Summer's Song: Pine Point, Book 1 (3 page)

“Let me know if I can—I don’t know, help out or anything,” Mac offered.

“Thanks.” By the time they reached the first floor, the memory was gone. “Any chance you know Sadie Rogers’ number?” She needed to get this house listed, get it out of her hands as quickly as possible. She’d figure out how to deal with the complication of Damian Knight and his rental property later.

“There’s a phone book in the kitchen.” Mac checked his watch. “Might be tough to catch her, though. It’s already after four.”

Of course
. Sadie owned the only real estate agency in town. She was also a single mother of twins and, according to Rachael, headed up both the PTA and the local Girl Scout troop. Mac was right. By the time Summer made her way across town, the doors to Rogers’ Real Estate would be locked up tight. She pulled out her cell phone. “Well, let me call her, at least.” If she couldn’t get the paperwork taken care of soon, she’d be stuck here for longer than a few days.

“Staying at the Point Place Inn?”

Summer nodded. It wasn’t as though the town boasted a slew of choices. Though she would have been welcome at Rachael’s, she wasn’t sure she could deal with the memories that would greet her there. Better a neutral hotel room with no connection to her past. She flipped through the thin local phone book and dialed Sadie’s number. The answering machine at Rogers’ Real Estate picked up, and she rattled off a quick message. With any luck, the woman would call her back tonight or early tomorrow. The two of them had gone to school together, even shared some of the same classes their junior year. Maybe Sadie could rush things along, work out the details over the phone, arrange for Summer to fax her signature from the West Coast.

Mac pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped his hands. “Well, if you need anything else, ah, or have questions about the place, gimme a call. Or just stop by.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She checked her voicemail. Four messages, none crucial. Good thing. Her brain, already on overdrive, couldn’t handle much more this afternoon.

“I’ve got to go into town for some supplies,” Mac said as he headed for the front door. “You’re welcome to stick around if you like. Just be careful. You have a key?”

“Joe gave me one.” Mac left, and Summer turned in a slow circle and surveyed the kitchen. A bay window looked out onto the back lawn, a green expanse that stretched to a grove of pine trees about a hundred yards away. She could imagine a breakfast nook here, a small table with chairs pulled up close and a checkered cloth on top. In her imagination, chattering children tugged on their mother’s legs while she laughed over their heads to her husband
. A family belongs here. A family with lots of kids and lots of hope and no heartache.

Summer waited a beat to see if her father’s voice would echo inside her head again. When it didn’t, she smiled.
Ghosts,
that’s all. Just my mind making things up.

She pushed open the torn screen door and wound through the boxes on the back porch. She made her way down the steps and had almost reached the ground when her foot hit another soft spot.
Damn designer heels
. She grabbed for something—found nothing—stumbled and fell. “Oof.” Her knees met the ground and she wrenched her wrist trying to break her fall.

“Son of a bitch.” She kicked off both shoes, disgusted with herself.

“Hey, are you okay?” The voice came out of nowhere.

Terrific, a witness for her humiliation. She didn’t answer, hoping the voice—and the person it belonged to—would go away. It didn’t. Instead, a hand touched her shoulder. She jumped.

“Summer?”

Damian.
Something loosened in her stomach and she scrambled to her feet. “I thought you were gone.” She dropped a quick glance at his left hand. No ring. But carpenters didn’t always wear rings on the job, did they?

“Forgot something.”

His hand had moved from her shoulder but it left an imprint of heat, a sort of strange desire, from the five fingers trailing their way along her neckline. She shivered despite the eighty-degree temperature. Her wrist ached and she cradled it, more to keep her hands from reaching out and touching him in places they probably shouldn’t.

“Sure you’re not hurt?” He took a step closer and bent to inspect the wrist she was rolling back and forth.

Summer shook her head and tried to find words. Her skin burned at his touch.

He rubbed it lightly, feeling the bones and massaging the tendons. “Doesn’t feel broken.”

“I…I’m sure it’s fine. Just having a clumsy moment.”

