That Certain Summer (18 page)

“When it's entered into with the right intent. But that doesn't mean I need to stay in an unhealthy relationship. Or put up with infidelity.”

His complexion reddened. “I said I was sorry about that.”

“And I said I was glad. But suppose I could forgive one fling. How could I be sure there wouldn't be more? Or that there weren't others before?”

She threw in the last comment as an afterthought, but when his ruddy hue deepened to crimson, a wave of shock crashed over her. “There
were
others, weren't there?”

“Look, I'm human, okay?” Irritation sharpened his voice. “I've slipped a couple of times. It happens. That's how men are.”

So Stephanie hadn't been the first, after all. Michael had strayed more than once.

And Val had been right. Michael's “that's how men are” comment said it all. He'd entered into their marriage never planning to honor his vow of fidelity.

Their marriage had been a sham from the beginning.

As for his implication that his behavior was a normal male trait—she didn't buy that. Not for one minute. Not all men were unfaithful. There were plenty who had honor and integrity. Who were honest and true. Who might make mistakes but didn't break promises. Or vows.

For some reason, an image of Scott flashed through her mind. She didn't even know him, yet she had a feeling he could be counted on to keep his word. Perhaps because of the way he'd handled the choir situation. He'd made a mistake, yes, but he'd also made amends—and made a change. She didn't think he'd fall back to his old ways.

“You've met someone else, haven't you?”

Michael's comment jerked her back to the conversation. The man actually had the gall to sound aggrieved, as if he was the injured party.

“A counterpart to your Stephanie? And who knows who else? No, Michael, I haven't. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to go back to what we had before.”

“It could be different this time.”

“It wouldn't work.”

“Would you be willing to try, for Kristen's sake? She'd like us to get back together.”

Leave it to Michael to find her weak spot and try to exploit it.

But she knew something he didn't. Kristen was on to him. Their daughter had understood far more about the problems in their marriage than either had suspected. And based on the conversation they'd had recently at this very table—including Kristen's comment that Michael was a better dad than a husband—Karen knew that as much as Kristen had hoped for a reconciliation, she preferred her mother to be happy.

Michael's ploy wouldn't work. Not anymore.

She shook her head. “No. It's over.”

For a few seconds, he appraised her. Then his shoulders slumped. Placing his hands on the table, he pushed himself to his feet. “I guess there isn't much else to say.”

“I guess not.”

“Tell Kristen I was here, okay?”

“I will.”

“I'll let myself out.”

As he left the room, Karen remained seated. She heard the front door open, then click shut. A few minutes later, a car engine kicked in. She listened as it faded into the distance, then slowly unwrapped her hands from around the unused mug. They'd never poured their coffee. Her cup was still empty.

But her life wasn't. Not anymore. She was finally taking control of her destiny. Trusting her own judgment. Standing up for what she believed. Cracking open the door to the possibility of love.

And it felt great.

“I think you've made a new friend.”

At David's comment, Val took a lick of her ice-cream cone and shifted around on the bench to watch as Victoria enjoyed the antics of the zoo's prairie dogs.

“She's a sweetheart. And she's lucky to have a father who plans outings like this. A lot of men put their families in second place, behind their careers. It's a shame, don't you think?”

When David didn't respond, Val glanced toward him. A slight frown marred his brow. “We had sort of the opposite situation in our family. Natalie was very career-oriented.”

The perfect opening to ask a few questions about his wife. “What did she do?”

“She handled marketing for her company's global brands. Since my hours were more flexible and I didn't have to travel or work overtime, I took on most of the child-care duties, which was fine with me. I've always believed that raising a child is the most important job in the world.”

An opinion not shared by his wife, apparently. Though David hadn't said anything negative about Natalie, she sensed their
different philosophies on child rearing had been a source of disappointment to him . . . and perhaps a point of contention.

“It sounds like she was very busy—and gone a lot.” She kept her tone casual and conversational. No way did she want to come across as nosey.

“She was. We delayed starting a family, hoping that once her career was established things would slow down, but the opposite happened. As she took on greater responsibilities, her life got more hectic. It became obvious there was never going to be a ‘good' time to have children. Finally we just decided to go ahead. As it was, she went back to work four weeks after giving birth.”

