That Certain Summer (22 page)

As Karen tried to digest her mother's startling story, Margaret sniffed and gave Val a bemused look. “Well, I can't say I've ever seen you speechless.” Then she turned to her. “Are we going to stand around here all evening in this heat? The mosquitoes are out already and I'm being eaten alive.”

Karen jerked forward and held out her arm. Her sister joined her on the other side.

No one spoke during the slow walk back to the car.

Once behind the wheel, Karen's shaky fingers fumbled with the key as she tried to insert it in the ignition.

What a strange few minutes.

Yet as she put the car in gear and drove away, her throat tightened. Today she'd seen a side of her mother she'd never seen before—and might never see again. She also now understood the events that had shaped her. That might not take away the sting of the hurtful things her mother had said and done through the years or improve their relationship much, but it helped to know Margaret's criticism had nothing to do with Karen herself and everything to do with a little girl who had been hurt and betrayed by someone she'd loved and trusted. A little girl who had been afraid, after that, to ever again let anyone get too close.

Karen checked on Val in the rearview mirror. As if sensing her sister's scrutiny, Val met her gaze. And in her eyes, Karen saw what was in her own heart.

Understanding that mitigated the pain of their rocky mother/daughter relationship.

And gratitude for a final gift from the father they had cherished.

“Karen, could you come in here, please?”

At her boss's summons, Karen surveyed her piled-high desk. Just what she needed—another assignment in the middle of reconciling the monthly department budget.

Stifling a sigh, she spoke into the receiver. “I'll be right there.” After dropping the phone back into its cradle, she typed several more numbers into the computer, then grabbed a notebook and pen.

Harold Simmons was seated at his desk. As usual, the sun from the large window behind him bounced off his shiny bald head, reminding her of the silver reflecting ball in her father's rose garden.

But under his intent, no-nonsense scrutiny, those capricious thoughts disappeared as fast as the startled deer she'd seen by the side of the road a few days ago.

He began spitting out rapid-fire instructions almost before she cleared the threshold. “We got approval for a new position. An
entry-level financial analyst. I need you to put together a job description based on comparable positions in the industry, along with a list of internal candidates for me to consider. As soon as possible.”

Translation: by the end of the day. Two hours from now. Meaning she'd have to work late to finish the budget.

Her hopes for a quiet evening at home evaporated.

“Okay. I'll get on it right away.”

Back at her desk, she put aside the budget work and focused on Harold's project. On the positive side, she'd been around long enough to establish contacts in human resources, compensation, and staffing who could provide the information she needed.

By ten minutes to five, she was putting the finishing touches on the report.

After proofing the job description, Karen gave the list of candidates a final scan. With a satisfied nod, she gathered up the material, started to stand—and froze.

Wait a minute.

She could do this job . . . couldn't she?

Yes.

She knew the company and the industry. Plus, since her promotion to administrative assistant eight months ago, she'd taken on responsibility for a significant amount of budget work and analysis.

It was a perfect fit—and this job would move her into the professional ranks, offer more perks, and pay a higher salary.

But did she have the nerve to apply for it?

She sat back down.

A few weeks ago, she'd have said no—but she wasn't the same person she'd been a few weeks ago. Thanks to Val and Scott's pushing and prodding, she was learning to take control of her own life. To stop worrying about pleasing other people or seeking anyone's approval. To reach higher than she'd ever dreamed.

Because as Scott had pointed out a few days ago, sometimes the biggest successes come when we take a chance.

Squaring her shoulders, Karen reopened the document of
candidates and added her name to the bottom of the list. Hesitated. Moved it to the top.

Five minutes later she marched into Harold's office and handed him the material. She might not get the job, but at least she'd put herself in the running.

And that, in itself, was a huge step forward.

Tapping a finger against the steering wheel, Karen checked her watch as she waited at yet another red light. Kristen would be starving by the time she fixed dinner, but what could she do? Her boss didn't care if his special project had thrown off her schedule; the budget work still had to get done. And she couldn't renege on her promise to Reverend Richards that she'd pick up the proof for the flier about the benefit on her way home.

Praying no cops were lying in wait to fulfill their ticket quotas on this Monday night, she pressed harder on the accelerator and zipped through several yellow lights.

