That Certain Summer (27 page)

“You're staying because of Mom?” Also not what she'd expected. Nor did she think that was the main reason Val was considering such a radical change.

“Partly. But more because of you and Kristen and David and Victoria.” She tightened her grip on her plastic cup. The frappuccino overflowed and puddled on the table, and she scrubbed at the wayward liquid with her napkin.

Wadding the soiled paper into her fist, she continued in a more subdued voice. “I'm also staying because I'm tired of running away.”

Here it comes.

Karen braced herself. “What do you mean?”

“That's the real reason I left Washington. It reminded me too much of my mistakes.” She moved her drink aside and gripped her hands together on the table. “Do you remember much about the summer I was seventeen, and my senior year in high school?”

“No. I was dating Michael, and everything but my so-called romance is a blur for those months. Besides, I was putting in a lot of hours at my job at the Y. I don't remember seeing you very much. You were either working at the diner or running around with that group you hung out with, and by the next spring, I was married. Why?”

“Something happened during those months that changed my life forever. It's why I broke down at the rehearsal. Why I've been running all these years.”

So the suspicions that had kept her tossing most of the night were true.

And the moment she'd been dreading was here.

With an effort, Karen kept her expression impassive. “Are you telling me you had an abortion?”

“Yes.” The admission came out in a whisper. “And not a day has passed since that I haven't regretted it.”

After watching Val's remorse play out in living color last night, Karen believed that. And while her sister's choice twisted her stomach, her heart contracted with sympathy for the eighteen years of guilt and regret and self-recrimination Val had endured.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Yes. If we're going to be friends, I don't want there to be secrets between us. But I'll understand if you can't accept what I have to say.”

Karen listened as Val shared her story, up to and including her session with Reverend Richards this morning. She did her best to keep an open mind—and an open heart. Prayed for understanding and compassion. Reminded herself that judgment was God's, not hers.

“So now you know.” Val wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on her cup. “I finally have the sense of closure I came home to find, and I'm ready to move on with my life. Odd as it may sound, moving on may include moving back to Washington.”

Reaching out, Karen took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can't even imagine how awful it must have been for you to keep that secret hidden away all these years.”

Val searched her face. “Then you don't hate me for what I did?”

Hate? Never. But she'd been afraid Val's choices, which went against everything she believed in, might drive a wedge between them.

God had answered her prayers, however, blessing her with the empathy and grace she needed to handle this with the compassion her faith taught.

“Not even close.”

“That's exactly what David said last night.”

“I knew he was a good man.” Karen leaned back in her chair. “And speaking of David, you mentioned that he and Victoria were among the reasons you were staying . . . ?”

“I didn't think that would get by you.” A whisper of a smile tugged at Val's lips. “He asked me to apply for the drama teacher position at the high school. He thinks the two of us could . . . get serious.”

“What do you think?”

“I agree with him.”

Karen smiled. “I'm happy for you, Val.”

“Thanks. And now I have a favor to ask. There's one more thing I need to do, and I'd like you and David to come with me.”

As Val explained her request, Karen felt the pressure of tears build behind her eyes. When her sister finished, she reached for her hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Count me in.”

Val blinked and squeezed back. “Thank you.”

They sat that way for a long moment, hands—and hearts—linked, and then Karen checked her watch. “I hate to break this up, but we still need to shop and get ready for the benefit.”

“You're right.” Val picked up her half-melted drink, fished in her purse, and pulled out a piece of paper. “Since Mom thinks I'm leaving, she made a list of the dishes she wants me to fix for dinner next week. Get this. Ratatouille is at the top. Can you believe it?”

Karen shook her head. “Who said miracles don't happen?”

A soft smile lifted the corners of Val's lips. “I'll never be a doubter again.”

As far as Karen could tell, the benefit was a rousing success. Hope House was now in the black. Steven had given a stunning performance. She'd been pleased with her solo. And Val had read the letter at the end with such feeling and passion there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

As Karen was accepting accolades after the final curtain, Val, Kristen, and Margaret joined the group of well-wishers. They waited until the crowd dispersed before stepping forward.