He examined the remnants of his ice cream. The cone had collapsed, and the mess that remained wasn't salvageable. He wrapped it in his napkin and balled it in his fist. “Natalie always pushed herself too hard. I used to tell her to slow down and smell the flowers, that life was too short and should be enjoyed. But neither of us realized how short hers would be.”

Val crumpled the napkin that had been wrapped around her own ice-cream cone. “Was it an accident?”

“No. Not in the way you mean. She was a borderline diabetic when we married, and after she had Victoria, her condition worsened. It got to the point where she needed to check her blood sugar level several times a day and give herself injections as needed. Two years ago, on an overseas flight, her blood sugar went haywire. Maybe, with the time change, she got out of sync, forgot to check . . . we'll never know. Halfway over the Pacific she fell into diabetic shock. There was a doctor onboard, and he did the best he could under the circumstances, but after she went into cardiac arrest . . .” His voice rasped, and he swallowed.

“I'm so sorry.” Following her heart, she laid her hand over his as her gaze flickered to Victoria. “I can't even imagine how difficult that must have been for both of you.”

“Yeah.” His voice roughened again, and he cleared his throat. “At least I had my faith to sustain me. But Victoria was too young
to find any comfort there, or even grasp what was happening. Children can sense when something's wrong, though, and for days after Natalie's death I couldn't get Victoria to eat more than a few bites at a time. For weeks, she'd wake up at night crying. She was only three, though, and kids that age rebound fast. The trauma fades—along with everything else, unfortunately. She has no memory of her mother. I show her pictures, and I try to tell her about Natalie, but to her they're just stories, with no more basis in reality than her fairy tales. All she knows is she doesn't have a mommy like all of her friends do.”

David looked down to where her hand rested on his, and she removed it on the pretense of adjusting her purse.

“You know, I think I owe you an apology.” He angled toward her.

“Why?”

“I promised you a fun day, but all I've done is depress you.”

“I'm not depressed. Just sorry for all you've gone through.”

“Close enough. Let's change the subject. Tell me about you.”

If he thought that was going to cheer her up, he was dead wrong. “Now there's a boring subject.” The comment came out light despite the heaviness in her heart—just as she'd hoped.

“Not according to your mother. She's always bragging about you.”

“Bragging? Mom?” She gave him a skeptical look. “You're kidding, right?”

He held up his hand. “Scout's honor. I hear lots of flattering things about you and your sister.”

“Are you certain we're talking about the same Margaret Montgomery? All Karen and I ever heard growing up was criticism. About ourselves, not about each other, mind you. We each felt that nothing we ever did was good enough, and that the other sister was the favored one.”

“Interesting.” He dabbed at a sticky spot on his lips with his napkin.

He had nice lips.

“Margaret
is
opinionated.” He settled an arm along the back of the bench. Inches from her shoulder. “And I can see how she could be manipulative. But I don't hear too many complaints—except about food. Even those have tapered off since I started complimenting her on her weight loss, though. Was your dad critical too?”

“No.” She pulled her gaze away from his mouth. “He was supportive and affectionate, and he always made us feel special. His unconditional love helped compensate for Mom's shortcomings in the parenting-skills department, and I vowed someday, when I had children, to emulate his example as best I could.”

“So what happened?”

She tipped her head. “What do you mean?”

“As far as I know, you've never been married. Or had kids.”

She'd walked right into that one.

Focusing on her fingers, she wiped off some sticky ice cream residue. “Too busy for either.”

“That's a shame. I've seen how you interact with Victoria, and how she relates to you. You'd be a good mother.”

Calling on every ounce of her theatrical training, Val managed to keep her expression placid. “Motherhood isn't for me.”

“Why not?”

“I happen to agree with what you said earlier, about the importance of raising children. It's a full-time job, and I love my career too much to give that up.”

“I didn't mean to imply a woman has to give up her career to have a family. I think there's a way to integrate the two. The key is to maintain perspective and priorities.”

“Finding that balance is a challenge. It's better not to take the chance.” Val tossed her wadded-up napkin into the trash bin beside the bench and gave David a too-bright smile. “So, tell me what you've been doing in whatever free time you have, now that you're settling into Washington.”

If the abrupt change of subject disconcerted him, he didn't let on.

