That Certain Summer (17 page)

“Eighteen and dropping.”

“Way to go! At this rate, you'll be back to your old svelte self before I leave.”

“Don't talk about leaving yet.” Karen wrinkled her nose. “I'm getting kind of used to having you around. It'll be lonely after you're gone.”

“For me too.” She gave Karen's hand a quick squeeze. There were definitely things she would miss when she returned to Chicago. Becoming friends with her sister had been an unexpected bonus of this visit.

“I wish it hadn't taken so long for us to connect.” Karen took a sip of her drink. “Why do you think it did?”

“Lots of reasons, I suspect. You went away to college when I was fifteen. I left for school at eighteen, a month after you got married. Before that, there was too much rivalry, thanks to Mom—and too many hormones as well, I imagine.”

“I suppose.” Karen sighed. “I'll miss you.”

“We can keep in touch by phone.”

“It's not the same.”

“True. But we have almost four more weeks. It's much too soon to haul out the Kleenex. Let's talk about something more cheerful. Like the way your choir director zinged Mom without her knowing it last Sunday. I like that guy!”

“He saw right through her, didn't he?”

“I'll say. It was great! What's he like to work with?”

“Why? Are you thinking about joining the choir?”

At the alarm in her sister's voice, Val hastened to reassure her. “No. I have no intention of encroaching on your turf.”

Karen's brow furrowed, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “Sorry. I didn't mean to overreact. Of course you can join if you want to. It's just that . . . well, music is one more thing you can best me at. I have a niche in the choir, but if you're there I'll fade into the background. Mom was right. I don't have any great singing talent.”

“Your choir director doesn't agree—and neither do I.”

“You're both just being nice.” Karen dismissed the compliment with a flip of her hand. “Anyway, I'm working on the jealousy thing, but I guess it's going to rear its ugly head now and then.”

“Welcome to the human race. As for the choir . . . since I'll be heading back to Chicago next month, it wouldn't make any sense to get involved even if I was so inclined, which I'm not. I promise to leave all church-related matters in your very capable hands.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Karen set her drink aside and leaned forward. “I met with Reverend Richards this morning about a fund-raising event we're going to have in mid-August. He asked me to coordinate it.”

“Don't you have enough on your plate without taking on another project?”

“This is for a good cause, though. Hope House. Was that around when we were kids?”

Searching her memory, Val came up blank. “Doesn't ring any bells. What is it?”

“A counseling center for pregnant teens. They offer medical referrals, adoption assistance, and emotional support as an alternative to abortion. The problem is, they're running close to the red and they asked Reverend Richards if our church would sponsor a fund-raising dinner, with entertainment. It's a few days before you have to go back, and I wondered if I could persuade you to be the emcee. You'd be perfect, Val. Your background and training would add some professional polish to the evening.”

As Karen lobbed the ball into her court, it took every ounce of her acting skill to maintain a placid demeanor. Her sister wanted her to help raise money for an organization that offered help—and hope—to girls who found themselves in the same situation she'd been in at seventeen? Talk about irony—and strange timing.

Or . . . maybe not.

Could this be a chance to make amends? By supporting an organization that helped other young girls make a better decision than she had, could she take a step toward atoning for her mistakes?

It might be worth considering.

“What would I need to do?”

“Welcome the attendees, introduce the different groups that are going to entertain, thank people at the end of the evening.” Karen ticked the items off on her fingers. “It's very simple. The kind of thing you could do in your sleep.”

From a technical standpoint, Val didn't have any doubt she could handle the job. Emotionally . . . that might be a different story.

When she hesitated, Karen spoke again. “I know I dumped this on you, and I know you didn't come down here to perform. Why don't you think about it and let me know in the next few days?”

Val gave a slow nod. “That sounds fair enough.”

Smiling, Karen laid her hand on Val's arm. “Thanks. I know it would be a piece of cake for you, and your flair would add some pizzazz to the evening.”

Although Val tried to return the smile, she couldn't quite pull it off. No matter what Karen thought, emceeing this event wouldn't be a piece of cake. Not even close.

In fact, if she agreed to do this, it might end up being the most difficult performance of her life.

“Hello, Val.”

At David's greeting, Val turned. She'd noticed him sitting up front with Victoria as she'd arrived for the service, but when had he spotted her?

She gave him a tentative smile. “Hi.” Then she bent down to the little blonde-haired girl clutching his hand. “Hello, Victoria. I like your dress. And your hair is very pretty today.”

“Daddy brushed it for me. He didn't make any ouches, either.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

“We're going to the zoo today. Do you want to come?”

The suggestion seemed to surprise David as much as it did her. But before she could respond, he jumped in. “That's a great idea. How about it, Val?”