“That was epic, Mom!” Kristen gave her an enthusiastic hug.

“I concur,” Val seconded.

Her mother peered at her over the top of her glasses. “Well, you certainly surprised me.”

Coming from Margaret, that was the equivalent of a Grammy. Karen stepped forward to hug her stiff shoulders. “Thanks, Mom.”

“I'll add my congratulations too.” Scott gave her a slow, admiring smile as he joined them.

Val's gaze shifted to Scott, then back to her. “Will you be riding home with us?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

At their simultaneous—and conflicting—responses, Karen glanced at Scott.

“I'll take that as a no.” Val commandeered Margaret's arm. “Come on, ladies. If three's company, five is definitely a crowd.”

As Val led them away, Karen propped her hands on her hips and called after them. “Hey! How am I supposed to get home?”

“At your service.” Scott gave a mock bow. “But first we need to celebrate your debut.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Mr. Frank's?”

Perfect. Much safer than the romantic place by the river. “Sold.”

“Let me grab my music and I'll meet you by the exit.”

She started toward the back of the auditorium, accepting more praise along the way, but her gaze kept drifting toward Scott. And even though the compliments were heartwarming, she knew they were only partly responsible for the glow in her heart.

Frozen custard in hand, Scott homed in on a bench being vacated by an elderly couple. “Quick! Let's run for it!” He grabbed her hand and dashed toward the seat, beating out a teenage pair by seconds and dropping his keys in the process.

With a laugh, Karen sat beside him. “You learned the Mr. Frank's drill pretty fast, I see.”

“What's that saying about he who hesitates?”

He reached for his keys, and the breath caught in Karen's throat. As he straightened up, she touched his hand. “You've got almost full dexterity back! When did that happen?”

He checked out her fingers resting against his, and when he lifted his head, an ember sparked to life in his eyes. “It's been a gradual thing.”

For a long moment he looked at her, and Karen's heart missed a beat.

So much for thinking Mr. Frank's was safe.

He leaned toward her, his attention now focused on her mouth, his intention clear.

She wanted the kiss as much as he did—but not yet.

Mustering her resolve, she pressed a hand against his chest . . . and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart against her fingers.

“Scott . . . I can't. This isn't the time. I have so many plates spinning right now—if I try to add one more I'm afraid the whole lot will come crashing down. And I don't want to risk that.”

He sucked in a breath. Backed off. Jabbed at his custard. “Sorry. I have difficulty reining in my impulses around you.” He gave her a rueful smile. “Anyway, now you know how I feel.”

Dare she risk revealing her own feelings? What if he belittled her sentimentality, as Michael had?

But he wasn't Michael. Not by a long shot.

Maybe it was time to follow Val's example and free herself from the chains of her past.

She took a deep breath, gathered up her courage, and gave voice to what was in her heart. “I feel the same way. You're a very special man, and I give thanks every day that you're part of my life.”

Tenderness softened his features, and he reached out a tentative hand to touch her face. “Does that mean after . . . down the road . . . you'd be willing to explore a relationship?”

“Yes. And when that time comes, I plan to give you the full attention you deserve.”

“Then I guess I'll have to work on my patience. Not my strong suit, as I've admitted before, but I'll do my best.” He leaned back and swirled his spoon through his custard, creating peaks and valleys. “You know, I may never quite grasp why you agreed to help your ex-husband after everything he did to you, but I admire the strength of your principles and your commitment to keeping your promises. Not to mention your caring and compassionate heart. And you know what? A woman with those qualities is worth waiting for.”

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she took his hand. “Thank you.”

“I'm the one who's thankful. Now let's talk about the benefit.”

They moved on to lighter, more impersonal topics as they
finished their custard and he drove her home. And when he walked her to the door, he said good-bye with a simple squeeze of her fingers—though based on the banked fire in his eyes, he wanted more. Yet he respected her wishes, practicing the patience he claimed he didn't have.

