving him an angry stare.

“Really, Summer.  I kid you not.”

 “Oh, shut up.”

She rose and dropped into a chair across form him.  She reached for the television remote and flipped through the channels. 

“Give me that,” he said.  “My show is on.”

“Not on your life,” she said, dangling the remote tauntingly from across the room. 

He only chuckled and settled back against the cushions on the arm of the couch.  When he pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, she jumped up and tugged it away from him.

“I’m cold,” he complained.

“Too bad.  We have to get that fever down.”

She returned to her chair and covered up with the blanket.  She watched television, once in awhile shooting a furtive glance Jarrod’s way.  Finally, she realized he’d fallen asleep and she tiptoed over to him to check his forehead for fever again.

He didn’t seem nearly as warm as he had been, but she dipped the rag to soak it, and then gently draped it across his forehead.  He stirred slightly but didn’t wake up.

She resumed watching television, rising from her comfortable chair often to soak the washrag and place it on his forehead.  She felt herself growing tired and glanced up at the clock above the fireplace.  Her eyes widened.  It was nearly midnight!

She decided it was time to leave, but checked on Jarrod one last time.  She laid a gentle hand on his forehead, relieved to find he’d apparently broken the fever.  She retrieved the throw blanket from the chair and draped it over him.  She turned to go, when to her surprise, he reached up and pulled her down onto the couch. 

“Jarrod!” she whispered in alarm.

He hauled her against him and urged her to lie down.  “You need to sleep,” he said in a slurred voice.  “Just lie down and go to sleep.”

“Jarrod, let go!”

She felt herself held in vise-like arms and struggled to free herself.  She realized he was either half-asleep and unaware he had a firm hold or was playing a trick.  Either way, she couldn’t extract herself from his arms and was so tired she couldn’t manage to put up much of a fight.  Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she decided to lie beside him, just until he released his grip.  When that happened, she would get up and out of there fast.

Chapter Nine

Summer woke to the sound and smell of bacon sizzling in a pan.  She sat up, wiped at her eyes, and then realized with alarm that she was presently on Jarrod’s couch.  She rose and then nearly fell when her foot hit the edge of the throw blanket that had dropped onto the floor.  She wind-milled to right herself, and somehow managed to remain standing.

Jarrod had apparently heard her stir, since he stepped into the room, wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and a wide smile on his face.  Summer immediately noted he looked good, healthy, and suspected he’d broken the fever at last.

“You look good,” she murmured.

“You, too,” he said, stifling a chuckle.  “Nice of you to stay over and nurse me back to health.”

“You didn’t give me much choice,” she muttered, averting her gaze.  “I’m going home now.”

“Not until you’ve had breakfast.  Feel free to freshen up in my bathroom.”

The last thing she wanted was to freshen up in Jarrod’s bathroom.  She wanted her own bathroom, or at least the one that was currently her own bathroom.  “I’m going home,” she said tiredly.

“Will you come right back?”

“I don’t know.  We’ll see,” she mumbled.

She walked out the front door, and Jarrod observed that her pacing was much like a sleepy robot.  He smiled.  He knew he hadn’t been playing fair when he had pulled her onto the couch last night and forced her to sleep beside him.  But, fairness had been the furthest thing from his mind.  He’d realized sometime around four a.m., as Summer lay in his arms and he watched her lovely face in repose—that he was falling in love with her.   The realization both delighted and terrified him.

He turned his attention to the bacon, taking it from the pan and placing it atop a paper towel on a plate.  He tucked the plate into the microwave, turned off the stove, and jogged to Summer’s cabin.  When she stepped out of her bedroom, having showered and dressed, she gasped at finding him standing in the living room.

“Come back over, Summer,” he prompted.  “I need to cook the eggs.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said, watching him through narrowed eyes. 

“Sure you are,” he said eagerly, grasping her hand and tugging her toward the door.  “Remember, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  Wakes you up,” he said cheerfully.

“Nothing is going to wake me up.  I’m tired and it’s your fault.”

“I know,” he admitted, offering a lop-sided, guilty smile.  “Forgive me?”

“No.”

“After a delicious breakfast, you’ll forgive me,” he said confidently.

He led her to his place, where the smell of the recently fried bacon tantalized her senses.  She realized she was hungry, as evidenced by her grumbling stomach.  Jarrod urged her to sit, and he resumed cooking, glancing at her periodically to assure she wasn’t making a run for it.

Summer noticed he looked remarkably well, considering how sick he had been the day before.  He turned and noticed her scrutiny.  “You do seem better—healthier,” she amended.

“Yeah, I feel good,” he acknowledged with a smile.  “Ears feel better, too.”

“That’s good,” she said, glancing around distractedly.  She found herself wanting to drop her head to the table top and fall asleep.  She yawned.

“Wow, you are tired,” he commented, really noticing her fatigued eyes for the first time.  “After breakfast, you might want to lie down.”

“Too much to do,” she said, yawning again.

“Such as?”

“I want to finish the painting and start a new one.”

“There’s always later today, or tomorrow.”

“Nope.  Gotta paint in case…”

He smiled reassuringly.  “You’re not going to lose it, Summer.  ‘It’ being whatever drives you to paint—so long as you don’t over think it, you know.”   

She wasn’t sure she did know, but simply nodded. 

“Maybe you can teach me to paint sometime,” he suggested.  “I’ve never tried.”

