That Certain Summer (20 page)

“In any case, the music lessons have been a turning point for Steven.” Dorothy moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of coleslaw. “So, in a way, some good came out of your accident. Maybe not yet for you, but for others. If you hadn't come to Washington, who knows what might have happened to Steven?”

“Kind of like that old movie with Jimmy Stewart.” Scott took a drink of water. “The one where he's shown what his town would be like if he'd never been born. About how one person can make a difference, and how lives are connected.”

“
It's a Wonderful Life
.”

“That's the one. Except in that case, I think an angel was the catalyst.”

“Yes. Clarence. But humans can also be the source of great good. God often works through people to bring about miracles.”

The microwave beeped, and as she crossed the room to remove the plate of food, Scott mulled over her words. He'd never given much credence to miracles. The word conjured up notions of amazing cures or tragedies averted, and he'd seen little evidence of those.

But maybe all miracles didn't have to be flashy. Maybe a miracle could also be a young man finding hope again. Or an insecure woman finding confidence. Or an injured musician finding his way out of blackness.

He took his place at the table as she slid the plate of food in front of him. Funny. His mother had credited him with offering Steven hope, but it had worked both ways. In helping the young boy find meaning, he was finding meaning himself. And in helping Karen build confidence, he was better able to face his own future with assurance and optimism.

As he dug into the food, a new lightness spread through him, lifting his heart and filling it with hope.

Maybe miracles were all around him, every day. But like the man Reverend Richards had spoken about in his sermon, he'd simply been too blind to see them.

Karen tucked her music folder into her oversize shoulder bag, squeezed her keys, and turned to Kristen. “Are you sure you don't want to come with me? I'll only be there twenty minutes, and we could stop at Mr. Frank's afterward.”

Her daughter drained her glass of milk and made a face. “I told you, Mom. I don't want to go to church on a Saturday.”

She was out of ammunition. Cajoling, guilt, a bribe—nothing had worked.

She'd have to lay her cards on the table.

Hugging her music folder to her chest, she took the plunge. “Look . . . I'd really appreciate it if you'd come. I need some honest feedback.”

Kristen stopped rinsing her glass and cocked her head. “On what?”

“Scott . . . Mr. Walker . . . asked me to sing a solo at the benefit.”

As her daughter's eyes widened, Karen's stomach clenched. “I knew it was a mistake. I'll call and tell him I—”

“No!” Kristen set the glass on the counter, now fully engaged. “I think it's a great idea! I'm just surprised you agreed.”

“I haven't. Yet. I'll probably back out. I'm not solo material.”

“Yes, you are! I hear you singing around the house sometimes when you think I'm not listening. You should go for it.”

“I don't know . . .” She blew out a shaky breath. “Can you imagine what your grandmother will say?”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “She doesn't like anything anybody does. You might as well not try to please her. Did you tell Aunt Val about this?”

“No. Only you. And I haven't sung in front of anyone except Scott. That's why I wanted you to come today. I thought it would give me a chance to see how I do with someone else there.”

“Okay. I don't have to meet my friends until after lunch, and besides—I think it's very cool you're going to do this.”

“We'll see.”

Kristen peppered her with questions as they made the short drive to church, but once they parked and started toward the entrance, she broke off the inquisition. “Listen.”

They both stopped. Muted sounds of a simple, classical piano piece floated through the air.

“Isn't that pretty?” The piece was vaguely familiar, but Karen couldn't think of the title.

“Yeah.” Kristen picked up the pace again. “Imagine how great Mr. Walker must have played before the accident.”

But as they paused inside the door, Karen saw at once that Scott wasn't the pianist. He was standing behind Steven, who was giving the piece in front of him his rapt attention.

She and Kristen held back until he finished, then clapped with enthusiasm.

The young man twisted toward them, his complexion reddening.

“Wow! I heard Scott was giving you lessons, but I had no idea you'd progressed this much.” Karen smiled at him as they joined the duo.

“That was great,” Kristen echoed.

Steven looked away and straightened the music. “It's just a beginner's piece.”

Scott laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. “Pretty soon you'll be passing me up. I never had the natural flair you do for the keyboard.”