Damian smiled. “You get a look at the place?”

She nodded. Her arm still tingled from where he’d touched it.

“It’s beautiful.” Squinting, he leaned back as if to take it all in. “You can almost picture how it’ll look, done.” He met her gaze. “Your dad had a lot of vision. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to know him better.”

Summer bent to brush dirt from her skirt and didn’t answer. It would take a lifetime to explain her relationship with her father to someone who hadn’t always lived in Pine Point, who hadn’t known the way her father had protected her. Worried over her. Blamed her and sent her away after her brother died.

“Listen, about the rental house,” she began.

He stuck his hands into his back pockets. “Yeah. About that.”

“If I can, I’ll try to sell the place to someone who’ll leave it status quo.”

“And if you can’t?”

She didn’t answer.

“I get it. If you’re selling, you don’t have a lot of choices.”

“I’m trying to figure them out. Really.”

He nodded. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

The grass didn’t feel so bad between her bare toes, and she leaned into it for a moment. “Yeah, guess so.” Reluctantly, she slipped her shoes back on. “Leaving early for a hot date?”

“You could say that.”

She raised her brows and felt again his strong, gentle fingers on her skin.
Of course he is. Look at him. Probably every woman in town wants to go out with him.
“What’s her name?” Maybe she’d graduated with the woman.

Mystery clouded Damian’s eyes. “Dinah.”

“Oh.” She didn’t recognize the name. “Well, have fun.”

“I will.” He backed around the corner of the house, holding her gaze longer than he needed to.

Summer watched until Damian disappeared into the shadows. A long breath escaped her. On the surface, Pine Point seemed the same sleepy hamlet she’d grown up in, but when she looked closer, certain details had shifted in the last decade. A house that towered to the sky. A handsome, complicated stranger who turned her thoughts inside out. Memories of her brother and father that sprang up when she least expected them.

Suddenly exhausted, she headed for her car. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.

* * * * *

Theo Braxton drew a sleeve across his mouth and wiped away lunch. “You got ’em?”

Randall Potts, dime-store private investigator, nodded. He slid an unmarked manila envelope across the scarred desk and smiled. “Eight pictures. Taken last week.”

Theo stared at the envelope without reaching for it. His foot jounced on the stained linoleum, nerves getting the better of him. Six years. He’d lived without them for six long years. And now he couldn’t get up the balls to look at what the PI had uncovered. He coughed. “Got any water?”

The man with the hair plugs and cheap blue suit pushed himself up and ambled down the hall. Alone, Theo inched closer to the desk. Closer to the envelope. His heart hammered. He’d wanted this, after all. He’d convinced himself it was the right thing—the only thing—to find his wife and daughter and bring them home again.

Randall Potts returned with a paper-cone cup of water. “Here you go.” He cleared his throat and remained standing. “That’ll be two hundred, like we agreed.”

Theo barely heard him. He downed the water in a single gulp and then slid one finger under the flap of the envelope. Eight glossy photographs slid into his hands, and there she was, his beautiful Hannah, smiling down at their daughter as the two of them ate ice cream at some roadside stand. Faint lines had etched themselves around her mouth and eyes, but he’d smooth them away. He’d make her remember what it was like to be young and carefree. Just bring them home again, and he’d give her anything she wanted. The moon or more. His groin swelled with want, and sweat broke out on his brow.

“Here.” He handed over four fifty-dollar bills, fresh and uncreased. “When can you get me her address?”

The investigator cleared his throat. “You want that, I’ll need another two hundred.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Said you wanted pictures. You want contact info, it’s gonna cost more. She’s got a prepaid cell number and an unlisted landline. Tougher to trace.”

“So just tell me where the pictures were taken.” He could make out pine trees behind them and a cloudless blue sky. No buildings.

“You got the cash?”

Theo fisted both hands in his lap so he wouldn’t reach over and throttle the guy.

“Got a roofing job next week. I’ll have it then.”

“Call me in ten days. You have the cash, I’ll have what you need.”