“I haven't had a chance yet to do much more than straighten out
the house and help Victoria acclimate, but I think I might volunteer for a program at church.”

“What kind of program?” That should be a safe subject, since she had no serious affiliation with the church.

“We're going to be sponsoring a benefit for an organization called Hope House. I think your sister is coordinating the whole thing. Maybe you know about it?”

So much for safe subjects.

“Karen mentioned it.”

“It sounds like a good cause. I can't think of anything more worthwhile than saving the lives of innocent babies. The pro-life movement has always been near to my heart.”

The bottom fell out of her stomach.

“But I'm afraid I can't contribute much to the effort. All of my theatrical talent could fit in my little finger.” David gave her a self-deprecating grin. “I used to run lights and sound for shows in college, though, and I enjoyed that behind-the-scenes stuff. I thought I might volunteer in a capacity like that.”

“I'm sure they'd welcome your expertise.” Val played with the edge of her purse strap. “Actually, Karen asked me to be the emcee.”

“No kidding! Are you going to?”

“I don't know. I told her I'd consider it.”

“I think it's a great idea. With your background, you could bring something special to the event.”

She averted her head on the pretense of watching Victoria. Yeah, she could bring something special, all right. But not in the way he meant.

Not even close.

And as the little girl's giggle infiltrated her defenses—and reminded her of all she could never have—she was sorrier than ever that she'd succumbed to temptation and accepted David's invitation to spend the day in their company.

“I had fun at the zoo today, Daddy.”

David finished tucking in Victoria, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I'm glad, sweetheart.”

“Did you have fun too?”

Not as much as he'd hoped. But he managed to paste on a smile. “It's hard not to have fun at the zoo.”

“Yeah.” She cuddled up next to her Raggedy Ann doll. “Do you think Val had fun too?”

Not much. Especially not after their little chat on the bench. Things had headed south for both of them at about the same point, near as he could tell. For him, talking of Natalie had reminded him of all he'd lost . . . and how much Victoria needed a mother. He hadn't been able to work up much enthusiasm for that task until Val had walked into his life. But her admission today that her career came first . . . bad news. Been there, done that.

As for why Val's mood had changed so abruptly—he had no idea.

“Daddy?” Victoria tugged on his shirt.

“I think Val enjoyed laughing with you about that goofy monkey that kept making faces at us.”

Victoria giggled. “That was funny. And I liked how she rode the carousel with me too.” Her expression grew more serious. “Do you think we could go somewhere else with her sometime?”

That question was tougher.

“I don't know. She's only going to be in town for a few more weeks. Val lives in Chicago, remember?”

“Is that far away?”

“Far enough. It takes a whole afternoon to drive there.”

Victoria's face fell. “That's too bad. She's really nice.”

Yeah, she was. Nice enough that he'd considered doing the very thing Victoria had suggested. One or two more excursions wouldn't be enough for his daughter to get too attached, and he enjoyed Val's company.

And until their chat on the bench, he'd felt certain Val would accept another invitation. She might be an actress, but her smiles
had been genuine, and she'd been captivated by Victoria, reaching out every now and then to brush her hair back with a gentle hand when the wind tossed the soft strands.

But after their exchange, she'd grown quiet, and their parting had been polite, nothing more.

David bent down and gave Victoria another kiss. “There are a lot of nice people in the world. We'll meet some more of them.”

“Not as nice as Val, I bet.”

No argument there.

He crossed to the door and paused by the light. “Good night.”

“'Night, Daddy.” She snuggled under the blanket and closed her eyes.

He flipped off the switch and wandered into the kitchen. Maybe he'd unpack a few more boxes. Or fix that pantry drawer that kept sticking. Or put together the ceiling fan that had been delivered yesterday. The endless list of chores never seemed to shrink.

But in the end, he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and went out to the screen porch instead to think some more about Val.

Because the pieces weren't adding up.

He settled into a patio chair and ticked off what he knew. She was an actress. She had a less-than-perfect relationship with her mother. She'd left town for college and never come home. She was single, and maintained she intended to stay that way. She also claimed she didn't want children.

Yet he'd seen a different message in her eyes as she'd watched Victoria. They'd held longing. Tenderness. And an emotion he was tempted to classify as regret. As if the thing she wanted most was beyond her reach.