As Steven's flush went another shade darker, Karen rescued him by changing the subject. “I brought Kristen along as a sample audience.”

“Great idea. I hope you can convince your mom to do the solo.” Scott flashed her daughter a grin. “I'm afraid my powers of persuasion aren't working very well.”

“I already told her to go for it.”

“Keep pushing from your end.” He gave Kristen a conspiratorial wink. “Steven, I'll see you Tuesday. Do you have a ride home?”

“My mom's going to stop by on her way back from the grocery store. She should be here soon.”

“Okay. Then if you two will excuse us, Karen and I have work to do.”

Steven pushed away from the keyboard, and as he and Kristen moved off to one corner, Scott focused on her. “I was afraid you'd get cold feet and not show.”

His tone was teasing, but his eyes were serious. She lifted her chin a fraction, trying not to be distracted by the way his jeans hugged his lean hips or the impressive biceps beneath the sleeves of his black golf shirt. “I said I'd come, and I always keep my promises.”

“I believe that.” He gave her a long look, then reached for the music and set it on the stand. After sliding the bench back into position, he took his seat. “Ready?”

“No. But I'm here, so I guess I'll try it. Could you . . . would you sing through it with me once?”

“Sure. Let's do some scales first, to warm up.”

They ran through a few vocal exercises, and despite the presence of Kristen and Steven, by the time they moved on to the piece, Karen wasn't nearly as nervous as she'd been the first time she'd sung it.

As the last note died away, Scott gave an approving nod. “Nice. Now try it on your own.”

Her nerves spiked, but when she checked out Kristen and Steven, they were involved in an animated conversation, oblivious to the rehearsal.

So much for her audience.

For the next few minutes, Scott played through the piece several times, and with each rendition, her voice grew stronger and more confident. He began to offer suggestions on interpretation and dynamics, and she forgot to be nervous as she concentrated on his instructions.

“Okay. Let's do it once more, and try to focus on all the things we've talked about.” Scott flipped back to the first page.

As he began to play, Karen closed her eyes, letting the music filter into her soul as her mind processed and implemented all of his suggestions.

The last notes died away and the church went silent—until the sound of clapping filled it. Karen opened her eyes to find Kristen, Steven, and Scott beaming at her.

“Wow, Mom! I had no idea you could sing like that!” Kristen bounded over.

“Me neither, Mrs. Butler.” Steven wheeled up behind her daughter. “You should sing solo stuff more often.”

The accolades of the young people were gratifying, but she valued Scott's opinion more. Summoning up her courage, she looked at him. His approving smile told her all she needed to know, but his words were the icing on the cake.

“I second that.”

Karen was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Martha Ramsey, but as they all exchanged a few pleasantries, her heart continued to glow.

Only after Martha and Steven disappeared out the door and Kristen spoke to her did she come back to earth. “Are we still going to Mr. Frank's?”

“What's Mr. Frank's?” Scott closed the cover over the piano keys.

“You've been in Washington all summer and you haven't been to Mr. Frank's?” Kristen's eyes widened.

“No. What is it?”

“Just the best frozen custard in the world! Mom, he should come with us.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I've already taken up far too much of his time. We've been here forty minutes.”

“Actually, I don't have any solid plans for the rest of the day.” Scott leaned against the piano and slid his hands in his pockets.

“Awesome! Come on.” Kristen took her mother's hand and hauled her toward the door.

“Give me a minute to lock up and I'll follow you. Is this okay with you, Karen?”

Before she could answer, Kristen chimed in.

“Of course it's okay.” Her daughter gave another tug on her arm. “Everybody goes to Mr. Frank's. It's not like it's a date or anything.”

Karen shot Kristen a narrow-eyed look. Leave it to her daughter to throw that word in.

Kristen ignored her.

Doing her best not to appear flustered, she answered Scott's question herself. “You're welcome to join us. Mr. Frank's is definitely worth a trip.”

“Great. I'll meet you in the lot in just a minute.”

She waited until they were outside to confront Kristen. “What was with the date reference?”

Her daughter gave her a look of feigned innocence. “I'm sorry. Did I embarrass you?”