Theo got to his feet and slammed the office door on the way out. He was sick of waiting. Sick of wondering where they’d gotten to and how long until he could see them both again. Outside, he lit a cigarette and stomped to his truck. Probably should find out if his boss had any work for him, but all he really wanted was to belly up to E&J’s bar for a couple shots of Jack Daniels.

He pulled out of the parking lot and cut off a mom in a minivan. She honked and got the finger in return as the shingle with Randall Potts’ name on it disappeared in his rearview mirror. His temper eased.
Yeah, all right
. He’d give this idiot ten days, and if the guy couldn’t deliver, he’d go to someone who could. Or he’d hunt down his wife and daughter on his own.

Chapter Three

Damian coasted to a stop outside the soccer fields by the high school. A few hundred yards away, miniature figures in bright yellow and red jerseys darted across the grass. Behind them, the sun hung over the hills and cast sheets of light in every direction. His watch read four forty. Good, he wasn’t late. He drummed his fingers in a restless pattern on the steering wheel, basked in the silence and let his aching back relax. Closing his eyes for a minute, he listened to the faint shouts from the field. The images of soccer players faded, replaced by luminous dark eyes and blue-black hair.

Summer Thompson. From Mac’s accounts, he’d expected her to be attractive. What he hadn’t expected was someone with such a steady gaze, such long legs and a mouth that seemed to carve the air into intricate patterns when she spoke. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense, not like his ex-girlfriend or even one of the Hadley sisters, but something about the curve of Summer’s lips and the lift in her chin made you stop and look. And then look again.

Damian opened his eyes and rubbed his face. No use getting worked up over her. She might be a looker, but she wasn’t staying in Pine Point longer than a few days. Besides, he didn’t have time for a girlfriend or even a fling. He wasn’t available, and bottom line, Summer was the reason he might be homeless in a month.

A whistle blew. The players had gathered into a knot at the edge of the parking lot. Damian pulled himself from the Camaro and headed for the group. From here, they all looked the same—nylon jerseys and shorts, tall white socks and black sneakers. Hair pulled into ponytails on top of heads. Sometimes he tried to test himself, to see if he could spot Dinah before she saw him. He always failed. Sure enough, in another minute, she came running over.

“Dame!” Eight years old and tall for her age, his half-sister wrapped her arms around his waist and grinned.

“Hey, ladybug.” Damian bent down and hugged her, damp hair and gangly arms and all. He tickled her ribs and she giggled up at him. God, he loved her.

“How was practice?”

“Good. I scored two goals.”

“Great job.” Damian smiled and looked over her head. Station wagons and mini-vans idled at the curb, and one by one the players climbed into their cars and waved goodbye. Dinah leaned into Damian’s legs and watched them go, and his heart ached the way it always did. His little sister deserved better than this. She deserved a father who’d pick her up from practice and take her for ice cream, a father who’d come to her games and cheer from the sidelines. Most of all, she deserved a sober father who’d carry her on his shoulders and protect her from the darkness that waited around corners. Damian felt like a poor substitute most of the time.

“Let’s go.” Dinah pulled at her brother’s hand.

“Dinah! Damian!” Petite and blonde, with breasts that always seemed on the verge of escaping her tiny T-shirts, Joyce Hadley jogged across the field.

Damian ignored her and reached for the car door.
Just pretend you didn’t hear her.
But Dinah tugged at his shirt.

“Dame.”

“Hmm?”

“Coach Joyce wants to talk to you.”

Damian resisted the urge to close himself in the car, roll up all the windows and take off without looking back. Instead, he took a deep breath, inhaled perfume and gagged.

In her matching sky-blue shirt and shorts, Joyce looked like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than at the helm of a soccer team. She blushed and tucked her hair behind one ear with a pinky finger.

“Hi, Joyce. How’d my sister do today?”

The blonde fixed her gaze on Damian, barely looking at Dinah. “Fine.”

“Anything I need to know about the game this weekend?” Damian rubbed an invisible spot on his shirt and stared at the ground.

“Be at the field by nine, same as usual.”