And as she watched him drive away, gratitude overflowed in her heart for this soon-to-end summer so filled with unexpected gifts. She'd reconnected with a sister long lost to her. Solidified her bond with her daughter. Taken the initiative to advance her career. Her relationship with her mother had improved. And she'd been blessed with a second chance at love.

All at once, Val's comment this morning about miracles replayed in her mind. Unlike her sister, she'd always believed in them, though she'd never experienced one.

But in these past few months, she'd witnessed many firsthand. In Val. In Scott. In herself. And somehow she knew that in the years to come, she would always think of that word in connection with this summer of grace, when so many lives had changed for the better.

Val stood on the bluff overlooking the river, the gentle breeze soft on her face. The expansive view was just as she remembered it from her many visits during that last year before she went away to college.

In the far distance, the broad river narrowed to a silver thread. The patchwork fields were shades of gold and green in these waning days of summer, and the noonday sun—warm without being overbearing—illuminated the scene with a brilliant light.

Now, as then, the height and panoramic vista uplifted her. By offering a clear view to the distant horizon, this spot had always seemed to speak of hope. And tomorrow. And God.

So it was a fitting place to take the final step on her journey to the past—and the first step into her future.

She looked at Karen, who stood on her left holding a single yellow rose. Her sister's eyes reflected love and support and encouragement, and she telegraphed a silent thank-you back with her own.

On her other side, David held a small trowel. Kindness and goodness radiated from him, and she felt the sting of tears.

Thank you, Lord, for sending this wonderful man into my life.
Thank you, too, for all the blessings you've given me this summer. Please be with me now as I close this chapter of my past.

Val stroked the simple cardboard tube in her hands. It had taken her almost eighteen years to remove it from its dark hiding place. To expose it to the sunlight. To face her mistakes and find the healing redemption she had long sought.

But now she could put it to rest forever.

At Val's nod, David went down on one knee and dug into the rich earth, creating a small trench four inches wide, twelve inches long, and six inches deep. When he finished, he rose and stepped aside.

For a long moment, she stood there cradling the tube. Then she closed her eyes and spoke in the silence of her heart.

My dear child, please forgive me. Please know that not one day has passed that I haven't thought of you and loved you and regretted the life I stole from you. I now leave my one physical link to you in this beautiful place, high on a hill, where the gentle rains can fall on it and the golden sun can warm it. But I will never forget you. You will always be in my heart. And I promise that when we meet in heaven, I will hold you close, as I never had the chance to do on this earth. I will whisper the words of love that are written in my heart and belong only to you. But in the meantime, I commend you to God's loving care. Good-bye, my little one.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she knelt beside the small trench. She placed the tube inside and carefully scooped the dirt on top. After she patted it down, Karen handed her the rose, and Val set it on top of the tiny mound.

She knelt there alone for another minute, her head bowed. But when at last she started to rise, she felt hands on both sides lifting her, supporting her. Then Karen and David enfolded her in their arms.

No words were spoken.

None needed to be.

The very presence of these two special people said everything.

As they returned to the car, David and Karen kept their arms
linked with hers. And though it was unseen, Val keenly felt another presence as well. One that surrounded her . . . consoling her, forgiving her, filling her with hope.

And as she walked away from yesterday, she was filled with a quiet certainty that this presence would remain with her for all her tomorrows.

“You've had quite a week.”

Val opened her eyes. From her prone position on the ground, the intense blue of the sky filled her field of vision . . . until David's face moved into view as he leaned close to brush a strand of hair off her forehead with a gentle, lingering touch.

“Yes, I have.” She reached for his hand as he sat back on the checkered cloth he'd brought for their picnic. His firm fingers entwined with hers, and as he gave a gentle squeeze, she released a soft, contented sigh.

“Is that from exhaustion or happiness?”

“Both. I think I could sleep for a month. Think about all I did in the past seven days. I interviewed at the high school here. I resigned from my job in Chicago. I closed up my condo and put all my furniture and personal stuff in storage. I moved back to Washington.”

He leaned back on his elbows beside her. “You're making me tired just listening to that litany.”

“Think how I feel. I did all the work.”

“But it was worth it, wasn't it?”