Once in the church lot, she grabbed her purse and half jogged toward the door, scanning the portico for the envelope the minister had promised to leave if she was late.

Nothing.

Had he tucked it against the wall, behind one of the overflowing pots of petunias, to protect it from the gathering storm clouds?

As she ran up the stairs, the muffled but plaintive wail of a saxophone seeped through the thick, wooden front door, and she came to an abrupt halt.

It had to be Scott.

Errand forgotten, she moved closer and cracked the door. He was playing some sort of bluesy number she'd never heard, so raw with emotion a shiver snaked down her spine. Though she heard a few fumbled notes, the rendition was powerful, imbued with such anguish and loss and pain she felt as if she was reading a diary.

As the last notes died away, she drew an unsteady breath and pushed the door open. A shaft of light from the descending sun darted inside, illuminating the man standing in the sanctuary and bathing the interior in a golden glow.

She could manage only one word. “Wow.”

Slowly Scott lowered the saxophone. “I didn't know I had an audience.” Unlike the first time she'd appeared without warning, however, he sounded shaky rather than angry or accusatory.

“I didn't think you played the sax anymore.”

“This is the first time since . . . since before the accident. It wasn't very good.”

“I heard a few wrong notes, if that's what you mean, but the power of the music . . . the way you play . . . the emotion . . .” She shook her head as words failed her. “You have an incredible gift.”

His color was high as he stroked the polished brass instrument with an almost reverent touch. “I never thought I'd pick this up again.”

“Why did you?”

“Because of what happened yesterday after services. I stayed around to go through some music, and Steven came over to ask if I'd help him with a problem spot in one of the pieces he's practicing for the benefit. It's a tricky area, and instead of explaining the correct fingering, I decided to show him. As I played, I realized . . .” His voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. “My fingers were responding. Not perfectly, but there was enough improvement that I decided to pull the sax out of the mothballs.”

“That's wonderful!” She moved closer and touched his arm.

He looked down at her fingers, and his Adam's apple bobbed. Seconds ticked by, the quiet broken only by a distant rumble of thunder. She told herself to pull back. Step away. Play it safe.

But before she could follow through, he laid his hand over hers and lifted his gaze.

She stopped breathing.

Something as compelling and powerful as the music he'd just played began to pulsate between them.

He lifted his free hand toward her, and her knees began to wobble. “Karen, I . . .”

“Scott? Is that you in here?”

At Reverend Richards's question, she gasped and jerked back. Scott dropped his hand at once, but she caught a glimpse of regret as he turned toward the door the minister had cracked open.

“Yeah. It's me.” His words came out husky and ragged.

The man pushed through and crossed toward them. “I saw the lights. I didn't know you'd be here today. Karen, I have the proofs for you. I hope I didn't keep you waiting.”

“No.” Her assurance was little more than a croak. She swallowed and tried again. “I just got here.”

“Great. I meant to walk these over here sooner, but things got hectic in the office.” He spoke to Scott as he handed her the envelope. “What brings you here on a Monday evening?”

“I was, uh, working on some music.”

The minister smiled. “Don't overdo it, okay? We don't pay you
that
much.” He consulted his watch and shook his head. “Late for dinner again. Thank goodness I have a patient wife. I'll see you two Sunday.”

As he started toward the door, Karen jerked forward and fell in behind him. “I-I need to go too. Kristen is waiting for dinner, and she isn't quite as patient as your wife.”

At the door, the man spoke over his shoulder to Scott. “Will you lock up on your way out?”

“Sure.”

Karen didn't want to look back—but she couldn't stop herself.

Scott was standing where she'd left him, watching her.

The sharp zing of electricity that zipped through her had nothing to do with the supercharged air of the approaching storm.

He took a step toward her.

Heart pounding, she stumbled toward the door and almost ran to her car.

And as she slid behind the wheel, one thing became clear to her.

In a perfect world, she might be able to put off decisions about romance until life slowed down and she had more time to think.

But her world wasn't perfect.

And she'd just run out of time.

Tuning out the conversation around her in the therapy center waiting room, Val tried to focus on the new suspense novel that had been garnering accolades. The praise was well deserved. The book had an excellent plot. Strong characterizations. Fast-paced action.

But it wasn't holding her interest—thanks to the drama in her own life.