Joyce glanced at Dinah and took one step closer to him. A gold cross dangled in the low-cut vee of her shirt. “We’ll be at Murphy’s tonight. You and Cat should stop by.” Smooth pink lips whispered the invitation, and at her words his heart and his groin struggled against each other. He nodded and turned away without answering.

As Damian turned the key and pulled away, Dinah leaned out the open car window and waved. Joyce stood in the driveway beside the school. One hand twisted her hair; the other fluttered in their direction. She didn’t move, even as they turned the corner and headed for home. He reached over and tweaked Dinah’s ponytail.

“Why don’t you like Coach Joyce?” Dinah propped both feet on the dashboard and turned to her brother. Damian slowed as the light turned red and tried to decide how to answer the question.

“Dame?”

“What, ladybug?”

“Why don’t you like her? She’s always saying hello to you, and you never want to talk to her.”

“I like her fine. She seems like a good coach.”

“Yeah, plus she’s pretty,” Dinah continued. “And she bakes really good chocolate chip cookies.”

“So you told me.”
If that were all it took,
I’d date her in a second.
But baking skills and good looks only counted for so much. Once you started peeling the layers away, you found out the truth about a person. All the truth, ugly and whole and real. After the heartbreak of Angie, he had no interest in dating. He couldn’t bear to fall again, only to have the world pulled out from under him. Besides, Dinah and his mom needed him at home. Even if he’d wanted one, a relationship with Joyce Hadley wouldn’t fit into his life.

“I wish I had hair like that,” Dinah said after a minute.

“Hair like what?”

“Like Coach Joyce’s. Long and blonde. Don’t you like it?”

Damian grinned and pinched his sister’s nose. “I like your hair. I like brown hair, black hair, even.” A vision of Summer with ebony strands blowing across her eyes undulated in his mind for a moment. Yeah, he liked black hair just fine.

He turned just before the McCready place—or rather, the Thompson place now—and wound down a long dirt driveway. A minute later their barn-red house appeared. As soon as the engine died, Dinah jumped out and ran inside.

“Mom!”

Damian took his time before he followed her. He straightened the flowerpots that vied for attention on the porch steps and picked up stray bits of paper. When they’d lived in Poisonwood, his mom had kept a perfect house with blooming vines tumbling over each other and a fountain in the front yard. Ever since the divorce, though, she hadn’t been the same. Doctors called it depression, but Damian suspected that the beatings she’d endured for years at the hands of her ex-husband hadn’t helped. Still, since the move to Pine Point almost three years ago, she seemed better. The dark circles under her eyes had faded, and she didn’t worry so much about letting Dinah leave the house.

Damian climbed the stairs and opened the screen door. Silence greeted him. The door at the end of the hallway stood closed. He stopped outside it and listened carefully. Nothing. Continuing down the hall, he ducked into the kitchen to find Dinah elbow-deep in chocolate ice cream.

“Want some?” A spoon dripped brown spots onto the faded linoleum at her feet.

“Ice cream before dinner?” Damian winked. “Sure, ladybug. Give me the works.” He stuck one finger into the open container of whipped cream and dotted her nose with it. Dinah squealed with pleasure. When she dug the spoon into the carton again, he backed away and knocked on his mother’s door.

“Mom?”

Damian pressed his ear to the door. “Mom? You okay?” Worry slid cold fingers up his spine.
When did the son become the parent? After T.J. started hitting Mom, when I was thirteen years old and barely big enough to fight back for her? After the divorce, when she spent twenty hours a day locked in her room sleeping? Or after we moved to Pine Point and she couldn’t walk down the street without looking over her shoulder?

He knocked again, and when he still heard nothing, he gripped the knob and wiggled it. This time a soft shuffling moved across the room. A moment later the door opened slowly, and Hannah Knight peeked out at him. Relief melted the tension at his temples.

“You’re okay.”

She smiled. “What’s all the hammering about? Of course I’m okay. Can’t a woman have a moment to herself?”