He placed a plate in front of her.  She eyed the food briefly, and then suddenly feeling ravenous, dug in.  “There’s something about fresh mountain air that makes me hungry,” she said.

“It’s true,” he acknowledged, taking the seat across from her.  “It’s good for the body and the soul.  Well, usually,” he said, remembering his current bout with illness.

Summer studied his face, noticing again how much better he looked.  Clearly, the fever was gone, and unlikely to return.  “I didn’t think you were ever going to break that fever,” she said between bites of egg.  “You had me worried.”

“Oh, I always run a high fever when I’m sick,” he said off-handedly.  “The doctors always said it was no big deal.  Didn’t Mom mention that?” he asked innocently.

“Uh, no, she didn’t,” she said, glaring at him as he watched her with an infuriating smile on his handsome face.  “You didn’t happen to mention that either,” she pointed out from between clenched teeth. 

“Oh, I didn’t?  Sorry.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Probably the high fever affected my thinking.”

“Oh, that must have been it,” she said heatedly, unsure whether to laugh or cry.  Or take a nap.

***

Jarrod was back to work first thing Monday morning and Summer had to admit she missed him.  She’d grown accustomed to his constant presence—had even grown accustomed to his silly humor. 

By the Friday before, he’d declared himself well, and the two had spent both Saturday and Sunday together.  Saturday, he had taken her on a hike around the lake, pointing out the beautiful sights and sounds, and then on Sunday, the couple had ventured back to the huckleberry patch with buckets in hand and had filled them.

Jarrod had found a recipe for huckleberry cobbler and Summer had decided to try it since she hadn’t found a pie recipe.  The desert had been delicious and she was eager to try other recipes utilizing the delectable berries.

She had yet to finish the painting—since she’d been spending so much time with Jarrod—that she finally set up her easel and began putting the finishing touches on the lake scene.  Gwendolyn found her there when she arrived an hour or so later.

Summer glanced up in surprise when she saw Gwendolyn’s car pull in front of the cabin.  Her friend exited the luxury sedan and walked toward the porch.  She glanced up, squinting against the sun. 

When she spied Summer, she gave an airy wave, and then attempted to climb the stairs, stepping high and carefully, to avoid contact with a dirt clod on one of the stair rungs. 

Summer’s eyes widened with pleasure when her friend topped the porch and approached with outstretched arms.  She hugged her boss tightly.  “Gwendolyn, you’re here.” 

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”  She forced a smile, but winced when a tiny bug buzzed around her head.  She slapped it away, before turning back to Summer.  “Darling,  let me see the painting.  I’m so eager…”

Summer grimaced, unsure if she even wanted Gwendolyn to see this particular painting.  “Remember, it’s my maiden voyage, so to speak, and I’m not sure I’m ready for anyone to see it.”

“Jarrod has seen it,” she said pointedly.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Oh, Summer, let me see,” she begged, clasping her hands together.

She relented with a sigh and stepped aside to allow her boss a viewing of the painting.  Gwendolyn gasped and met her gaze.  “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Gwendolyn said enthusiastically, glancing out at the lake and back to the painting.  “You’ve certainly captured the beauty of this place.”

“So it’s all right … for a landscape?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes.  Leonard will
love
it.”

Summer was taken aback.  It suddenly occurred to her.  If Gwendolyn gave this painting to Leonard, it would mean it was time for her to return to her life in town and to her work at the gallery.  She didn’t want to leave.  She hadn’t finished exploring the woods, or even hiked to Janson Peak, a beautiful attraction Jarrod had promised to show her.  She simply wasn’t ready to leave.

“I’m not sure this is up to your usual standards, Gwendolyn,” she said hastily.  “As I said, I’m so out of practice and I really think I could do better.”

“Nonsense,” she said dismissively.  “This painting is perfect.  Even I find myself drawn into the myriad hues of color in your landscape—and that’s something, as you well know.”

Gwendolyn was eager to give Leonard the painting.  Her husband had been testy lately, growling like a brown bear over the least little thing, and she knew the painting would go a long way towards smoothing out his temperament. 

When Jarrod suddenly drove up in his work vehicle and parked, Gwendolyn gasped with pleasure.  She hadn’t expected to see him this trip, since she hadn’t planned to stay for more than an hour or so. 

He climbed out of the SUV, closing the door with a bang, and then taking the steps to the porch two at a time.  “Mom!” he said eagerly.  “This is a nice surprise.”

“What are you doing home this time of day?” she asked her son, watching him curiously. 

“I, uh, came home to see if Summer might be able to join me for lunch.  And now you can join us, too” he suggested eagerly.  He turned to Summer.  “Are you free?”

She nodded, watching Gwendolyn’s surprised face.  “I’ll make lunch,” she offered. 

As she set about making sandwiches, she wondered what Gwendolyn was thinking, since she had glanced from her to Jarrod with unconcealed interest out on the porch.  And when she gave a smug, triumphant little smile, she realized Gwendolyn had decided something was brewing between her son and friend.

Summer knew she would have to set her straight at the first opportunity, but then she nearly groaned aloud.  What would she say? 
Oh, no, nothing going on here
.  She knew her face would betray her.  She was a horrible liar.  And although she couldn’t readily define her feelings for Jarrod, she had feelings that definitely confused and confounded her, but that also caused a warm glow to course through her system whenever she thought of him.

As the threesome sat down to lunch, both Gwendolyn and Jarrod complimented her chicken salad recipe.  She vaguely registered the compliment, her thoughts tumultuous and troublesome.