For an instant, she was tempted to accept his invitation. Then logic kicked in. Why start down a path that led nowhere?

Forcing up the corners of her lips, she stiffened her resolve. “This sounds like a father-daughter outing to me. I wouldn't want to intrude.”

At his speculative expression, she braced. Was he going to press her to accept, as he had the day at the park?

“I was surprised to see you here today.” He rested a hand on Victoria's shoulder. “I thought you said you weren't a churchgoer.”

He'd let the invitation drop. Good.

So what was with that little niggle of disappointment in the pit of her stomach?

“I'm not.” She forced herself to switch gears. “This is an aberration, trust me.”

“Your mother told me you came last week too.”

It figured. Her return to church was big news for Margaret, and David was a captive audience during the therapy sessions. But she owed God one for helping her through her journey to the past last weekend.

Besides, she had to admit that being in church made her feel less alone.

Instead of giving him a direct response, however, she turned the tables. “I didn't see you last Sunday, though.”

“Victoria had a cold. She must have picked up the same bug you had. Anyway, I promised her we'd go to the zoo as soon as she got better, and we'd love to have you join us. As for father-daughter time, we have lots of that. We don't have many friends here yet, and I think we're both ready for some company.”

So the subject wasn't closed, after all. In fact, based on that last comment, while the idea might have been Victoria's, he was all for it.

And wouldn't it be lovely to spend a carefree day with a handsome man and a little girl who could steal your heart with one sunny smile?

But she had to resist the alluring temptation. Dating could lead to romance. Romance could lead to love. Love could lead to marriage. Marriage could lead to children. None of which she deserved. Not after what she'd done.

Just say no, Val.

She tried, but the words dried up in her mouth.

As if sensing her indecision, David offered the one argument that was almost impossible to resist. “Come on, Val. It will be fun. And you'll brighten a little girl's day.”

She glanced down at Victoria, who wore the expression of hopeful innocence reserved for the very young. There was no pretense there, no secrets, no hidden agendas or doubts or regrets. No worries about tomorrow, no consequences to deal with. She was just a little girl without a mom, excited about spending a day at the zoo with her dad—and maybe with the lady who'd shared a brownie with her in the park.

Val's shaky resolve disintegrated. How was she supposed to resist those big green eyes? Besides, attachments weren't formed in one day. It would be nothing more than a pleasant afternoon they could all tuck away in their memories.

With a sigh of capitulation, Val gave up the fight. “You win.”

The smile David gave her warmed his eyes—and melted her heart.

“Is she coming, Daddy?”

“I think she is.”

“Oh, goody!” The little girl jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “Can we get an ice-cream cone too?”

“I think that could be arranged.” David gave the little girl a squeeze and looked back at her. “Why don't I swing by and pick you up around one?”

“That works.” She rummaged in her purse for a slip of paper. “I'll write down Mom's address for you.”

“Six-forty-seven West Madison.” Her hand stilled, and he grinned. “It's on her records, and I have a good memory for numbers. Being new in town, however, I could use some directions.”

It took less than two minutes to explain how to find the house, and as David left her with a wave and a “See you about one,” she turned to find Karen watching her with a smug expression.

“It's not what you think.” Despite her best effort, Val wasn't able to stop the blush that negated her words.

“Isn't it?”

“No. We're just going to the zoo. Victoria asked me.”

“Looked to me like her father endorsed the idea.”

“They're new in town. They don't know a lot of people yet.”

“In other words, your decision to go with them was an act of charity?”

“Something like that.”

“Nice try.” Winking, Karen nudged her. “But I was watching your face—and his. Call it whatever you like, but I know a date when I see it.”

“Karen! Val! I'm ready to leave.”

Their mother's voice shattered the Sunday morning stillness outside the church, and Karen chuckled. “Lucky you. Saved by the bell. Or should I say bellow? Come on. We can chat about this later.”

Not if she could help it. She didn't want to talk about her feelings for David.

And she was already beginning to think that accepting his invitation had been a huge mistake.

At the peal of the doorbell, Karen huffed out a breath. Great. Yesterday she'd spent two hours of her already packed Saturday meeting with Reverend Richards about the Hope House benefit. Now a visitor was interrupting her Sunday afternoon—and she still had another load of laundry to do before she hotfooted it back to her mother's to be on hand when Margaret woke up from her nap.

She dumped the armload of clothes from the dryer on the kitchen table and marched down the hall. Whoever it was, she'd make this fast. Listening to Mom complain if she wasn't back at the house on schedule was not on her agenda for the day.

At the door, she smoothed her hand over her hair, checked the peephole—and frowned.