With a resigned sigh, she closed the book and leaned her head back against the wall. In less than three weeks she'd be returning to Chicago, her quest for resolution and redemption a bust.

Still, there were some positive outcomes from her trip. She and Karen had become the sisters—and friends—they'd never been in their younger days. And Margaret's startling revelation had explained—if not justified—a lot about her behavior through the years.

As for David . . .

She closed her eyes.

How did you deal with a man who was tempting you to break every rule about relationships you'd followed for eighteen years?

But somehow she had to find the strength to do the right thing.
And she was trying. Hard. Maybe her evasion tactics were spineless, but they were working—more or less. Too bad Margaret had asked her to wait around today in case she was done early. Otherwise, she'd have dropped her off and ducked back just in time to pick her up, as she'd done the last couple of times.

The door to the treatment rooms opened, and she glanced up to find David on the threshold, holding two disposable cups.

He lifted one. “Can I tempt you?”

What a question.

Without waiting for a response, he crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside her. Other than an elderly man engrossed in a fishing magazine, they had the place to themselves.

“I haven't seen much of you lately.” David handed her one of the cups.

“I've been at church.”

“But you disappear before I can say hello. And you stopped staying for therapy sessions.”

“I've been busy.” She took a gulp of coffee. It burned her mouth.

“Victoria asks about you.”

Val forced herself to meet his gaze. “I'll be leaving in three weeks. It's best if I don't see her. She might get attached, and she's had too much loss in her life already.”

“I had a feeling that might be your reasoning—and I agree that it's very tough for people of any age to lose someone they care about.” He took a slow sip of his coffee. “I heard there's an opening at the high school here for a drama and speech teacher. Someone with your qualifications would be a shoo-in.”

It took a second for his implication to sink in.

When it did, her heart stuttered.

Oh. My. Word.

He wanted her to stay. To start a new life in Washington and become part of his and Victoria's.

Reminding herself to keep breathing, she gripped her cup with both hands. Not once since the day she'd left for college had she
considered coming back to Washington to live. The very notion had been anathema.

It wasn't anymore, thanks to a sister she'd befriended and a man who was offering a tantalizing glimpse of a future she'd thought she could never have.

Except there wasn't any future with David. As kind and good as he was, he'd never be able to accept what she'd done. Not with his special interest in the pro-life cause. Not when he was working even now, through the church benefit, to help save the lives of unborn babies.

She might as well face the hard truth.

Staying in Washington wasn't any more of an option now than it had been the day she left for college.

When the silence lengthened, David spoke again. “Victoria would be happy if you stayed. I would be too.”

She shook her head, blinking back the sting of tears. “It wouldn't work.”

“How do you know if you don't give it a chance?”

“Trust me. I know.”

The interior door opened, and the older man laid his fishing magazine aside in response to a summons from his therapist. Once he disappeared inside, David set down his coffee cup, took hers from her fingers—and before she realized his intent—enfolded her cold hands in his warm, comforting clasp.

Her lungs short-circuited.

Pull away! Now, before it's too late!

But she didn't.

“You must have realized by now that I think you're a very special woman, Val.” His voice and expression were as serious as she'd ever seen them. “And I know you've felt the connection between us. I've seen it in your face. I also know there are some issues we'd need to work through if things got serious. Trust me, I've wrestled mightily with the ones on my side during many a sleepless night and some lengthy conversations with God. But I've come to believe we ought to explore this.”

“David, I . . .”

He held up a hand. “Let me finish, okay? I'm not a speech-making kind of guy, so this isn't real easy for me.”

She closed her mouth.

“I know you didn't come home this summer to find romance. I didn't move to Washington for that reason, either, but that's how things work sometimes. When we least expect it, someone walks into our life who may be destined to change it—or become part of it. I don't know if that's what will happen with us, but I'd like to find out. Will you do me a favor and consider the job for a few days before you make a decision?”

Don't build up his hopes—or yours. Just say no. End it now.

When she opened her mouth, however, different words came out. “I guess I can . . . think about it.” At least she had the presence of mind to tack on a warning. “But I'm not making any promises.”

“That's good enough for now.” He smiled and squeezed her hands. “Margaret should be finishing up. I need to get back.”

