That Certain Summer (11 page)

“I'll take care of it when I get home.” She tried for a smile. Managed only a twist of her lips. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Getting ready to have a picnic.” He gestured behind him.

As Val glanced over his shoulder toward Victoria, her features softened. Then she dipped her head again and fumbled in the pocket
of her jeans. “Listen, I'm sorry I disturbed your day.” She pulled out her car keys and clasped them in a tight fist.

“You're in no condition to drive.”

“I'm fine. Really.” She started to walk past him, but she stopped when he touched her arm.

“Look—why don't you join us?”

She glanced again toward his daughter. “No, thank you. I wouldn't want to barge in on a family outing.”

“It's just Victoria and me.”

She frowned. “Isn't your wife with you?”

“Natalie died two years ago.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I-I'm sorry.”

“Thanks.” He stepped aside and indicated the blanket where he'd been sitting. “Anyway, Victoria and I would welcome your company.”

She edged back. “I-I don't think so.” Her gaze was riveted on the blanket.

The blanket was freaking her out.

Why?

But he didn't have time to figure it out. She was still moving away, and in another moment or two she'd flee.

“I was just about to move to the picnic table. It looks like a more comfortable spot. Won't you reconsider? We have brownies for dessert.” He gave her a teasing grin he hoped didn't look as forced as it felt.

Some of the tension in her features relaxed. “Brownies, hmm? That's hard to pass up.”

“Then stay. I brought plenty.”

Indecision flitted through her eyes, and he had a feeling she was going to decline. But much to his surprise, she relented.

“Okay. For a few minutes.”

The tautness in his smile eased. “Good. Let me gather up our things.”

As he shook out the blanket and folded it, Victoria looked his
way. He waved at her and she bounded toward him, apparently more intrigued by their guest than by the elusive butterfly. Her step slowed as she approached, however, and she moved beside him to shyly regard the new arrival.

“Victoria, this is Val. She's a friend of mine. Can you say hello?”

“Hello.” The little girl echoed his words in a soft voice.

“Hello, Victoria. I saw your picture in your daddy's office. You're even prettier in person.”

“You're pretty too.” She inspected Val's arm. “But you have an owie.”

“A big thorn scratched me in the woods.”

“We need to take care of that.” David deposited their picnic supplies on the table and dug out his car keys.

“I can deal with it later.”

He ignored her. “I'll get the first aid kit from the car.”

“You carry a first aid kit in your car?” She shot him a surprised look.

“I have a five-year-old. That means I follow the Coast Guard motto: Always ready.”

Val's lips curved. “Okay. Victoria and I will visit while you're gone.”

David returned to the car, pausing at the trunk to glance back at the twosome. An exuberant Victoria was talking to Val, who was leaning forward as she listened, her mouth curved into a smile. He couldn't hear the conversation, but all at once his daughter's laugh floated through the air.

Man, he'd missed that sound. He'd almost begun to think she'd left it in St. Louis, along with her friends from day care and the familiarity of their old routine. Most days since the move, she'd been subdued. And how many nights had he awakened and found her at his bedside, complaining of having bad dreams and wanting to sleep with him?

Too many.

He fitted the key in the trunk, lifted the lid, and pulled out the
first aid kit. So they'd had some transition problems. That was to be expected. But once they settled into small-town life, things would get better. They'd adjust to their new routine. Turn their new house into a home. Make new friends.

Like Val.

Already she was bringing laughter back into Victoria's life. Adding a spark to her eyes.

And to his.

Yet as he started back toward the picnic table, he frowned. Val was leaving Washington in a few weeks. Letting himself—or Victoria—get too involved with her would be a big mistake. He and his daughter had had enough loss and disappointment to last a lifetime. The key was to play this cool. Casual. Enjoy her company, but focus on making more permanent friends.

So they'd eat their lunch, have a few pleasant moments—and leave it at that. Even if Val seemed as much in need of a friend as Victoria did.

Because keeping things light and friendly would be a whole lot safer.

For everyone.

“I still don't know how you talked me into this.” Karen shot Val a disgruntled glance.

Her sister grinned at her from the adjacent salon chair. “Trust me. You'll love it.”

Karen cringed as another length of her hair fell to the floor. “I've always had long hair.”

“Shoulder length is still long. Everything else is extra weight. This style will highlight your excellent bone structure. Am I right?” Val directed her question to the woman deftly wielding a pair of scissors behind Karen's chair.