What on earth was Michael doing here?

She shook her head and unlocked the dead bolt. If he was looking for Kristen, he was out of luck. Now that she was more mobile, her social life had picked up.

She pulled the door open and gave him the bad news at once. “Sorry, Michael. Kristen went to a sleepover last night, and they're having a barbecue this afternoon. She won't be home until this evening.”

To her surprise, he seemed unfazed. “I knew it was a gamble. I was in the mood to go for a drive and thought if she was home, I'd take her to Mr. Frank's.”

“I'll let her know you came by.” Karen began to close the door.

He put a hand out to stop her. “I don't suppose I could get a cup of coffee, could I?”

She narrowed her eyes. Since when did they socialize during his visits? “Coffee?”

He gave her a weak grin and slid his hands in the pockets of his knife-creased slacks. “Yeah. You know. That black stuff full of caffeine. We used to drink some together in the morning.”

Okay, this was weird. Michael never joked with her. And why would he bring up an intimate morning ritual they had shared only in the early days of their marriage?

When she didn't respond, he withdrew one hand from his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Fingers that weren't quite steady. She refocused on his face. The faint hollow in his cheeks and his slight pallor were also new. “Is everything okay?”

“As a matter of fact, no. I was hoping to tell you about it over a cup of coffee.”

Karen hesitated. She didn't have time for this—but he
had
made a long drive.

Don't be a patsy.

Right.

She opened her mouth—but he spoke first.

“Please.”

She closed her mouth. Wow. She could count on her fingers the number of times he'd used that word while they'd been married.

Fine. She'd listen—within reason.

She pulled the door wide and made a point of looking at her watch. “I only have a few minutes.”

“I appreciate whatever time you can spare.” He moved past her and headed toward the kitchen.

Karen followed, sweeping aside the clothes on the table to carve out enough space for two cups. Surprising her again, Michael went to work making the coffee—a task he'd always left to her when they'd lived together as man and wife.

As she folded her arms and watched him, he gave her a sheepish look. “I've learned a lot in the past few months.”

You mean your new lady love doesn't wait on you like a slave, the way I did?

Clamping her lips together, she kept that thought to herself. Instead, she retrieved the cream and two mugs, then sat at the table. He joined her once the coffee began to brew.

As the seconds ticked by in silence, impatience began to thrum through her. How hard could it be to tell her that things had turned sour between him and Stephanie? And that had to be what he wanted to talk about. Though why he thought she cared was beyond her.

In the interest of expediting the conversation, she gave him the opening he couldn't seem to find for himself. “How are things with Stephanie?”

He played with his empty mug. “Not good.”

If he expected her to offer condolences, he was out of luck. Her sense of charity only went so far.

When the silence lengthened again, he cleared his throat. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think it was a mistake from the beginning. We were too different.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Long story short, we split up about three weeks ago. She met someone else. Someone younger.”

Thrown aside for someone younger. Ha. Perhaps there was justice after all— even if that wasn't a very charitable attitude.

“The thing is, I should never have left.” He played with his mug. “I guess it's that whole greener pastures thing. Or maybe a midlife crisis. Who knows? Whatever the motivation, it was a mistake.”

Karen stared at him, suspicion niggling at the edges of her mind. Surely, after all that happened, he couldn't be implying that he might want to come back.

Could he?

Tipping her head, she gave him a cautious look. “I have some chores I need to finish, Michael. Is there a point to this?”

He leaned forward, his expression intent. “Yeah, there is. We had a good thing going once. Maybe we could again.”

Unbelievable.

In his usual arrogant way, he wanted to waltz back into her life and pick up the dance without missing a beat.

But the music had changed.

“It wouldn't work, Michael.”

“Look, I know I made a lot of mistakes. But you're the one who always preached forgiveness and repentance and turning the other cheek. Isn't this a perfect opportunity to put that into action? I truly am sorry, Karen. And we could make this work if we both committed to it. Why not give it another try?”

She tightened her grip on the mug. “I'm glad you're sorry, but our relationship was only good for you. I cooked your meals. Did your laundry. Took your clothes to the cleaner. Made your coffee. It was never a partnership of equals. You ran the show, made all the decisions, and I let you. That was my mistake, and I paid for it after you walked out and I had to create a new life, to survive on my own. But guess what? I did it. And believe it or not, I like my life now. I've learned to stand on my own feet, and to stand up for myself. I don't need you to make my life complete.”

His incredulous expression suggested he thought some alien had commandeered her body. “That doesn't sound like the Karen I know.”

“I told you. I've changed.”

“Don't you believe in that till-death-do-us-part vow anymore?”