Without answering, Damian leaned in the doorway and studied her. Dark hair untouched by gray swung against her shoulders; faint pink circles touched her cheeks. Even the pain and loneliness that sometimes creased her countenance could never hide the huge eyes, the high cheekbones, the translucent skin. If only he could erase the emptiness that sometimes shadowed her expression and replace it with the easy, dimpled smile he remembered from years ago.

Hannah raised one hand to his face. “You’ve turned into such a handsome man,” she said softly. “What happened to my little boy? Sometimes I don’t even recognize you.” She smiled. “I catch myself thinking, what is that good-looking guy doing in my house? You must drive the women in town wild.”

He shuffled his feet. “No women for me, Mom. You and Dinah are the only ones I need.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, no. Don’t be silly. You need someone besides us, besides this house. What about Dinah’s soccer coach?”

Joyce? God, no. She can’t take a hint. Won’t leave me alone.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It’s been a long time since you and Angie broke up.”

Damian winced. He knew.

“I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

She rose and walked across the room. At the far window, she looked back at him. “You know what I mean.”

He shrugged again. Angie was gone, Joyce didn’t interest him and he didn’t have the strength to bare his soul to anyone new. Suddenly Summer Thompson’s face flashed into his imagination, and again he felt her wrist under his fingertips. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Where the hell did that come from?
His cheeks warmed.

“Listen, the new owner of the property stopped by today.”

“And?”

“And she’s talking about selling everything, this place too.”

His mother’s face lost its radiance. “There’s no way we can stay?”

“I don’t know. I’m gonna talk to her about it.”

Hannah nodded and Damian vowed to find a way to keep them in this house. They’d gone through so much in the last few years. He couldn’t bear for her and Dinah to move again. He pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and backed out of the room.

Dinah stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She held a spoon in one hand and wiped her mouth with the other, leaving a streak of brown down the length of her arm.

He laughed. “You’re gonna need a bath.”

“Uh huh.” She beamed up at him. “Hey, you wanna go for a hike before dinner? Mom said I could pick some of those flowers down by the creek, but she won’t let me go alone.”

Of course she won’t.
She’s still too afraid T.J. might show up.
Though the divorce had been final for years, with sole custody of Dinah granted to Hannah Knight, their mother still lived in fear that her ex-husband would steal the girl away. He hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t called. But neither did they believe that the guy was gone for good. Damian’s fists tightened. With a love of liquor and a smile that could sweet-talk the devil when he wanted it to, T.J. was a rattlesnake with a deadly bite. Since the move, Damian had made it his personal responsibility to make sure he never got close enough to his girls to hurt the air they breathed or the ground they walked upon.

* * * * *

Theo slouched in the chair and pulled a baseball cap over his eyes. He didn’t need the damn librarian or the old guy next to him giving him an eyeful while he was pecking away at the keyboard.

His first Internet search turned up nothing. “Shit.”

A young mother nearby frowned and covered her toddler’s ears. “Excuse me,” she hissed. “This is the
library.
”

Didn’t think it was the fuckin’ circus
, he wanted to say. He bit his lip instead and tried another search. This time he typed in Hannah’s son’s name. He scowled. Damian Knight had never been anything but trouble in the years Theo had put a roof over their heads. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who had told Hannah to leave in the first place. He scowled at the screen. No matter where the three of them had ended up, Theo was one-hundred-percent certain Damian still lived with his mother and sister, if not in the house with them, then somewhere close by.

This search turned up something. He glanced around and hunched as close to the computer screen as he could get. Damian’s name appeared halfway down a list of graduates from a two-year college somewhere in upstate New York. Theo pursed his lips and jotted the name of the school on a scrap of paper. The date was almost three years old, but he would guess Hannah hadn’t taken the family too far from there. He hadn’t tried to contact her in ages. She would have grown comfortable by now. Safe.

Theo shoved the piece of paper into his pocket and closed the web browser. He thought a minute and then shut down the computer completely. Next step: finding a map of New York. After that, he’d drive straight from center-city Baltimore to whatever podunk town Hannah and Dinah now called home.

Damian he’d worry about when he got there.