He stood, surprising her again by leaning down to brush his lips across her forehead in a whisper-soft kiss. “See you soon.”

And then he was gone.

Yet he left behind the faint whisper of something she hadn't felt in a long while—and yearned to embrace.

Hope.

But did she dare?

Harold Simmons steepled his fingers as Karen stepped into his office. “Tell me why you think you can do this job better than the other candidates on the list.”

She blinked, trying to regroup. She'd only given him the description for the new job and the list of candidates two days ago. When had he ever responded this fast to
anything
?

“You seem surprised by the question.” He pinned her with one of the intimidating looks he usually reserved for his managers.

Okay. She'd watched him play this game numerous times. He called in a manager. Threw an unexpected question at him or her. Watched their response. Those who buckled under the pressure, who hemmed and hawed or got flustered, were toast career-wise.

She didn't intend to be one of them.

Settling into one of the chairs across from his desk, she rested her hands loosely on the arms, keeping her posture open rather than defensive. “I'm surprised by the timing, not the question. I just gave you the report Monday night and you were out of town yesterday.”

“Things move fast in the business world—and they'll move faster in the new position we're creating. I need someone who has strong technical skills and can juggle multiple responsibilities.”

“In that case, I'm a perfect fit. I have a business degree, with an emphasis in finance. In my present job, I handle all the budget duties for this department. As you know, that includes not only reconciliation but analysis and planning, not to mention my work on the month-end closings. I do all that as well as a multitude of other tasks. I've never missed a deadline, and my work is always accurate.

“As for juggling multiple responsibilities . . . my personal life is also a good example of that. In addition to my career here, with its often extended hours, I'm raising a teenage daughter alone. I'm active in my church, and I've been the primary caregiver for my elderly mother for many years. I'm an expert at multitasking.”

There was silence while Harold digested her speech, and Karen held her breath. She'd recited her qualifications and accomplishments in a confident, concise manner, highlighting her strengths without exaggeration or bragging. Truth be told, she'd impressed even herself with her assertiveness and her credentials.

As Harold studied her, she caught a speculative gleam in his eyes—and a glint of admiration. Then he leaned forward and drew
a stack of reports toward him, signaling the end of their meeting. “Give me a copy of your resume. We'll talk again later.”

Not until she was back at her desk did she realize her legs were trembling.

But on the inside she felt rock solid.

Too bad Val wasn't around. It was definitely high-five time.

“Okay. Let's work on the second benefit piece. I've asked Karen to try the solo section. Karen, I'll sing through it with you the first time.”

A wave of panic crashed over her as the other choir members sent curious glances her way. Her last rehearsal with Scott had gone well, and she'd thought she was ready for her solo debut in front of the choir.

Not anymore. Fear clogged her throat, and she doubted she'd be able to get out more than a croak.

“Ready, Karen?”

She refocused on Scott. His eyes were encouraging, his message clear.

You can do this. And I'll be there with you until you feel ready to sing it alone.

Taking a deep breath, she gave a slight nod.

The first run-through was rough. The second was better. When he dropped out on the third, she faltered but kept going. And with each successive repetition, her voice grew stronger.

At last Scott closed his music and stood. “That was great.” His gaze swept the group . . . but lingered on her. “I think the audience will be impressed by this piece. I'll see you all on Sunday, and be careful going home. If this rain keeps up, we'll need to start building an ark.”

His comment was met with chuckles, followed by the rustle of paper as the choir members tucked away their music. A number
of them stopped to compliment Karen as she gathered up her own music, and by the time the place emptied, she was floating on a buoyant sea of praise.

“See? I told you that you're good.”

At Scott's comment, she turned. He was leaning against the piano, ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest.

“I guess I'm not bad, anyway.”

Instead of responding, he pushed away and strolled toward her, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It doesn't take much to make you happy, does it? A few compliments, and you're glowing.”

“Actually, it's more than that. I got a promotion today at work too.” She'd been bursting to tell someone ever since Harold had called her into his office at five o'clock, but Kristen was in St. Louis spending the night with her dad and Val wasn't answering her cell phone.

“No wonder you look so happy. It seems to me a celebration is in order. I'd suggest Mr. Frank's, but the weather isn't exactly conducive to sap-covered benches. How about dessert at that restaurant down by the river near the train station?”