“Yeah. More than.”

He turned on his side and propped himself up with one elbow to trace the contour of her chin with a tender, whisper-soft touch. “I missed you, Val.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I missed you too.”

He checked the nearby playground where Victoria was swinging,
then leaned close and brushed his lips over hers in a sweet, simple kiss that left her yearning for more.

Backing off, he hovered a few inches away from her face. “Don't look at me like that or I might have to kiss you again.”

At the sudden, rough timbre of his voice, she gave him a teasing smile and played with a button on his shirt. “Is that a promise?”

Grabbing her hand, he folded her fingers in his own and adopted a stern tone. “Stop that. My willpower is already stretched way too thin.”

“In that case, I'll be good.”

His eyes darkened. “Oh, I have no doubt of that.”

A jolt of electricity shot through her. Sizzled.

Okay. Enough of this.

She pulled her hand free and nodded toward Victoria. “We have a chaperone, remember?”

“Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” He sat up and leaned back against his palms, one ankle crossed over the other. “So . . . tell me how you're settling in. You okay about living with Margaret?”

Following his lead, she sat up as well and crossed her legs. “It's okay for a while. She's dropped a few broad hints that it could be a permanent arrangement, but I made it very clear the situation was temporary. As soon as I find an apartment, I'm out of there. I'm used to being on my own.”

“Not too used to it, I hope. Because I have some other plans in mind.”

Her heart skidded to a stop. Raced on. “We haven't known each other long enough for this discussion.”

“It doesn't always take a lot of time to know that a relationship is meant to be.”

She plucked a clover, lifting it to her nose to inhale the fresh, sweet fragrance. “Maybe. But I've made other mistakes by being too rash. This time I want to be absolutely certain.”

“I understand that. And I don't intend to push. You need to sort out your new life, and the two of us have some logistics to work
through. But I want to be very upfront about my own feelings and intentions.” He took both her hands in his, never breaking eye contact. “The fact is, I've fallen in love with you. I didn't expect to. Or necessarily want to in the beginning. Yet it happened, and I'm not sorry. I'll give you however long you need, but someday, when you're ready, I'd like you to be my wife.”

Her pulse began to hammer as she stared at him. “Is . . . is that a proposal?”

“No.” His reply was prompt—and firm. “You're not ready, and I don't intend to rush you into a decision. I just want you to know where I'm coming from. And that someday, I hope in the not-too-distant future, I do plan to propose.”

“Daddy! Val! Come see what I found!”

It took several seconds for Victoria's summons to register—and several more for David's words to sink in.

The man who had helped her transform her life wanted her to be part of his—for always.

It didn't get any better than this.

“We'll be right there.” As David called out a response, he rose and held out his hand. Val took it without hesitation, and in one lithe movement he pulled her to her feet.

As they joined his daughter a few moments later, David lowered himself to her level.

“Is that a cocoon, Daddy?” She pointed toward a small object attached to one of the branches of a bush.

“Yes, it is.”

The little girl turned to Val. “Daddy said this is where butterflies come from. Did you know that?”

“Yes, I did.” Val dropped down beside her.

“Can I wait here and watch it come out?”

“It won't happen that fast, sweetheart.” David inspected the cocoon.

She studied it too. “How long will it take?”

“Every type of moth and butterfly is different. Some are ready
to come out in a couple of weeks. Some stay in all winter and don't come out until the spring.”

“You mean it might still be there at Christmas?”

“Maybe. If the butterfly comes out too soon, its wings won't be strong. And when it tries to fly, it will fall and get hurt. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?”

“No.”

“We'll check it again on our next visit, okay?”

“Okay.” She turned to Val with a hopeful expression. “Will you come with us too?”

“Yes, sweetie. I'll come.” Val smoothed back a stray strand of Victoria's hair, then directed her gaze toward David. “And I have a feeling this butterfly might be ready to fly long before Christmas.”

“Like an early Christmas present, right, Daddy?”

David gave his daughter a hug, but his smile was all for Val. “Yes, honey. And it would be the best Christmas present of all.”