“No question about it.” The stylist continued to snip like there was no tomorrow. “And adding in layers will give your hair more body and fullness.”

“See?” Val leaned back in her chair and linked her fingers over her nonexistent stomach.

Karen watched another long lock bite the dust. “It's not like I have much choice at this point.”

“You could start a new trend. Half long, half shoulder length. Lots of kids do stuff like that.”

“I'm not a kid.” Karen scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. She had to admit the shorter length suited her face better. Softened it. But it didn't alter the mousy brown hue. “I do like the style. Too bad it doesn't help the color.”

“Why not change that too?”

“No way. This is a big enough step for one day.”

“How about sticking your toe in the water with some highlights? You have some natural auburn in your hair that we could bring out a little. Right?” Val pulled the stylist back into the conversation.

“Absolutely. That's a great idea.”

“I don't think so.”

“Why not? If you don't like it, it will grow out. Come on, Karen. Be daring.”

“I'm not the daring type.” Another length of hair dropped into her lap, and Karen picked it up. “You know, there is a little bit of red in here.”

“Auburn,” Val corrected. “A much richer color. The highlighting will enhance that. It won't change the basic color of your hair.”

“I don't know . . .”

Val made the decision for her. “Do it,” she told the stylist. Then she looked back at Karen, heading off her protest. “Consider it a birthday gift.”

“My birthday's not until September.”

“I'll be back in Chicago by then. This is an early present. And I bet you can be daring if you put your mind to it.”

Could she?

Yes!

“Okay, I will.” She waved a hand at the stylist, determined to rise to the challenge even if she was quaking on the inside—and already wondering if she was making a mistake. “You heard the lady. Do it.”

An hour later, when they emerged from the salon into the sunlight, Val stepped back and inspected Karen. Shaking her head, she uttered one word. “Wow!”

“A vast overstatement, I suspect.” Nevertheless, a heady rush of pleasure swept through her. “But I do feel pretty. Maybe for the first time in my life.”

“You
are
pretty. And you'll be even prettier once we buy a little mascara and some blush and lipstick.”

“Wait!” Karen grabbed Val's arm when her sister started forward. “What about our grocery shopping? We're already running late. Mom will wonder what happened to us, and Kristen will be livid that we left her with her grandmother for so long on a holiday weekend. As she reminded me this morning, she has places to go.”

“They'll both live. We'll be quick. Besides, we're celebrating Independence Day, remember? What better way than this?”

Before Karen could reply, Val towed her down the strip mall toward the drugstore. “Nothing fancy or expensive, I promise. Just a few touches to enhance your coloring.”

Those few touches turned into a major makeover—by her standard, if not her sister's.

And an hour later, as they pulled onto Margaret's street, her nerves kicked in big time. What in the world was her mother going to say?

As if sensing her trepidation, Val spoke. “Don't be intimidated. No matter what snide remarks Mom might make, you look great. Hold that thought.”

Karen tried, but by the time they pushed through the back door she was as close as she'd ever been to a panic attack.

Kristen jumped to her feet the instant they stepped into the kitchen, clearly way past ready to end her extended visit with her grandmother. “I thought you guys got lost or . . .” Her voice faltered and her mouth dropped open as they walked into the room. “Wow!”

“See?” Val sent her a smug look.

Margaret's response, however, was far less affirmative. “What on earth did you do to yourself?”

“Mom! You look great!”

One yea, one nay. But Kristen's enthusiastic expression more than countered Margaret's dour demeanor.

“Don't you think that hairstyle is a little young for you?” Margaret gave Karen a critical once-over.

“She
is
young.” Val dropped her purse on the counter.

Kristen limped over to inspect Karen up close, blessedly more mobile in her new, smaller walking cast. “I love how you brought out the red in your hair!”

“Auburn,” Val corrected.

Margaret squinted at Karen. “Did you color your hair?”

“What shade of lipstick is that?” Kristen inspected her mouth.

“Desert rose.” Val crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter.

“It's perfect! Why didn't you do this ages ago, Mom?”

“Because she was sensible before.” Margaret sent a pointed glance toward her younger daughter.

“Before what?”

At Val's too-innocent question, Margaret glared at her. “You haven't been the best influence, you know. Karen used to be levelheaded. She respected her elders. She cooked decent food. She wasn't vain and didn't see any need to dye her hair or wear makeup.”