“This has nothing to do with being embarrassed.” Not much, anyway. “You know I don't date, and I don't want Scott to think I do.”

“Why do you care what he thinks?”

She hit the automatic car lock on her key chain. “Because.”

“Because you like him?”

“I'm not discussing this, Kristen.” She slid into the car.

Kristen joined her a moment later. “You need to chill, Mom.”
She watched as Scott exited and started for his car. “Man, he is one hot dude, even if he's old.”

Old?

Karen eyed Scott's lean, muscular physique as he strode toward his car.

Hardly.

Rather than respond, however, she put the car in gear and changed the subject. “You and Steven seemed to hit it off.”

“Yeah.” Kristen settled back in her seat. “I never talked to him much at school. He was older, and the big football hero and all. Out of my league, you know? But he's cool. He thinks about stuff most kids don't. Heavy stuff. Like, about life and what's important.”

She paused, and Karen took a quick peek at her. Kristen's expression was pensive.

“Being stuck in that chair has to be really hard. But he says he figures God must have something better than football in store for him. That's a pretty awesome attitude.” Kristen hesitated, playing with the buckle on her seat belt. “He asked me to go to a movie with him.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I told him you don't let me date.”

“I'd let you go with Steven. He's a good kid.”

Kristen scowled at her. “And Gary isn't?”

Uh-oh. Careful, careful.

“It's just that I've known the Ramseys my whole life, and all of them have solid values. I don't know Gary very well.” But enough to suspect he had questionable morals, at best. “Do you want to go with him?”

Thankfully, her daughter let the subject of Gary drop.

“Part of me does, but . . . I mean, I don't know how to relate to a guy who . . . who's in a wheelchair.”

“He's the same guy he was before the accident in every way that counts, and I'm sure he'd like to be treated the same.”

“But, like, who's supposed to get the popcorn? Usually guys
do that. And how would we get there? He can't drive. And what if he has to, you know, go to the bathroom? I mean, it's kind of awkward.”

“That's true—especially for him. He's had to learn to do everything in a new way. But you know what? People cope. They figure it out. They adjust—often through trial and error. The important thing is to keep trying and not to treat every challenge as if it's life or death. If an awkward situation comes up, talk it through. You'll be amazed how a simple conversation can smooth things out.”

“Does that mean you think I should go?”

“It's up to you, honey. Go if you enjoy being with Steven—but don't go out of pity. That won't do anyone any good.”

“I guess I'll think about it.”

Kristen lapsed into silence for the remainder of the drive, but she perked up when they pulled into the parking lot at Mr. Frank's a few minutes later. Hopping out of the car, she waved Scott into a spot farther down. The place was already crowded at eleven in the morning.

“I can vouch for the chocolate chip concrete, but they're all good,” Kristen told Scott as he joined them.

“I'll go with your recommendation. Karen, what will you have?”

He started to retrieve his wallet, but she held out a hand to restrain him. “Uh-uh. Your first visit is our treat. Maybe you can find us a seat—although the prospects don't look too good.” She scanned the scene. The few scattered benches were already occupied.

“I'll do my best.”

By the time Karen and Kristen inched their way through the order line, Kristen had greeted several friends who'd also paid an early visit to the popular spot.

“Can I go talk to Erin while we eat, Mom?”

“Yes, but we're not going to stay long. I have to do some weeding before I go grocery shopping with Val.”

“Okay. Wave at me when you're ready to leave.”

As Kristen headed for her friends, Karen stepped away from the
counter and searched the throng for Scott. To her surprise, he'd found a vacant bench.

Striking off in his direction, she surveyed the crowd as she grew close. “I can't believe you found a seat. This place is always packed.”

“I could attribute it to good karma, but you'd discover the truth soon enough.” He gestured to the wood plank beside him. A good third of it was covered with tree sap.

Lifting her head, Karen found the source. A large branch had broken off the pine tree above.

“I tried to clean it off, but all I got for my trouble was sticky fingers. We'll have to share this end.”

Karen gave the bench a dubious scan. Two months and twenty-two pounds ago, there was no way she'd have fit in the spot reserved for her. Now, she would—but not unless she got cozy with Scott.