“I could leave.”

As mother and daughter faced off, Karen jumped back into the fray. No point letting this escalate. “No one wants you to leave, Val. And it was my choice to do this, Mom. It's no big deal. Kristen, did you and your grandmother have lunch?”

“If you could call it that.” Margaret sniffed in disdain.

“Val left an awesome bean sprout salad.” Kristen went to retrieve her backpack. “You have to get the recipe.”

“I'll do that. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yes.” She started toward the door, but at a raised brow from Karen she sighed and retraced her steps, planting a brief kiss on Margaret's forehead. “Bye, Grandma.”

“Good-bye, Kristen. I'll see you at church Sunday, won't I? You don't want to disappoint God.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I'll be there.”

“Good. You'll pick me up as usual, Karen?”

“Of course.” Karen gave Margaret a brief peck on the cheek.

“I thought I'd better check. Things seem to be changing around here.”

“Yeah. Isn't it great?” Val winked at Karen.

Ushering Kristen toward the door, Karen whispered to Val as she passed. “Good luck.”

“No worries.”

The breezy response didn't surprise her. Val had her act together. She knew how to cope with Margaret—and with everything else.

And one of these days, if she kept working at it, Karen might be as much in control of her life as Val was.

Her life was out of control.

Running her fingers through her damp hair, Val checked the clock on the nightstand as she paced. If she could hang on three more hours, it would be light again. Things never seemed as bad when the sun was shining.

When exhaustion at last turned her legs to rubber, she sank onto the window seat. She could blame her insomnia on the decrepit air-conditioning system struggling to cool the brick bungalow, but why kid herself when she knew the real cause—the familiar nightmares that had returned with a vengeance since her trip to the river last Sunday.

Val leaned back against the wall and massaged the bridge of her nose. If only there was someone she could talk to. Someone who could listen without judgment and offer guidance.

But she'd shared her secret once, long ago. With one person.
And that mistake had led to a far bigger one—and to rejection. She wasn't going to take that chance again.

Sweat beaded on her brow, and she swiped it off. Too bad she didn't have Karen's faith. Or her sister's relationship with God. Then she could ask the Almighty for assistance. But she didn't—and she couldn't. Why should he come to the aid of someone who'd rejected him long ago?

She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. At least her mother had stopped badgering her about going to church with them. They'd fought that battle years ago, and it was one of the few times she'd prevailed. Thankfully, Margaret's attempts since her return had been halfhearted at best. Poor Kristen, however, was getting the full guilt treatment, based on the exchange today.

Funny thing about that, though. She almost wished someone
would
nudge her back. Not that she expected to discover an answer to her dilemma written in the clouds afterward, or get some bolt-of-lightning revelation. But other people found comfort in their faith. Maybe she just hadn't tried hard enough.

Then again, maybe it was too late.

With a sigh, Val swung her legs to the floor and rose. She had to get some sleep, even if that meant facing the nightmares that were more vivid than ever, thanks to her visit to the river. Nightmares she suspected would get even worse if she visited the other places on her list.

No. Not if. When.

Because deep inside, she knew she'd never attain the peace she sought until she did.

And one day soon, she'd find a way to dig deep and summon up the courage to take the next step.

Karen grabbed her purse and music folder and stuck her head into the living room. Kristen was slouched on the couch, staring at the TV. As usual.

“I'll be home by nine. Sooner, if choir practice ends earlier.”

“Okay.”

At her daughter's dejected tone, she hesitated. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Not convincing.

She moved closer. “You seem kind of down.”

“I'm bored.”

“Why don't you call Erin and get together with her?”

“The gang went to the water park.”

“Oh.” Water activities would be out until Kristen's walking cast came off in three weeks. “Couldn't you have gone along and visited?”

Kristen gave her a “get real” look. “They'll be in the water. Who would I visit with?”

“Maybe Gary would have kept you company.” While she didn't much care for the long-haired kid Kristen had taken a fancy to, he'd be safe in a group setting. And it was better than the one-on-one dating Kristen kept pushing her to approve.

“I haven't talked to Gary for a while.” Kristen's jaw quivered, and she averted her face.

Ah. A pothole on the rocky road of teenage romance.

Karen walked all the way in and perched on the edge of the sofa. “What happened?”

“How should I know? I've been sidelined with this stupid leg all summer. I guess he found someone else to do stuff with.”